#there's another major who is also misogynist

[weareuniqueandimportant]

Abuser Bigot Say Animals Can't Cnsent And Then Justify Killing Them Or Stealing Their Wool.

EVIL... THAT IS OKAY TO FUNNY ANIMALS... THEY LIKE THAT...

BTW THIS POST IS ABOUT LESBIAN FOOD... YOU KNOW... LIKE WHEN YOU GO TO THE STORE... AND STUFF... CNSENT IS A BEATIFULL SAUCE FOR ALL LESBIANS... AND I BELIEVE ALL SHOULD TAKE A TASTE.

[badwolfrose34]

Girl in the Fireplace Rant (cont.)

There was at least some engagement on my last post about this so I decided I will in fact post a follow up. GitF was 100% a bad faith episode. Moffat wrote it because he is classist and misogynistic and hates Rose. Unfortunately, part of his purpose for the episode was to show that the Doctor will always prefer a “classy” aristocrat over Rose and he wanted to have her treated as nothing. So, all of us Rose fans have to come up with a headcanon that undermines the writer’s intentions.

I think the most common one is to believe the episode was the Doctor’s attempts to push Rose away because of her mortality and how that scares him.

That never worked for me because a major part of the Doctor’s character is his protectiveness. He would never push her away to the point of danger or abandonment. For me, I feel that fictional or not, the actions of the Doctor in that episode would be entirely unforgivable if they did happen. So my headcanon is that this episode was a nightmare Rose had.

If you are like me are also one of the fans for whom the pushing her away theory doesn’t work, read on for my explanation of why I don’t think GitF could be an actual event within canon. Moffat may be a BBC writer but it doesn’t give him a right to completely undermine the show, it doesn’t actually belong to anyone outside of financial concerns. If you’re content with believing he needed to push Rose away and that the episode did happen, you can ignore this.

Why the events GitF did not happen within canon (but could’ve happened as a nightmare)

1. Doctor Who canon is very loose as it is. With multiple writers across multiple mediums, things do contradict each other and us as fans get to decide for ourselves what fits with canon and what does not.

2. The Doctor has been clearly shown to be in love with Rose. He is protective of her to the point that if a decision will kill everyone else but give her even a slight chance of survival, he can’t actually make that decision. He almost did in Dalek, but after she didn’t get through the barricade the first time he was incapable of significantly reducing her safety for the good of everyone else. He snapped awake from a regeneration coma just because Rose said “help me”. He freaked out when Cassandra had her body and again in Tooth and Claw when she was in trouble. If you count Stone Rose that almost certainly took place before GitF and he once again, lost his mind over Rose being a statue.

I do understand seeing Sarah Jane age freaked him out. And I could’ve understood him distancing himself from Rose a bit in some way. But his instinct to protect her is so strong he’d never sacrifice her safety to push her away. Leaving her alone with clockwork for an extended period of time while he partied and invented drinks is impossible enough. Let alone the way he believed he’d have no way back to the ship when he went through the time window for the last time. Not only had he just promised she could spend the rest of her life with him, but her and Mickey would’ve likely died alone on that abandoned spaceship.

Simply, it’s just too out of character to happen within the rest of the Ninth and Tenth Doctors’ canon.

3. The horse. I have been a big horse person my entire life. Horses have extremely strong flight instincts. Even the most trusting and well trained horse in the world is never going to jump through reinforced glass. I do realize as Sci Fi fans we have to suspend disbelief for a lot of things. But we are never given an explanation as to why this horse would behave so dramatically differently from another horse. Every bizarre thing we accept in the DW universe is explained to some extent. There is a book where the Doctor tames a horse with psychic paper. But that horse is never asked to violate its instincts. That horse behaves as any other tame horse behaves. That is an example of acceptable DW suspension of belief. There is still a sci fi/alien technical explanation and I can absorb it. I cannot absorb a horse jumping through a firm glass window unless they were running from something even scarier. No matter how well trained a horse is, it’s not jumping through glass just because a humanoid asked them to. Nothing was chasing Arthur and his body language did not suggest any kind of fear to indicate he was running from something even scarier. All the droids were already in the other side of the window as well. It’s simply bizarre and impossible, even in a sci fi snow. Within this very show the Doctor states you can’t hypnotize someone beyond their survival instincts. I believe this applies to horses and a horse’s instincts is to avoid jumping through or into a reinforced barrier.

Next, we are given no explanation as to how this horse jumped through glass unscathed. Glass that was said to be so strong only a truck could break through. Horses are also extremely delicate and many have fatally injured themselves just playing in the paddock. Even for injuries not that extreme, every horse person knows that even small things result in giant vet bills.

Finally, it is once again grossly out of character for the Doctor to take a living animal and make them do something he previously calculated would required a truck.

4. Things are back to normal as if the episode never happened by the Rise of the Cybermen. If the Doctor had really developed feelings for another woman so strong that he would leave Rose for dead, then lost her, would he just be back to being the same old Doctor the very next episode? I doubt it. The Doctor is also a character known for holding on to guilt. Even if Reinette was mechanism to push Rose away, the way he abandoned her would’ve caused enough guilt he wouldn’t just be normal the very next episode. The show carries on as if Reinette never happened because Reinette never happened.

The only reference to that GitF is some clockwork droids in John Smith’s journal. Which could be explained by another encounter with the droids or by the Doctor looking at Rose’s mind to see the nightmare. Which would be an intimate enough moment to imprint on John Smith’s subconscious. The words “a girl in every fireplace” can once again refer to the Doctor seeing Rose’s nightmare or another off screen adventure entirely. There is no reference strong enough to confirm the actual events of GitF ever happened. The show functions exactly the same way without it. Because, it never happened.

5. The events of the show make perfect sense as a nightmare in Rose’s head. Take it from someone with a degree in psychology. Rose has abandonment wounds from Jimmy Stone. She also has abandonment wounds from her father dying when she was too young to understand it. School Reunion, the episode right before GitF triggers her abandonment wounds by making her see the Doctor has previously left companions and did not come back for them. It also makes her wonder if she is special to the Doctor. These doubts combined with her past trauma are a perfect recipe for her to have a bizarre nightmare where she gets abandoned in the most horrific way after the events of School Reunion.

I will leave you all with my fic where this was all a nightmare. Or you can write your own if you prefer. My point is that for those who feel the way I do about this episode, we do not have to accept the events as canon. We do not have to believe the Doctor has ever treated Rose this way except in her worst nightmares.

Update to address Deep Breath:

1. Doctor mentioned seeing clockwork droids before, but we know that the Doctor has many off screen adventures. He could’ve encountered the droids at any other point in his entire life besides GitF.

2. As for that episode stating the SS Madame De Pompadour existed, that still doesn’t confirm anything. There was a real life ship called the USS Queen of France. This was named for Marie Antoinette. Jackie dated a sailor once and Rose had a friend named Keisha whose brother was a sailor. This means Rose could’ve heard one of them discussing historical naval ships. This how she would imagine a ship named after Madame de Pompadour in the first place. She and the people who built the SS Madame de Pompadour and SS Marie Antoinette would’ve simply drawn inspiration from the same place. Also, there’s the fact that someone named a fictional ship Titan many years before Titanic ever existed.

Update 2: Rose was going to get an A level in French if she hadn’t run off with Jimmy. So she could’ve reasonably been familiar with some aspects of French history and able to imagine all of these things in a dream, even if it wasn’t a historically accurate dream, everyone knows weird things happen in dreams.

[enyalios-shrine]

𝘼𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥 101

Hi! I’m Raven (or Ray), and I’ve been an Ares devotee for almost five years now. You want to start worshiping him? Great! Despite what today’s media makes of him - which I will talk about a lot in this post - , he’s actually a very caring, gentle and (dare I say) beginner-friendly deity! In general, a great choice! (Also, this is inspired by another post I saw but forgot to save - so, credits for the idea goes to that person) So, let's get started.

WHO IS ARES? - MODERN MISCONCEPTIONS

Since I’m assuming you already know the broad strokes of who he is (Greek god of war, bloodshed, violent and so forth), this section will be about some of the misconceptions most people have of Him. If you’ve ever consumed any Greek mythology-related media, I’m sure you’ve seen the following caricature: beefy, misogynistic, violent, stupid jerk, rude and always looking for a fight. While, yes, He IS violent (He's the god of war, afterall), that's far from all He has to offer.

Did you know Ares is actually historically a major feminist? That’s probably the first thing to get demystified about Him when you talk to an Ares devotee or worshiper, so I’m not really saying ground-breaking news here, but since a fair amount of people don’t know about it, I thought it was a fair mention. So, let’s get into the actual myths and proofs for this claim:

Ares was the father of and supported the Amazons in battle, a group of female-only warriors and hunters.

He’s one of the only male deities in Greek mythology to not have sexually harassed or raped someone. Yes, even other deities viewed as “nice” such as Apollo and Hermes have done so (I don’t mean any disrespect for those deities here - I’m also an Apollo devotee).

Ares was held in trial for the murder of Halirrhotius, a son of Poseidon, after he raped one of Ares’ daughters, Alkippe. He was acquited of murder by the gods. Remember, back in ancient Greece, women didn’t have ANY rights - raping one was not considered a crime or even frowned upon as far as I'm aware.

One of His epithets is “Ares Gynaikothoina", which means "feasted by women". During a war between the Tegeans and the Spartans, the women of Tegea defended the city from a invasion led by the Spartan king Charilaus. After arming themselves, they defeated the Spartans following an ambush. Among the prisoners was the Spartan king himself. In commemoration, they would hold a feast in honor of Ares, to which only women were invited.

All in all, Ares is protective, just, and encouraging of His children as well as worshipers and devotees. He’s not the piece of shit jock most people think of when you mention His name. Please stop doing my man this dishonor, He deserves so much better.

BASIC INFO

His Roman counterpart is Mars. He’s the son of Zeus and Hera, and his consourt is Aphrodite (even though they’re not officially married). His divine children are Phobos and Deimos (twin daimones/personified spirits of panic and terror, respectively), Harmonia (goddess of harmony and concord), Antero (erote/god of requited love) and Eros (erote/god of carnal love), all which he had with Aphrodite, as well as Drakon of Thebes (a giant serpent), which he apparently had by himself.

As for hero children; Cycnus (a bloody-thirsty men who was murdered by Herakles), Diomedes of Thrace (who had man-eating horses for some reason), Thrax (who founded Thrace), Oenomaus (Greek king of Pisa), and the Amazons (female warriors and hunters as mentioned above).

His symbols and associations are: spears, swords, helmets, armour, dogs, chariots, shields, The Chariot & The Emperor tarot cards, etc.

FESTIVALS AND DAYS

Tuesdays are holy to Ares and are ruled by the planet Mars (again, his Roman counterpart), which means they’re associated with action, energy, strength, and courage, as well as the color red.

As for festivals, He was typically honored with special rites in times of war or just before battles. There were also two annual festivals: one in the town of Geronthrae in ancient Laconia, celebrated only by men, and one in Tagea in Arcadia, celebrated only by women, where His "feasted by women" epithet came from. There's hardly any info on exact dates (from the Attic calendar or not) or info about any other festivals.

SACRED ANIMALS

Serpents

Dogs

Vultures

Woodpecker

Barn owls

Eagle owls

SACRED PLANTS

There’s no plant, flower or tree traditionally associated with Ares, unfortunately, so I’m gonna give a list of my UPG’s. Now, I’m not a witch, so I don’t know about the magical properties of the plants I’m about to list (if you’re a witch and were looking for something like that, my bad). However, I am a florist and have a special interest in floriography, so I assign them to Him based on vibe, meaning, etc.

Amaryllis (Means “Pride”)

Basil (Means “Hate”)

Water hemlock (Means “Death”)

Snapdragon (Means “Presumption”, but I think he just likes the way it looks)

Poppy (Means “Eternal sleep”, but has a long history with wars, being the first kind of flora to start growing in abandoned battlefields that were previously considered infertile)

Nettle (Means “Cruelty”)

Magnolia (Means “Dignity”)

Yarrow (Means “Cure for a broken heart”, and is said to have been used by Achilles to heal his men on the battlefield, which is why the scientific name is “Achillea”)

Ginger (Associated with “Heat”)

Pepper, spices, etc (idk he just gives the vibes)

OFFERINGS & DEVOTIONAL ACTS

Honestly, the only slander Ares should be getting is that He likes edgy teenage boy things. That being said, here's some ideas/suggestions, first for devotional acts and then offerings:

Workout or do any kind of physical activity

Take care of your mental and physical health

Stand up for yourseld and what you believe in

Learn about past wars, battles, and riots

Do things that make you feel badass/brave/empowered

Go to a protest

Work on managing your anger (especially for my fellow BPD havers)

Pet a dog

Honor His children and Aphrodite

For offerings; any kind of meat, especially red

Anything sharp (cool knives or daggers, broken glass, etc)

Bones!!

Halloween decor (I personally have those fake plastic snakes, spiders, and a skull on His altar)

Black coffee, the stronger the better

Any alcohol, but especially whiskey

Anything spicy

WHY WORSHIP ARES? - A PERSONAL RANT

Living in an extremely physically abusive household, I had to know and be acostumed to violence from a very young age. That violence left with many things - BPD and C-PTSD, to name a few - but mostly importantly, it left me only being able to feel one thing: anger.

I was angry at everything. Angry at the world for allowing me to have to live through such a horrible situation, angry at my mom for not standing up for me, angry at my abuser, even angry at myself for not ever trying to fight back or protect myself (though now I realize that was completely out of the question. I was only 8, what could I have done against a man in his 30's that was three times my size?).

That anger didn't go away after I got away from my abuser. If anything, it grew worse. I'd yell, break everything around me, say horrible things to the people I loved - I was a totally different person. I could barely recognize myself. I was an empty shell, filled with absolutely nothing else than the purest form of resentment and wrath, things that had been brewing inside of me since I was a child. I never had the choice to become anything else.

Ares understands violence. He's the god of it. He knows when it's justifiable and when it's not, when it serves a purpose and when it's out of pure malice. He helped me realize that instead of trying to fight against my anger out of the shame it made me feel, I had to embrace it - become one with it. It's a part of me, at the end of the day. I just had to figure out how to control it instead of letting it control me.

He embraced me when I was too disgusted with this ugly side of me to even look in a mirror. I was scared of myself - he wasn't. He's seen worse. I never had someone accept me and all my flaws before, god or otherwise.

That's why it's so upsetting to see the modern depictions so many people have of him. Someone so understanding and loving being defined by the worst parts of Himself, just like I used to do with myself in the past.

Ares is the god of war, war is not the god of Ares.

[aux-squiggle]

PRECISE LANGUAGE CHECKK

Surrogate parents / intended parents ❌

Parent identified (gestational) exploiters ✅

Surrogacy agency ❌

Gestational trafficking organization ✅

Liberal feminism ❌

Feminism identified liberal exploitation ✅

Feminism appropriating female exploitation ✅

Feminism appropriating capitalism ✅

Sex positive (re: BDSM) ❌

Sexual violence positive ✅

Kinkster (male dom) ❌

Wife beater ✅

Male who beats women in sexual context ✅

Rape emulating male ✅ (re CNC)

Sexual misogyny enthusiast ✅

Kinkster (female sub) ❌

Sexual violence victim/survivor ✅

Brainwashed ✅

Groomed by the patriarchy ✅

Kinkster (female dom) ❌

Class traitor ✅ (especially when doing this to another woman)

Sexual traitor / sexual class traitor ✅

Conduit of fetishization of women's liberation ✅

Kinkster (male sub) ❌

Man who's enjoyment of patriarchy reversal still requires the patriarchy to exist and is not in any manner revolutionary ✅

Fetishizer of women's liberation ✅

Sexual violence victim/survivor ✅ (especially in gay male situations)

BDSM ❌

Sexual violence ✅

Transwoman / trans woman ❌

Trans identified male ✅

Sex appropriator ✅

Sexist ✅

Transman / trans man ❌

Trans identified female ✅

Internalized misogynist ✅

RCTA / race change to another ❌

e.g a white person who thinks they're black/brown/asian would be:

Black identified white person ✅

Brown identified white person ✅

Asian identified white person ✅

Race appropriator ✅

Racist ✅

RCTA (black/brown/Asian → white) ❌

White identified racially oppressed ✅

Internalized racist ✅

RCTA (Racially oppressed → other racially oppressed) ❌

Fucking stupid ✅

[Pretend race] identified [actual race] person ✅

DCTA / disability change to another ❌

Disability identified abled person ✅

Autism identified allistic ✅ (example)

Disability appropriator ✅

Ableist ✅

(For any xyz change to other thing, you can also use "out of touch with reality" or "reality denier")

Sex worker ❌

Prostituted person ✅

Sexually exploited person ✅

Commercial sexually exploited person ✅

Economic rape victim/survivor ✅

Porn actor/actress ❌

Sexual exploitation media victim/survivor ✅

Child porn ❌

Child sexual exploitation media ✅

Teen porn (as in age of majority teen) ❌

Teen sexual exploitation media ✅

Sex industry ❌

Rape economy ✅

Pimp ❌

Rape economist ✅

Sex trafficker ✅

Commercial sexual exploiter ✅

Rapist ✅

Sex-buyer ❌

Rapist ✅

Rapist by economic coercion ✅

Brothel ❌

Rape economic market ✅

Rape economic building ✅

Rape economic architectural conduit ✅

Rape economy establishment ✅

Strip club ❌

(Any of the alternatives for brothel can work depending on the establishment) ✅

Sexual exploitation establishment ✅

Non-contact sexual exploitation establishment ✅ (if it's actually non-contact)

Makeup ❌

Capitalization of low self image ✅

Product of unnecessary cruelty to animals ✅

Unnecessary stress on the supply chain ✅

Ecological waste ✅

Dermatologically geared waste ✅

Trans rights activism ❌

Trans ideology activism ✅

Threat to women's rights ✅

Leftwing misogyny ✅

Gender critical ✅

Gender atheist ✅

Gender disbeliever ✅

Gender abolitionist ✅

Radical feminist ✅

Woman with common sense ✅

Woman who reads books ✅

Woman who reads statistics ✅

Woman with class consciousness ✅

Woman with critical thinking skills ✅

Woman who develops her own opinions ✅

Woman who left the TIA proxy-cult ✅

Woman who left the sexual violence proxy-cult ✅

Woman who may understand these precise language words but still use the old words to avoid having to explain acronyms every sentence ✅

Woman who may choose to change her language to better reflect the reality of these patriarchal and oppressive concepts ✅

[inmyglenpowellera]

Okay hear me out…

Walt Finnegan x ex!reader, who dated the first year of college, but broke up because he was a dick to her.

