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hvly · 1 year

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No, cause let’s talk about the virgins tired of being virgins.

My personal favorite is that Oikawa has never gotten any type of close with a girl because of the sheer amount of bitches he has around him

(Also, I stumbled across your blog and I think I’m in love??? Please say you’re not taken 👏🏼)

ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴍ 🗣️ : anon, babe, forgive me for getting to this so astronomically late. BUT now that I'm here, let's talk about it 🤭 Oikawa is a hoe in theory, not practice. And I am more than happy to elaborate.

ᴄᴡ: virginity loss (male), afab reader, light praise. not proofread so be nice.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 1k+

Humor me for a minute. Imagine what it'd be like to take THE Tooru Oikawa’s virginity. To be his first, if you will. He'd try to be really smooth about it. Using his flirtatious nature to cover up the fact that he's inexperienced when it comes to being intimate. And who, honestly, would doubt or question his validity?

The volleyball player is far from short on potential sexual partners. Throngs of fangirls practically throw themselves at his feet, hoping to land on his radar for just one chance. And like any good idol, he gives his adoring fans what they wish and pray for.

Pandering to his female fans by addressing them as “his girls”, giving hugs instead of handshakes at fan meet-ups, and playful flirty banter to appear more personal and within reach. No one who’s ever interacted with him would get the impression that he’s a “virgin”.

To say he had you fooled would be quite the understatement. And to say you were pleasantly surprised to be the one to find out would be an even greater one.

You stare down at where your bodies would soon connect, your hand gently leading his member to align with your entrance. Oikawa's bangs tickled your forehead as he watched, his breaths gradually getting shorter out of what you could only assume was anticipation. “Are you ready?” you ask, looking up at the brunette through your lashes.

He nods slightly, breathing out an airy ‘yes’. You felt your heart skip in your chest, the way he answered catching you off guard. It felt surreal guiding the reputed womanizer through his first time and seeing him like this. Meek, breathless, desperate. How lucky you were to have this opportunity.

“Okay,” you whisper, taking a deep breath before leading his cock into your welcoming walls, using your legs to gradually pull him in. Oikawa inhales sharply from the new sensation, quietly muttering to himself as he sinks inch by inch into you.

You lay still when Oikawa bottoms out, allowing him a moment to adjust to each other’s bodies. “How does it feel?” you ask, your hands coming up to cup his face. His cheeks were warm in the palm of your hands, ears hot against the pads of your fingers. He’s breathy when he responds, brown eyes misty as he looks at you. “Good...Really good,” he mutters, his collarbone peaking through with each breath he took. “Can I?” he paused, voice breathy and barely above a whisper, afraid to appear too eager. He looks like he’s close to tears, eyes glassy against his flushed skin. You peered back into those warm eyes, rubbing your thumbs across his cheeks as you nodded.

Oikawa swallows and fixes his hands to your hips. You felt him move backward, his cock dragging against your walls. He starts slowly, his hips rocking in a steady back-and-forth motion. Soft groans and hushed curses sounded from the boy as he relaxed, less rigid and more confident.

Your eyes fluttered shut, lip caught between your teeth as you let Oikawa use your cunt to find a comfortable pace he could build on. Gradually, his movements quickened. His thrusts became less tentative and more precise, hitting faster and deeper every time his hips connected with yours. You gasped quietly, your eyes snapping open upon Oikawa’s (frankly unexpected) new pace.

Your breaths start to quicken as pleasure slowly builds in your core. “Yeah, keep going,” you moan. Oikawa huffs out some sort of acknowledgment as he continues to drill into your tight walls. You vocalized your pleasure loudly, praising the brunette for how well he was doing. And in such a short amount of time for someone who claimed they were inexperienced.

For a moment, you wondered if the pro volleyball player was lying about his virginity. Maybe he was using it as a type of ploy to garner sympathy from his fans.

But the thought went as soon as it came. Your attention was brought back with a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine, your hips bucking in response. You gasped before it was quickly replaced with a loud moan, your hands gripping the pillows behind you. Oikawa groans above you, his fingers digging into the fat of your hip.

Any timidity that he previously had was now long gone. He thrust into you with a new found confidence. Or maybe it was just pure lust and pleasure that drove him. You went into this fully expecting not to orgasm, but the virgin boy proved not to be underestimated.

You couldn’t help but rain praises down on the brunette, his performance truly commendable.. ‘Yes ! Just like that’ and ‘You’re doing so good’ falling freely from your lips as the coil in your abdomen steadily wound up. Oikawa threw his head back with a loud moan before looking back at you with hazy chocolate eyes. “Gonna cum…Fuck, I’m cumming,” he manages to choke out, squeezing his eyes shut as he nears his end. You moan in time with his frantic thrusts, yeses ringing throughout the room like a mantra.

His cock twitched with such intensity you swore you could feel every vein on his cock, even through the latex barrier he wore. You reach climax first, your cunt fluttering around Oikawa. He pumped into your walls once, twice, three times before his hips suddenly stilled. Oikawa gasped loudly, an equally loud and drawn out moan filling in any possible silence within the room. You felt his load steadily fill the condom, the faintest traces of warmth within your walls. Every twitch of his cock added to the feeling of (technical) fullness, and you were almost certain that he’d spill out of it if he kept cumming like this.

Oikawa collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy and his heart pounding against your shoulder. You smiled a bit, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. He chuckled breathlessly, propping himself up to look at you.

“So,” he smiled, a smirk tugging on his features, “Did I earn the title of womanizer?” Oikawa’s expression was light and playful, not taking himself too seriously and well aware of his reputation as a “lady-killer”. You giggled, shaking your head lightly.

“Almost. Still gotta teach you a few things before then.”

#𓆩𖥔𓆪 — verses #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader smut #haikyuu smut #oikawa toru smut #oikawa tooru smut

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welcometomyoasis · 8 months

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How seventeen would take care of their sick s/o

Pairings: svt x gn! reader Genre: fluff, established relationship Word count: approx. 1600 words Warnings: none A/n: i know this trope has been used 1000 times but literally everyone is getting sick now? Dedicating this to all of you rn. I hope you all feel better soon.

🍒 Seungcheol

Overdramatic (1). He would literally cry. You’re his baby and he cannot stand seeing you suffer. He will take care of everything, don't you worry. Just stay in bed and rest. He will be so so attentive and will pander to (almost) all your wants/ needs. You want soup? He’s ordering it right now. You want an extra pillow? Here take the one he was leaning on. You want cuddles? Who cares if he gets sick right, his baby needs him. But god forbid you try to move or do anything else other than rest. He will scream and is not above locking you in the bedroom when you try to go to the living room just for a change of environment. He probably forgets to open a window so he is definitely going to get sick after this. You will then need to take care of a whiny whiny baby Cheollie.

😇 Jeonghan

Partner privilege has its perks. Although Jeonghan doesn’t enjoy movement and is kind of lazy, he will always make an effort for you. He will run all over the house and run out to the store to get you literally everything you need. You will see him run in and out of the room to get you food, water, medication, cold packs for your fever, sweets for your sore throat etc. He gets tired easily though so he will likely just bring everything into the room at some point and make you both a little nest in the bed. You can just spend the time snuggling together and sleeping the rest of the day away. Jeonghan’s presence alone will make you feel better.

🦌 Joshua

Joshua will literally drop everything to take care of you. When you are sick, he is the perfect balance of worried and calm. Obviously, he worries because he loves you. But, he also knows how to deal with it with a level head. He takes all the necessary steps to find out what illness you are plagued with so that he can specially prepare a care package for you. In it, you will find everything you need and it comes with a bonus! Him! He is like your personal nurse and will stick to a regimented care plan to help you get better soon. Medication every 6 hours, small portions of food every 4 hours, forehead towel changes every 5 minutes. He doesn’t expect anything in return too because he is that selfless and he knows you would do the same for him. He does take kisses as a form of payment though.

🐱 Junhui

Jumps around the house in happiness? To your amusement, even if he is worried, Junhui is very very excited to be able to take care of you. He has fantasied about this before. You are always taking such good care of him and he wants to be able to repay you for all that you do. He probably has a checklist of what he should be doing for you. He goes through it diligently at first before throwing it aside and just doing what he feels is right. He might go a bit overboard with the care? You might wake up to a thermometer being shoved in your mouth or yet another wet towel being put on your forehead. Still, he’s making an effort and you really appreciate it.

🐯 Soonyoung

Overdramatic (2). Soonyoung will scream his head off about how his precious baby is sick. How can you get sick? Which evil germs got you sick? He will scream about wanting to fight the germs that are in your body. Will 100% make you laugh until you cough your lungs out. He will sober up after a while to actually take good care of you. He can’t cook to save his life so he might call his mother and ask her to send a list of food that would be good for you. He will also ask her for advice on what to do to make you feel better. Soonyoung will follow all her advice really diligently because it’s your health at stake here. And if there was one thing he was extremely passionate about, it’s your wellbeing.

🐈‍⬛ Wonwoo

Wonwoo will ask if you want to go see a doctor. He will respect your choice either way but in his opinion, if you aren't feeling well, it's better to let the professionals handle it immediately. He definitely attends to your every need and makes sure to put on the humidifier in your room to help you feel more comfortable. He also makes sure that he is always reachable or contactable if he is out of your sight. That means that he will not play video games that require him to use headphones. Wonwoo will be quite happy to read silently next to you (or in the living room) so he can listen out for you. And he would certainly be happy to read to you if you wish.

🍚 Jihoon

While Jihoon won’t make a big fuss when he gets sick, he will be a little frazzled when you do. He is at a loss as to what to do? I feel like when he gets sick, he just pops some medication in his mouth and sleeps it off. But he knows your needs are different from his. He is ready to help though so just take a bit of time to explain to him what you need. After that, he will be more than capable of taking care of the rest. He’s really intuitive as well so he might be able to detect when you need something before you do. That said, he is scared of getting sick too so maybe don’t expect as many cuddles?

⚔️ Dokyeom

Overdramatic (3). Similar to Junhui, he has been waiting for this day. Dokyeom will dress up like a nurse, complete with a surgical mask and gloves. He kind of looks like a real nurse? He will take this really seriously and try to emulate everything he has watched in medical dramas. Actually does a great job? All the questions he asks are similar to what a real doctor or nurse would ask you. He “prescribes” you the correct medication too. Ibuprofen for your fever, sore throat, and headaches, and extra cuddles from your adorable boyfriend. It’s really endearing to see Dokyeom act this way and it makes him so happy when he learns you really enjoyed his little act.

