but only if she consented

things I love about Steve Trevor
  • He makes sure he actually thanks Diana for pulling him out of the water
  • The only time he ever expresses doubt to Diana about any of her beliefs is when he’s trying to convince her not to jeopardize the mission by killing Ludendorff, and even then it’s a hypothetical (“what if”)
    • He also does after she kills Ludendorff but that’s after her belief is shattered so I don’t really count it
  • He is so duty-bound I love him so much no wonder he and Diana got along so well
  • He just. Wants the people around him to be happy? The scene after they rescue Veld always kills me, and two parts in particular: 
    • When Charlie starts playing piano and singing and Steve says “I haven’t heard him sing in years…” and his face is all soft and you can see the shadow of a smile tugging at his lips but you can also see all the sadness in his eyes from those years of him not singing
    • And when he’s dancing with Diana and it starts to snow and she looks up and is so confused and delighted and he’s like “it’s snow… go on, touch it” and she does (also she has to let go of his hand to do it and he still encourages her to? such a small thing but oh man my heart) and he looks at her with such heart eyes
    • Honestly Chris Pine played him so well, so much complex emotion depicted even when he’s not speaking, like jfc well done
  • I love the boat scene, partly because it’s just fucking hilarious but mostly because their conversation is so respectful. She tells him she was sculpted from clay and brought to life by the breath of Zeus and his reaction is just to raise his eyebrows and say “Well, that’s neat.” 
    • I know that could read as sarcastic but it doesn’t to me at all. It’s funny, sure, but he isn’t making fun of her. It’s genuine and kind, even when what she’s saying is fairly unbelievable.
    • Just the entire way they speak in this scene… He never adopts that Mansplaining Tone™ that is so common, even when he’s actually explaining things. He talks because he wants to share information. It’s a cultural exchange, and I loved it.
  • After Veld, when they’re sitting and watching the villagers dance, he just quietly says, “You did this.” and she’s the one who smiles at him and says, “We did this.” He has so much respect for her and it kills me inside because it’s not “We did this” originally (which could be him pointing out that they’re a good team, him saying they have things in common, or a thousand other things), it’s just “You did this,” because he just wants her happy. He wants her to recognize how goddamn impressive she is. There is no agenda to what he said and it fucks me up
  • The entire scene with the kiss. Like, I’m gay as hell, usually I hate this kind of thing because it feels so unnecessary, but this was so well done I’m genuinely glad it was included
    • When he escorts her up to a room he then starts to leave. Even with all of that tension he doesn’t want to assume that she wants anything to happen. 
    • So he has his hand on the door and he starts to back out of the room and he hesitates just long enough for her to turn around and meet his gaze. And even then he’s reading that as a sign that she wants him in the room so he steps forward and closes the door behind her and then looks up again to confirm that’s what she wanted. And even after that, he crosses over to her so slowly and lets her be the one to actually initiate the kiss. 
    • He gives her a thousand and one chances to change her mind, to give him a small indication that she’s uncomfortable or doesn’t want it to happen, and it’s only once she lets all of those chances pass that they kiss. 
    • Consent-based relationships, man. Fuck me up.
  • Speaking of consent… the scene after Diana returns to Veld and sees the gas has killed everyone fucks me up
    • Steve’s followed her there and is clearly freaked the fuck out because she’s just gone and he physically can’t go in to try to find her because of the gas
    • So when she comes out he’s so visibly relieved and he goes forward and puts his hands around her face, clearly wanting to kiss her, and she shoves him away and says “stay away from me.” and he does.