He sees her at the club or maybe at one of the parties at the house, and realizes that he still loves her.

Flangst with a happy ending maybe? I just want to be his college love interest and would love to live vicariously through this fic 😆

Hope you’re having a great day love!

(Just Like) Starting Over | Walt "Finn" Finnegan x Female!reader

Request: Requested by anon

Word Count: 7510

Summary: Reader and Finn met during their Freshman year of college and started dating. Things were going well until they weren't. Some things were said, other things were thrown. Long story short, they broke up. But maybe it was something that was meant to be?

Warnings: Alcohol use, drug use, cursing, angst, fluff, Finn being the handsome devil he is, violence?

A/N: I'm somehow on a roll right now. This was started a while ago and never finished. But @msmoony7 commented how there is very little Finn appreciation on here and I knew I had to finish this. Hope everybody likes it because I also agree that Finn is one of Glen's most underappreciated characters.

Registration Day. It is one of the most frustrating and anxiety-ridden days a college student will ever experience. 

They always have the same questions. What am I going to major in? Do I want a minor? What classes do I need to take? Can I register for the classes I need before they fill up?

For some, namely the freshmen, the anxiety and stress were through the roof. Which is why they could always use a little guidance. (Y/N) loved registration day since her second semester of freshman year of college. Ever since she joined her sorority and joined some of the other girls in volunteering to assist freshmen with choosing their majors and classes, the good thing about the situation is she can also hand out flyers encouraging freshman girls to rush with her sorority.

She enjoyed handing out flyers and answering any questions the girls might have. However, what she didn’t enjoy was cocky freshman boys hitting on her just because she had a beating heart.

“Hey, baby! I wouldn’t mind having those legs of yours around my neck,” one called out to her as he walked past her and a freshman girl she was talking to.

“Yeah, how about my hands instead,” I shouted back at him, crumbling one of the fliers to throw at his head as the girl standing next to me scoffed in disgust.

“Woah, easy dollface,” A voice I knew all too well said from behind me, causing me to slowly turn my glare toward him.

“Finnegan,” I stated simply.

I watched his smirk widen across his stupid mustache-clad face, his hands shoved into his blue jean pockets.

With a bright smile, I looked back at the girl next to me and handed her another flier. “Please consider rushing with us and bring some friends too. Oh, and a word of advice…” I trailed off, causing her to nod in acknowledgment. “Stay away from the baseball team,” I told her, turning my glare back towards Finn.

The girl looked between us before rushing off to the rest of the registration festivities.

“Well now you just hurt my feelings,” He said sarcastically, placing a hand over his heart and frowning.

“Aw,” I said in a mockingly sad tone, placing an exaggerated pout on my face.

Finn’s smirk returned to his face as he continued staring at me, looking me up and down, pausing on my lips and my breasts. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms across my chest.

“What do you want, Finn,” I interrogated the baseball player.

“You look good,” he said simply, a smile growing on his face.

I rolled my eyes and went to step past him, but he only stepped back in my path. “Seriously, what do you want? Because last I recall, I said fuck you, called you a disrespectful misogynistic asshole, and told you to not ever speak to me again.”

“Did you, I don't recall this conversation,” Finn said in confusion.

I scoffed and shook my head in disbelief. “Really? You don't recall me saying that to you and dumping your ass?”

“No, I don't. Are you sure? When was that,” he asked me curiously.

“Freshman year, right before Christmas, at my sorority's Christmas party that you and your dumb fuck baseball friends almost ruined,” I sneered at him.

“Well, that’s why. It was freshman year. And I was probably drunk off my ass,” Finn recovered with an excuse, placing a smirk back on his face.

“Because that makes it better,” I said sarcastically, going to walk around him once again.

Finn grabbed my arm and pulled me back in front of him. “Look, I’m sorry I was an asshole, but I’ve changed.”

“Oh, yeah, trust me I’ve heard, Mr. Feminist. You think the girls on this campus don’t talk,” I scoffed at him in disbelief. “And I’ll believe you’ve changed and you’re sorry when you can tell me why I dumped your ass.” Finn remained silent and stared at me regretfully, causing me to nod at him with despair. “That’s what I thought,” I said simply before successfully walking past him to my sorority's booth.

Meanwhile, Finn’s friends Dale, Jake, and Plum were all witnessing the exchange between the two from a distance.

“So, what’s the story there,” Jake asked Dale curiously.

“With (Y/N) and Finn,” Dale clarified, causing Jake to nod in confirmation. “Their situation is…complicated.”

“What the fuck does that mean,” Plum questioned the older baseball player.

“Finn and (Y/N) dated freshman year. Nobody knows a whole lot about what happened between them. They met on Registration Day and dated until around Christmas. They got into a huge fight that ended in (Y/N) dumping Finn. Poor guy never got over her and hasn’t been the same since,” Dale explained to the two freshmen, watching as (Y/N) walked away from their friend.

“Fuck,” Jake said simply, feeling sorry for the older baseball player who was walking back towards them.

“You okay, Finn,” Dale asked his friend, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m great. Why wouldn’t I be,” Finn asked his friends happily, acting as though nothing happened at all.

THE NEXT DAY

I walked into the community area of the sorority house to see some of the girls giggling and jumping around excitedly. I shook my head at their energy and moved up the stairs to my room when one of them spoke up.

“Hey, (Y/N). Some of us girls got invited to a house party tonight at one of the houses on 15th and Avenue H. They told us to bring all the girls. You want to come,” Claire asked me excitedly.

“I don’t know, guys,” I shrugged.

“Come on, you have to go. There’s going to be so many cute guys there, and you hardly go out with us,” Sarah added.

“I-,” I started, shaking my head.

All of the girls began speaking up with various exclamations of “Come on” and “Please” echoing around me. I sighed and looked between all of the girls in front of me before nodding. They all let out squeals of excitement and began pushing me upstairs so all of us could get ready together.

I looked up at the house in front of me in disgust before looking around at all of the people outside and going inside the house.

“The school is allowing students to live in this shit hole,” I questioned in disbelief.

“It could be worse,” Claire pointed out before approaching the front door.

I sighed and followed after her, along with the rest of the girls. I walked in the front door and immediately jumped into Claire when someone came sliding down the stairs on a mattress.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed when I saw a baseball helmet on the male's head, and that the male was Nes.

“Welcome to the baseball house, ladies,” The guy said with a cigarette between his lips.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I scoffed in disbelief.

He looked over at me and furrowed his brows. “Do I know you? You look familiar?”

“Uh, no I don’t think-,” I started, only to get interrupted by Claire and Sarah.

“Hey, um, can you tell me where to find Roper,” Claire asked the guy curiously.

“And McReynolds,” Sarah added quickly.

I rolled my eyes and began to split off from the group of girls, listening to Nes tell the girls where the two baseball players were before looking at the rest of the girls and introducing himself. I made it about 10 more feet before some creep with glasses stopped me and asked me if I wanted to know why they called him Raw Dog. I scrunched my face in disgust and thanked the lord above when I saw Dale walking up to the two of us.

“Niles, leave the girl alone. Trust me when I say that you don't want to fuck with this girl. You'll be dealing with Finnegan if you do,” Dale warned the creep.

“Fuck that shit man. He fucks with me, he won't get fucked with back, he'll get fucking killed,” the Niles guy argued.

“Uh huh, say that to his face,” Dale told him before wrapping his arm around me and leading me away.

“Well he seems a little…,” I trailed off unsure.

“Yeah,” Dale nodded simply.

“Well, thank you for that, Dale. It was much appreciated,” I said gratefully with a smile.

“It's no problem. Nothing ever happened between us so there's no reason we can't be friends,” He reassured me, causing me to nod in agreement. “But I am shocked that you're here of all places considering…”

I scoffed at him in amusement before nodding. “Yeah, trust me, if I knew this was a baseball party I would not have come within 100 feet of this place. Some of my sisters were invited by McReynolds and Roper and talked me into tagging along.”

Dale nodded in understanding before pointing towards the back of the house. “Well, hey, how about we get you a drink so you can start having fun and enjoying yourself? I can introduce you to some of the others.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said in agreement, following him out to the house's backyard.

Dale led me out the back door and towards the drinks before gaining the attention of everybody standing around the beer keg.

“Guys, this is…,” Dale started, only to get interrupted by Coma.

“Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Coma said with a smile, his southern accent peeking through.

“Hey, Coma,” I said with a slight giggle, stepping forward to hug him.

 “(Y/N), these are the freshmen: Plum, Brumley, and Jake. This is another one of the transfers: Willoughby.”

“Hi, nice to meet you guys,” I said with a smile, reaching forward to shake their hands.

“So, how do you know Dale and Coma,” Brumley asked me curiously, causing me to pause and look over at the two guys.

“Um…,” I trailed off. “It’s complicated.”

I watched Plum lean over to his fellow freshman and whisper something to him. I heard him let out a quiet “fuck” before Plum smacked the back of his head and call him a “fucking idiot.”

“So…,” I trailed off with a tight smile. “Even the freshmen know. Great,” I said sarcastically looking over at the two upperclassmen.

Dale and Coma looked at each other before Coma stepped closer to me. “How about a drink, darlin’.”

I nodded at him and followed him to the punch with Willoughby in tow as I listened to Dale lecture the freshman.

“It’s been a while, (Y/N). How’ve you been,” Coma asked me curiously as he filled my cup for me.

“Oh, um, you know just worrying about school. And when I’m not worrying about school I have something going on with my sorority. Planning parties and fundraisers and such,” I shrugged up at the baseball player, taking a sip of my drink after he handed it to me. “Shit, this is good. I might have to recruit you guys for drinks at our next party.”

“I’m sure we can make that happen, darlin’. Just say the word and the guys and I will give you the best Coon Dog punch you’ve ever tasted,” Coma told me, wrapping his arm around me.

I laughed at him in amusement before looking up at Willoughby. “So, Willoughby, why don’t you tell me about yourself.”

“Oh, I’m from California. Coach brought me in to pitch,” He explained to me while pulling a joint out of his pocket.

“Oh, that’s cool,” I told him, watching him bring the joint to his lips and light it. 

“Yeah. Hey, you get high,” He asked me curiously.

I widened my eyes and looked between him and the joint before shaking my head. “Oh, no. I did that once with an ex and had a horrible experience.”

“I didn’t know that you and Finn-,” Coma started, causing me to cut him off.

“Not Finn.”

Coma nodded at me in understanding before leading me back towards the guys. It was just me standing in a circle with all of the guys, minus Willoughby who decided to go smoke his joint in his room. They all began telling stories: Dale and Coma about what I have missed in the last few years; Plum, Brumley, and Jake about the past few days. I laughed harder than I have since freshman year when I spent time with the baseball team. I was bent over laughing and had my hand resting on Jake’s arm for support when someone abruptly walked over to our small group.

“Jake,” The voice called out with a slightly aggressive tone, causing all of us to jump slightly and turn in the voice's direction. I rolled my eyes at the sight of Finn and sighed as Plum and Brumley made a run for it, Coma and Dale sticking around just in case a fight broke out. “What uh- what the fuck is going on over here?”

Being a few drinks deep already, I wrapped my arm around Jake’s waist and smirked at Finn. “The guys were just entertaining me with some stories.”

“Yeah, we were. And that’s all that was happening,” Jake reassured Finn, unwrapping my arms from around him and placing them down by my sides.

Jake then made a break for it as well and left me behind with Finn, Coma, and Dale. I rolled my eyes at him and muttered “pussy” under my breath before looking back at Finn. He stared at me with his arms crossed over his chest, causing me to roll my eyes.

“What, Finnegan? Why are you staring at me,” I questioned him in annoyance.

“I don’t know. Why are you flirting with my teammates? Trying to make me jealous,” He asked me with a smirk.

“I will answer that as soon as you tell me where the fuck your sleeves went,” I said with a giggle, gesturing to his arms that weren’t covered by his flannel.

“Why? Last I recall you liked my arms,” He said with a smile instead of a smirk at the sound of my giggle.

I rolled my eyes again before looking at him. “I am not nearly drunk enough to deal with your ass,” I told him before walking away to refill my drink.

I was wandering around the bottom floor of the house trying to find somebody I knew when I found the last person I wanted to in the kitchen flirting with a couple of girls. I stood behind him unimpressed as I watched him sprinkle some nuts over some kind of peach dessert he had sitting on the counter.

“It’s not about the ingredients, it’s about the way the ingredients make you feel. The experience,” He trailed off before dipping his finger in the whipped cream bucket. “That’s why I say, “Indulge in temptation.”

I shook my head at him and looked to my right when I heard Brumley's voice. I looked back over at Brum and snapped my fingers to get his attention. He walked over to me and I pointed him over to Finn with a smirk, causing one to take over his face as well as Finn turned away from the two girls with his finger held out and said he wasn’t watching. I struggled to hold in my laugh as Brumley walked over and sucked the whipped cream off of Finn’s finger. Finn immediately turned around and landed a punch on Brumley’s arm as I let my laughter out.

“Are you serious,” He questioned him aggressively as Brumley released noises of pain.

I held my stomach as my laughter increased. Finn landed another punch to Brumley’s arm before reaching back for one of his peach desserts and throwing it at the freshman. The two girls standing before him released a couple of laughs as well before walking away from Finn.

“That was the best shit I’ve seen in a while,” I said through my laughter, causing Finn to look over at me. I watched him roll his eyes and a slight pout came over his face, causing me to make an exaggerated pout back. “Aw, did we ruin your rap?”

“You know what-,” Finn started, but I cut him off.

“What,” I asked him with raised eyebrows, moving to stand directly before him. Finn stared down at me, the smooth-talking man for once speechless, keeping his mouth shut. “Tell me what I should know Finn,” I whispered to him, looking up at him innocently through my lashes.

“You’re not playing very fair,” Finn whispered back to me.

“Hm,” I hummed, looking over at his desserts. I brought my hand up and swiped my finger in the whipped cream before looking up at Finn. “Who said I was playing,” I asked him sweetly before bringing my finger to my mouth, sucking the whipped cream off as I maintained eye contact with the baseball player.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore, you sure have no problem with ruining my chances of a hookup,” He whispered to me as he leaned down closer to me.

I released a breathless laugh and took another sip of my liquid courage before speaking. “You ruin my night, I ruin yours.”

“So that’s the game we’re playing,” He asked me with raised brows.

“I didn’t realize there was a game,” I shrugged at him.

Finn moved to corner me against the counter, causing me to stare up at him as he placed his hands on both sides of me on the counter, thumbs hooking into the belt loops on the back of my shorts. Jake leaned down towards my ear and released a husky whisper.

“There was always a game with us,” He said in my ear.

As soon as the words left his lips I scoffed and pushed him away from me, the moment between us now ruined just like when we were dating. “No, Finn, there was always a game with you.” Finn looked at me in shock at my sudden mood change, causing me to roll my eyes. “I need some air.”

I released a deep breath as I tried to breathe through the rising emotions. The reminder of what happened that night and the resurfacing of memories I have long since pushed away caused me to hide in the corner on the roof so I could be alone. Tears began to form in the corner of my eyes as I worked through what happened.

FRESHMAN YEAR, (Y/S)’S CHRISTMAS PARTY

Claire and Sarah stood outside their fellow sister’s room as they listened to her fight with her boyfriend of 4 months, wondering if telling her about what her boyfriend's friends were doing downstairs was necessary.

“Maybe we should just handle it ourselves,” Claire offered up.

“We can, but that doesn’t change the fact that once whatever is going on in there is over, (Y/N) is going to need us,” Sarah argued with her.

Meanwhile, in (Y/N) bedroom, she and Finn were having an extremely heated argument that was getting worse by the minute.

“I can’t believe you would embarrass me like that, Finn. You know how important this party was for me and that it was important that I looked good in front of the other girls. Then you bring your fucking dumbass teammates with you and fucking flirt with one of my sisters,” (Y/N) shouted at the blonde baseball player, gesturing with her hands toward the bedroom door.