🐸 Minghao

Minghao would know you are getting sick even before you do. He’s so observant and attentive towards you that he knows all the telltale signs. In the days leading up to you getting sick, he’s already taking preventive measures. Giving you warm tea, telling you to rest more, giving you more nutritious food and vitamins. It definitely helps because when you do get sick, you don’t feel like death. Minghao is also so prepared that he has already stocked up on all the necessities. He knows all the little hacks and tricks to help you feel better too. In a way, he’s kind of like your walking home remedy.

🐶 Mingyu

Perfect househusband. Kind of freaks out at first but then immediately springs into caregiver mode. He might not be the most knowledgeable about medication? So you just need to guide him there. Other than that, he’s busying himself in the kitchen to cook all sorts of comfort food for you. Like soups and porridge. He will come into the room constantly to check in on you, and will bring things like water or tea with him. Checks your temperature constantly. He does go overboard with the cuddles and kisses. Combine that with him running all over the house, he probably will get sick too. Whines and sulks when he does because then who will take care of you?

🍊 Seungkwan

Flutters between worried boyfriend and mothering hen. Seungkwan would be so concerned for you and will constantly check in with you about what you need. At the same time, most things he says will be punctuated with things like “i told you to take care of yourself”, “how can you get sick”, “don’t overwork yourself please”. You eventually grab his hands to tell him he doesn’t need to worry so much and he can take a breather to just rest with you. He will sigh and probably talk about what else needs to be done as he is climbing into bed. It’s just his coping mechanism and the way he shows his cares towards you. And you wouldn’t change anything about it.

🐻‍❄️ Vernon

Vernon isn’t the type to make a big deal or fuss over anything (ahem Seungcheol, Soonyoung and Dokyeom). He will take you getting sick within his stride. He knows that everyone deals with getting sick differently. So, he will ask you what you would like him to do. If you say you need medication or food, he’s already out the door. If you say you want him to stay with you, he’s getting in the bed next to you. Or if you say you just want to be left alone to sleep, he’s giving your forehead a kiss and dimming the lights to your room on the way out. He tailors his actions to what you want. He’s just so sensitive to your needs in that way.

🦦 Chan

I feel like with Chan, it could go one of two ways. The first is that he doesn't really know what to do. Not that he doesn’t know what to do when someone gets sick, it’s more like he doesn’t know how to help you. So, he just tries his best to observe and ask what you need as you get over your sickness. The second way is that he is fully prepared. He is very independent so he knows all the steps he should take to help you. He gets you medication, forces you to rest. He also knows that he should avoid getting sick so he opens the windows for air circulation. The fresh air ends up helping you as well and you recover faster than you thought. Regardless of whichever way it goes, you can bet you can depend on Chan.

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jackkilmerlvr · 1 year

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i was up last night thinking about how good of a husband katsuki would be.

She stood in front of the large mirror, spinning and twisting her body to get a good angle in the bathing suit she was supposed to be promoting on her instagram story.

Her body wasn't cooperating though because no matter which way she posed or stuck out her hips she didn't like how she looked. A frown grew upon her face while she considered taking the photos another time when she was less bloated.

As she pandered on how to edit the photos to post them her husband walked in, smacking her ass in the process while holding a cup of black coffee.

“You look good babe.” he said, attaching his hands to her waist and rocking her hips with a smirk. “No I don't.” she mumbled, hiding her face inside of her hands. His brows furrowed together softly as his movements halted. He took her soft hands from her face and twirled her around to meet him.

“What are you on about?” he questioned softly, rubbing the pads of his fingers against her knuckles tenderly.

"i'm supposed to be promoting this brand on my Instagram, but i'm-.. just look at me!" she exclaimed, "my body looks terrible right now, no angle can fix it." picking up the fat of her belly as example.

"Babe, you're not like Kim K or anything." he joked, cautiously laughing with the mug in his hand.

"Katsuki i'm not joking right now!"

"I'm just saying, you're not like anyone people expect to have a really nice body all the fuck'in time. plus i think you look fuck'in great, but if you're not comfortable taking photos at this moment take them when you are. don't push your self babe."

a smile couldn't help but spread across her face while her arms flew up to her husband's neck to embrace him, peppering his face with butterfly kisses that made his heart beat a little faster then before.

they were perfect for each other. 💓

#୨⎯ jack's wife ⎯୧ #katsuki fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #mha bakugo x reader #katsuki x y/n #mha fluff #bakugou fluff

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roses-edge · 24 days

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So I know the concept of dating strategies for women is considered a waste of time by radfems as it largely is. Pandering to males will never get you anwhere.

But, the current dating strategists coming out today are less about getting a man and more about leveling up women's self-esteem first and foremost, and popularizing the truths of male oppression.

The women who make that content are "dating coaches" on a superficial level, but on a deeper level, serve a purpose to raise female class consciousness which is what I attribute to the 6B4T movement being taken more seriously outside of radfem circles.

Women are waking up to male's inferiority because of these women reaching out to the larger straightie population who knows something is wrong but can't put words to it.

All of this to say, it's one of my favorite tiktok topics to watch because I am a sucker for male hate content. A lot of these women talk about misogynoir as well, spreading the pro self-esteem and anti-male message further. (Also, this is my favorite tiktokker to watch as of late. I'm linking her bc I want her to have more engagement, I think she's awesome).

Women are not a lost cause. Women are dying to hear all of our voices and are tired of male BS. Even if these women never become radfems, and even if some become male-partnered, I am predicting a shift in the near future of women actually practicing the 6B4T movement above all else.

#6b4t #6b4t movement #radical feminist #radical feminism #radblr #terfblr #terf #gender critical #radfem #radfeminism

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lunod · 8 months

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Cripplepunk does exclude some physically disabled people

If someone is physically disabled but Does Not agree with cripplepunk's ethos and goals, then they are not cripplepunk. This is because cripplepunk is not a "community", it is a political movement. Phys disabled people who aren't cripplepunk are not being implied to be abled. They are still physically disabled. They just Aren't cripplepunk.

Some of you seem to be under the assumption that people saying you aren't cripplepunk is saying you're "not disabled" which is not, actually, what is being said. If you are mentally ill/ND but NOT physically disabled, then you simply aren't cripplepunk because it violates THREE of the rules and principles of cpunk. Insisting that you do belong here also violates those same 3 rules and principles: that cpunk is FOR physically disabled people (NOT disabled people as a whole), that cpunk does NOT pander to the able-bodied, and also speaking over people in cpunk (because Tai "fuck you and your functioning legs" Trewhella created the movement and EXPLICITLY stated they did not want able-bodied NDs in here). You literally do not agree with the basis of the movement but want to say you represent the movement and are in it.

#cripplepunk #cpunk #cripplepunk discourse #user.dat

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year

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Reunion

Trevor Philips x fem!reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: smut, unprotected smut, gta5 story spoilers,

Author’s Note: I am very aware this is the randomest thing to post. I have been replaying gta5. I am in love with Trevor. He’s my best friend, he’s the funnest to play, and I need him (nefarious motives). I unironically have a part 2 to this I’ve half written where the reader and Trevor meet up with Michael so let me know if anyone is invested <3 This is partly inspired by me going into the strip club to go to the atm and then going batshit insane. i am no better than a man but it is never the women im objectifying.

Summary: The reader did the original heist with Brad, Michael and Trevor. Afterwards, when everyone got split up, Lester told the reader that both Trevor and Michael were dead. After the jewelry store the reader wonders if he was lying about both of them. The reunion is filled with anger and also long lasting tension.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“You see him at all? After the incident?” Michael’s voice trailed off into a feign disinterest. Lester and him both knew; this is what the conversation had been leading up to. The conversation had dissipated away from the task at hand, casing the jewelry store. Neither of them seemed to care.

“I kept tabs on him for a while. Needed to know that he didn’t blame me,” Lester complained, reminding them both of the idicotic ways of their former friend.

“Yeah, where’d he go?” Michael questioned, trying to be nonchalant.

“North, south, east, west. Wherever there were liquor stores to turn over and hitchhikers to disappear.” There was a beat of silence as Michael climbed further up the roof to get a better vantage point. The words could have remained in the air, if Michael hadn’t pushed further.

“Where did they bury him?”

“They buried him? Not as far as I know.”

He wanted to ask. He knew he had to.

“You see her?”

Lester was glad Michael couldn’t see his face. It was a knowing look. Oh God, Michael wanted to talk about her again! Something so familiar that it didn’t even seem out of place, not even after everything.

“No. She left all together.”

“She still…she still around?”

“She’s alive if that’s what you’re asking. Moved, made a better life for herself. Better than he could’ve gaven her. Or you for that matter. Still got the bullet wound to prove she was there though. Physical therapy for months on that shoulder.”

Michael was hit with a sudden pang of nostalgia. He thought about the pandering, the vein attempts to make himself look better for you. The fight’s he and Trevor used to have all the time, arguments on who deserved you and who would get you. He had hoped you were oblivious. Now he wasn’t so sure he believed that.

“I told her he was dead.”

Michael paused on the roof, his movements only momentarily stunned.

“You feel bad about that?”

“It was the only thing to do. She would’ve found him. They would’ve found you. Bad for everyone.”

“And especially your cover.”

“Especially that.”

You were living a life where both he and Trevor were dead. You had moved on because it was the only thing you were able to do. He yearned to know what it could’ve been like if things hadn’t gone to hell. The danger was intoxicating but never as intoxicating as you.

He thought about Amanda. How she had never been you, how that’s the reason he was never able to love her the way he wanted. Clearly she had never loved him quite as much either, as was the case from her tennis performance. You were out there somewhere.

“I don’t wanna know,” he decided. If Lester told him even the smallest thing, a job, a marriage, a kid…he would go looking. He knew himself better than that.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you if you asked.”

Another short beat. He was almost to the highest vantage point.

“She deserved better than both of you. But you have to know she would’ve always chosen him.”

“There’s no need to hash up old shit okay? I was just asking to see who was still around. There’ll never be a better get away driver than her.” Even his deflection felt fake and vein. Lester saw right through it but decided to let it be. Michael thought of Franklin, diverging his thoughts. He could have him work, train him, mold him. He huffed as he got to the highest point.

“Now just to take a picture of the vent up there,” Lester said, evenly. The conversation was over. They wouldn’t talk about you or Trevor again today.

You were sitting at the small dining room table of your apartment. It was more of an island honestly but you called it the dining table because it was the best you could get. Los Santos was an expensive city and you were lucky to have found a place you could afford at all. Not that you weren’t doing well here.