    • He lets her be furious and devastated and overwhelmed because he knows what it’s like to feel powerless and I think he is genuinely sorry he contributed to her feeling this much pain. He lets her say she’s angry, he lets her blame him, he lets her grieve and doesn’t stop her when she leaves him there.
    • Not only does he not stop her, he sees the smoke from Chief’s fire and yells to her to follow it because he had followed Ludendorff. Their argument from the ballroom still isn’t resolved - she wants to just kill him and be done with it, Steve wants that to wait so they can focus on stopping the gas - but he recognizes that this is her choice and even after she’s basically just blamed an entire village’s deaths on him (and on herself) he tries to help her carry it out.
  • So after Diana’s killed Ludendorff and the war is still going on and Steve runs up to find her, he’s so visibly relieved that she’s alive and (like after Veld) goes to kiss her but backs away without her doing anything because he realizes the “stay away from me” thing has never been explicitly lifted. She might still want nothing to do with him and he respects that.
    • He does touch her a couple times after this but it’s always brief, I think it continues only because she didn’t react negatively the first time, and like they’re in the middle of a fucking war and I think Steve’s about 900% convinced that they’re all going to die so I’m gonna cut him a little slack here.
  • They have that “argument” again, where Diana says “this should have stopped, I killed him, why is this still going on” and instead of saying I told you so Steve just tries to get her to move on and help him save other people.
    • When he says “maybe it’s us! maybe we’re to blame!” (meaning not Ares) and she says that (obviously) she isn’t to blame, he doesn’t hesitate, he just says “but maybe I am.” He’s willing to put that on himself. Also, the qualifier through this scene - but maybe it’s us - is so important to me, because he’s still not saying “you’re wrong.” it’s a maybe.
    • When she refuses to go with him he’s clearly frustrated (again I’m giving him a pass here because he’s frustrated because he knows he won’t be able to save as many people without her) but he still doesn’t try to force her to go with him. He doesn’t guilt-trip her, doesn’t yell at her for not helping. He just gives that desperate shrug and says “I have to go. I’m sorry, I have to go.”
    • And when Charlie and Sam and Chief show up and ask where Diana is, all he says is “we’re on our own.” Not “she wouldn’t fucking help us” - which frankly is probably what I would have said in this situation - just that statement and nothing more.
  • In their final scene, when she’s hurt and dazed and temporarily hard of hearing, he breaks his “no touching” rule, but he breaks it because he’s helping her stand up and then because, well… even if she doesn’t, he knows he’s never going to see her again. 
    • It’s also super important to me that he doesn’t try to kiss her in this scene, because god knows he must have wanted to. He sees that she is in no shape to consent to anything like that and he doesn’t even come close to pushing it.
    • I’m not even gonna get into the “I can save today” part because I’m still too emotionally fraught
    • He says is “I wish we had more time.” before he tells her he loves her and literally runs to his death. That’s it. Nothing that could possibly make her feel guilty, nothing that could have seemed like he regretted anything. Not “I wish we hadn’t gone to the front.” Just “I wish we had more time.”
    • And he then, metaphorically and literally, gives her more time. Because he knows his clock has run out, but that doesn’t mean hers has to… So he runs and saves today and gives her his watch. Gives her time.
  • Anyway I’m seventeen thousand levels of fucked up from this movie, please feel free to add because Steve is amazing and a genuinely good, complex, respectful male character like this should be celebrated