“You’re overreacting, (Y/N). It wasn’t like that,” Finn argued with her, his hands on his hips as he tried to remain calm in the face of her wrath.

“Then what was it, Finn? Tell me what it was that I witnessed downstairs. Tell me the excuse you have for having one of my sorority sisters straddling you and close to having her tongue down your throat,” She yelled at him, throwing her hands around in anger.

“She came onto me,” He yelled back, pointing from the door then back at himself.

(Y/N) paused, her face contorting from anger to utter disbelief. “Oh, don’t give me that fucking bullshit, Finn. You're not the victim here. You never are. This is not the first time I have seen you do this to me. Why do you think I refuse to go to Sound Machine anymore? You go there and you hit on other girls and dance with them and you act like I don’t even fucking exist or like I'm not supposed to care that my boyfriend is fine with flirting with other girls.”

Finn remained quiet and stared at (Y/N), causing her to continue.

“What is it, Finn? What do they have that I don’t? What keeps making you run to every other girl but me,” She interrogated.

“Well, for starters they put out,” He snapped, anger blazing in his eyes.

(Y/N) took a step back at the look in his eyes before she narrowed her own at the baseball player and felt the anger she was feeling increase tenfold. “That’s what this is about? That I won’t let you stick your average-sized dick anywhere you want?”

“No, it's about the fact that you won't even let me touch you. I lay a single finger on you or make any sort of move to take this to the next level, you pull away,” He yelled at her, throwing his arms around in his exasperation.

“That’s not true,” she argued with him.

“Yes, it is, (Y/N). Don’t even bother trying to deny it. I touch your tits and suddenly you have to study for a big exam. I kiss your neck and then you have this book you want to tell me about. You always change directions every time,” He yelled.

“Did you ever think that maybe I’m not ready for something like that? Or that, I don’t know, I don’t trust you enough to take that next step in our relationship,” she snapped at him.

Finn went quiet after, staring at (Y/N) before speaking in a sarcastic tone and throwing his hands up in the air. “And there it is.”

(Y/N) remained quiet, staring at Finn with tears building up in her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself.

“You’re scared and you don’t want to admit it to yourself so you’re taking it out on me,” He added.

“I am not scared and don’t you dare try and turn this around on me,” she yelled at him.

“Yes, you are scared, (Y/N). You’re scared and instead of sitting down with me and talking it through you push me away and get mad at me for looking somewhere else for attention,” He yelled with a shrug.

“No, I don’t, Finn. Okay? I love you, but you never give me any indication that you love me,” She yelled, tears beginning to stream down her face.

“What do you want me to do, stand in the middle of the quad and declare my undying love for you,” He shouted, his face turning red in frustration.

“No,” (Y/N) yelled back.

“Then what do you want from me,” He snapped.

“I want you to say it! You never say it, Finn! And when we’re in public it’s like you’re a completely different person! You’re not affectionate, you don’t hold my hand, you don’t hug me or put your arm around me,” She sobbed. “I tell you I love you all the time and you never respond. Do you know how embarrassing that is when I say it in front of your teammates or my sisters and you just give me a “Yep” in response?”

“I do love you,” He shrugged at her.

“Then prove it to me,” She requested.

Finn went silent again and stared at (Y/N) for a moment before shaking his head at her.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for the constant back and forth, and I don’t have time for you,” Finn said with finality, beginning to walk towards the bedroom door.

“Finn, you don’t mean that,” She yelled after him.

“Yes, (Y/N), I do,” He said, standing by the door.

“Finn, if you walk out that door-,” (Y/N) started, trying to stop him.

“What, (Y/N)? What will happen,” He asked sarcastically, turning to look at her.

She stayed silent, tear streaks covering her face, mascara running under her eyes. 

“Exactly. I’m going to go downstairs, and I’m going to enjoy the rest of the party with my teammates. Who knows, maybe I still got a chance with that sister you found me with. She seemed like a good time, and seemed like she would do anything I asked her to,” Finn shrugged at her.

All (Y/N) could see was red at his words, tears building up once again at his careless attitude. The only thing she could think to do was grab the first thing she could get her hands on.

“I can go and tell Mel to handle it,” Claire offered again, referencing the rowdy baseball players downstairs.

Sarah opened her mouth to deny her but stopped when she heard her sorority sister yell at her boyfriend and what sounded like something being thrown against the wall. The door opened right after and said guy stepped out into the hallway, their sister's harsh words spilling out of the door behind him.

“Fuck you, Finn. You’re nothing but a selfish, disrespectful, misogynistic asshole. I never want to see or speak to you again. We’re through, get the fuck out.”

“Fine by me, sweetheart,” He yelled back at her.

Finn slammed the door behind him and turned around to see the two girls standing in front of him. He was breathing heavily from the battle he just suffered through in (Y/N)’s bedroom, and the young girl's sobs could be heard through the bedroom door. The two girls both looked to the side awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with him as he looked between the two of them. All he could bring himself to do was take a deep breath and try to fight off the tears that were building up in his own eyes. He released his breath in the form of a sigh before stepping past the two girls and walking down the stairs, gathering his teammates and forcing them out the door of the sorority house.

Meanwhile, back in (Y/N)’s room, said girl was sitting on the floor leaning against her bed sobbing at the loss of her boyfriend. He wasn’t her first love, but he was the first guy she loved with all of her heart and soul. She allowed herself to wallow in her sorrows for a moment before standing up and walking over to her vanity. She frantically wiped at her face, taking deep breaths in an attempt to quell her sobs, and looked in the mirror. She continued taking deep breaths before standing from her vanity and walking over to her bedroom door, ready to make the best of the rest of the night and rejoin the party. However, she stopped in her tracks at the door and looked down at the now-broken object she had thrown at Finn. Her tears built up in her eyes once again and she dropped down to her knees when she noticed she threw her picture of the two of them. She gripped the frame in her hands and shakily picked it up from the floor taking in the two smiling faces, her arms wrapped around his arm as he just looked somewhere else, most likely at one of his teammates. Her smile was small, her head resting on his shoulder as she looked up at Finn with adoration. She began to sob again as she carefully took the picture out of the frame, staring down at it as her door opened up. She looked up to see Claire and Sarah staring down at her, the two girls frowning at her in pity as she sobbed harder, dropping the frame and picture on the floor. The two girls stepped into the room and closed the door behind them, being careful of the glass on the floor as they both knelt beside their sister, wrapping their arms around her.

1980, BASEBALL HOUSE PARTY

I took a deep breath in as a few tears slipped from my eyes. Releasing a slow breath as I wiped them from my face. I took a few more deep breaths and stayed huddled up in my corner when I heard other people coming out on the roof with me. I looked around the corner to see Finn and Willoughby climbing out and holding golf clubs in their hand.

“God damn it,” I sighed in frustration, hitting the back of my head against the side of the house.

I heard footsteps begin making their way towards where I was sitting and leaned my head back against the side of the house. Looking up and to the left at the person next to me.

“Finnegan,” I greeted, bringing my cup up and taking a gulp of my drink.

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart,” He asked me with a smirk.

“Avoiding you. But apparently, I can’t even come outside to do that,” I said honestly, giving him a sarcastic smile.

Finn scoffed and shook his head at me. “You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

I rolled my eyes and looked back down at my lap, swirling the liquid inside my cup as entertainment before I drained the rest of it. I carelessly tossed the cup onto the roof before attempting to stand from my seated position, almost falling over in the process and falling off the roof, causing Finn to quickly grab me and support me.

“Careful, (Y/N). We don’t need the police called to our house before the school year even starts,” Finn warned me.

“I’m fine,” I slurred out, leaning against him.

“Mhm, I’m sure. Look how about you come over here and sit with Willoughby and me, watch us hit some beer cans off the roof, and I’ll have Coma get you some water,” He offered up, helping me walk over and setting me down on the recliner that somebody brought out on the roof.

“Ooh, water sounds good right now,” I moaned out, sitting down in the chair and relaxing.

“I bet it does. Coma, care to get our guest some water,” Finn called out to the baseball player.

“For (Y/N) I’ll do just about anything,” he told Finn before climbing back inside.

“Hey, watch it,” He called after his teammate, causing Coma to roll his eyes.

“You need to stop being so jealous,” I lectured, frowning up at him.

“Why is that,” Finn asked me with a smirk.

“Because you aren’t my boyfriend. You haven’t been for 2 years now,” I reminded him.

Finn’s smirk faded and was taken over by a frown. “Yeah, and they’ve been the worst 2 years of my life.”

My face softened and I looked up at him apologetically. I reached forward and hesitantly placed my hand in his own, squeezing it. Finn looked down at our hands, moving his hand to intertwine with my own. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” I apologized.

Finn opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Coma stepping back out of the window and handing me some water. I gave him a thankful smile and brought the cup to my lips to take a drink.

“Thank you, Coma.”

“You’re welcome, darling,” He told him standing next to me as Finn released my hand and grabbed his golf club from where it was sitting next to my seat. 

“Watch and be impressed sweetheart,” Finn told me, turning to face Willoughby who was patiently waiting for him while smoking a joint.

“So, where is the flag,” Willoughby asked Finn, referencing their target.

“Right there, Volkswagen,” Finn told him, pointing out into the yard at the vehicle.

“Oh, there’s the flag,” Willoughby said, handing Coma his and Finn’s cups before grabbing his cup and positioning himself.

Finn followed his lead, the two of them facing each other as they readied their show.

“Ready? Aim…,” Willoughby trailed off.

“Fire,” The two said together, looking at each other before hitting the beer cans.

I watched the cans fly before hitting the flag the two boys were speaking of. I was genuinely impressed and began clapping for the two boys, the two of them joining me as well.

“You’re a natural,” Finn told Willoughby.

“Thank you,” He nodded at Finn.

I watched the two continue hitting beer cans off the roof for about 30 more minutes until they ran out. After this Willoughby made his exit back inside along with Coma and Finn walked over to me.

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s go,” he told me, grabbing both of my hands and pulling me up out of my seat.

“I want more water,” I told him.

“I’ll get you more water, don’t worry,” He reassured me, helping me climb in before following after me.

He led me down the stairs and into the kitchen, taking my empty cup out of my hand and filling it from the sink. He handed it back to me and I gave him a thankful look before drinking some more. He then wrapped his arm around me and led me outside once again, leading me down the porch steps and setting me down on the last one.

“Sit here, sweetheart, and don’t move. I’ll be right back. There is about to be some good entertainment and I have to go work some magic beforehand,” He told me with a smirk.

“Meaning you need to go flirt with some girls,” I slurred out, rolling my eyes. “I don’t even want to know what you have planned.”

“It’ll be good, I promise. And they mean nothing to me compared to you,” He told me before placing a brief kiss on my head and then rushing off.

About 15 minutes later Finn was escorting a couple of girls outside. I watched the two walk by before Finn stopped by me and looked down at me. I looked up at him with a raised eyebrow as he helped me up and led me over to where the two girls were taking off their clothes.

“What the fuck is going on here,” I asked in confusion.

“Mud wrestling,” He said simply as the other partygoers began gathering around us. 

Nes, Coma, and Brumley came to stand by Finn and me. I looked across the way to see Jake and Plum standing together and Claire and Sarah sitting with McReynolds and Roper a couple of people over. To my right, I saw Niles and Willoughby pull a couple of chairs up to watch.

“Competitor’s ready,” Finn asked the two girls. The two nodded at him and he shouted an enthusiastic “Go!”

Everybody, including myself, began cheering the two girls on, watching them wrestle and grapple with each other as they tried to pin each other to the ground. Finn wrapped his arm around me as I jumped up and down, cheering the two on with glee. He smiled over at me and did what I call his “happy feet” dance as he let out a whoop. Eventually, the two’s match ended and the one girl climbed out. However, after she climbed out, Nes thought he would try his hand with the winner and stripped out of his shirt, jumping into the mud with the girl. He stood across from her and chugged his beer before chucking the empty can behind him. Coma and Finn leaned in and let out yells of encouragement at their friend.

“He’s going to lose,” I yelled to Finn.

“Obviously,” Finn yelled back to me before focusing back on the two.

Nes leaned down and grabbed some of the mud, rubbing it across his face and chest like tribal paint.

“Come on baby,” Nes yelled out before rushing at the girl.

The girl easily grabbed him and threw him down on his back, flipping him over. Nes climbed up from the ground and the girl grabbed him and threw him on his back once again. Nes got to his hands and knees and the girl grabbed him and began spanking him before flipping him over, climbing on top of him, and throwing the mud in his face. I winced as some of it got in his mouth before he finally tapped out and the girl climbed off of him.

I couldn’t help but laugh in amusement and cheer on the girl before Finn finished off his beer and looked over at me.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you inside again,” He told me, leading me back inside the house.

I couldn’t stop giggling as I stumbled over my feet into Finn’s room. The baseball player let out huffs of amusement as he assisted me into his bed. Helping me to kick my Converse off and slide my jacket off my arms. I watched Finn place my shoes neatly on the floor next to his bed and fold my jacket in half before draping it over his desk chair. He then grabbed the blanket folded at the end of his bed and unfolded it before gently laying it over me.

“Nes had his ass completely handed to him by that chick,” I laughed in amusement, shaking my head as I stared at the ceiling and pulled the blanket tighter around me.

“I think he underestimated her,” Finn said with a laugh, moving to sit on the floor next to the bed.

Finn rested his back against the bed and let his head rest back on the side of it as well. I reached down with a scoff and began running my hands through his hair as I spoke.

“Sounds about right. You men underestimate us women all the time,” I hummed as Finn pushed his head further into my hand.

“Not all of us men do,” Finn tried to reassure me.

“True. Some of you have a good head on your shoulders,” I said in agreement, gripping his hair in my hand and giving a slight tug to make him turn his head towards me. “Even you. As much as I hate to admit it.”

Finn scoffed back at me and shook his head. He reached up to grab my hand from his hair and intertwined my fingers with his instead. “You're only saying that 'cause you’re drunk.”

“Hm, maybe,” I shrugged at him before directing my gaze throughout the space. Finn watched me look around his room a bit before setting my eyes on his bedside table. I breathed in a sharp breath when I saw the picture of him and me (a candid of me kissing his cheek while he laughed taken by one of my sorority sisters) sitting there and staring me in the face. His Christmas present I gave him the night before everything happened. “You still have it?”

“I couldn’t get rid of it,” Finn told me honestly, rubbing his thumb over my hand.

I hummed a laugh to myself. “I couldn’t get rid of mine either. It’s tucked between the pages of my journal from that year. Sometimes I look at it and read over everything I wrote. Try and figure out where it all went wrong.”

Finn let out a scoff and squeezed my hand. “You know where it all went wrong.”

“Exactly,” I whispered, hoping he understood my underlying message of ‘I wish you did too.’

There was a few seconds of silence before Finn pushed himself off of the floor and moved to sit next to me in his bed. I didn’t take my eyes off the picture of us as he started delicately running his fingers through my hair.

“You know, I lied the other day,” Finn told me softly.

“Hm,” I hummed at him in confusion, looking at him with furrowed brows.

“I do remember that night. I remember every word that I said and that I made you cry. I remember it all and I regret everything,” He told me, looking into my eyes.

“Why did you lie,” I asked him curiously.

Finn looked down and intertwined his other hand in mine. “Because I hate the person that I was that night, and I never wanted to think about it again. What I did and what I said… I promised myself I was never going to be that way again. That’s why I changed. Because I promised myself that if I did, and you happened to take me back, then I was going to treat you better than any other guy possibly could and put you up on the pedestal you deserved to be on.”

I sighed and sat up in his bed. I brought my free hand up and placed it on his cheek, moving his head so he would look at me.

“So you remember why we fought in the first place? And that it was a long time coming,” I asked him, rubbing my thumb over his cheekbone.

Finn nodded at me and sighed. I nodded back at him and wrapped my hand around his neck, lacing my fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. “I was happy with you, Finn. But you weren’t happy with me. You wanted someone who would have sex with you anytime you wanted, and I was the exact opposite. And I wanted somebody who respected my decisions and what I wanted, and you were the exact opposite.”

Finn looked at me sadly before speaking. “I was a cocky, horny 18-year-old, who couldn’t fathom the thought of someone not wanting to have sex with him. Who didn’t want to attempt to understand why the girl he was absolutely in love with didn’t want to completely give herself to him. So, instead of attempting to understand and work through it with her and tell her how he truly felt about her, he went and treated her like shit. He hit on other girls and told himself that it was okay because things were likely not going to work out anyways.”

I sighed and ran my fingers through the hair at the back of his head in a soothing manner.

“And I was a hopeful, naive 18-year-old who was experiencing love for the first time, despite having relationships before ours. Who was too scared to talk about how she was feeling mistreated out of fear of the guy she loved leaving her and in turn scared to give herself over to him completely.”

“Wow, we were fucked up. Weren’t we,” Finn said, causing me to laugh and nod at him.

“Yeah, we were,” I said in agreement, looking down at my lap. “But I think us breaking up then was for the best.”

Finn looked up at me with hurt in his eyes.

“Not for the reason you’re thinking. I think that we were meant to break up then, so we could become who we are now. So we would be a better fit for each other when we came back together,” I explained softly.

“Back together,” Finn questioned me eagerly.

“Yeah,” I whispered to him, a smile taking over my face.