The television was on to the news, though you weren’t necessarily paying attention. You poked at your mashed potatoes, proud of yourself for making anything tonight. You grabbed the remote with the intention of changing it to a shitty reality TV show when the screen shifted. ‘Breaking News’ painted the bottom of the television in red. A man was speaking but the volume was too low to hear it. You turned it up, out of sheer curiosity. You were reminded of a life before this one, a bang of guilt in your chest that you had desperately tried to get rid of.

Was it the guilt that brought the nostalgia forward? Or was it the way they reported it to be set up? Was it the cars, the hacking, the timing? Was it the sheer familiarity that made you sit forward? Or was it the fact that looked exactly like a Michael Townley job?

“You forget a thousand things everyday,” the witness said, shaken, “make this one of them.”

Your food was forgotten. Your face had gone blank with confusion.

“That motherfucker,” you muttered. The urge to throw something came back with his face in your head, the funeral you went to, the life you left. You saw his face on a big portrait and cried in front of it, wishing you had been faster. You left before ever seeing if anyone held a funeral for Trevor but now you wished you had stayed. What if you had spent all this time alone when they were out there, somewhere. What if Trevor was still alive?

The TV was now a ghost. It was now a time long forgotten. It was the bullet wound in your shoulder that now ached, something you hadn’t felt in a long while. That jewelry store was in Los Santos. It was here. Michael was here.

Lester told you him and Trevor were dead.

You searched for your phone. You didn’t have his number anymore, you couldn’t. He had changed it. He was too smart to keep the one he had years before. You recklessly searched anyway, knocking over the chair you were sitting in, tossing your pillows aside. Finally you grasped the phone in your hand, frantically searching in your contacts. His name remained, under L, and you called the number. It rang and rang and rang. You were already starting to think about how you would find him when the line picked up. Your breath caught.

“Y/N.”

“You fucker. You motherfucker. You fucking fucker.” You almost didn’t recognize the voice coming out of your mouth, you were so dedicated to the rage you felt. It was almost Trevor’s, almost the same cadence that you had picked up from him. It was amazing how fast all of that came back to you. How, just like that, you were her again. You weren’t her anymore, even when you took a turn too fast or knew the fastest routes out of an issue.

“What are you talking-”

“You know what I’m talking about,” you seethed. You failed to think about how he had kept the phone just for you, just in case you needed him one day. It didn’t even cross your mind that Lester had loved you too, that they all had. You were friends in the purest sense of the word. You were all each other's people. Now, you hadn’t heard or talked to Brad since he was arrested. Now you were a different person.

Lester was laying low but he still answered your call.

“I don’t know-”

“Is he dead?” You couldn’t say his name.

“Michael? “

“No.”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.” There was a bitterness in your voice you almost didn’t recognize. Her, her, her. When did you stop being her? “Lester tell me the fucking truth.”

“I don’t know. I used to follow him but there was no use.”

“What do you mean you used to follow him?” There was a long pause. Too long. “What do you mean?” You sat down slowly on the chair by your island. You grabbed the edge of the counter. Your knuckles were strained. “Did he live?”

Silence.

You were gonna kill Lester. You were gonna kill him and you were gonna enjoy it.

“Where did you see him last?”

“Sandy Shores. But that was ye-” You hung up the phone. You should’ve asked about Michael, you knew you should’ve. You wanted to but the anger was too much. If you saw Michael now, you’d kill him with your bare hands. Sandy Shores was not a large place. And you were a determined person.

Trevor looked in the mirror at the tattoo he had for Michael Townley, his dead best friend. His formally dead best friend. On his other arm was a tattoo for the only girl he had ever really loved. She was supposedly dead too.

He broke the mirror with a fist. His knuckles started to bleed from the glass cuts. He ignored it. Ron was standing in the doorway, shaking, leaning over. Trevor almost made a shitty joke about his posture but for some reason, he didn’t. He had already sent Wade to find Michael Townley but he had kept you to himself. He wanted to find you but he’d do that with his own two hands. No one else needed to know you were out there. If you were out there. A Townley job did not mean you were still alive. Just because Michael lived didn’t mean you had.

“What the fuck do you want Ron?”

“Sorry boss.” He moved out of the doorway, down the steps outside. He looked around eagerly, glancing back at Trevor but not holding eye contact too long. Trevor followed him outside and walked past him. “Bikers had been scoping out here while you were gone.”

“Did you tell them to fuck off?”

“No?”

“Well next time, tell em to fuck off!” Trevor approached his truck with the intention of going to the city himself to find Michael. Michael would know if you were alive.

Trevor thought about that time little. He thought about leaving his friend, about the bullets that flew past him, the moment he knew he would never see you again. He thought about the bullet wound in your shoulder, the one in him, the wounds that will never fully heal. A constant reminder of the near death experience he lived through and shouldn’t have. In drunken nights he always wished it had been you who was in his place. You would’ve made a life. Had you made a life? Had you done it without him?

He hopped in the truck. He needed more booze.

“Where ya going boss?” Ron questioned.

“Bar.” He started the engine. It rumbled to life underneath him and it was already hot from the heat. He turned his head to Ron. “Get lost Ron.”

Ron nodded eagerly, already starting to stumble away. Trevor needed to clear his head. He needed to cloud his head some. He pulled away, mentally going through the map closest to him. If he went to a strip club, he was extra sure not to think about anything else. But the better booze was always cheaper at just a bar. If he went all the way to the city he could search for Michael at the bottom of a bottle.

All of those options seemed like good options. He wanted to beat the shit out of somebody. He should probably stay in Sandy Shores to do that. But where’s the fun in doing what you’re probably supposed to do? He made a sharp turn, almost running over a girl crossing the street.

“Hey don’t you see I’m driving here!” he yelled, feeling better already knowing he had probably ruined someone's day with their near death experience.

“Watch where you’re fucking going! Jesus Christ, some people don’t know how to fucking drive,” you called, anger lacing your voice.

The cogs turned at the same time.

You were standing on the side of the road, in the dust of the truck. You stopped walking completely, replaying that voice in your head again like it was your favorite song. The familiarity ached at you. You knew it the second you heard it.

Trevor had gotten about half way down the road when he hit the brakes. Hard. He was in the middle of an intersection. People were honking at him but he just sat there, both hands on the wheels, eyes squinted in confusion.

With ease he put the car in reverse. Much to the dismay of the few drivers around him, he backed up. You were staring at the truck as it did so, not sure if you should laugh or cry or yell or have any reaction at all.

He stopped beside you, head turned. You stared at each other for a moment. Eyes so familiar it was like coming home after a long time away. Like the feeling of your own sheets but someone else had made the bed.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost sweetheart,” he hummed, his voice as cocky as it had always been. “Which can’t be true because if I remember, you’re my ghost.” Your lips parted. You approached the truck and he let you, wordlessly. You were in shock. You were stunned. There had to be a word for seeing a ghost from your past you thought was dead. You wrapped your fingers around the edge of the door.

“You motherfucker,” you whispered, in awe.

“I’m the motherfucker?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not the motherfucker.” You wanted to hit him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to slash his car tires. You wanted to take him home.

“I thought you were dead. I mourned you, Trev.” The car behind him honked. Neither of you had even noticed they were there. You both turned and it was like you were possessed by your respective ghosts.

“Can’t you tell we’re having a fucking moment?!” Trevor yelled. They honked again. Trevor pulled out a handgun. You watched him wordlessly. He shot the window. He missed. The car quickly diverged around and was gone in the dust again. You opened up the car door, his gun still smoking. He watched you, eyes curious. He thought he had memorized your entire body but now that you were there in front of him he realized his memory had never done it justice. You shut the door behind you and turned to him. The hand with the gun was slung against the passenger seat.

“I need a drink,” you muttered. He chuckled lowly.

“My girl.” He started to move forward again. Closest bar would do, he decided.

Lester wasn’t sure if he should even tell Michael. It was probably for the best that none of them had any contact for a while after the robbery. He had set that rule himself. They would lay low, stay straight, stay away from each other. Still, after the phone call with you it seemed stupid to not let Michael know, in some capacity, that you were going to be looking for him. Maybe he was more worried about you finding Trevor and then dealing with the aftermath of the havoc the two of you could bring.

Lester stared at his phone. He could text Michael. He could call. He could drop a place to meet. He knew that his friend would come if he asked, ever the rulebreaker. If you and Trevor remerged together that would be bad for everyone. That was bad for this whole thing.

Lester finally picked up the phone. He decided a text would do.

She knows.

Michael picked up his phone. He had been desperately attempting to hide from his kids and Amanda. He was glad for it, honestly, that the life he had chosen had chosen him back. But when he saw the text from the number with no photo with it, his jaw tightened. He had told Lester he figured Trevor was dead but now a risk was going to have to be made. You were out there and you were either looking for him (which was bad) or Trevor (which was worse).

Trevor and you were better off thinking the other was dead. The world was better for it. The money, the people, the general crime rate were all better for it.

“I want the TV,” Tracey said, approaching him. Her voice was muffled. It was like he was hearing her from underwater. “Dad. Give me the remote.” He looked up at her then, eyes still wide from worry. She made no note of his mood. He handed her the remote. He stood up, grabbing his car keys from the side table.

“Where do you think you're going?” Amanda questioned when he ran into her in the hall. He didn’t come up with an excuse fast enough and the judgemental look in her eyes creeped in.

“Gonna try and find an old friend,” he admitted.

“Yeah? How old?” Amanda dripped in annoyance. Did he mean a stripper? Did he mean a criminal? Somehow she knew it would negatively affect her.

“Old.” He pushed past her. Amanda looked at him and knew there were only two options to that answer. Neither were good.

Michael opened his phone to Lester’s number.

Where?

You sat beside each other in a bar that wasn’t memorable, drinks in hand you didn’t know the name of. You sat as close to him as you could get, legs touching. You didn’t want to ever not be touching him again.

“I had no idea,” you told him. “Lester told me you died.”

“Fucker.”

“I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve got a bullet with his name on it.” You took a sip of your drink. He looked at you, watching eagerly. You looked different. Well, you looked the same, but the clothes you were wearing were different. You must’ve had some sort of office job that required clothes on you he had never seen before. You used to steal his shit all the time, when it was clean. “I’ve got seven bullets for Townley. I’m makin sure that motherfuckers dead this time.”

Trevor smiled.

“Fuck girl, I thought you bled out from that shoulder wound. I thought I left you there.”

“You did leave me.” He glared at you. You had told him to leave and he did, only after you begged. “Lester told me you were gunned down in the escape.”

“You saw the fucking jewelry-”

“Yup.” You shook your head. “Bold of him. Really bold.” You finished your glass. You pulled down your blouse at the shoulder, revealing the bullet wound scar. He put his hand on your shoulder. He hadn’t touched your skin since seeing you again. It made you shiver. He poked it, making you roll your eyes. “Don’t be a dick.”