teach your girl to say no, to spit no like fire, to never apologize for it. her spine: NO. her fists: NO. her teeth all NO together.

but first and more importantly, teach your boy to see no, hear no, understand no before it’s spelled out for him. have him take “no” easily, not as an excuse to keep trying.

have him feel “no” like a change in the air so that he can infer it without so much as a word. don’t settle for no as just as the dictionary definition, show him no in body language, in “i’d rather not,” in “yes, but i’m drunk.”

teach him that “no” is not “convince me,” teach him to accept it gently, without violence, without feeling that he’s having something “denied” to him. “no” is not “take it from my fingers.” no is a shrug, is “i’m not sure,” no is a look, a scared smile, a terrified giggle. No is in the pocket of her clothes, no matter what they look like.

have him assume “no,” not “yes, unless otherwise stated.” girls are not swings on the playground, he cannot be upset when they don’t “share” themselves with him. there is no sharing, she is not an object. of a girl he sees on the street who doesn’t give him her number or react well to what he calls her: teach him she is not taking from him what is due, she is not denying him, she has never and will never belong to him. she will be his only after explicit and repeated consent and only by that alone. 

do me a favor

teach him no.

—  A GIRL NOT SAYING “NO” IS NOT A GIRL SAYING “YES” // r.i.d

Another pet peeve regarding anti-Catholicism: people who claim that Mary was raped even though Scripture couldn’t have been more blatantly obvious in demonstrating her consent. (I’m not even going to get into how the Incarnation of Christ didn’t even involve physical intercourse to begin with)

Just…no. This is the first sign someone has never read the Bible in their life. It’s written in plain text right there exactly how it went down. God sent an angel to tell Mary her purpose in God’s plan, and when she asked “By how shall this be done, for I know not man?” (meaning she wanted to know how she would conceive a son since she was both a virgin and didn’t want to cheat on her husband) the angel explained it to her that the Holy Spirit will overshadow her and allow her to conceive a son in her womb. Then, and only then, did she say yes, and Jesus wasn’t conceived a moment sooner than that.So to review: she was told what was wanted of her, she was explained how it would happen, and was asked for informed consent before she emphatically gave it and only then did anything further occur. Her decision was, even by modern standards, completely respected in the matter.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Rosvolio + wedding night?

There was not enough wine in the world to ready Benvolio for what he was about to do.

God knows, he had done his best to fortify himself for the task at hand, having finished off several glasses of his uncle’s best Rhenish between all the feasting and the dancing – and, for his pains, was now feeling more than a trifle light-headed – but he could not yet bring himself to rise from his chair and make his way upstairs, where his all-too unwilling bride waited.

The ceremony had taken place that morning in Capulet’s cathedral, as his uncle had wished, for the remaining structural work had miraculously – and mysteriously – been completed before the arrival of autumn. All of Veronan society had turned out for the occasion, dressed their most colorful silks, velvets, and brocades, making the interior of the basilica resemble nothing less than a great casket of jewels. His bride, for her part, had made her way towards the altar dressed in a gown of deep cerulean blue, and Benvolio couldn’t help but notice the bodice, cut square and delectably low across her chest – before he had the good sense to shift his gaze upward.

As the assembled nobles stood watching, the two of them had knelt, their hands joined together by the bishop, followed by an exchange of vows in Latin. There was a brief mass, and those gathered took communion, beginning with the newly-married couple, both of them dutifully parting their lips to receive the body of their Lord. It had been difficult for Benvolio not to think back to the last wedding he had attended – a secret one, with only two witnesses, the ceremony performed by a humble friar – and draw altogether unfavorable comparisons. For all the misfortunes it had brought, his cousin’s marriage had at least been born out of love, not politics, and there had been no mistaking the joy and passion in the eyes of Romeo and his Capulet bride as they had uttered their vows in that candle-lit chapel. Benvolio’s new wife would not even look at him – although he could hardly blame her, given his rather cowardly lack of resistance to the news of their betrothal. And if her heart secretly belonged to another, as he had come to suspect, gazing upon his face would no doubt bring her only pain.

At the celebratory feast that evening, they had proved a somber pair as they sat together at the high table, sharing from the same plate and goblet, but saying almost nothing to each other. She drank but a half-glass of wine and ate very little, and part of him wondered if she planned to escape this marriage simply by refusing to eat, intent on wasting away from lack of sustenance. As the revelries proceeded into the night, Benvolio found himself reaching for the wine time and again, refilling the glass from the silver flagon that sat nestled among the platters of food. The warm evening air was heavy with torch-smoke, thick with the sounds of the drum and pipe as they sung out over the voices in the crowded courtyard, and Benvolio had slowly felt his head begin to spin with it.

In that haze, his eyes had found occasion to seek her out, drawn to her as to a lodestone, although he did not dare to let them linger long. For even in her silent indignation, his wife truly was beautiful – no man could deny it. In the warmth of the torchlight her skin shimmered with rich tones of gold and umber, pulling attention to the winged jut of her collarbones and the length of her neck. She had been endowed with wide, dark eyes, made more expressive by her frequent displays of wit, and a pair of full and rounded lips that seemed to have been formed for no other purpose than to be kissed. He remembered how she had once spoken of her desire to enter a convent – but by Saint Peter, what a waste that would have been.

Yet in the end it mattered not what he thought of her neck or her eyes or even the fullness of her lips, for she did not want him and had only consented to marry him by means of great persuasion from her uncle and the prince. And as Benvolio stared into his half-empty glass, he had realized he could not bear to have her think of him the same way, as yet another man who sought to break her will upon his own.