“Oh thank god,” Finn said in relief before cupping my face in his own and placing his lips against my own.

I couldn't help but smile as we continued kissing each other, him smiling as well shortly after. We continued placing our lips against each other, his mustache rubbing against my face just as I remembered it did Freshman year. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned back, bringing him over me as we continued kissing. Finn moved to hover over me and I broke away from the kiss, the two of us leaning our foreheads against each other. Finn began peppering kisses across my face and neck, his grin growing at my giggling.

“What are you doing,” I asked him through my giggles.

“I have almost 3 whole years to make up for not being able to kiss you,” Finn told me, continuing his assault.

“Well, can you continue you tomorrow? I’m tired,” I asked him in amusement.

Finn pulled away and looked up at me with a pout. “Fine.”

Finn moved and lay on his side next to me. I rolled my eyes at his childish antics and turned on my side so my back was facing him. Finn threw his arm over my waist and pulled me closer to him, nuzzling his face in my neck and taking a deep breath.

“Good night, (Y/N),” He whispered to me.

“Good night, Walt,” I whispered back to him, feeling his grin widen as the two of us drifted off to sleep.

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

i think it is very telling that the best documented case of women buying sex from men are white western women going on vacation in west african countries such as gambia to prey on impoverished and usually younger black men. it highlights that prostitution - any prostitution - is an exertion of power from a more privileged group against a less privileged group. that prostitution is a system that profits from and reinforces oppression and inequality. here, the axis of oppression is not sex, but race. its a symptom of neocolonialism, like most sex tourism.

nonetheless i always have to laugh when the articles, documentaries and research desperately try to act like female and male sex buyers are exactly the same - usually the argument hinges on the fact that the motivation is the same, companionship and sexual gratification. but male sex buyers are motivated by so much more: fetish, sadism, violence, domination. this does not tend to be the case with women. also, unwanted penetration is a different level of violence, having something inserted in you. female sex buyers dont request painful acts such as deepthroat or anal. there are no brothels full with men, the men dont have pimps, and usually in the case of female sex tourists, the arrangement is loose: companionship and sex with no fixed payment but pleasantries, gifts and such. additionally, women dont tend to be able to physically overpower men, or get off on enacting violence like hitting and choking. men who prostitute themselves for women are also less stigmatised than those who do so for men, or prostituted women. and more men sell themselves to other men than to women. and: women who buy sex tend to be single, while the relationship status of a man is no indicator of likelihood to buy sex.

female sex buyers highlight that besides sex, economic class and race determine who is prostituted and who buys sex. that prostitution is an issue of intersectional inequality. and that misogyny is still the key motor of prostitution: male sex buyers are any age, any class, any race, because any man can be a misogynist. but women only become sex buyers under specific conditions; for example motivated by racist fetishisation. another key factor here is gender. buying sex is considered masculine, but women buying sex break with gender norms. consider also the orgasm gap: most women are not satisfied by their male sexual partners. hypothetically it would make more sense for women to be the majority of sex buyers to enforce sexual satisfaction they lack in consensual sexual relationships. yet privileged women who lack sexual satisfaction are more likely to prostitute or otherwise objectify themselves than buying sex.

any form of female-on-male prostitution has its male-on-female (and sometimes male-on-male) equivalent that is more violent and more common. meanwhile many forms of prostitution dont have a female-on-male version, for example prostitution in brothels. men prostituting themselves for women are at a lot less risk for physical violence and abuse or being trafficked. there is even a phenomenon of heterosexual men having to prostitute themselves for men because there is just not enough demand from women. and female-on-female prostitition is almost unheard of, if anything this occurs in a male-female-female constellation. there are no gangbang parties with one or two men and groups of women.

people are so obsessed with pretending like women as consumers in the sex industry - whether that be as sex buyers, porn watchers or stripshow enjoyers - are just the same as men when there are clear differences. gender relations are always relevant in a patriarchal system and reversed roles dont produce the same outcomes.

[mourninglamby]

i would pay insane money to hear about your thoughts on ctommy girlism because it’s actually such an important part of his character analysis to me

I’ve been wanting to make a patreon for stuff like this + art I don’t wanna post, so I’ve decided to go this route with the essay I will likely end up with based on this thesis. But I’ll use this post to summarize some thoughts im VERY confident about (and could be a sneak peek into what else the paper will entail)

C!tommy is fem-coded based off of fandom interpretation and reception, textual evidence, and meta analysis (will get more into meta in the big doc).

To start, a lot of this coding has to do with how he is victimized and why, which mainly concerns him craving approval from these older men (c!wilbur, c!dream, and even c!techno,) that he views as role models. Power imbalances are something that can also affect boys, yes, but this is where the coding comes in to set them apart. PLEASE REMEMBER Coding is used to identify traits that align with minority experiences, both good and bad. That does not mean c!tommy is LITERALLY a girl. It is a tool utilized in rhetorical analysis.

In this case, the constant subjugation of c!tommy by the men he yearns to trust, and subsequent self blame and denial when they hurt him fit into an experience closely associated with misogyny, and to go even further into the meta, a misogynistic view of feminine victimhood. The way c!tommy’s trauma interrupts his psychological and emotional development is received by thousands of fans who still deny his abuse even happened as “annoying”, “mean”, and “just as bad” as his perpetrator(s). This is observed from the existence of c!dream apologists and sympathizers, and to a more complicated extent, c!wilbur apologists. But I digress.

C!tommy is coded as feminine because in the majority of media centering victims of this kind of abuse, the character is a woman, and a woman can and will always be blamed for what happened to her. In the case of DSMP, this blame comes from the man who is protected by the spoils of his privilege as an oppressor, status in his community, and the many other people (predominantly young women) he has managed to manipulate to be in opposition to his victim. Fiction affecting real life and all…. Which is why I think this evidence of coding is so important.

To add another disclaimer for the bad faith warriors, being a victim does NOT make a character femme coded, however, the way he is treated in canon and the way the fanbase reacts to how he grapples with the lasting trauma is certainly rooted in misogynistic talking points.

Looking forward to writing more ^__^ thank u for being so interested anony. I’ve welcomed some friends who I trust very much to help me write it and I’m very excited.

addendum: there is no right or wrong way to interpret ctommy or dsmp or the response to how he was depicted... i only wish to start a conversation and get my thoughts out. if u disagree that is ur prerogative and i respect it <3

[chaoticfandomgirly]

The Stupidity of hating on fanon, featuring Jegulus.

Alright folks,

Welcome to another one of my rants because I found out that there are jegulus haters on tumblr. I have not encountered one but I saw it on my mutuals' page and I had some words (a lot of words) to say.

So let's get started...

One of the main complaints is saying that 'James would never fall for Regulus.' Umm...child, do you know what fanfic is? What fanon is? If not let me spell it out for you- it's made up. Something that is not canon and created by fans by employing their imaginations. We are not saying that James would fall for Regulus in canon at all, so please don't come barging in with your opinions. So yes, we don't really care about canon anyways.

Secondly, the argument of 'Regulus being a terrible person and pureblood supremacist' is really weak. Alright, he was a pureblood supremacist and was involved in terrible things. But do you know what else he was? He was just a 17 year old boy who grew up in an abusive household. A boy who had lost his big brother and had to learn survival at an age too young. He grew up before his time and was so traumatized that he always wanted to please his parents and do as they wish. Regulus was just another victim and he also was the one who ended up being the catalyst to Voldemort's defeat. As someone who studies psychology, viewing a person on the surface is the biggest sign of ignorance and it really shows. As for 'being terrible' then let's not forget that canon James wasn't all sunshine and rainbows either. He improved ofc, but he was still an asshole when he was young. Also, we really don't have enough background on canon Regulus to place him in one box. I love that some people want to believe him as good and fill in the blanks by writing something redeeming.

Then comes the 'it's a misogynistic ship'. Now, I won't argue it fully because I do think there are some people out there who don't like Jily bc they hate Lily. But, from what I've seen majority shippers ship both of them interchangeably or in a polyarmorous sense too. In fact, most jegulus shippers are also Marylily and pandalily shippers too. I really can't see anything misogynistic in it. I've actually read some great fics where Lily is a strong independent woman who is fierce and an overall queen.

And, if the 'canon' of it bothers you too much, then you should check out early Jegulus fics like Choices where nothing is sugar-coated. James still ends up with Lily. But in the end, it leaves you thinking and rooting for them anyways. The more new Jegulus fics are on a fluffier side but that fluff came in after bearing the pain of the full of angst fics like Choices.

Another thing should be noted is that these characters are also a big part of queer community. I've seen so many fans exploring themselves through these characters. Like Regulus as Trans is becoming a popular headcanon and it shows that through creative expression people are finding a safe place to explore. And if you're a bigot then...that is frankly a you problem. One I, or jegulus fans, don't want any part of.

In the end, my motive is not to convince you of shipping these two. It clearly started as a crackship, one even I stumbled upon accidentally. But the fandom has made it into something really beautiful and I think instead of spreading hate we should accept it. There are more problematic pairings to be concerned about, trust me. This one is the least of them all.

Thank you for listening to my rant. And if you have anything negative to say, kindly don't because it would just be proof of your own stupidness. There is no point you can argue about with anything substantial. Because in the end it's fanon. Let fans do what they want and if you don't like it then ignore. No one is forcing it on you.

@corwnvus I hope this covers it all. Also, I love your art. Did I mention that, already?

[spacelazarwolf]

Hey, I saw a post from another tumblr user that you are a Zionist and spreading false info about Jewish people being excluded from pride parades and I don't know what a Zionist is (they just said it was nationalist) but I enjoy your blog and wanted to ask you about it directly to understand better whats going on if thats okay? Im not anonymous in case you want to privately answer or tell me youd not want to discuss. 💕

first, i wanna thank you for being respectful about this, and for asking this off anon. this tells me you're asking in good faith, so i'm happy to answer.

i've had to state numerous times on my blog that i'm not a zionist bc people love to slap that label on any jew they disagree with, which is exactly what's happening in this situation. they disagreed with what i said about a lot of jews not feeling comfortable at pride because of the pervasive antisemitism in queer spaces, and several queer events banning the jewish pride flag because it "looked too similar to the israeli flag" and decided that made me a zionist. it happens a lot bc ppl know that that word is very taboo in activist spaces, and labeling you a zionist is a surefire way to get you kicked out of a lot of progressive circles. interestingly (said with a huge dollop of sarcasm) this rarely happens to gentiles.

zionist is also a pretty useless word for determining what someone actually believes, because depending on who you ask their ideologies can range from "i think that jewish people should be able to live in the land that is currently israel and palestine alongside palestinians and other indigenous groups" to "i think that only jews should get to live in that area and we should kick everyone else out." and as you can imagine, there's lots of people like me who agree with the first statement but vehemently disagree with the second. it's become somewhat of a dogwhistle, to the point that alt righters popularized "zio" as a slur, which was then picked up by leftists (because there is also a huge problem with antisemitism in leftist and non palestinian gentile-dominated antizionist spaces.) one of the events i mentioned in the first paragraph deleted a tweet using this slur.

the person you're probably talking about also claimed that i, a genderqueer trans man, am a misogynist, because i said that jewish masculinity is very culturally different from white masculinity and that i find a lot of comfort in it. they cited a bunch of problems with misogyny within the orthodox community, despite the fact i'm not orthodox or even ashkenazi. what it boiled down to is that they disagree with the takes i have on anti transmasculinity, and they needed something else to pin it on.

so in the future, if you see someone accusing a jew of being a zionist, take everything they have to say with a bucket full of salt and do as you did with this ask and go ask the person what they actually believe. sometimes you'll find their beliefs actually don't line up with your morals and you can unfollow, but the vast majority of the time you'll find that they just said something someone didn't like and it was the easiest way to discredit them.

in general, i don't share my opinions about zionism/antizionism on tumblr because that's not what my blog is centered on, and also i oppose the expectation that jews should have to disclose our opinions on zionism in order for gentiles to determine whether or not we are worth listening to. i also have a lot of thoughts abt how the focus on anti-anything makes it easier for activists to weaponize that activism against marginalized people, but that's an entirely different post.

anyway, i hope that answers your question, and i will probably pin this ask somewhere on my blog since i have been asked this a few times now and it seems unavoidable since ppl just won't drop it.

[blackbullet99]

Why SOME Zutara shippers personally disgust me (as a Person of Color).

⛔️WARNING! I’m gonna get into some pretty heavy subjects.

This should go without saying, but I have nothing against most people who ship Zutara. I take no issue with Zuko, I love him, I love his story arc, I love his an Katara’s relationship and if they did become a couple at the end of the show, they wouldn’t be toxic IMO, they’d be crazy rushed and forced, and it would be a prime example of the writers giving into fan-entitlement, but Zuko and Katara don’t have a toxic relationship, at least by the end of the show.

No, what really pisses me off the the racist, sexist, genocide downplaying, colonist supporting stuff some of the loudest Zutara shippers say, and for one anyone who says “it’s just a cartoon”, yes that’s true, but to things depicted are very serious issues, genocide, abuse, imperialism, colonization, slavery, these are issues that I feel strongly about, a majority of the reason being that as a PoC my family, my ancestors went through a lot of this stuff and seeing people online dismiss and downplay these issues all for the sake of a ship is pathetic and can easily reflect their issues of subject matter in real life.

Additionally, I’m aware “Bryke” are white, they have also done plenty of problematic things (and even some episodes), but that’s a story for another time, I’m not here to defend THEM specifically. ZKs always defend Zuko, even though they created him and did a good chunk of his story, so it is what is.

The main issue here, are the Zutara shippers, who claim to be Pro-Katara, the people who whine about Katara deserving better (even though to them Better=Zuko) and act like Aang was a horrible abusive 12 year old misogynist who never respected Katara and sexually assaulted her. Looking at you the-badger-mole / Miss Anthropy.

I’m all for criticism, the issue is, almost none of the criticism regarding Aang are valid, and even the one’s that have some validity grossly villainize the character. What’s even worse is some of these people downplay the effect of Aang’s genocidal trauma, they straight up act like it didn’t effect him, or it shouldn’t effect him, these people blatantly downplay genocide can effect someone all for the sake of some lame-ship.

It isn’t real-life genocide yes, but the issues and trauma that come from genocide are all to real and effect people in real life in many different way. Aang generally tries to enjoy life and remain positive despite what happened, but it effects him regularly, it’s comes up multiple times, he has survivor’s guilt, it something he has to live with for the rest of his life, it’s why he was generally so crestfallen when Appa was stolen, why he tries to preserve his culture. He’s 100 years removed from it, but to him it’s all to recent. If you generally don’t understand the effect of his trauma, then your stupidly braindead, if you dismiss it all for the sake of hating on Aang for some dusty-@$$ ship, your a heartless scumbag, no debate about it.

And despite what these people say they don’t care about Katara at all, they literally only care about her if she’s Zuko’s accessory, Zuko’s prize. Her whole story essentially has to be tied to Zuko, they don’t care about her otherwise. Without Zuko, she’s nothing to these people and they clearly don’t respect her, or value her.

They adultify her, they sexualize her, the create this false narrative that she let people walk all over her and never expressed herself, they invalidate her trauma, they invalidate her accomplishments later it life. They invalidate her canon feelings towards Aang and her initial hatred of Zuko and the Fire Nation. They straight up call her a baby-maker.

The worst of it all, the stuff that gets me the most is how, the act like a dark-skinned girl, becoming an accessory to the nation that colonized her tribe and killed her mother is a positive empowering thing.

The think THIS would be an impactful ending for Katara.

People like sokkastyles actually think imperialist propaganda supports Katara, because it means Zutara.

People will say the Water Tribes were never colonized and once again downplay genocide because it means Zutara.

People will write a young person of color becoming a slave to an imperialist nation and falling in love with their oppressor if it means Zutara, what the heck is wrong with these people?

They think Katara should’ve married Zuko solely because of what Zuko would have to gain, even though he already has a father figure in Uncle Iroh (how do you miss a plot-point that major) and ignoring that fact that Ozai would essentially become Katara’s father in law, and Azulon her grandfather in law, these are literally the people who colonized her tribe and killed her mom. I know you shouldn’t judge people by their parents, but they’re making such a big deal in-laws that Zuko would gain and bathmouthing Mai because of her relatives (even her infant brother) that this just screams hypocrisy.

And of course the racist colonizer supporters are offended that people don’t like this stupid-@$$ take. longing-for-rain actually dismissed a legit indigenous person and called them racist. F*ck these guys.

They can’t handle any acknowledgment that the Fire Nation was an imperialist nation, to the point where people like this spider guy and “lie about Aaron Ehasz Araeph” actually believe the nation that committed mass genocide is more altruistic and innovative than the nation that suffered from genocide. Araeph, the guy on the right even says Sokka and Katara would gain more from Zutara because Fire Nation looks to the future, but the Air Nation is frozen in time. The Fire Nation’s idea of looking to the future literally cost Sokka and Katara their mom and is the reason why Aang’s Nation is sadly “frozen in time”. Sure you, you imperialism supporting dicks

People who downplay very serious issues such as genocide, colonization, trauma and slavery all for the sake of some lousy Wattpad self-insert ship are pathetic loser scumbags. They’re not real fans of Avatar: The Last Airbender, they don’t care about the themes or story, just Zuko and Katara being his accessory, the fact that they downplay and ignore all of Zuko’s actions and villainize Aang is beyond stupid and media-illiterate. I love Zuko because he was both antagonist, but also a sympathetic, he’s often temperamental and imature, but gradually matures and becomes kinder, he perpetuates the violence and colonization of his nation, but learns that they were wrong and HE was wrong, he makes a genuine effort to change himself, the world and his nation. If he knew you actively supported the colonization and violence of his nation he would torch your @$$€$.