“All I know how to be.”

He rubbed it with his thumb, shaking his head.

“Looks like it hurt.”

“Yeah well.” You put your sleeve back up.

“So you haven’t seen him?”

“Nope. Went to find you first.”

“I’ve always been your favorite,” he bragged. You rolled your eyes, a sly smile playing on your face. It was true. It had always been that way. “You got any leads?” You were more reliable than Wade.

“Lester know’s where he is. I was gonna pay him a visit anyway.” “Well there’s no time like the present,” he offered. You gave him a look. He couldn’t read it. People skills had never been something he was particularly good at. You tilted your head.

“You haven’t seen me in nine years and you wanna go find Michael right now?”

His eyes went wide.

“Nine years and she finally admits it.”

“You knew it then. Don’t pretend you didn’t.” He did remember it. He remembered all of it, every second of it. He leaned in.

“I’ve got a shitty trailer with a shitty bed.”

“That sounds like heaven right now Trev,” you said under your breath. He had been wanting to kiss your lips as long as he had known you. It took so much of him not to do it all the time when you saw each other regularly. After he thought you were dead, he regretted not doing it every chance he had.

You threw money at the bartender, too much he noted, and piled into his truck. Your lips were on each others before the car even stopped. You crawled over the middle of the truck, wondering if you would even make it to the bed, wondering if you even needed to.

Ron came rushing out of the front door, talking before he registered, “Boss the bik-” He stopped, literally putting a hand over his mouth. It wasn’t odd to find Trevor fucking a girl in his truck but Ron knew he didn’t like to be interrupted. Trevor left your lips for only long enough to speak.

“Get the fuck out of here Ron!” He nodded, scrambling away. You popped open the truck door and slid out. You weren’t touching Trevor for a mere moment and he grabbed you again, pulling you towards him. “You’re not getting outta here again,” he promised, voice low and threatening. You smiled brightly.

Ron opened the door to his place nearby and peaked through the window. You were dragging Trevor behind you, hands interlocked, a puppy dog look in his eyes. Ron was used to seeing Trevor with girls. He wasn’t used to seeing Trevor with girls he liked. He lost the two of you as you entered the trailer.

Trevor’s lips didn’t leave yours, even when the door hit him from behind. He hugged you close to him. How close could he get to you? How close could he make you so that you never left him again?

You hadn’t expected Trevor’s lips to taste so good. You expected beer or weed or unbrushed teeth or something shitty but something about them was intoxicating. He had a firm grip on your ass, pulling you closer to him. You tripped over something on the ground. You pulled away to see where you were going.

The trailer was a mess. There were beer cans littering the ground, half naked girls on the walls, unwashed dishes in the sink. He let go of you just to move shit off of his unmade bed. He grabbed the pictures he had of girls and tore them off his wall.

“Disrespectful,” he grumbled, kissing you again. And just like that you could have been anywhere in the world and it didn’t matter. You had waited long enough.

He was clawing at your clothes with one hand while the other dragged up your back under your shirt. You shoved him down onto the bed. He chuckled, falling onto his back.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“Think?” You crawled on top of him, cupping his face in your hands. Why hadn’t you done this before? Why hadn’t you done this so many times? His hands reached for your shirt and it wasn’t until then that it hit him. You were alive. You were here. You were in his arms. He had beat the stupid longstanding fight him and Michael would always spat about over drinks. You were here, with him. He took off your shirt.

“God woman.” He cupped your breasts, eyes wide like they were gonna pop out of his head. You put your finger under his chin.

“Eyes are up here Trev.” He kissed you like he would never be able to do it again. He needed to be on top. The rising tension in his sweats were hard to ignore as you sat on top of him. He could feel your every movement. You slid your hands slowly up his shirt and then down again, fingertips electric. You hummed as you trailed kisses down his chin. While you were distracted he flipped you onto the bed. You made a surprised noise that caused him to chuckle.

“My girl.” He took off his shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept with a girl and wanted to make it last. When was the last time it was less fucking and more something else, something he could barely remember the name to? You gripped his shoulder. There was a tattoo there, your name in faded ink. Your eyebrows softened. He didn’t seem to notice. “My girl,” he repeated, whispering against your skin.

“Trev,” you whined. He was already shimming down his pants. He kicked them off the bed onto the floor. You could feel his hardness against your clothed core. He fixed his fingers around the loops of your jeans, pulling it down with ease. You raised an eyebrow at his expertise but he was so caught up in the taste of you he didn’t notice.

“God!” You arched your back, looking up at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t wait any longer. Without warning he was inside you, all of him. You gasped at the sudden change and then eased. He gave you no time to calm down or adjust but he was leaning over you and his lips were permanently on your skin and it was like the room had gotten ten degrees hotter in the span of five minutes. You could probably fuck around all night. Trevor could go again and again but he needed to do this right now.

He placed a finger on your clit. You gasped, eyes locking with his. He grinned smugly. You kissed him to shut up whatever he was about to say.

Your breath hitched as he sped up, moving his fingers wildly and without care. Somehow he managed to hit just the right spot.

You came together, plagued by moans and spasms.

Still inside you he smiled, self satisfied.

“Never thought a dead guy would make you cum huh?” You snorted, eyes shut tightly.

“Fuck you Trevor.” You were laughing through your words.

“Haven’t gotten enough yet?”

He collapsed beside you. You found the bed more comfortable now in your bliss. You grabbed a pillow, placing it under your head.

“Get me a beer T. I can go all night.”

When Trevor woke up you were still in bed. He had a hand on your thigh, now clothed, much to his dismay. He had no idea what time it was. You had thrown on one of his clean shirts, one of the rare ones. You were hunched over your phone, sitting beside him. He rubbed his eyes. You turned your head, realizing he was awake.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” you said, a pleasant smile on your face. Your hair was a mess of the night. He could still feel it on the tips of his fingers. He could still taste you on his lips.

It hadn’t been a dream. You were here. You were with him. It wasn’t a wet dream, it was reality. Just the thought made him dizzy.

“Let’s get drunk and get hitched.” You laughed gently.

“Now that’s an idea.” He sat up and kissed you aggressively, throwing you off but not by much. Your phone fell from your fingers. You turned to him. His girl. His girl. His girl. You pulled away, much to his dismay. “I think I know where Michael is.”

He groaned.

“You had to remind me.” He fell back onto the bed with a flop.

“Los Santos. There’s a Michael De Santa with two kids and a wife. Amanda.” He perked his head up.

“You check the plastic surgery records?”

“I did not but I have a rough estimate.” You stood up. The bed was cold without you. Couldn’t you just live forever like this? Why go find Michael at all?

And then he remembered his anger.

“They’re living in a mansion, Trev,” you said. You hadn’t taken any money from that robbery. You couldn’t, it wouldn’t make any sense. But Michael was out there and he was using that money somehow. He had taken it all for himself.

Trevor’s anger intensified. He was here in the slums of San Andreas in a shitty trailer. He had put his life on the line. He had lost everything he cared about. Michael got the house and the family and the life they had all risked it for. He had lost you for nine years.

He tossed you the truck keys.

“Start it but don’t drive it,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“You think you’re a better driver than me T?” You both sat in the memories of you driving away with money, evading the cops, knowing nothing but the danger in your speed.

“I’m the only one that drives that truck.” You put your hands up in surrender, backing out.

“Yes sir.”

God he wanted you back in bed.

Part 2

#trevor philips x reader #trevor philips imagines #trevor philips x fem!reader #trevor philips fanfiction #grand theft auto imagines #spicy tag

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corrodedcoughin · 1 year

Text

little story about little Eddie and his 2 new friends | word count approx 2.5k | general audience rating | steve and eddie are kids and Wayne is a pushover

Wayne sometimes thinks it was a mistake, not taking in the boy. God no, he would never think of Eddie as anything other than an important and intrinsic part of his life, couldn't be without him, wouldn't want to be.

No, what Wayne worries about is how his readiness to help Eddie feel loved might contribute to the boy's difficulty in making friends.

It was an innocent enough request, Eddie asked for a pet as all young children do. He was so small and so wide eyed, just a scrap of an 8 year old with more feelings than he knew what to do with. Wayne knew he'd never hold up against any request Eddie made but he liked to pretend to himself that he could. And while technically he never pandered to the boy, yes Eddie usually got what he wanted but in a way that suited their means. Or so Wayne tells himself.

8 year old Eddie asked for a pet and a pet is what he got.

Eddie barrelled into the trailer door, backpack swinging off his arm and ready to be thrown into the corner. Planning to shoot off back out the door to do his usual; lift up rocks and inspect whatever bugs he could find, to grab sticks and imagine them as wizard staffs, to let his imagination finally run wild after hours of sitting still at a desk under too bright lights and too busy class rooms. In truth he wasn't really paying attention to the insides of the trailer, expecting it to be the same as always. It took a very pointed cough for Eddie to register that Wayne was unusually home from work, far earlier than normal, and a further loud clearing of the throat for Eddie to pay attention to what Wayne had placed on the kitchen table.

Right in the middle of the table, sitting in a beam of sunlight, was a cage and in that cage was what would soon become, Eddie's very reason for being. He crept up close, almost as if scared that any sudden movements would prove the whole thing to be a cruel illusion. He was brought out of his reverie by a pink nose wiggling at the bars, whiskers attached and twitching as the rest of the rat appeared.

'is he-? is he for real?' Eddie said with a gasp, hands inching towards the door of the cage.

Wayne had to suppress a laugh, trust this boy to be bowled over in wonder at a rat as if it were a puppy. He opened the contraption of the enclosure door and dipped his hand inside, allowing the rat to climb onto his palm. The guy from work assured him that this one was the most tame he had, inquisitive to a fault and oddly enough, desperate to be handled. Quite honestly, the perfect match for his well meaning but excitable nephew-near-enough-son.

'Yeah, yeah kid it's for real. And he's a she.' Wayne lets the rat sniff at Eddie's hands, little pink hands finding a platform on Eddie's palms, clearly holding himself a still as possible but if Wayne knew this boy, and he did, he knows that Eddie is so close to vibrating out of his skin, that containing that much excitement must be killing him.

'I don't care. Wayne, I don't! Can she sleep in my room? Does she know tricks? Can I teach her? What does she like? Can I take her to school? Please! Wayne!' He's started now, words pouring out of his mouth, tripping over himself to try and release every thought entering his brain at lightning speed.