By and by, the night had grown late, the torches burning low within their sconces, and the time had come for the bride to take her leave and excuse herself from the assembled company. She had risen to her feet amid the ribald cheers and customary encomiums to her beauty and virtue, and just as quickly departed – all without a single glance in Benvolio’s direction. A pair of serving women had been directed to escort her upstairs to his chambers and there she was to make herself ready for bed.

Benvolio waited as long as he possibly could to follow, and he might have waited a while longer, had not his uncle come and clasped a strong hand around his shoulder.

“Go, Benvolio, and make a Montague of her,” he urged, nodding his head towards the stairs, “or at least put one in her.”

Benvolio’s face burned bright with shame – for they should all have been ashamed, having cruelly used this young maid as a pawn in their dealings – but his uncle mistook it for excitement and laughed lustily, quickly pulling Benvolio out of his chair and pushing him in the direction of his chamber.

His feet were like lead upon the stairs, a sharp contrast with his dizzy head, and a hopeful part of him latched onto the possibility that she had simply gone to sleep rather than await his arrival.

Alas, fortune did not favor him, for as he quietly opened the door he could see that a single candle had been left burning and his new bride was sitting up in bed, very much awake. She was clad in a nightgown of fine ivory linen, her unbound hair falling in loose curls over her shoulders. A pair of dark eyes instantly turned towards him, her hands stiff as she clutched the bedclothes tightly against her chest. He had not imagined that he could possibly feel more abashed, but the way she was staring at him, with equal parts defiance and fear written into her gaze, made his heart twist forcefully against his ribs. Had she imagined that he would straightaway attempt to claim his marital rights, he wondered, even in the face of her unwillingness? One look at her was all it took for him to know.

“Fear not, lady,” he muttered with a sigh, “I will not impose myself upon you.”

His words seemed to put her at ease, but only slightly, her wary eyes still fixed upon him as he stepped into the room.

“And what of tomorrow night, and the nights that follow?” she asked. “Will you say the same?”

“I will say it every night you do ask it of me,” he answered quietly, “for I am not the unrepentant blackguard you imagine every Montague must be.” Benvolio rubbed his hand along his forehead, a sudden weariness overtaking him. “But for tonight, put out thy candle and let us have peace. I will rest elsewhere…” – he nodded towards the long wooden bench set flush against the opposite wall – “…and leave you to your dreams.”

He did not wait to see her reaction, but made his way over to his makeshift bower and swiftly stripped himself down to his shirt and hose. It was not until he had laid down upon the bench, using his wadded-up doublet as a cushion for his head, that he realized she had not blown out the candle. Let her keep the light, he thought as he closed his eyes, if it brings her some comfort.

He had almost surrendered to the weight of sleep when he heard her shifting upon the mattress.

“I wonder, my lord,” she murmured, “if you had decided… to impose yourself, what might you have done?”

Benvolio’s eyes snapped open, uncertain that he had heard her true. He glanced over and saw that she had turned onto her side to face him, propping herself up upon an elbow. Something had shifted in her expression, for while she still held herself guardedly, she no longer looked quite so apprehensive, and her eyes glinted with a spark of curiosity. Still, in the thick fog of his mind he could not be sure she knew exactly what it was she was asking.

“What might I have done, when I came into the room?” he stammered.

She nodded, her gaze wide enough that he could see the light of the candle reflected there. Time seemed to slow for a moment, in the stillness of his half-darkened chamber, and all Benvolio could feel was the rough pounding of his heart within his chest. He did not entirely understand why she had thought to ask such a thing, but he would give her an answer – a truthful one.

“Well… to begin, I would have come to sit by your side, lady. For ‘tis all very dependent on proximity.”

“Of course,” she said, her features softening ever so slightly. “And then?”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a wry smile, the first time it had done so all day. “Perhaps I would have kissed you,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Gently at first, and then with greater urgency.”

With her gaze still caught on his, she bit against the fullness of her bottom lip, perhaps in innocence, or perhaps to tease him – and with a tightening sensation in his belly, Benvolio realized he did not care in the slightest which it was.