So all in all, if you wanna downplay genocide and support colonization and slavery just for the sake a of mid non-canon ship because you haven’t matured since middle-school, you’re a dumb@$$ racist b!tch plain and simple, no debate about it. And if any of you toxic idiotic ZK come across this post, go f*ck yourself.

[evansbby]

𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | dark!Ari Levinson x innocent!reader, dark!Steve Rogers x innocent!reader, dark!Curtis Everett x innocent!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | dark, smut, noncon, dubcon, foursome, daddy!kink, oral, anal, physical violence, slapping, mention of alcohol and drugs, insertion of objects, spitting, toys, degradation, dumbification, spanking, very very strongly misogynistic, domesticity kink, slight petplay, bullying, Ari, Curtis and especially Steve being very mean, adultery/cheating, dacryphilia, collars, leashes, free use, sharing is caring.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Your husband Ari invites his friends Steve and Curtis for poker night. You knew they’d be sharing a few drinks together - what you don’t know is that they plan on sharing you too.

𝐀/𝐍 | This work includes MAJOR misogyny and degradation. The views of these characters do not reflect my own. Please heed warnings and don’t read if this isn’t your cup of tea. Otherwise, enjoy!

“Honey, where the hell are those drinks?” Ari’s voice is loud, booming and dripping with authority as it carries from the living room into the kitchen. Exhaling slowly a few times to steady your hand, you drop the final few ice cubes into your husband’s glass of whiskey, giving the drink a gentle stir before placing it on the tray next to the scotch and the beer.

“Sure, she’s a real looker, but she’s a bit slow.” You hear your husband explain to his friends. “I don’t worry, though, because what she lacks for in brains, she makes up for in other areas.”

“I’d definitely prefer a broad who’s dumb as bricks. I’d say it makes ‘em hotter.” One of his friends responds – you’re too focused on making sure you have their drinks exactly right to notice who it is that’s spoken.

Their laughter echoes and bounces off the walls of the living room, your husband’s the loudest of all.

Your parents had warned you against Ari Levinson. A business tycoon of his magnitude rocking up in your small town? He’d bought up all the small businesses, bulldozed down the local mall and played a hand in more than a handful of people being left unemployed – including both your parents. Your dad called him a ruthless, big city snob. Your mom called him trouble with a capital T. But you called him your husband.

Or daddy.

“She’s a bit on the younger side.” You hear another one of your husband’s friends – Steve Rogers, you think – comment, “You sure she knows what she’s doing?”

“She’ll manage.” Ari sounds smooth and unperturbed, “I’ve got her trained. And she’s well aware of what’ll happen if she messes up.”

You swallow, tray now gripped tightly in your hands as you make your way out of the kitchen.

Ari was charming and friendly when you’d first met him, and he’d swept you off your feet instantly. The naïve, small-town waitress seduced through his sugary sweet words and expensive gifts. The fact that he was so much older than you didn’t seem to matter, not when he made you feel sparks across your body and see stars behind your eyes.

You were married within three weeks of knowing him.

“I hope she does mess up.” Course, almost sadistic laugher echoes from the living room. Curtis. Ari’s other friend. “I’d love to stick around to witness the repercussions.”

You cringe at his insinuation. You know Curtis Everett is married. You also know he has a wild reputation for being a regular at both the town’s strip club and the local whorehouse. What he does for a living is unclear to you – Ari never discusses things like that with you – but he hangs around in the same circles as your husband and drives a nice car, so you assume he must have a lot of money.

“You ever used your belt on her, Levinson?” Steve asks casually. There’s a darkness to Steve Rogers that you can’t quite pinpoint. An air of mystery that no one in town seems to be able to crack – least of all you. All you know is that he’s one of Ari’s business partners, he’s divorced, and he rides a motorbike from time to time.

Your husband smirks, “Wouldn’t you like to know, you sadistic fuck.”

They know you’ve entered the living room, slowly making your way towards them whilst balancing the tray of drinks, yet they still talk about you like you’re not there. But you still feel nervous, despite none of the three men bothering to tear their gazes away from their game of poker to even spare you a glance.

Curtis is nearest to you, so you approach him first, silently holding out the tray of drinks just like Ari has taught you to do with every guest that’s come to visit in the past. And he looks up, head buzzed but facial hair dark and thick as ever. Beard not as thick as Ari’s, but still thick enough. Ocean blue eyes sparkling with intensity, he grabs his beer from the tray, taking a long swig while maintaining eye contact with you.

“That’s a pretty dress you got on, sweetheart.” Curtis leers, his gaze stuck on your cleavage peaking out past the neckline of your dress. After marrying you, Ari made sure you had a wardrobe full of cute dresses and skirts to wear just for him. All pastel and flowery and girly to match his tastes – which Curtis clearly seems to share.

You hesitate, glancing back at Ari with your lip tucked between your teeth. Curtis’ gaze is hungry and wolfish, taking advantage of the close proximity between the two of you. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand, being stared at like this. As if you’re an exhibit inside a zoo enclosure, but he’s the animal circling you from the outside.

“Don’t be rude, honey. Tell him thank you.” Your husband’s order is clear and commanding.

“Th-Thank you, Mr. Everett.” Never first names, your husband had told you that his friends – like Ari himself – were not your equals.

You move on to Steve next. He’s sat on the couch, or more like spread out on the couch because he’s taking up more than half the space. Not even sparing you a single glance when you bend down so the tray is level with him, he grabs his scotch and takes a long, calculated sip. A single strand of his dirty blonde hair falls over his forehead. He’s got long hair just like Ari, but where Ari’s is darker and wilder, Steve’s dirty blonde mane is almost always perfectly styled.

“She’s shaking like a scared little kitten.” Steve comments, and he’s looking at you now. Or rather, your body – his blue eyes drinking in all your curves whilst he still has yet to acknowledge you. But sure enough – he’s right. The tray in your hands is shaking despite your many efforts to calm your own nerves. There’s just something… fearsome about the blond sat in front of you. As if one wrong move on your part and he’ll eat you alive…

Curtis grins, “I think she’s scared of you, Rogers.”

Steve is unamused, “I could give her a good reason to be scared.”

You gulp, slowly straightening up and making your way over to Ari, who’s sat on his leather armchair. Handing your husband his whiskey, you take your seat on his knee – your designated place for whenever you guys have company. Very early on in your marriage, Ari had told you that good little wives sit on their husbands’ laps because the couches and chairs were reserved for the men.

His arm encircles around your waist, pulling you close and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. The act of affection relaxes you, tenseness evaporating from your limbs as you settle down against your husband. In his lap you feel so tiny; he’s just so big – they all are. All three of them don’t look an inch below 6’5, and it only adds to the intimidation you feel.

Their poker game resumes, and you try to make sense of it in your head but the truth is you have no idea what’s going on. You never understood the rules of poker, and Ari had just laughed when, in the past, you’d asked him to explain the game to you. “Poker is a men’s game.” He’d said wisely, “Little girls like you just need to sit tight and look pretty, so don’t you worry your dumb little head over it.”

“My wife’s being a fucking bitch.” Curtis breaks the silence with a drawl, cigarette waving in one hand and beer bottle in the other, “Got herself these progressive friends, telling her she doesn’t have to be in the kitchen all the time. Now suddenly she wants to go out for fucking girls’ night – as if she doesn’t have four of my fucking kids to be taking care of.”

Steve snorts, not even looking up from his cards, “You scared you might run into her at the strip club?”

Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Curtis exhales and the smoke billows out past his pink lips slowly, his blue eyes looking straight at you through the grey mist. “I don’t give a shit if I do. Maybe if she knew I was getting pleasure elsewhere, she’d try harder in the bedroom. Fuckin’ bitch.”

“Divorce her. That’s what I did when my broad got too big for her boots.” The blond finally looks up from his deck of cards, his icy blue eyes – like Curtis’ – drinking you in with their intense gaze. “Now Levinson’s got the right idea. Got himself a pretty young thing who doesn’t dare to even breathe unless he tells her to.”

Ari smirks, his thick fingers tracing shapes on your bare thigh, “You got that right. My little angel knows exactly where her place is, don’t you, baby?”

Of course, you know your place. You’d been happy to grant Ari full control of your life from the moment you had met him. He was just so handsome, so sweet, so charming – with seemingly endless amounts of money and praise that he had no problem spending on you. In your naïve eyes, he seemed like a God. And he still does, so you nod.

“Yes, Ari. I know my place.”

“Ari? Is that what she calls you?” Steve’s remark is quick and biting.

Your husband sighs, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch is soft but his gaze hardens, and he doesn’t even have to say anything. His disapproval is evident in the look he gives you, and it makes your heart sink.

The rule is to only call Ari “daddy” when you’re inside the house. But he’s never made you do it when the two of you have company over. The thought of calling him that in front of Curtis and Steve makes your heart beat faster and heat rise to your cheeks. But the possibility of disobeying Ari makes you feel almost sick to your stomach.

“Sorry, I meant daddy. I know my place, daddy.” You correct yourself, earning a soft kiss on your lips from your husband, the simple gesture making you glow inwardly. It’s like your body is now wired to function on his approval. You try not to think about the fact that his friends are right there, because that might make you spontaneously combust with embarrassment.

“Fuckin’ newlyweds,” Curtis growls as he watches you and Ari continue to kiss. He suddenly slams his beer bottle on the coffee table, the loud thud making you jump. “Hey sweetie, get me another beer.”

No please, no thank you. But you scamper to obey anyways – you already know your night’s going to be spent going back and forth from kitchen to living room as you fetch drinks for them. You’re barely on your feet when Ari’s hand smacks your ass hard, the lewd sound echoing across the room along with the squeak of surprise that leaves your mouth.

The men laugh and you scurry out of the room quickly. “Where the hell did you find her, Levinson? She’s shyer than a fuckin’ mouse!” Curtis’ voice booms.

Inside the kitchen and away from their burning gazes, you allow yourself to exhale slowly. You may be overthinking it, but something seems off about tonight. It’s in the way that all three men are looking at you – your husband included. And the dress Ari chose for you is shorter than usual, which doesn’t help much with the staring. They’re treating you like an object, and you honestly don’t know how to feel about that.

“You think she got lost in there?” Steve’s voice is loud enough to carry through the walls and into the kitchen. You sigh, grabbing another bottle of beer from the fridge and making your way back out, being sure to tug your tiny dress down before you return.

“Here you are, Mr. Everett.” You say politely, breath hitching in your throat when his hand brushes against yours as he takes the beer from you.

“At least some women still remember their manners,” The buzzcut-haired man murmurs, “Fuckin’ feminists, ruining this world for the rest of us. You’re still good though, sweetie. Your daddy trained you well, huh?”

“Yes, Mr. Everett.” You disagree with just about everything he’s saying, but you have to keep that to yourself.

It’s hard to not be intimidated when all three men seem to have their eyes glued on you; you can feel their gazes again as you make your way back over to Ari. You’re about to sink back down on his lap when he raises a hand, the simple action making you freeze.

“Why don’t you sit by daddy’s feet for a little while, angel?”

He says it so sweetly, almost like he’s requesting you to do a small favour for him. But the edge in his tone, that unmistakable tinge of darkness dancing around his words can’t be ignored. It’s an order, cleverly disguised as a question although he has no reason to disguise it. But by his feet? On the floor?

You swallow harshly, suddenly remembering your parents’ distressed words of warning when you’d broken the news that you and Ari had eloped: “That man looks at you like you’re a piece of meat. You need to get out while you still can, he doesn’t respect you and he never will.” But you love him. You’re so in love with him that it hurts to disobey him, to upset him in any way, shape or form.

“Is she hard of hearing or something?” Steve’s deep baritone makes you jump inadvertently, not a note of sympathy in his words. “Maybe she isn’t as well trained as you say she is, Levinson. Hey sweetheart,” He clicks his teeth like he’s beckoning a dog, “Are you deaf or just plain dumb?”

Bristling at Steve’s stark meanness, you waste no more time in sinking down to your knees next to Ari’s feet, hands clasped neatly over your lap and chin jutted upwards to look at your husband. And Ari seems cool and collected as ever, taking another long gulp of his whiskey. He doesn’t even look your way, but his hand pats the top of your head – the action bringing you both embarrassment and comfort at the same time.

“To think she asked for a puppy for Christmas.” Ari says offhandedly, “I told her I didn’t have time to take care of two pets.” Again, the men laugh crudely, and you’re left feeling more than a little dejected. But Ari pushes the back of your head forward, making you rest your cheek on his thigh with his fingers raking through your hair and you relax once more.

“Speaking of dumb,” Curtis pipes up as they continue to play poker, “Ransom’s got a new bitch and she’s dumb as hell. Saw her at the club with him the other night, he had her dressed looking like a fuckin’ whore.” He smirks, “The things that girl would do for a line of crack.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Steve scoffs.

“Things you can’t even dream of, grandpa.” Curtis slaps his knee and barks out a laugh, “How long’s it been since you got your rocks off, huh?”

The blond shrugs, “At least I’m not a walking STD.”

You want to wrinkle your nose at their conversation but you know that wouldn’t be a good idea. But the way they speak about women is so crass, so dehumanising – it’s almost scary. The only thing keeping you calm right now is Ari’s heavy, warm hand as it strokes the top of your head continuously as if you’re his pet.

“My angel does everything Ransom’s crackwhore does, except she does it for free.” Ari interjects, a satisfied smirk painted on his face.

Curtis’ eyebrow cocks up in interest, and even Steve puts his drink down.

“Yeah? Sweetie, are you a little freak in the sheets?” Curtis asks as he leans forward to toss what’s left of his cigarette into the crystal ashtray that’s on the coffee table.

You immediately look up at Ari, who is now scratching the space behind your ear in a way that really does make you feel like you’re some kind of puppy. Your husband sighs, “Answer him, angel. And don’t look at me like that again. You speak when you’re spoken to, no ifs or buts. Got it?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You flinch at his stern tone before turning to look at Curtis. “I… I don’t know, Mr. Everett.”

A snort sounds past Steve’s lips, “She’s a little airhead, isn’t she? Gotta find me one of those. Hey, sweetheart, you ever let your daddy spank you? Fuck you all rough, take it up the ass for him?”

Eyes wide and blood running cold, you can feel the embarrassment coursing through your veins at the blonde’s blunt questions. But the sting of Ari’s disapproval and the threat of disobeying him has you stumbling over an answer:

“Y-Yes, Mr. Rogers. Daddy has done all of that to me.” And more.

Curtis whistles lowly, “Damn, sweetie, wish I had you sitting pretty in my bedroom instead of my cunt wife.”

You let out a soft gasp, immediately waiting with baited breath for Ari to blow up. In the short time you had been together, your husband was always very possessive of you. From giving dirty looks to random men who even dared to look at you, to resorting to violence any time another man tried to talk to you.

But the rules are different for his friends, clearly, because Ari doesn’t move a muscle, coolly downing his whiskey before setting the glass on the crystal coffee table. You almost mewl sadly when his hand stops stroking your head and he stands up.

“I forgot something upstairs,” He says vaguely as he looks down at you, “Honey, can I trust you to look after and entertain my friends while I go upstairs and get it?”

Again, it’s not a question. And the idea of being alone downstairs with Curtis and Steve without the comforting and protective presence of your husband is daunting to say the least. But it’s not like you can say no. You knew the day you married Ari that the word ‘no’ was no longer in your vocabulary.

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You nod subserviently, and your husband grins almost wolfishly. And there’s something about the expression on his face, the slight smirk on his pink lips and the way his tanned skin flushes in excitement – he’s been cool as a cucumber all evening but now? It’s as if he’s got something up his sleeve, and a glance at his friends shows they share the same dark sparkle in their eyes too.

But you don’t have time to ponder over anything, because the next thing you know you’re being hauled up onto your feet, a pained yelp escaping your lips as Ari yanks you upwards with a death grip on your hair.

“You hear that, guys? She said she’d entertain you. Who wants her first?”

It’s like everything’s happening lightning quick – Ari picking you up easily, and you squealing because your dress rides up and you’re pretty sure your panties are visible for a split second before you tug it back down. But that turns out to be the least of your worries because the next thing you know, your husband has unceremoniously dumped you into Steve’s lap.

Like a ragdoll.

“Hey, hey, calm down, sweetheart.” Steve immediately wraps his arms around your waist to stop you from flailing. His words drip with condescension and faux-comfort, and it feels almost alien to be in his arms. You’ve never been held like this by a man apart from your husband, and although Steve is so similar to Ari in build and looks – he’s still not your husband.

“Ari?” You squeak, but the only response you get is the sound of all three men laughing – a sound that you’ve been hearing all night.

“Hush, little baby.” Curtis mocks, reaching out to pull your cheek as if you really are a little baby, “Me and Mr. Rogers, we can be your daddies too, you know? Your daddy said it was okay.”