'Woah, there' Wayne says pulling the rat up, cradling it in two hands, 'We got to be kind to her alright? She's only small. Doesn't know what loud noises are good and which are bad, okay?' He watches as Eddie nods vigorously, eyes never leaving the creature. 'Now you promised me you'd look after a pet so that's what's going to happen. She is your responsibility. That means cleaning, feeding and loving, got it?' Eddie nods again, tentatively reaching his hands up, the image of Oliver Twist springs to Wayne's mind.

Wayne comes around the kitchen table, crouches down to Eddie on creaky knees and hands the rat over, filling Eddie's small hands with a heartbeat and fur. Eddie giggles, watching as the rat surveils the new patch of skin its found itself on.

'Tickles, Wayne' and its said with such love and devotion Wayne almost feels his heart break

'Yeah son. She does, doesn't she?'

Of course it takes less than a week and Eddie and Sam are inseparable. As soon as Eddie gets home he's itching for his furry friend, delighting in the way she scampers around the room, over his arms and anywhere she can get. No matter what though, she always comes back to him. She can be digging in to a particularly interesting crevice behind the couch but she'll always come running back when she hears Eddie make a noise.

The thing is, Eddie is a pretty lonely kid. Not for lack of trying, don't get it wrong. Eddie tries to socialise he tries to talk to the other kids in his class, get them involved in his imaginary games and play pretend but being the new kid doesn't really do him any favours. Being the new kid that lives in the trailer park and a penchant for biting to show affection does him even less.

To Eddie, its him and Sam against the world. He can come home and know that his best friend will listen to all his problems, will stay close and won't run away even when he's extra loud or being 'a lot' as his teacher like to tell him. He's so tired of being told to use his 'quiet hands', his 'inside voice' and every other subdued phrase they try to press on him.

This particular day was a hard one, Sally Winters had said that Eddie was 'bad luck' and the word quickly spread around by recess. Eddie had thought he was making some progress with a couple of kids from the class, was thinking today might be the day that he finally got asked to play but that hope quickly got squashed. He had hopped up to the potential friends with a stick in his hand and a notion of being a pirate when they both looked at him like he was a monster, they couldn't get away fast enough. And Eddie couldn't find a place to hide quick enough before the fat and heavy tears fell from his eyes.

It was a long day and home time was his only saving grace.

Wayne knows somethings up, can tell in the way that Eddie isn't even really talking to Sam, hardly looking at the Tv despite the fact that Wayne very purposefully had put the cartoon Lord of the Rings movie on. The sure fire fall back he liked to keep in his back pocket. The trump card to get his kid happy. This time though? No luck. Looking at the kid makes a chasm open up in his gut, deep and full of overwhelming sadness that he just wants to stop, wants to find the solution to make this boy smile like the sun again. They don't talk much for the rest of the night but Wayne makes sure to stay close, stay awake in case he's needed. Eddie spends the time between dinner and bed sitting on the floor, side pressed up against Wayne's leg and playing fetch with bits of Wayne's whittling with Sam, not a word said.

Eddie wakes up the next morning with a plan and a devil may care attitude. Oh so carefully he maintains his usual routine; says good morning to Sam, carts her around the trailer as he washes his face and wanders into the kitchen, placing her in her secondary cage so she can eat breakfast with Eddie and Wayne - Eddie was adamant that they couldn't have meals without her, 'she's part of the family!' and soft hearted fool Wayne Munson agreed and an additional cage was sourced.

When breakfast is finished Eddie begins his usual rigmarole of dragging his feet to get out of his pjs and into his clothes, reluctant to grab his bag and go out the door. Same old protests as Wayne watches him walk out towards the school bus.

What is a new addition to the routine though, is Sam Munson hiding up the sleeve of a school boy and about to go on a secret and very dangerous mission. A mission to survive the school day.

Surprisingly, Eddie manages to keep Sam secret, keep her safe, the whole morning. He came prepared with snacks to make sure she was entertained and happy, he couldn't stand the thought of her being sad, her eyes get so big and her tail droops as well as her ears, it makes the whole of Eddie ache. But no, she's happy, or happy enough at least.

So the morning goes without a hitch, Eddie making noises to cover up any squeaks and keeping a hand in his pocket to reassure Sam, stowed in the pocket of his hoodie. He knows he's seen as 'weird' so what's a few extra noises? They are let out for recess and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, thinking this is his time to let Sam out, knowing she's desperate for some fresh air. Sure, she's peed in his hoodie pocket, but he can't really tell with it's dark colour and the layer of t-shirt between the wet material and his tummy.

He runs off to his usual corner, stuck between a bush and a tree and gently tips Sam out of his pocket, she scampers around his feet and gratefully accepts a broken off bit of cracker between her hands.

'Thanks for coming with me Sam. Everyone is so mean, its so stupid. I don't care. You are a better friend than any of those losers' He crouches down, hoping to find a twig to play fetch with. A game that he delights in, is immeasurably proud of her for learning it so quickly. 'Gonna find you the best stick Sam. Promise. Best stick for the best friend'

He continues muttering to himself and doesn't notice that he's getting progressively louder after finding a twig and beginning the game. Doesn't register that he's drawn unwanted attention with his happy shouts and encouragement until a body is crashing through the shrub he's hidden himself behind.

Sam doesn't notice either until the unexpected form is right in front of her and she bolts, running as fast as her legs will carry her and Eddie is right behind her, muttering under his breath as he trips over his own feet in an attempt to catch her 'oh shit oh no oh no oh no' He's pushing himself as hard as he can but it doesn't count for much, he never was the fastest. He keeps trying though but then a faster body is accelrating past him, in a evident bee line for Sam.

Without thinking, Eddie lets out a painful 'NO!' terrified of what might happen.

He knows people think rats are dirty, thinks they don't deserve love and don't deserve life. He doesn't want to imagine what this person's intent might be. Sam reaches a dead end up against the wall of the school and the body, the boy, stops infront of her. Scoops her up? Cradles her into his chest? Eddie...Eddie doesn't know what to think, he's prepared to fight this kid but then the boy is looking up at him with curious hazel eyes. Stroking Sam's head gently and with intent.

He holds Sam out, careful with his motions, trying to blow his brown floppy hair out of his face without disturbing the animal in his hands 'is she okay? is she yours? did I hurt her? she looks okay, is she?' Eddie gingerly steps forward and plucks Sam out of the boys hands, gives hera thorough inspection as the other boy continues

'I didn't mean to scare her I swear! I didn't even know you had her! I won't tell, I swear I wont! You know...you shouldn't really have a rat in school. If I promise not to tell can I play with you? I'm Steve'

Holding her close, Eddie squints at the boy, at Steve, and thinks. Thinks about how he looks nice, about how soft his hair looks and how he asked Eddie, Eddie!, to play, that he didn't give him a wide bearth and that he held Sam with such care. It isn't even a hard decision.

They spend the rest of recess together. Eddie shows Steve just how smart Sam. That she can play fetch, that she can run across one arm to the next, over your shoulders without losing balance. That she can twitch her whiskers and it seems like she's laughing at the joke Eddie tells her. That she laughs at the joke Steve tells her! Steve learns that she's named after somebody called Samwise and it doesn't matter that he's a boy because Sam is brave just like Samwise and smart and cares just as much. That Sam is Sam and Eddie is Frodo and together they can take on the world.

Steve asks if he can have a name too and Eddie calls him Legolas, doesn't tell him why. Doesn't say that Steve reminds him of the pretty elves described in the books Wayne reads out loud to Eddie. It doesn't matter, not really.

Recess ends and they shuffle back to the school doors, both of them lagging behind the others.

Eddie steels himself, knows he has to bring his misfortune up so that he can own in, so that his new friend doesn't find out from someone else. 'I'm bad luck you know. Sally...she said it. now everyone wont talk to me. I wont be mad if you don't either. I've got Sam. We'll be oaky! So you can just go, I don't care!' He knows he's getting wound up, he can't stop himself. He just wants the bandaid ripped off so he can start feeling sad quicker, get it over with sooner.

Before he can register is, Steve is wrapped around Eddie in a flash of a hug, careful to keep his tummy away from squashing Sam.

'Not bad luck to me. See you tomorrow Frodo' Steve whispers next to Eddie's ear and shuffles through the school door.

Eddie is in a daze of joy and happiness, thoughts rumbling through his head but none of them sticking as he journey back into his class room. Pure happiness radiating out of his body, he takes Sam out of his pocket and holds her up to his face 'Sam you made my bad luck go away!' kissing her on the forehead as he hears his teacher scream

'EDWARD MUNSON IS THAT A RAT?!'

So Wayne thought the already unpopular kid having a rat would make things worse. Turns out, he was wrong. Very, very wrong. He might have to start pocket inspections before school though.

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also on ao3 if that's the preferred reading format for you

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #wayne munson #stranger things #hello is this thing on? hi ummm so i didn't think i'd write again for a very long time if ever #but choco mentioned rat boy eddie and idk this sprang forth #and i KNOW okay i KNOW its rusty and not good but i finally just wrote!! i wrote because i wanted to!! and i had FUN!!! IT DIDN'T FEEL #FORCED OR PAINFUL!!!!!#anyway i am half thinking of a part 2 but who knows maybe possible maybe not #either way it is a relief to know that i can actually have fun writing and not feel like i owe something to someone!!!!#its like when i startd back in the summer of last year!!!!!#idk man its silly and these tags are silly but i had fun and creating is fun and i missed having fun WITH it #probably wont write again for a while but thats OKAY!!!!#thank you anyone who reads this and any one who has ever been nice about my silly words #choco shout out to the jestie #okay okay sorry GBYE

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thefugitivesaint · 26 days

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They Are Insecure For A Reason | Defector

"One of the less-amusing ironies of the violent institutional response to the nonviolent protest movement on campuses across the country is that the goals of the people protesting are much easier to understand than those of the variously curdled elites dispatching uniformed violence workers against them. The irony is in the fact that the students, with their specific demands and comparatively disciplined approach, have been cast as somewhere between essentially unserious and actively terroristic. In contrast, the institutions pivoting and pandering and giddily giving themselves over to the incoherent and spiraling political panic surrounding the protests represent principled leadership and forebearance; the gray elites insisting that these protests are actually about their dull abstractions of choice are the voice of seriousness; the police forces, rioting and ravening as ever, are somehow in fact order.