Your gaze trails dejectedly after Ari, or rather Ari’s back, as you watch him leave the room. And now you’re left with two pairs of steely blue eyes that are so like your husband’s yet so different in so many ways.

“Hand her over,” Curtis demands Steve almost immediately, “God knows I need her little body against me right now. I’m harder than a fucking rock, watching this little sweetheart fetch me beers all night.” He tries to yank you by your arm, but the blonde’s grip on you only tightens, and the younger man frowns, “Give her over, Rogers. She likes me better than you, anyways. Don’t you, sweetie?”

Well, he’s certainly nicer than Steve – but you don’t particularly like either of them right now. And you’re too panicked to answer him. How could Ari leave you alone with these two? And why would he throw you on Steve’s lap as if you were expected to…

Entertain him.

“A little girl like her craves the firm hand of an older man.” Steve responds smoothly, his hand resting on your bare thigh and giving it a soft squeeze that has you practically panting. No other man apart from Ari has touched you like this, and you can feel something so hard underneath you. The blond grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Don’t you, sweetheart? You like men twice your age best, don’t you? Gets your little pussy wet knowing you’re with a man old enough to be your dad?”

Curtis snorts, leaning back and lighting another cigarette, “Clearly. She married Levinson.”

That grabs your attention, and you find yourself shaking your head, “No, me and Ari are in love!”

You’re serious with your claim, and you don’t expect the two older men to burst out laughing. Loud, booming laughter that makes you even more uncomfortable than you already are. Beneath you, you can feel Steve’s hard crotch rubbing against your bottom as he laughs, his chest snug against your back as he holds you close with one muscular arm.

“Sure, sweetie, he loves you a lot. So much, in fact, that he’s willing to share you with his friends.”

You frown at Curtis’ statement – what does he mean by share?  

You find out not two seconds later when Steve’s huge hands find the zipper of your dress, fingers deft and quick in unzipping you. Gasping, you try and wiggle away again but to no avail. “Mr. Rogers! Wh-What are you doing!?”

“Stay the fuck still,” Steve orders you, “Gotta get you out of this dress. As pretty as it is, I prefer my toys naked and compliant.” The straps of the dress are pushed down your shoulders, and Curtis joins in too, pulling the fabric down your body.

Blood rushes to your face, but for some reason your protests barely make it past your lips with how feeble they seem to be. Having both older men’s hands on you, pawing at you lewdly and practically shredding your dress to pieces with their impatience to get you naked; for some reason you feel your pussy throb.

No, no you can’t! You can’t betray Ari like this! So then why do you bite back a moan when Steve finally rips your dress in two, throwing the sorry-looking flowery rags to the floor before he cups both your breasts (Ari had told you not to wear a bra tonight), squeezing the soft flesh and rolling your hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Curtis’ rough and calloused palm immediately cups your pussy through your pale pink panties that Ari had chosen for you.

“Did you wet yourself, little girl? Or are you just excited?” He asks, grinding his palm down against your covered mound, making you gasp out loud. And you’ve always lacked willpower – Ari’s punished you enough times for it in the past – so you can’t help but buck your hips against Curtis’ hand, feeling the shame wash over you but not caring enough to stop.

“Look at her, humping against my hand already like a little slut – almost like she’s an eager little virgin or something. I guess Ari never taught her anything about self-control.” The buzzcut-haired man comments.

Steve smirks, still toying with your breasts as if he hasn’t touched a woman in years; squeezing them and pressing them together, holding you taut against him as you flail on top of him from all the mixed sensations you’re currently feeling.

“She’s all riled up from earlier. Pretty pussy’s all wet from fetching our drinks all night, or maybe it’s because she’s cheating on her husband. Hey! Stay the fuck still, you dumb fucking slut!” Steve growls suddenly, because Curtis chooses that moment to slap your panty-covered pussy hard, and your whole body convulses on top of Steve.

“Give her a drink, maybe it’ll calm her down.” Curtis nods to the glass of half-finished scotch on the coffee table, “It’s too bad Levinson didn’t want to drug her for this. Something about fucking a girl who’s half unconscious really gets me going.”

“No way. Half the fun is in the way she wails and fights back. Look at her now, conflicted and guilty because she’s feeling so good. She can’t even keep still, rutting like a little bunny in heat. Hey, sweetheart, have a sip.” Steve nudges his glass of scotch against your lips and you wrinkle your nose, eyes wide as saucers.

“Daddy doesn’t allow me to drink.”

“Daddy doesn’t allow me to drink,” Curtis mimics you cruelly, making his voice all high-pitched, “Sweetie, your daddy left us in charge of you, so drinking a little bit of alcohol is the least of your worries. Now open up.”

You part your lips, ready to take a timid sip except Steve has different plans – he tips the glass over your face, the burning liquid sloshing all down your front. It’s icy cold against your skin, dripping down your neck and over your chest. Curtis groans, immediately dipping his head down to lick the liquid off of you. And his rough tongue against your smooth skin has you crying out as he licks a tantalising trail between your breasts, before his mouth latches onto your nipple, suctioning hard and practically fitting your whole breast into his mouth, making a show of it and moaning lewdly the whole time.

“Dumb baby,” Steve tsk-tsks, “Look at the mess you made. Wasting all of daddy’s drink. Apologise, right now.”

You hiccup, mind slowly going empty with Curtis going to town on your tits with no sign of slowing down. And he’s still got one hand pressing between your legs, and that mixed with the feel of Steve’s hard dick poking your ass from underneath has your mind going empty at a faster rate than ever. You involuntarily buck up against Curtis’ hand again, your pussy weeping already and you know you’re embarrassingly wet, and –

SMACK.

The force of the slap across your face leaves you winded and shocked, as does the stinging pain now spreading across your cheek.

“When I tell you to apologise, you apologise.” Steve warns sternly, and Curtis finally looks up, licking his full pink lips at the site of you with your head whipped to the side.

You feel your breathing grow ragged and your lower lip wobble, the pain and embarrassment almost too much for you to handle. Salty tears well in your eyes, a natural response to the slap you’ve just received, and you sniffle softly.

Ari reappears at that moment, and your heart swells at the sight of your husband. He always makes you feel so safe, so familiar – unlike the man whose lap you’re currently splayed out over. Like a baby, you outstretch your arms towards him. “Daddy! H-He… He hit me!”

That proclamation has Curtis beside himself with laughter, “Hear that, Steve? She just tattled on you! Like a little girl running to her daddy.”

Ari crouches down till he’s level with your face, grabbing your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, “He hit you, honey?”

“Yeah!”

“Where?”

Your hand is shaky as you point to your cheek which still throbs with pain. Steve hadn’t held back with his slap, and now he sits back with you still on his lap and a smile on his face, not an ounce of regret visible in his demeanour, as if he’s admiring his handiwork.

Ari’s own hand reaches out to stroke your stinging cheek softly, and you nuzzle into his palm, welcoming his touch. Steve is horrifically mean and Curtis is crass and rude, but your daddy is the best. He knows how to treat you right, knows exactly how to make you feel better with just a simple, soft touch –

SMACK.

You can hardly believe it when Ari strikes you across the face, the blow almost as hard as Steve’s, and now you burst out crying in earnest.

“Poor baby,” Curtis coos, lighting up his third cigarette of the hour and taking a long drag before puffing the smoke directly in your face. You cough harshly, his smoke filling your lungs and adding to your discomfort, but he doesn’t seem to care; “I guess that’s what you get for being a slut and cheating on your daddy with his two best friends.”

Ari strokes the side of your face where pain still blooms from his blow, and you find yourself flinching now, scared he’s going to hit you again. His eyes locked with your own tearful ones; and you don’t even notice the collar in his hand until he waves it in front of your face. In a voice beguiling, and so falsely gentle, he speaks as if he’s talking to a toddler: “Now honey, can you read what this collar says?”

Ari has made you wear plenty of collars in the past; you have your special pink one – the one with his initials on it as well as the words “daddy’s princess.” That one’s definitely your favourite. You also have a black one that says ‘daddy’s property’ which is nice too. But this collar in Ari’s hands, this one is new. It’s jet-black leather with silver studs, and a matching silver dog-tag that dangles from the front, glistening in the light with only one word inscribed on it:

Whore

You blubber softly, cheeks still stinging with pain and now a matching sting in your heart. What exactly is happening right now? You wonder to yourself as Ari fastens the collar around your neck while Steve holds you in place with a death grip.

“I asked you something, sweet girl. Did you read what the collar says?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You sniffle, “Says whore.”

“It does. Because that’s what you are for tonight.” Ari chuckles softly at the bewildered look on your face, stroking your cheek once more in time with Steve who is now running his hands through your hair. “Angel, you’re new to this whole marriage and relationships thing – so I understand that you’re too dumb to know how it works. But good little wives not only offer their services to their husbands, but to their husbands’ friends too. And that’s what you’ll be doing tonight.”

You feel like he’s dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, “B-But…But…”

“No, Angel. No ‘buts,’ remember?” Ari taps your cheek lightly as if to remind you of the pain his palm is capable of inflicting. “You don’t want to be like Curtis’ wife, do you? A dumb, wild broad who believes she can think for herself? No, that’s not you. You’re good and innocent and you’ll do exactly what daddy says, won’t you? Because men don’t like women who think they have any power in this world – it turns us off more than anything else. Do you want to turn me off, baby? Do you want to disappoint me?”

“No!” You cry, and you’d have reached out to wrap your arms around Ari’s neck if it weren’t for Steve holding you close to his own chest, his breath hot against the back of your neck, “No, daddy! Never wanna disappoint you! I’ll do wh-whatever you guys want me to do.”

Steve is unforgiving when he drops you on the floor, and you wince as you land painfully on your ass. “Be a good whore then.” He says bluntly, “Hands and knees. Lick my shoe.”

It’s not the first time that night that shock courses through your veins, but three pairs of blue eyes have now locked in on you, with hungry and expectant gazes that make you believe that you are the object that they want you to be, that they undoubtedly see you as. And so you gulp and get into position, naked and kneeling before the blond, his boots scuffed and slightly dirty as you stare at them from eye level.

“She’s got a great ass.” Curtis remarks crudely, the men casually falling back into conversation whilst you will yourself to part your lips, peak your tongue out and give Steve’s shoe a tentative lick. And then another. You stifle a soft gasp when you feel Curtis’ rough hand on your bottom, patting it as if you’re an animal at an auction, “If she was mine, I’d have her naked and crawling around on all fours all the time, this peachy ass is too fuckable to hide underneath clothes.”

“It’s the first thing I noticed about her.” Ari agrees, and his hand joins Curtis’, grabbing onto your other cheek and giving it a firm squeeze, “She was working at some dingy diner… Had this tiny fuckin’ dress on – called it a ‘uniform’. Didn’t even know her back then but I got an eyeful of her little girl panties every time she bent over. Fuckin’ slut. She gave out not fifteen minutes later.”

Your cheeks burn, but you concentrate on Steve’s shoe, licking it as if your life depends on it. And despite everything, despite how inhumane and disrespectful and shameful and objectifying the act is, there’s something about kneeling in front of a powerful man like Steve, or like Ari or Curtis, that makes your pussy throb with need.

“Make the leather shine, whore.” Steve is so stark, so to-the-point with his orders; he shoves his boot in your face, rubbing it over your lips, chin and cheeks and covering your sensitive skin in a mix of your own spit and dirt. “You like that, don’t you? Like being treated with no respect like all little girls like you should be. You’re nothing more than the dirt beneath my shoe, sweetheart. Remember that.”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You find yourself saying between licks. Being the main object of attention between these three men has you wetter and steadily growing dumber by the second.

Your panties – the last article of clothing covering your modesty – are roughly ripped off of you, the soggy fabric landing on the floor next to your face. Steve’s hands grip your hair tightly, jerking you roughly upwards till you’re level with his dick, cowering between his parted thighs. Less than a second later, he’s unzipped himself, pulling his dick out and nudging it against your lips, “Open up, whore.”

The only man whose dick you’ve sucked prior to this is Ari – and Steve is a lot less forgiving. Stuffing his length into your barely parted mouth, the blond moves you by the hair, guiding your lips up and down his fat dick, and you were already crying but fresh tears well in your eyes from the choking feeling of fullness, your nose smacking against his pelvis as he manhandles you.

“Wish she’d been a virgin up here.” Curtis mutters, completely unperturbed by the fact that you’re currently choking on Steve’s dick, and you feel a rush of cool air when he spreads your ass cheeks, “Would’ve been so much fun to break into her little asshole.”

“I couldn’t hold off on that,” Ari’s fingers are deft and confident, tracing the rim of your puckered hole like he’s done countless times before and making your entire body shiver from head to toe. “She let me fuck her ass on our second date. She’s still tight up there, though. Try and finger her, you won’t even get one in.”

Curtis spits, his saliva dripping down the crevice of your ass, pooling around your asshole where Ari works it in with his pointer finger, the thick ring of muscle practically closing up around him, barely allowing an inch of his digit in. You involuntarily wiggle, trying to move your hips backwards to meet their fingers as Curtis joins in. But while Ari is teasing, Curtis is straightforward – wasting no time in ramming his pointer finger up your ass. The pain blooms almost immediately, making you cry out around Steve’s dick.

“Ah, she’s a good little cocksucker, Ari.” Steve comments, his grip on your hair so tight it hurts, “But she can’t take my whole dick in, can she? Look at her, already crying and I’m not even halfway inside of her.” Once more, he slaps your cheek before tapping it in quick succession, “Hey, cockslut, did your daddy not teach you how to deepthroat?”

He pulls his dick out of your mouth, the loss of contact making you pout despite the fact that you were practically choking not a second ago. “S-Sorry, daddy. T-Too big, it’s too big. Mouth’s too small – oh fuck!” You lurch forward when you feel something warm and wet lapping at your puckered hole – it’s Curtis’ tongue, hungry and desperate against your tight hole, his hands roughly pushing apart your ass cheeks.

Ari’s fingers slip down to your sopping core, your wetness dripping down and staining the carpet, making it so easy for your husband’s knowing fingers to glide up and down your slit, circling your clit in a way that has you panting and grinding back into his hand, earning a slap on your wiggling bum in the process.

“Needy baby,” Ari murmurs, and you’re about to whine, beg for him to stop teasing, when your head whips to the side once more from a rush of contact. Steve’s gripping his huge dick in his hand, and it looks so hard and angry as he slaps you across the face with it. Once, twice, three times till you’re wailing like a baby.

“She’s so fucking hot when she cries.” Steve comments, rubbing his dick over your face now as if he’s a feral animal trying to mark you with his scent, pressing the bulbous tip of his cock against your lips and you can’t help but pathetically part them, mouth gaping to taste him again. But he moves on, rubbing his length and his balls over your cheeks, nose, just all over. “You like being a messy whore? Want daddy to smear your face with cum, spit and dirt, get you looking like a proper slutty whore?”

“Y-Yeah, please!” You cry softly, and Steve grins.

Ari’s two knuckles deep into your pussy by this point, his fingers so deliciously thick as he pumps in and out. He knows exactly how to curve his digits, and at what angle, making your back arch from doing the bare minimum, causing you to press your ass further into Curtis’ face and eager tongue.

“She tastes like a dream.” Curtis’ voice is muffled, hands reaching up to slap and squeeze your ass obscenely, as if the flesh is his personal stress-ball, “God, Levinson. Why didn’t you think of sharing her before? With a sweet tasting ass like hers…” It’s like he can’t help himself, his beard prickling your skin as he dips his head back down, tongue practically making out with your puckered hole.

He tries to shove another finger in, but barely manages to fit in the tip of it. “God, a sweet ass that’s also tight as fuck? No wonder you call her an angel.”

Ari smirks, “Told you. I gotta take my time loosening her up before I fuck her up there. Or you could hold her down and force yourself in. She’ll cry either way.”

You whimper needily between them. It’s crazy how they continue to talk about you as if you’re not splayed naked right there. But it turns you on beyond belief, the idea that you’re just an object to them, that they can discuss you as easily as they would discuss what’s on the morning news. It makes you want them even more, especially now that Curtis has lifted his head up, Ari’s fingers have stalled and even Steve has pushed your face back down to his boot.

The blond is busy palming his dick as he now gazes down hungrily at your exposed ass, “If we’re gonna vote on it, I say force it in. She’s just a hole at the end of the day, and she’s going to be taking more than one cock up her ass tonight regardless.”

Mewling softly, you reach out with grabby hands for one of them, as if silently begging them to keep touching you, to give you some sort of contact because all of it seems to have stopped as the three older men casually discuss your body. You can feel your slick pouring down and coating your thighs, making them sticky with your arousal but you don’t dare to touch yourself.

“P-Please, daddy, please touch me.” You don’t know who you’re addressing, but your desire overtakes your fear of the three intimidating men. Face nuzzling Steve’s calf, ass wiggling pointedly towards Curtis and hips grinding down on the carpet below you, you know shame is something you’ve left far, far behind. “Please. Need–wanna be touched!”

Ari’s fingers find your mouth, pushing past your lips and effectively shutting you up.

“I don’t know. There are certainly other ways to stretch her out.” The mischief is evident in Curtis’ eyes when he suddenly reaches for something on the coffee table. Your eyes, hazy with lust, follow his hand, breath hitching when he grabs his now empty beer bottle.

“What do you think, sweetie?” Curtis asks you, “You want daddy to stuff this bottle up your ass like you’re some kind of cheap whore performing tricks at the brothel?”

You cower as Ari gathers you into his lap, your back against his chest and his hands gripping your bare thighs, spreading them wide open for the other two men to see, pussy spread open and splayed out with wetness trickling down your thighs, glistening and embarrassingly obvious.

“She looks scared.” Steve remarks, “You scared, sweetheart?”

You quiver in your husband’s arms, nodding in response although your fearful eyes don’t leave the bottle in Curtis’ hand. The neck alone is daunting, and the rest of the bottle has an even wider girth that makes your unprepped asshole twitch in fear.

“Use your words when you’re talking to me.” The blond growls, irritation clouding over his handsome features.

“Y-Yeah, I’m scared.” You answer softly.

“But you’re gonna do it anyways, aren’t you?” Ari sings in your ear, slapping your thigh to spread your legs out even further, bending your knees and adjusting you so that your rear hole is in full view. And you’re so wet, so incredibly wet that your juices spill down to stain Ari’s jeans and the couch.

You turn to look at your husband with pleading eyes, hoping to find a semblance of pity in his handsome face, “D-Daddy, please. Please don’t make me – AH!”

Again, your face is whipped to the side with another unforgiving slap, and Ari smiles down at you so casually, as if he’s just kissed you good-morning instead of slapped you in the face. “Honey, you know better than to deny your daddies.”

That’s how you find yourself laid out on the coffee table, three pairs of eyes belonging to three very intimidating and powerful men staring down at you as if you’re a piece of meat and they’ve been starving for days.

“Stay the fuck still, whore.” Curtis barks; he’s got your legs over his shoulders to give him better access to your puckered hole, grip harsh as he tries to keep you from flailing around. Your hole’s been stretched out by his and Ari’s thick fingers and a mix of your wetness and his saliva, but it still burns as he tries to force the thicker end of the beer bottle into you.

“H-Hurts!” You mewl, blindly grabbing at anything you can – which happens to be the collar of Steve’s shirt. Ruthlessly, the blond shoves your hand off of him, instead guiding it to his erect dick which is still wet from your saliva.

“If you’re gonna grab on to something, might as well be useful about it.” His dick is so thick, and just as big as Ari’s from what you can feel. Your little hand barely wraps around it, but you can’t even focus on pleasuring him because of the violating pain of the beer bottle being stuffed up your ass.

Ari guides your other hand to wrap around his dick, which is now also out of his unzipped jeans. “C’mon baby, jack us off the way I taught you to. The way I like it.” His tone is mesmerising, it’s almost instinctive when you obey, pumping the two thick dicks in your hands, trying to focus on their veiny girth and the way they twitch against your palms, how hard they feel, how big they both are.

“Oh, fuck, daddy, it hurts!” You cry out again, legs tightening around Curtis’ shoulders as he continues to stuff the unforgiving glass bottle up your ass. The buzzcut-haired man swats your thigh warningly, dislodging the bottle from your puckered hole completely, leaving you gaping as he swirls it around your pussy, gathering your wetness on its surface before returning it to your ass.

“Cut the complaining, baby girl. Your daddy already told us you’re a slut for anal, how much you love taking cock up your ass. How is this bottle any different, huh?” Curtis kisses up your thigh, slowly staring to fuck the bottle in and out of your ass as he sucks on your sensitive skin – no doubt leaving a mark in the process.

Meanwhile, Steve guides your hand to his balls, making you fondle and squeeze them, play with them indecently while the blonde grunts lowly, “God, wish my bitch of an ex-wife was half as compliant as you. What made you decide to become such a slutty whore, huh sweetheart?”

“W-Wanted to please daddy.” You answer quickly, knowing that if you didn’t then there’d be hell to pay – and probably another slap.

Ari smirks, brushing your hair out of your face almost tenderly as you continue to jack him off, “Damn right. It’s beautiful how just a few months ago, you were a naïve little virgin, and just look what a cockslut you’ve turned into now.”

“She’s still naïve, I’d say.” Curtis pipes up, his bicep muscles tensing as he shallowly fucks you with the beer bottle, in and out and in and out so rhythmically yet you’re seeing stars created from your own pain and sick pleasure.

“Naïve? More like dumb. Don’t think I’ve met a slut with an emptier head – but that’s what makes her the perfect wife, I guess.” Steve muses.

Being the “perfect wife” leads to you splayed out on the coffee table while the three men return to their seats, leaving you panting, unsated and still with the beer bottle lodged up your ass.

“Keep your legs open, angel.” Ari commands you, picking his deck of cards back up and that’s when you realise that they plan to ignore you and continue with their poker game instead. A low whine sounds past your lips at the thought.

“Look at her, crying like a baby again. She’s used to you spoiling her, Ari. Bet she thinks we were gonna make her cum or something.” Curtis snickers, kicking his feet up on the table, dangerously close to your pussy.

“P-Please – n-not fair – wanna cum so bad!” You cry softly, wanting to touch your pussy so badly but not knowing whether or not you had the permission to do it. And you’d much rather have one of them touch you, knowing it would feel so much better.

“You’re the entertainment tonight, before anything else, whore. The entertainment doesn’t get to cum until your daddies say so.” Steve says firmly, holding his cards in one hand and pumping his dick leisurely with the other, hungry blue eyes devouring the sight of you in such a compromising position in front of him, “You’re going to stay like that while your daddies play our game, and you better fuck yourself with that bottle the whole time.”

So that’s what you do, pursing your lips in pain as you do it. Never in a million years did you imagine yourself being used as the visual entertainment for your husband and his friends; naked and splayed out while they made you fuck yourself with a beer bottle. You can feel your asshole stretch and burn at the intrusion; eyes scrunching shut from the pain that blooms. But your pussy is so wet, slick cream pooling on the coffee table underneath you in the filthiest sight imaginable.

“God, she looks hot as fuck.” Curtis is quick to comment, his boot nudging your thighs open even more so he can get a better look, “You ever think of doing porn, sweetie? You’d be a natural, just look at the way you’re putting on such a filthy show for your daddies.”

Almost instinctively, you arch your back, the bottle making obscene squelching noises as you fuck it past the tight ring of your asshole, little pants leaving your mouth as if you’re a dog in heat.

“She’s enjoying herself.” Steve clicks his tongue at the observation, barely looking up from his deck of cards.

“You’re not allowed to cum, angel. Remember that.” Ari says casually, his words making you mewl in frustration.

But it’s hard not to cum when you’re so wet, and Curtis’ boot keeps nudging against your leg, inching closer and closer to your pussy till the sole grazes against your clit and you gasp loudly, jerking forward, “AH, daddy!”

The older men all ignore you, continuing their own conversation whilst you shiver and convulse and whimper between them, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, trying your best to focus and keep your legs apart as you continue to sheath your poor, quivering asshole with the beer bottle.

But more than the beer bottle, all you can really focus on is Curtis’ boot and how he’s so obviously pressing it against your wet folds, making the leather glisten with your juices. Half panicked, you whip your head towards Ari, wondering if he sees what his friend is doing. But your husband seems determined to ignore you – almost as if you’re not even there.

“Daddy,” you cry softly, not really knowing who you’re crying for. It’s instinctive and slightly shameful when you can’t help but grind down against Curtis’ boot, your pussy squelching and needy from being treated like a whore. And the buzzcut haired man doesn’t even acknowledge you, cigarette lazily caught between his lips as he digs his boot into your wet cunt.

It doesn’t take long until you’re riding his boot, grinding down on it as if your life depends on it, panting like you’re in heat as his shoe swirls around your wetness. Your cream coating the leather, he digs into your clit, nudging at your sensitive bundle of nerves and making you moan out wantonly in pleasure.

“Ah, ah daddy–oh fuck!”

You’re squirting all over his shoe before you ever realise what’s happening, so much of your cream now pooling on the coffee table that it’s made the surface slippery. And Curtis continues to push his boot cruelly into your sensitive button, and like a thirsty whore you hump against him, riding out your high and forgetting that there’s anyone else in the room.

“Levinson, looks like your whore wife doesn’t know how to follow instructions.”

Ari leans down over your quivering form, “Honey, what did I say about not cumming?” His voice brims with disappointment and you just want to bury your face in your hands.

“ ‘m sorry,” you hiccup, “C-Couldn’t help it. Mr. Ev-Everett – He used his shoe… wouldn’t stop!”

“Look at her, tattling to her daddy again.” Curtis laughs, getting to his feet and giving your ass a hard smack that has you howling with pain, “You’re lucky I’m not gonna make you lick your mess off my shoe, you horny bitch. But I think I’ll give my wife the honour of doing that when I get home tonight.”

Your eyes are wide as saucers as Ari helps your shaky body get on your hands and knees on the coffee table. From his pocket, he pulls out a leather leash, casually hooking it to your collar and tying the other end around the leg of the table, effectively trapping you in place.

“Stay still honey, and stick your ass out nicely so I can see it,” Ari commands softly, and it’s the gentleness in his voice that scares you the most. Because you’ve broken his rule – you’ve cum without permission, and you can’t even begin to imagine what’s going to happen now.

It’s the deathly quiet that has your heart beating harder than ever, this ominous sense of foreboding building up as the three men surround you like a pack of depraved wolves. Hunger in their eyes and hands itching to touch your body as they close in on you slowly, and Ari strokes your hair softly – but it feels like the softness that precedes the inevitable blow…

“I told you not to cum without permission, honey.” Ari breathes in your ear, “I guess you’ll have to learn how to follow orders the hard way, won’t you?”

Your breath hitches when you hear the unmistakable sound of Steve’s belt as he unbuckles it.

Well! There we go! The truth is, I wrote this fic many, many months ago and lost inspiration to complete it - which is why it ends where it does. I would never say never to a potential part 2, but who knows! I feel like I’m in my soft dom loving era atm, so this kind of depraved stuff isn’t as easy for me to write anymore. But do tell me what you think, as I know a lot of you have been waiting for this for many months! Please reblog and comment and let me know what you think! Any thots and ideas about this fic are also totally welcome! I hope you enjoyed.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Inspired by the visual language of old Ray Bradbury and Stephen King paperbacks, Justin Metz created this illustration, which may be the first cover without a headline or typography in The Atlantic’s 167-year history. :: The Atlantic

* * * *

Trump suffers emotional break; media pretends it didn’t happen

September 9, 2024

Robert B. Hubbell

Something remarkable happened in American politics over the last two weeks. A major party candidate for president suffered what can only be described as an emotional break or medical emergency that resulted in a sudden acceleration in the deterioration of his already deteriorating cognitive abilities and further loss of control over his delusional impulses. But you wouldn’t know it from reading the stories in the major media outlets—that are obsessing over horse-race polls and debate prognostication.

No, this isn’t just another rant about media coverage. We are at an inflection point: Either the media will meet the moment, or it will abandon the very democracy that creates the conditions that allow it to flourish. Whether the media meets that challenge is no longer our problem. It is a waste of emotional energy and precious time to worry about it. We have real work to do: That of convincing other Americans of the profound unfitness of Donald Trump and his unique threat to democracy.

Against all logic, decency, and common sense, the presidential race remains effectively tied (although Kamala Harris has the momentum, which is a good sign with less than 60 days until election day). Sadly, many Americans will vote for Trump because he is unhinged and out of control. He is an avatar for their anger. It is not a productive use of our time to focus on those voters.

But a substantial portion of the electorate remains undecided. Many say they don’t know enough about our current vice president to vote for her—although they are open to persuasion. Our target is the persuadable undecided voters and those who can’t bring themselves to vote for Trump but aren’t sure they can vote for Kamala Harris.

The media would be sounding the alarm with unremitting urgency in a world with a functioning press. But the media has concluded that it can generate more revenue by keeping the presidential race close. The believe that declaring one candidate to be an unfit megalomaniac at every opportunity would grow tiresome.

So, it is up to us. We must be warriors for the truth. And that means understanding what we have just witnessed over the last two weeks. Yes, it is unpleasant and enervating. We want to look away. That is what Trump wants. He wants us to be weary to the point of numbness and surrender. We cannot let that happen.

As soon as Kamala Harris became the presumptive nominee, Trump began racist and misogynistic attacks unparalleled in the sordid history of American political campaigns. He questioned Kamala Harris’s racial identify and accused her of engaging in sexual acts to succeed as a politician. And then it got worse.

Heather Cox Richardson’s column on Saturday describes the increasing velocity of Trump's descent into madness over the last week, especially his speeches over the weekend. See September 7, 2024 - by Heather Cox Richardson. HCR’s column moved many readers to post Comments in the Sunday edition of this newsletter. HCR writes, in part,

But today’s speech struck me as different from his past performances, distinguished for what sounded like desperation. Trump has always invented his stories from whole cloth, but there used to be some way to tie them to reality. Today that seemed to be gone. He was in a fantasy world, and his rhetoric was apocalyptic. It was also bloody in ways that raise huge red flags for scholars of fascism. [¶¶] [Trump said,] “I better win or you're gonna have problems like we've never had. We may have no country left. This may be our last election. You want to know the truth? People have said that. This may be our last election…. It’ll all be over, and you gotta remember…. Trump is always right. I hate to be right. I’m always right.” [¶¶] Whatever has caused it, Trump seems utterly off his pins, embracing wild conspiracy theories and, as his hopes of winning the election appear to be crumbling, threatening vengeance with a dogged fury that he used to be able to hide.

I urge you to read HCR’s entire column for an exposition of Trump's weekend speeches.

But it gets worse.

After his Saturday speeches, Trump posted the worst fascistic, ugly, megalomaniacal threat ever made by an American politician. He threatened to prosecute his opponents if he wins the 2024 election:

CEASE & DESIST: I, together with many Attorneys and Legal Scholars, am watching the Sanctity of the 2024 Presidential Election very closely because I know, better than most, the rampant Cheating and Skullduggery that has taken place by the Democrats in the 2020 Presidential Election. It was a Disgrace to our Nation! Therefore, the 2024 Election, where Votes have just started being cast, will be under the closest professional scrutiny and, WHEN I WIN, those people that CHEATED will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the Law, which will include long term prison sentences so that this Depravity of Justice does not happen again. We cannot let our Country further devolve into a Third World Nation, AND WE WON'T! Please beware that this legal exposure extends to Lawyers, Political Operatives, Donors, Illegal Voters, & Corrupt Election Officials. Those involved in unscrupulous behavior will be sought out, caught, and prosecuted at levels, unfortunately, never seen before in our Country.

To be clear, Trump is threatening—in advance—to impose “long-term prison sentences .. . . never before seen in this country” on lawyers, election officials, donors, voters, and politicians whom Trump views as opponents.

We must pause on the madness of Trump's threats. They are delusional. The election hasn’t occurred, and he is planning to jail people over fictional cheating. He is using fascistic threats to dissuade eligible voters and election officials from engaging in the election process by suggesting that they will be “sought out, caught, and prosecuted”—as if the legal system is his personal instrument of revenge.

The combined effect of Trump's speech and post on Saturday should have been a watershed moment for journalists covering politics in America. For most of Sunday, no major media outlet commented on the deranged nature of Trump's speech or his post. Mid-afternoon on Sunday, both the Times and WaPo had posted stories about the threats—in the politics section of their coverage. Apparently, neither outlet believes that overt threats of retribution over non-existent election fraud rise to the level of “general news.”

What did rise to the level of “general news”? New polling by the NYTimes, which claimed the race is effectively tied. Although the Times’s results put Trump slightly ahead in the margin of error, its results were an outlier. How did the Times respond to the fact that its results were inconsistent with the trend of polling? It declared that its poll was “high quality,” while other polls taken since the convention in the race were of inferior quality. “There simply haven’t been many high-quality surveys fielded since the convention, when Ms. Harris was riding high.”

So, on a day when Trump's preemptive threat to jail election officials for non-existent fraud should have been the lead story with 48 POINT FONT, the Times placed itself at the center of the universe by highlighting its poll and declaring that its outlier results were correct, and all other polls were inferior.

The Guardian, as usual, distinguished itself by calling out Trump's deranged behavior as its lead story. See The Guardian, Trump threatens to jail adversaries for ‘unscrupulous behavior’ if he wins.

Perhaps Monday will bring a wave of condemnation and attention that was beyond the capabilities of major media over the weekend. That would be a welcome development. But regardless of whether that happens, it does not excuse us from the task of raising the alarm about Trump's threat to democracy. While we cannot limit our message to the threat to democracy, neither can we normalize or dismiss it or look away.

If we do not convince Americans that Trump is the greatest danger to democracy our nation has ever faced, then every policy proposal designed to improve the lives of all Americans will be meaningless.

It is a tough task to focus on the threat of Trump and the promise of Kamala Harris. But here we are. We must do both. And we aren’t going to get the help we deserve from the media. We must be bold; we must be willing to step outside of our comfort zone; we must speak the truth in words of one syllable (or shorter, if possible).

It seems improbable that the media can continue to ignore Trump's descent into madness and megalomania. But it seems improbable that they have done so to this point. But let’s not invest emotional energy worrying whether they will. It’s up to us. It always has been. But the stakes are higher than they have ever been.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[sjbattleangel]

Just a reminder that @nooblord9001 is 99% likely to be another one of Lily Orchard's sock-puppets.

Case in point:

Constantly reblogging nearly everything from Lily.