A lot of this disjunction can be explained by the undeniable disparities in power between those two sides, the first organizing toward a legible goal and the second existing essentially to oversee the unending work of saying no. Only one side can effectively call the cops on the other; here, as elsewhere, the impunity that comes with that exclusive access to violent recourse has made those with it not only cynical and lazy and cruel, but also paradoxically insecure and perpetually terrified at the prospect of any erosion in authority. It is, on its face, difficult to make the argument that it is fundamentally unserious to object to dropping a 2,000-pound bomb on a hospital, and much more morally and politically serious to object to that objection on some point of administrative order, or simply because it is too loud." ..... "There is something terribly clarifying in how eager the people in power at these universities have been to betray the trust of everyone invested in those institutions. Institutions that otherwise exist from one exploratory committee to the next will change university policies on the fly so that their local uniformed violence workers will get their chance to thump some young skulls; administrators whose notional jobs are upholding communities of learning and care gladly consent to being upbraided by clownish golf hogs and half-fascist nullities in Congress and then do exactly what they were told to do, whatever the damage to those communities. If the students and professors in these protests, which are now nationwide, have a sort of advantage simply by being the only parties involved that actually care about anything, they are also up against an opposition that is all the more implacable because of how proudly cynical it is." .... "The order they are after is all around us—a Homeowners Association with a S.W.A.T. team at its disposal, a business that grows at a steady rate without making anything anyone could use, a world in which things simply happen and continue to happen, a pristine desolation that is safe precisely because of how empty it is. But what they are afraid of grows even as they starve it, which is why these people, with all their power, are always so insecure. It is why, despite the relentless imposition of their annihilating concept of safety, they can't ever quite feel safe. They know how bad it would be for them to be seen clearly; they are fucking terrified of being treated as they treat others. They know that people can recognize their demands as what they are, and that there are still spaces in which to reject them. And they sense, maybe, that this false and failing security can't last. "The more they try to silence us," a Columbia grad student told the Times last week, "the louder we get."

#David Roth #defector #student protests #columbia university #free gaza #palestine #israel #ACAB

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ride-thedragon · 10 months

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The worst thing about Rhaenyra is the inherent need her fans have to moralize the protagonist. Rhaenyra isn't a good person.

That's okay.

Rhaenyra isn't a feminist.

That's okay.

She is not a girl's girl and that's fine.

It's so unfair that people can unapologetically Stan Aegon and Daemon but draw the line at morally questionable women.

We love gray characters until a character is truly gray and a woman.

Rhaenyra isn't better than Alicent, nor is Alicent better than Rhaenyra. These women are both brought to the heel of their patriarchal society at the helm of the most power it affords to women.

Neither of them are intersectional thinkers or necessarily progressing women's rights. Rhaenyra would rule then her son. Alicent will just have her son and grandson's rule.

It's a disservice to her character to pander to the idea of moral righteousness or bettering.

What happens to her happens because she is a woman. At every turn, her womanhood and the role of it will pigeon hold her in this society. That does not excuse her very questionable behavior.

Two things can be true.

For example, using my favorite girl, Nettles.

Under Viserys' rule with Alicent and Otto ruling this young girl is a sex worker to sustain her life. She is assumed to have lost her virginity to eat and was disfigured as punishment for wanting to eat. That was her assumed life under their rule. The entire time she has the capability to be a dragon rider.

Had it fallen normally to Rhaenyra nothing would've changed for her and like most of the women we see in that line of work she'd die at the hands of someone or from illness or pregnancy all while being able to claim a dragon.

Women do not need to be exceptional.

( Not everyone can be Nettles)

Women can just be legally named the heir and be heir.

But to impose a moral code that these characters can never live up to is unfortunate. Again, I rise and say I love Rhaenyra, and I understand that she's been groomed by a crazy person and has the moral compass of every Targaryen after the conquest. She's that girl. I'm sorry for those who don't get it or feel the need to justify it.

I also love Alicent, and as a victim of white people's nonsense in 2020 and the Hollywoodification of the feminist movement in the 2010s, you'll never see hate a woman when men are to blame. Seeing someone try to care about something, she has no understanding or ability to truly escape from is hard and a lot of you project the lack of understanding most people have had when it comes to feminism on her as a means to seem above her and what she does. We all fall short and to villanize her for it, is crazy, especially when the person we compare her to has access to do better and doesn’t pursue it.

I'm still waiting for y'all to dislike Daemon for killing a wife, sleeping with a woman at his wife's funeral, and strangling the other after she miscarried their child. Let's not mistake splinters for planks.

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museumofferedophelia · 6 months

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TRAs deny the autonomy of LGB people in using our own reasoning and perception to come to a conclusion.

They see LGB people speaking out about the inclusion of kink and pornography in "queer" spaces, and they think that we're trying to pander to conservatives through respectability politics. When really we've come to the conclusion on our own terms, and decided that we aren't comfortable with having our sexuality associated with extremist porn-rotted people who ride the queer movement as a way to avoid rightful criticism. We don't care if the right is going to "hate us anyways," they didn't factor in to our opinions at all.

They see Lesbian women and Gay men saying that they're not attracted to the opposite sex- genitalia included- and think that we've been socialised into believing an exclusionist, transphobic agenda. When really we've spent years analysing and dissecting ourselves, only to come to terms with our natural, innate homosexuality. There was no influence aside from our immutable biological desires.

TRAs deny our ability to think and perceive without being influenced by exterior forces. They think every opinion or desire we have that doesn't align with their ideology is somehow connected to an overarching social or political plot, which is a consequence of the increasing politicisation of LGB identities.

We aren't trying to appease or placate people- if anything, we've had to learn to accept that our opinions are going to piss people off.

#gender critical #radfem friendly #terfblr #radical feminists do interact #radblr #feminism #dropthet #radical feminism #terf #lgb

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juyolore · 2 years

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look at me | lee juyeon

pairing: boyfriend!juyeon x fem!reader

genre: smut, established relationship

wc: 3.2k

warnings: smut…(sawry), dom!juyeon, service top!reader, slight spanking, slight begging, degradation, no real choking but his hands still make it to your neck lmao, creampie, juyeon definitely has a size kink so read and weep, sorry if i’m missing anything!

a/n: tried my best to proofread this so pls forgive any mistakes, it also was drafted out of nowhere so it’s probably shit hhh

was everything actually moving in slow motion or were you just in that deep?

so entranced by the sight of him doing absolutely nothing, he was about to elicit a moan from in the back of your throat.

considering you hadn't touched him at all in a solid month you were close to creaming your pants untouched. god forbid he notice how tightly your legs had been crossed this entire time.

hair sweaty and falling over his forehead. like it always annoyingly does. shirt taut to his frame, but only enough to keep the naked eye pandering, grey sweats and sneakers adorn his bottom half.

his staple is his duffel bag that’s he’s just dropped on the floor. ironically flashy, it still doesn’t compare to him or his demeanor in size. he also wears the most shit-eating grin on his face and nothing could’ve prepared you for the way your body was reacting.

heartbeat rattling the entirety of your chest, mouth agape in anticipation. frozen and it definitely would’ve been laughable if you were capable of processing a single thought.

his visual dripping with sex. too good for even the wettest of dreams.

“how long are you gonna stare?”, he audibly ponders in a gentle but menacing manner. feels like taunting, he’s already got you on edge.

“excuse me?” you jokingly gasp with a scoff, managing to compose yourself quicker than you could clock how long you’d been gawking. “get over yourself juyeon, i was not staring. and even if i was, which i was NOT. can you blame me?”

“could ask you the same.” he retorts, a smirk fighting its way to his perfect pout.

“oh? please do tell.” you’re doing a better job carrying out conversation than you would have imagined.

sauntering his way in your direction he’s quickly towering over your petite frame, wearing the same shit-eating grin on his face from moments ago and you’re unintentionally holding your breath.

leaning down until he’s inches from your face using his arms to support his weight, his voice is low and goosebumps surface all over your body. “why are your legs crossed? am i missing something?”

“what do you mean? i’m wearing a skirt, why wouldn't my legs be crossed?”

gritting his teeth he raises an eyebrow, “you don’t cross them any other time. what’s there to hide? it’s nothing i haven't seen before.”

his fingertips begin to trace various parts of your body starting with your cheekbones and the underside of your jaw, causing you to raise your head entirely, the two of you instantly locking eyes.

he continues dragging his middle and pointer fingers down between the valley of your chest as your breaths easily shorten and pick up in speed. he knows exactly what he’s doing, eyes following behind his fingers flickering between the rapid rise and fall of your breasts to your eyes as you struggle to keep them completely open and on him.

“juyeon, please.” your skin already flush and the previous pool of arousal between your legs quickly dampening again but worse this time. chasing some kind of friction or release you clench your thighs. with your legs still being crossed the movement quickly catches his attention.

halting his movements he drops the hand that had begun fondling your now extremely hard nipples. it’s back onto the bed near your hip, an immense amount of heat radiating off of him hitting the area of skin that’s been gradually exposed as your skirt rides up from the previous actions.

he brings his head down again. you mistakenly pucker your lips for a kiss and quickly hang your head in shame as he dodges you, lips finding their way to your ear. “open your legs.”

immediately obeying you can't help but feel powerless underneath him. he’d barely touched you and you were soaked and soon too would be the surface underneath you when met with your bare skin.

lifting his hand again he begins dragging the same two fingers from before up and down the side of your thighs, listening for your pitiful sighs and panting. he stops at your hip and chuckles briefly before raising his head completely and settling his eyes on your face. you weren’t wearing panties.

“look at me y/n.”

forcing your glossy eyes open you’re met with a dark stare. nothing threatening there yet, but he’s definitely got something to say about your lack of coverage below. you can feel it.

“tell me what you want,” he demands ever so calmly. in any other situation this would sound rather innocent. maybe even like you had a choice to do so. right now that wasn't the case and you actually had about seven more seconds to start talking before his entire demeanor would flip.

“y-you. i want you, juyeon. please.” moistening your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue you sit waiting for his next move. practically sprawled out, your bottom half as close to completely naked as possible with the way your legs were spread. shirt unbuttoned about halfway and a sheen of sweat covering your entire body. he had already wrecked you and you were just getting started.

palming both your thighs and slowly kneading he began to properly taunt you, it was definitely fun for him.

dickhead.

“want me how? you know i need you to be specific baby. wanna treat you just right, that’s what i’m here for. hmm?”

he’s watching you for some type of approval. something to signify that you want to continue, that you’re okay with everything going on. all whilst he’s still in full control. sick, isn’t it?