2. Has a major obsession for the cannibal-incest game for obvious reasons.

3. Atrocious media literacy that's all focused on "killing Nazis" and a hatred of "boring white boys" with zero regards to the piece of media's actual message. For example: this "review" for Jojo Rabbit accuses an anti-Nazi film made by an Indigenous, Jewish film-maker of being Nazi apologia.

Also noted, massive hate-boner for Steven Universe.

4. Likes and comments on a post framing all anime as "pedophilic".

5. Praises Lily comparing her OC's sister to that of an animal companion as "peak fiction" while using a character from the cannibal-incest game.

6. Shares ideas of writing a "borderline spicy crack-fic" with a "self-insert for two characters".

7. These "interesting" interactions with Lily. Notice how they both share similar writing styles and ideas on certain topics?

8. And Lily...

...you just told on yourself!

Please, block and report @nooblord9001 at once.

Lily, if you're reading this:

The way you attacked Rebecca Sugar, Bryke, ND Stevenson, Darron Nefcy, Rian Johnson, Dana Terrace and many other creators as "creeps", "abuse fetishists", "misogynists", "racists", "Nazi apologists" was unacceptable.

Calling Japan a "nation of perverts" and condemning an entire cultural medium of art and animation as "misogynist spank-bait" and "pornography" was disgusting.

But most of all, what you did to Courtney, your former followers, your ex-girlfriends was beyond unforgivable.

Not only are you a bigoted, racist, antisemitic, elitist hack who has no right to call herself a critic or writer but one of the most vile, most sadistic, most evil human beings to ever walk the earth.

No wonder you and Mikalia adore the loving embrace of Cassandra Nya, an out and proud Neo-Nazi. You are monsters that deserve each other.

Have a little gift I made with my own hands:

P.S Rebecca Sugar, ND Stevenson, Dana Terrace and others are far greater creators and human beings then you will ever be.

[atthebell-moved]

hi, i completely agree that the fandom has a problem with misogyny and often fails at self-introspection. my question is, do you have any resources/tips/thoughts on how to be better about it? even, how to recognize it in yourself the first place? "ok i'll stop being a misogynist now" is a lot easier said than done, especially for people who might not be that educated on the subject, and majority of the people in this fandom are quite young as well.

this is long as fuck and possibly somewhat incoherent bc it took so long to write but i did my best

my biggest tip for people who don't know much about misogyny is to look at your own behavior and learn how to clock what you're doing as sexist.

are you criticizing a female creator? think about why you're doing it, what the actual beef you have with them is. if it seems to be just a sense of discomfort or thinking they're annoying or overly loud or pushy, think about male ccs who act the same way and why you dont consider them annoying. are you annoyed with them for being on a male cc's stream? why? does it feel like theyre taking up too much attention? do you get annoyed with them for talking too much or flirting with guys? for gaming especially-- do you get annoyed with them for not knowing something or being "bad" at a game? think about why that is and why its just funny when a male cc is bad at games or doesnt know something.

a HUGE problem i see in this fandom is the Madonna-whore complex, repackaged as the little sister-racist dichotomy (kudos to @yourlittlemenace for that phrasing).

if a female cc is deemed to be "playing nice" (doesnt talk too much, is "nice", streams with male ccs but doesnt flirt with them, isn't "overtly sexual"), she's the little sister of the group. all the male ccs "protect" her, she literally folds their laundry, she doesnt call out how people treat her, and the fandom pretends that this is a normal and cool way to treat women who are public figures. this also goes for mom/big sister/etc. if you think you haven't done this, think about all the aus where you've forced puffy into some kind of maternal or sisterly role when it made no sense. then think about how pissed people got when she decided not to be the server therapist and was "mean" to Tommy (in lore, with permission. that she didnt even need to get. see that clip i rbed earlier from her podcast.)

if the fandom decides she doesnt play nice, if she flirts with male ccs too much or stands up for herself or points out how unfair it is that she's being treated this way, she gets demeaned, harassed, and shunned by the fandom. consider, again, puffy. consider how niki flirted with wilbur and talked about misogyny and got called a racist for *checks notes* "speaking to schlatt and fundy" and "not being a native english speaker". she got called a slut and a queerbaiter for kissing another woman despite being bisexual.

consider how hard people went down on hannah for having said the r slur several years back versus how hard they went on dream for the same thing. and how people dug it up as a direct response to her being on stream with dream. consider how every time hannah talks about how unfair it is that the mcc subreddit treats her like trash, she has to delete all her tweets bc they harass her to hell and back and act like she's an asshole for pointing out their hypocrisy.

the fandom doesnt do this across the board; i shouldnt have to say this, but its not an everyone versus no one issue. some people do this outright and loud, some dont seem to realize theyre doing it, and a few people dont do it at all (incredibly rare, i can count on one hand the number of people who genuinely seem to try to avoid these issues, which is why im complaining).

in terms of lore, have you ever once done analysis on a female character? why do you think you haven't? the bechdel-wallace test is an (imperfect) way of gauging how a piece of media ignores women and prioritizes men. think about the fact that there are FOUR female ccs on the DSMP and they are continually ignored in favor of male characters. consider that puffy and aimsey both talked about trying to do genuine lore and getting shafted, either because no one was online and wouldn't put in the effort to stream with them or because they received insane amounts of criticism for breaking anything on the server, despite the clear lack of "no griefing" rules and the precedent that you can blow other people's shit up (tommy leveling one of puffy's builds, amongst many other examples).

a quick thing about ships: have you ever wondered why m/m ships are so popular? the general consensus amongst people who care about feminism and are into fandom studies is that for a long period of time, m/m was hugely popular because women are so rarely written as full and complete characters in any media. so people took to engaging with m/m ships and writing about them because they were the most fulfilling relationships, and because misogyny led them to be predisposed to be uninterested in female characters.

say an m/m ship is incredibly popular, something like, i dunno, john watson and sherlock holmes from bbc sherlock. lets also say the canonical media presents one or both of the characters with a female love interest. how do you think a fandom that prioritizes m/m ships and is primed to be disinterested in women as characters (either because of our society's role in teaching people that women do not matter or because of fandom's history in assuming female characters are not fleshed out) is going to react? if you said theyre going to send undue amounts of criticism her way and act like its an act of homophobia to give a canonically straight character a female love interest, congrats, you've figured out a huge component in fandom misogyny. take this, amplify it over several decades, and add the psychic damage that supernatural gave society. queerbaiting is bad but mistreating female characters in service of nonexistent queer relationships is also bad.

this is relevant in general but i also believe its relevant for the dsmp because of the complete lack of m/f ships. aside from phil and kristin, who are literally married irl and kristin isn't even on the server, there are no m/f ships that involve female creators. this is not, despite what you may think, due to the inherently yaoi nature of minecraft roleplay. this is because the creators, including the male ones, are afraid of the blowback of m/f flirting and how fucking awful people are to female ccs anytime it happens. once again look at niki. as another example, consider how notfounders harassed the living daylights out of mxmtoon for flirting with gnf on twitter. if i was a cc i would avoid it like the plague too considering how happy people are to dig shit up about them or accuse them of being a slut or an attention whore/"pick me girl" for speaking to a man.

one last thing, this is more about fanart than anything else but stop drawing women to look like teenage boys. the amount of fanart i see where i literally cannot tell if someone has drawn niki or tommy is fucking insane. niki has curves. draw her with them. if you cannot draw women or people outside a very specific body type you cannot draw. fatphobia and misogyny have a clear overlap.

i cant think of anything else and ive already spent forever on this. look into feminist media analysis. think twice about how you react to female ccs & female characters. consider not just what characters have interesting stories but who is allowed to have interesting stories. you might be neglecting someone who has a lot going on because you're dismissing a female character as inherently less likely to be interesting. you might not even know someone has an interesting story because the fandom neglects it so completely.

as a final little note: like i said earlier, if you're not familiar with gender & sexuality studies, you may not know this, but homophobia and transphobia are rooted in misogyny. the idea that gender is immutable and rigid is because of the patriarchy. this is why gendered slurs are used against queer people and why queer men in particular get accused of and demeaned for being feminine. your understanding of queerphobia is incomplete without considering how sexism plays a role.

also go read everything rayne fisher-quann has ever written but especially this piece on getting woman'd and listen to you're wrong about

[beauspot]

The Bear Season 2: And Why I’m Fucking Annoyed (Full Spoilers below)

*Long Post*

The Bear is something truly special. When it dropped in June of last year it wasn’t a major hit right away. It was a sleeper and it grew its fanbase over time. If you were here this time last year you remember how small the fandom was posts on every platform could barely reach 200 interactions, but with the Golden Globe wins and the word of mouth this fandom began to grow and expand, because season one of the show was just so good.

Season 2 however is an interesting piece of media. I am well aware that I have some bias in this department and I can’t view this season objectively, but neither can the rest of you so I’ll say what I want.

To start off I really enjoyed some of the episodes this season, the first two? Excellent. The Marcus Episode(with my husband Will Poulter at his side)? Fantastic. The Richie Episode? Perfection. And let’s not even talk about Fishes, which was beyond words. I genuinely went into this season wanting to like it and praise it the way I did the previous season because I thought it was good. The writing—which is spectacular in nearly every other place—takes a nosedive with this romance plot. I still do think it’s good, but I can’t act like this whole season hasn’t left a sour taste in my mouth, because it has. Because the show runners are lying racist misogynistic nasty assholes who bullshitted us for nothing.

Toward the end of last year/beginning of this year Chef’s Kiss fans words made their way to some journalist who then asked about the potential for it with the actors and the writer( in an article stupidly named “don’t worry the bear doesn’t want carmy and sydney to kiss, either” the writer of which goes on to ship carmy and marcus so clearly they have excellent taste 😒) who all shut it down. Fine. That’s fine. That’s their opinion and it doesn’t affect us. What bothers me is the words of the co-creator Chris Storer who said this 👇🏾

He went on to say the show was also just meant to be focused on these people doing their jobs. So fine. We said even if it won’t be canon there’s no way they would bring in a new love interest cause that’s not “the vision” they have for the show, right?(He also goes on in the pic above to act like we couldn’t separate our love of the plot of the show from the ship which is…infantilizing and annoying) continuing on though, he also said this

He thought it would be cool to see a show with no romantic plot. Mind you this statement was made in January and the show starting filming in February. So unless they want me to believe they added this romance plot as some last minute thing (which very well could be the case as Claire has quite literally no personality outside of being pushy and being Carmy’s girlfriend) they knew they were having a romance plot in the second season and chose to lie about it. So the actors, the creator, basically everyone who was apart of this project said that Syd and Carmy were a weird ship (a strange thing to say to your, at the time, small audience even if that’s how you felt) just for them to turn around and have Carmy with a new love interest from school and have Sydney and marcus develop feelings for one another in the second to last episode? can y’all be fucking forreal for one minute?

Suddenly all you “yesss let men and women be friends, not every show needs romance” ass bitches want to ship something. I can tell you know Syd and Carmy have chemistry otherwise you wouldn’t have been shaking in your boots hoping the writers wouldn’t get them together. There was some dumb post i saw rooting for Claire and Carm but then adding ‘no one was better than platonic Sydcarmy’…

I see you.

I spoke about this before, but this constant sidelining of black women in these types of shows irks me. Sydney is basically hunting Carmy down for 85% of the season because he can’t do his fucking job he’s so consumed with Claire. And I know people are gonna say i’m being overdramatic, but it’s so clear they just did not want their main white boy to be with a black girl. Something that happens over and over and over again so many fucking times you can just lose count. Carmy, who in season one was so in tune with Sydney’s emotions he quelled his own anger and anxiety to ask if she was ok now ditches her at their restaurant to go help some girl he hasn’t seen since high school. He ditches her to go to a party then has the nerve to bring up Claire’s helping to inspire him.

Like yeah no shit Sydney is sorry that she’s there, y’all are opening a restaurant together which could fuck both your lives if it fails and Carmy is off doing god knows what instead of his job!

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!? And yeah, Carmy fucks it up at the end with Claire but that doesn’t negate the rest of the season. Chef’s Kiss shippers are strange and delusional and the show doesn’t need romance and then Claire is half naked in Carmy’s apartment? Look Carmy deserves happiness, his life has been basically nonstop stress and trauma since he was a kid and him ending the season thinking he doesn’t deserve fun or love is heartbreaking because it isn’t true, he deserves all the love in the world especially since he is actively trying to break the cycle (along with his sister). That doesn’t negate the fact that he agreed to being partners with Syd and then left her to make decisions on her own about a business they agreed to start together. Which is why he apologized and rightfully so.

And I know for a fact annoying Sydney and Marcus shippers are going to be like “well ackshully they are clearly setting up Sydcus this season so how can they hate black women.” I love Marcus as much as the next person and honestly after I saw where the writing was going I was like fuck it why not at this point, but if Sydney and Carmy’s shippers were living off crumbs Sydney and Marcus shippers were living off the memory of food. But sure that ship had development.

also no i don’t fuck with that syd and marcus ship because why the fuck are you snapping at sydney cause she rejected you and it wasn’t even really a rejection that was very incel core and it’s not about being upset half the kitchen is always screaming about something, it’s why he snapped at her.

I’m just angry so yeah fuck this show.

I’m genuinely contemplating if I want to watch the next season at all. I said if they wanted to go no romance, fine go no romance, but to not only lie about that but bring in some whole new girl we don’t know and throw the black girl to the closest guy despite the fact Sydney and Carmy are more alike than anyone else? You clearly need to do some introspection and think about why you can view Sydney and Carmen as friends but get sick at the thought of them being more.

There is a possibility (a slight possibility) that they are playing the long game we wanted, but i am wary because they lied and put a manic pixie indie girl in as a love interest this time and it sucked. But then I remember the scene with Syd and Carmy under the table and how open and honest they were with each other and even though their relationship wasn’t the best this season I can see it’s potential, because that one scene had more chemistry than all of that other ships other scenes combined. I don’t know.

This got me thinking though Will Poulter romcom when? I will be seated. Also the consensus on twitter is that people really didn’t like Claire and thought the show should have ditched their plot all together so that’s nice. A lot of people seem to think this is a setup for sydcarmy and idk, maybe i’ll rewatch when i’m more calm.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Is there anything in taeils chart that could point to him being an awful person?

Oooh- I was so hesitant in wondering whether or not I should respond to this question BUT I'm going too for education purposes because this is a great way of understanding how unhealed/undeveloped/immature zodiac placements manifest in people.

Disclaimer: Before I begin and receive hate comments, pls be mature and understand that this isn't reflective on EVERY person who has these placements AND also this is for funsies and not to be taken srsly. Taeil's decisions are a product of his own free will and free will always surpasses astrological influence. 18+

Placements: Gemini Sun, Leo Moon, Cancer Venus, Taurus Mars ( Rising Sign Unknown)

Sorry to the ppl with Gemini placements watching this but we have another Gemini man bringing shame to the zodiac world.

The benefits of this Sun/Moon duo together is having the ability to use their natural charisma, ability to adapt to different situations, friendly appearance and whimsical sense of humor to bring joy to others around them and to help the underdog/misfits feel included.

I don't know much about Taeil but from what I've seen on Tiktok and X, many people who did bias Taeil biased him because of his talented vocal cords, overall 'sweet' persona and having a 'gentle' demeanour.

But of course, Gemini and Leo are known for being able to 'mask' easily and adapt their personality to the environment around them- it's why they are great placements to have if you're in the entertainment industry.

These zodiac signs typically enjoy giving and receiving a lot of attention from multiple people to satisfy their ego and if unchecked, can develop a god complex honestly.

Taeil's ego might have been so unhinged and inflated he might have thought he could commit these acts and not get caught, purely because he's too smart or too famous to receive the consequences from doing it.

When I see a man with a Leo Moon and a Cancer Venus, this is giving me such mommy's boy energy not going to lie. It's common for men with Leo and/or Cancer placements to grow up with a mother who blew wind up their arse and they could never do anything wrong and their mother coddled and did everything for them.

I don't know if he's a Mommy's boy but it wouldn't surprise me if he is.

And I've just noticed in general, that a large amount of men who grew up being a Mommy's boy or in an emotionally incestuous relationship with their mother (NOT ALL BUT MANY) tend to have a quite derogatory view towards women.

This is mainly because they already have a woman who satiates their psychological, emotional and egotistical needs and so may view other women merely for sexual gratification and that's it.

It's common that men with these placements typically have a conservative/traditional view and opinion towards hetereosexual romantic relationships.

South Korea is a country where the societal norms and standards towards women are very misogynistic, restrictive and sexist (don't argue with me on this, there's a reason why the 4b movement exists) and that Cancer Venus influence means he probably developed these views towards women at a young age.

Which is really sad because majority of ppl who stanned Taeil were women or fem-identifying so unfortunately, I wouldn't be surprised if...

Taeil stans viewed him as being this 'soft spoken' idol that was respectful and loving towards his fans when in reality...

It's more likely that he saw his fans as nothing more than to satisfy his ego, give him the fame he thinks he deserves and would warm his bed with a single click of a pen.

Again, this is just intrusive thoughts and a random brain rot about how his natal chart could show insight into his wiring and why he made these horrific decisions.

None of this is confirmed, might not even be accurate but hey, you wanted my opinion and so here it is.

And don't be afraid if you know a person or stan another idol who has similar placements because again, a human's greatest gift is free will.