“kiss me?” it sounds like a plea, that’s exactly what it is.

before you can process his reaction he’s leaning in, hands still placed firmly on your thighs. capturing your lips with his own he’s got full control, but you have zero objections. you’re just happy to finally have more of him somehow.

you feel his large hands begin to move. closer and closer to where you really need him the most. you gasp into his mouth as he rather roughly spreads your legs leaving you exposed completely. the cool air of the room engulfing the pool of what could've been multiple unintentional orgasms by now, you had no clue.

you whimper pathetically as you feel the same two fingers from earlier pressing down on your clit. he doesn’t move them, it’s just to get a reaction out of you. he briskly uses his fingertips to circle your entrance before pushing his fingers in a removing them quicker than you could choke out a sob.

he brings his fingers up to your mouth, slick with your juices. quirking a brow as he waits in amusement for you to take a hint.

slowly wrapping your lips around them you bore a hole into him with hooded eyes. circling your tongue around his digits, producing the lewdest of noises, you hope the sight is satisfying enough because all you can think about is when he’ll finally replace his fingers with his cock.

spit dripping down your chin and the rest of his hand and wrist, hitting the exposed part of your chest, you’re sure you look a mess. but you’re not bothered by it, you know he gets off on it.

pressing down on your tongue with the pads of his fingers he halts your actions. removing them with a quick popping noise he kisses you again, nothing but tongue and some panting (from you of course).

“do you think they’re clean enough, pretty?” he asks, not actually expecting a response. you slowly nod and watch as his hand, wet with your saliva, disappears again between your legs.

his hands are hot but mixed with the coolness from all the sucking you did you can’t help but drop your head back and let out an embarrassingly loud moan. easily inserting two of his long slender digits he simultaneously begins an immediate assault on your clit and uses this opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking away.

“juyeon...fuck,” you whimper.

“yeah, i’m here,” he whispers between the open-mouthed kisses he’s leaving all over your neck and jaw. “i’m here baby, i’m not going anywhere.”

his lips leave you neck and trail down the rest of your body. from your collarbones, to your chest, he uses his spare hand to unbutton the rest of your top, lips instantly attaching to your right nipple over your completely lace bralette. pulling one of the cups down he drags his teeth across the now swollen bud.

“i love your tits. could play with them all day,” he groans looking up to see the complete mess he's making of you. head hanging low, eyes screwed shut, and hands gripping the sheets on both sides of your body. he knows you’re gonna cum.

“JUYEON PLEASE,” you yell. there’s no way anybody can actually hear you but even if they could you were too far spent to care.

“please what, y/n? isn’t this what you want? i’m giving it to you what else could you possibly want? greedy girl,” he practically mocks, fingers speeding up without any regard for your orgasm that’s approaching. “your cunt is stuffed and all you can say is, ‘please, please, please’ just shut up and take it like the silly little slut you are” he growls.

opening your eyes to no avail, tears begin to blur your vision, you’re beyond close. with the way he’s speaking to you it’s just seconds now until you’re spilling your mess all over him and the nice clean sheets.

“i’m close...FUCK!” you manage to get out, nails nearly cutting tiny holes in the sheets with how hard you’re gripping.

“don’t you think i know that?” he retorts, replacing the thumb on your clit with his mouth.

everything goes white, you have no idea what you’re babbling about but you know you’re cumming...until you’re not. everything stops. juyeon’s hands and mouth are off of you in an instant and you have nothing on your mind. except maybe the singular question of what the fuck does he think he’s doing?

“what the fuck? what was that?” you can still barely speak but you manage to say those few things that you know for a fact he’s not gonna like.

“watch. your. mouth. or you won't cum at all.” he speaks in a low and demanding tone, narrowing his eyes at you a bit. a warning.

getting completely on the bed himself he rolls you over so that you’re now on top of him, heat directly on top of his rock-hard bulge without warning causing an obscene noise to leave your mouth.

“wanna be a good girl and take my pants off?” he poses a question, although that’s what he expects from you regardless.

watching you as you unbuckle his belt slowly, just as he likes, his eyes are dripping with lust, but more importantly with such love that nobody other than you could ever be responsible for.

that and your tits are still fully on display. but definitely the love thing too.

before you can actually remove anything he stops you. now your bare center is sat on top of his perfectly hard erection and your head is spinning. struggling to keep your eyes open you look at him waiting for something. anything.

with both his hands on your hips he begins to rock you back and forth. your clit running from base to tip over the rough denim of his jeans, a wet patch surely forming.

“you’re gorgeous, you know?” juyeon randomly states, catching you completely off guard.

if you could see yourself right now you’d easily disagree with his statement. hair a mess, makeup smudged, and a few stray tears dried up on your cheeks. and you’re literally drooling as you dry hump him. to your own definition you’re far from attractive right now but he doesn’t want to hear that and you’ve barely been able to comprehend anything happening after the mind-blowing orgasm that you almost had.

“you’re gorgeous too, juyeon.” you managed to whisper, hands on his broad shoulders, your head lolling to the side a bit, a faint smile painted on your lips. just then he intentionally presses your core down harder onto him. you both hiss in unison.

grabbing you by the neck he pulls you in for a kiss. wet and sloppy. when he pulls away a string of spit connects the two of you and falls down your chin and onto your lap.

“i want you to ride me, can you do that for me baby?” he coos, hand still wrapped around your neck the other on your hip as his pointer finger is drawing an invisible figure eight.

“y-yes, anything for you.” you croak out, eyes still extremely low, dripping with desire.

using the hand on your neck to pull you as close as possible he whispers, “do as i say and you can cum, i know how badly you want that.” blinking slowly and backing away whilst releasing you completely, as if to signify that you should start now.

hands unsteadily moving to pull his pants off you do it slowly enough to not seem too eager but not slow enough upset him.

finally reaching the band of his boxers you began to tug them down, his cock immediately springing free. it stands tall, several inches in length, and a perfect girth. the tip, a pretty pink to match his bottom lip, angrily flushed and sticky with droplets of precum.

if you didn't know any better you’d lean down to suck. cleaning up the mess you made. but there will be plenty of time for that later. right now you need every inch of him inside of you.

reaching to remove your top a strong hand swiftly engulfs your entire your wrist with a firm grip.

“keep it on. the skirt too.” juyeon whispers releasing your wrist. you hastily nod and go to pump him a few times before placing him at your entrance, sure not to miss the deep groaning and deep breaths from the man in front of you.

hands on his shoulders you begin to sink down slowly, immediately crying out. juyeon’s hands are quick to find your waist again. leaning up so that his lips are perfectly near your ear.

“you know that if you go slow it’ll only hurt more.” you can hear the smirk in his voice as he uses the hands on your hips to fully push you down onto his cock, a low groan escaping his lips, followed by a hiss.

“FUCK, JUYEON!” you yelp, the burn being too familiar, too good for you to attempt to stop him.

“you better start moving or else only one of us is gonna cum tonight.” he quickly smacks his lips leaning back a tad, hands still on your hips, his back against the headboard.

slowly starting to rock your hips you're a babbling mess. no recollection of what it is you're saying, you just know it feels good. momentarily he lets you have that but is quick to bring you back to reality. you feel a sharp stinging on your left ass cheek, causing you to mewl even louder whilst throwing your head back. “what did i just say, y/n?”

choking out a sob you quickly speed up your motions. alternating with bouncing and grinding you play it by ear, as you’re not typically on top.

the pornographic noises coming from the both of you would be enough to make you cum alone, mixed with the feeling of him so deep inside you. but you know that's not gonna cut it. cumming without permission almost always leads to punishment and you can’t take that right now.

“you’re doing so well baby, look at you. my dirty little cock slut. isn’t that right?” he teases. speaking down to you to highlight the fact that you’re an incoherent mess, all because of his big fat cock.

“yes juyeon, oh my- FUCK!” you’re interrupted by him thrusting up into you. your eyes roll back into your head and you drop your forehead to his shoulder.

“oh no you don’t,” and there goes that hand around your neck again to sit you upright. “do that again and i’ll fuck my hand to finish. i want you to look me in the eyes when you cum.”

is he insane? definitely. but you can’t risk being robbed of another orgasm tonight. using one of your hands to join his around your neck you speed up again bouncing on him like a jackrabbit at this point, eyes drooping but locked with his.

“there you go baby. was that so hard?” he teases again. not even having the energy to retort your jaw goes slack as you feel his tip nudging at that soft spot that only he knows.

“i’m so close juyeon, please?” you beg.

“there goes that ‘please’ again,” he smirks rolling his eyes. “just do as you’re told and you can cum, that was the deal pretty girl.”

chasing the sweet release you’re craving you reach down to rub your clit quickly.

smacking your hand away juyeon looks at you like you’ve just done something unthinkable. removing his hand from your neck and popping his thumb into your mouth he utters, “suck.” and you do just that.

his moans are getting lower, longer, you know he’s gonna cum. taking his thumb from your mouth he places it on your clit immediately repeating the figure eight motions you had administered on yourself prior.

you’re a moaning mess and you’ve never fought so hard to keep your eyes open in your entire life. clenching around him you feel it, the warm pit in your stomach, your legs are starting to shake, and you can barely keep up the pace bouncing on top of him. he notices this and offers a slightly encouraging nod.

“go ahead princess, make a mess.” he mutters, never breaking eye contact.

all it takes is a few more circles around your clit and you’re letting go. the one thing you’ve been craving all night and now you’ve got it.

“FUCK, JUYEON,” you cry pathetically, not a care in the world besides completely milking your boyfriend’s cock and letting him fill you up completely. “i love you, i love you, i love you. only you, it’s always been you, it’s always gonna be you.” you’re rambling at this point and you don't care because it’s working. immediately after you can feel yourself leaking onto his lap his thumb movements get slightly sloppier and he starts breathing heavily, ragged even.

“i love you too baby, fuck. more than anything. you’re so good to me, so good for me.” he’s riding out his orgasm with you. it’s perfect, you feel on top of the world.

you circled your hips a few more times and let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

you feel his hands on your hips again, sliding up to cradle you completely. letting your head fall onto his shoulder you attempt to steady your breathing. kissing his neck, right underneath his ear, you whisper one more, “i love you.”

you don't care at all that his cock is softening inside you and that you both have cum dripping onto the sheets.

juyeon just fucked you dumb.

#the boyz #tbz #the boyz smut #tbz smut #lee juyeon #juyeon #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon smut #juyeon smut #tbz scenarios #tbz x reader

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fairuzfan · 6 months

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Hey, I've been wondering why you like the Hunger Games. Is there anything that makes it special or appealing for you?

Oh boy, Hunger Games discussions! Here's an essay for you :)

When I was growing up, I read about the districts and the way the capitol profits off their labor — how they have every luxury in the Capitol with doing absolutely none of the work whereas the people doing all the work are the ones that are the most oppressed, facing restrictions in speech and movement to the point of being in literal cages — and I thought "Just like in Palestine!" And not just in Gaza either. The West Bank with their settlements are the same way in that their movement and speech are so vehemently restricted despite the fact that much of the labor (in farming, manufacturing, etc) is being taken to feed the imperial empire.

With the games themselves, I saw the way in which Palestinian children are expected to play in the world stage — pander to millions for the hopes that they would take pity as they walk into a death arena and perhaps donate to help them. It's dehumanization to an extreme scale, but it's what happens in real life. Some people decide to help certain Palestinians because of what Palestinians say or don't say — not because they're actual human beings who deserve life for no other reason than being born. People can coo and coddle the Palestinian children who articulate their struggles well, pretending to care about them, but they don't really. They're just there for entertainment. They're there for people to feel like they're helping some poor kid who they have no hand in their oppression at all. The fact that the children of the districts feel like they have to sell themselves is the same in real life. Just think about that conference where that kid in Gaza did a whole speech in English pleading for people to stop the bombing campaigns.

What I really liked about Katniss, narratively speaking, is her romances with Peeta and Gale not because I felt like she was especially interested in either one of them romantically (Katniss ace/aro rep to the max) but because of what the romance signified and how each one had a specific purpose. I remember reading analysis about how Peeta represented "peace" and Gale represented "revolution" and at the time I agreed, but now I feel a bit differently.

Peeta might represent "peace," true, but he was abandoned and abused his entire life. He was sent off to the games where even his parents had no hope for him. But even though he suffered physical and verbal abuse, he still gave Katniss that bread even if he personally suffered for it. I'm not sure if that represents "peace" so much as it represents "love." Even thinking about it now, how he risked his safety to give bread to the girl he loved... for some reason in these days, I cry whenever I think about it. The whole world had abandoned Katniss and her family, leaving her to starve. But that one little boy cared so much about her that he gave her bread despite what his mother told him to do. He risked everything — at the time, a little boy can only comprehend having his safety as a possession — for Katniss. For someone to love Katniss so much... in a weird way to me, that's heartbreaking. Even as I type this, I'm actually sobbing. My sincerest hope right now is that someone gives the people of Gaza and the West Bank that bit of bread, that bit of love, even if its at their own expense.

And this is not to say I think Gale wasn't necessary and important to the story too. I think Katniss needed both of them at different points. The fact that Gale had wanted to leave and live in the woods, and it being a serious consideration instead of it being ridiculed as "cowardly," was something I appreciated. I don't think its especially valid of us to tell people who are under the worst oppression imaginable how to live their lives and whether to put their lives on the line or not. That's not our choice to make. Katniss ultimately stays of course, but she constantly thinks about how the world would have been different if she did accept Gale's request to leave. I think a lot of people do think about that, honestly, when they're fighting oppression. What if they just left it all behind?

Katniss, herself, though, never really wanted to pick either boy. Throughout the story, she feels like she's forced to pick between them, being pulled in either direction, feeling pressured by each boy to choose. And I think that in itself is a perfect metaphor. She's being put in this situation — forced to participate in the games, forced to pretend to marry Peeta (which, false "peace" marriage orchestrated by Snow btw, great narrative choice there), forced to participate in the games AGAIN, and finally forced to lead an entire REBELLION... to me that's a pretty apt summation of what its like under oppression. The people who are the most oppressed don't WANT to fight — they just want their humanity to be recognized. They just want to live. They're not jumping through hoops because they want to, they're just doing it because they have no other choice.

But, I think my absolute favorite part of the Hunger Games Trilogy is probably the last part of Mockingjay, the third book. I find myself rereading the ending of the book quite often. The part where Plutarch says "Who knows, maybe it might stick this time" in reference to the newfound "peace" they have now. The part where the people of District 12, despite having their entire village bombed and destroyed, coming back to rebuild and bury their dead. The part where Katniss lives with this almost unbearable trauma for the rest of her life. And this one quote that she says, after she kills President Coin — who herself took this rebellion as an opportunity to profit and oppress:

"I no longer feel any allegiance to these monsters called human beings, despise being one myself. I think that Peeta was onto something about us destroying one another and letting some decent species take over. Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children's lives to settle its differences."

And honestly, that's what I kind of feel sometimes as I watch children get shot down and murdered on TV both in Gaza and the West Bank. I can't understand the... unadulterated cruelty that these people show to Palestinians. Today, I heard Lindsay Grahm (an USAmerican politician) talk about Palestinians as if they all deserve to die in some of the most horrendous ways possible. I look at zionists online deny the humanity of Palestinians and ruthlessly call for their slaughter. I just genuinely can't comprehend why people hate us so much, why I continue to watch the destruction of my people for months on end and how I'm expected to live my life as normal. What is the point of life if we do not value it? What's the point of living on like this, putting money over each of our lives? What's the point? Truly?

Why do we live in this life to watch skyscrapers be built on top of graveyards?

But then I think about how Katniss comes out of this again. She builds a family. The people that were around her from before, although a smaller group... they're still there and they're alive. They care about whether she lives or dies and force her to eat. To live. Greasy Sae made her food for months. Peeta came back to be with her. Gale's friend came back and buried the dead and rebuilt District 12. Buttercup, the cat that loved Prim more than anything, came back. Haymitch helped with the book of memories, raising geese for himself even if he was drunk. But they never forget. And they never forgave.

Katniss, she plays this game where she recounts all the good things she's ever seen anyone do, and I think "maybe that will happen to us. Maybe we will live our lives remembering the good to counter the bad."

So yeah, that's a big part of why I love the series so much. Throughout the entire three books, first and foremost we care about Katniss and we want what's best for her. That's something I think a lot of people forget. We say "Free Palestine" not for some abstract political concepts, but rather so that we can treasure the sanctity of life and live in a society that puts humanity over power.

I want the ending of Mockingjay to come true, for the Liberation of Palestine to be the peace that sticks.

#this has nothing to do with anything #so idk what to tag it as #but yeah i am actually in tears #my mother also loves hunger games #one of her favorite movies

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gatheringbones · 8 months

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[“Feminists’ discomfort with proximity to sex workers reached a fever pitch during the so-called ‘sex wars’ of the 1980s and 1990s. In this era, radical feminists locked horns with ‘pro-sex’ feminists over the issues of pornography and prostitution. The radical-feminist perspective on sex work holds that it reproduces (and is itself a product of) patriarchal violence against women. This analysis could extend to all heterosexual sexual behaviours, as well as public sex and kink (commonly known as BDSM, for ‘bondage, domination, submission/sadism, masochism’).

The focus in this era was on censoring porn and ‘raising awareness’ rather than addressing prostitution through criminal law directly, but a nonetheless vehement anti-prostitution stance became commonplace in the feminist movement. Writer Janice Raymond stated that ‘prostitution is rape that’s paid for’, while Kathleen Barry said buying and selling sex was ‘destructive of human life’.

The defence of porn and prostitution that followed in response was based on ideas of sexual liberation through nonconformist sexual expression, such as BDSM and the ‘queering’ of lesbian and gay identities. Many ‘pro-sex’ or ‘sex-radical’ feminists posited that not only could watching porn be gratifying and educational, it could upend patriarchal control over women’s sexual expression. Moreover, that the sex industry was sticking two fingers up at the institution of marriage, highlighting the hypocrisy of conservative, monogamous heteronormativity. While some people who fought for sexual liberation were sex workers – such as LGBTQ and AIDS activist Amber Hollibaugh – many sex radicals advanced their arguments from a non–sex worker perspective. Defending porn often meant defending watching it, rather than performing in it.

Radical feminists famously described sex radicals as ‘Uncle Toms’* pandering to the primacy of male sexuality, while they in turn were derided as ‘prudes’ invested in preserving sexual puritanism. Rather than focussing on the ‘work’ of sex work, both pro-sex feminists and anti-prostitution feminists concerned themselves with sex as symbol. Both groups questioned what the existence of the sex industry implied for their own positions as women; both groups prioritised those questions over what material improvements could be made in the lives of the sex workers in their communities. Stuck in the domain of sex and whether it is ‘good’ or ‘bad’ for women (and adamant that it could only be one or the other) it was all too easy for feminists to think of The Prostitute only in terms of what she represented to them. They claimed ownership of sex worker experiences in order to make sense of their own.

Anti-prostitution activist Dorchen Leidholdt spoke to this feminist impulse; ‘this de-individualized, de-humanized being has the function of representing generic woman … She stands in for all of us, and she takes the abuse that we are beginning to resist.’ It was in this context that former prostitute Andrea Dworkin’s work became highly influential in the movement, and set a new tone for criticism of sex work. The Prostitute, she said

lives the literal reality of being the dirty woman. There is no metaphor. She is the woman covered in dirt, which is to say that every man who has ever been on top of her has left a piece of himself behind … She is perceived as, treated as – and I want you to remember this, this is real – vaginal slime.

Her confrontational writing style – and her experiences in the sex trade – helped to legitimise and normalise similar usage of graphic and misogynist language in ‘feminist’ discussions of sex workers and their bodies. Barry, a contemporary of Dworkin, likened prostitutes to blow-up dolls, ‘complete with orifices for penetration and ejaculation’, while Leidholdt wrote that ‘stranger after stranger use[s] her body as a seminal spittoon … What other job is so deeply gendered that one’s breasts, vagina and rectum constitute the working equipment?’ Academics Cecilie Høigård and Liv Finstad wrote of women who sell sex that ‘at the core they experience themselves as only cheap whores’.

Sex working feminists have long found themselves harshly excluded, and not only by de-humanising language in academia, but by explicit lack of invitation into spaces. Kate Millett recalls a feminist conference on prostitution, held in 1971. Disgruntled working women arrived to demand a seat at the table: An inadvertent masterpiece of tactless precipitance, the title of the day’s program was inscribed on leaflets for our benefit: ‘Towards the Elimination of Prostitution’. The panel of experts included everyone but prostitutes … all hell broke loose – between the prostitute and the movement. Because, against all likelihood, prostitutes did in fact attend the conference … They had a great deal to say about the presumption of straight women who fancied they could debate, decide or even discuss what was their situation and not ours.

Unlike the hostile environment of radical feminism, sex radicals were welcoming and supportive to sex workers. This influence helped shape the movement’s growth. In 1974, COYOTE hosted the first National Hookers’ Convention. The bright orange flyer nodded to the way prostitutes had been shunned from the women’s movement: emblazoned with a hand touching a vulva, it proclaimed, ‘Our Convention Is Different: We Want Everyone to Come’”]

molly smith, juno mac, from revolting prostitutes: the fight for sex workers’ rights, 2018

#molly smith #juno mac #currently reading #history stuff

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