“Is that all?” she asked.

He exhaled roughly, his breath half-mixed with laughter. “Oh, my Rosaline, had you no nursemaid to tell you of such things?” He paused and pursed his lips, taking her coy silence as his cue to continue with his answer. “No, ‘tis merely the beginning. For then I might have taken you into my arms and held you close, until naught remained to separate us.”

Her lips parted a little, her chest rising and falling with each breath. “And what of our clothes?”

“I would fain have us unclothed,” Benvolio replied, and her dark eyes widened, as if scandalized at the thought. “As husband and wife, there should be no secrets between us.” He swallowed hard, allowing his mind to momentarily cloud with visions of his new bride, her bare skin velvet-smooth and flush with yearning. Perhaps it was only the presence of such distracting thoughts that could explain the liberties he took in speaking to her so brazenly. 

“And I would wish to see you, my lady – all of you – as you laid back and pulled me down with my weight upon you. For then there would be nothing left but for me to possess you fully, our bodies joined together in the most intimate of ways.”

He fell silent, knowing not what else to say as he gazed at her, recumbent upon his bed, the wild tendrils of her hair spilling onto the sheets, her eyes shining with something that could only be desire. His breath came heavy, caught in his throat, his hunger for her coiling and nestling deep within his groin. Benvolio found himself filled with the compulsion to rise to his feet and make his way over to where she lay, so he might in fact begin to enact that sequence of events he had just described to her. Before he could do anything, though, she tilted her head, her gaze leveling him with cool appraisal.

“Perhaps it is fortunate, then, that you were compelled to restrain yourself,” she said, her eyebrows raised into uniform arches. “For now, armed with such knowledge, I feel wholly prepared to resist any advances should they be attempted.” She gave him one final shrewd glance before she put her lips up to the candle’s flame.

“Good night, my lord,” she whispered, and with a single breath plunged the room into darkness.

For a moment, Benvolio could only lay back upon the bench, fully awash in bewilderment and frustration, listening to the rustle of the bed linens as she settled herself down for sleep. But as he recalled the words that had just passed between them, he finally came to the realization that she had provoked him deliberately, drawing his mind towards thoughts of carnal pleasures all the while knowing she would allow him no satisfaction of them. But her response to his words had been clear enough – she could not have feigned such desire, could she? Jesu, what sort of bold little minx had he married?

And then he couldn’t help but smile, and shake his head, knowing that he had all the remaining days – and nights – of his life to figure it out.


[my Still Star-Crossed ficlets are on AO3 – read them here]

The Grass is Always Green (TG Quickie)

               Eric finished off Madison with a massive shot of cum that made her squeal.

               “Holy shit!” Madison squealed. “It’s so fucking good!”

As far as Madison was aware, Eric was a perfect boyfriend, but Eric hadn’t just had his fun with Madison. No, Eric had many, many girlfriends, all he could perfectly coordinate so he was never forced to reveal his horrid secret. However, tonight he didn’t take everything into consideration and low and behold his other girlfriend Sharla walked in on the two making love. Sharla screamed in anger, hit Eric, and ran off; Madison followed suit as she hit Eric as well running off naked down the apartment hallway.

“All well, there’s more where that came from,” Eric chuckled, not realizing the mess he was about to create.

Not too long after many of Eric’s girlfriends found out about his scheme, and Eric’s empire of lovers quickly fell apart leaving him alone, or at least just for now. Many of Eric’s girlfriends knew that if they didn’t do something to stop Eric he would just begin his charade again with other girls, so they devised a plan to take care of Eric once and for all.

The group of girls marched up to Eric’s apartment one week later, and snuck inside using the spare keys Eric had given all of them. They hid inside Eric’s apartment for a few hours until he finally got home. He walked in around midnight obviously drunk as he wobbled for his bed. The girls all hopped out at once grabbing Eric and holding him up against the wall. Eric panicked, and began to yell but Madison took a piece of duct tape and wrapped it around his mouth, so he was unable to make a single peep. She gave him a devious smile. Eric eyes widened in fear.

The girls stripped him all his clothes revealing his erect member.

“Disgusting piece of shit,” Sharla said, taking out a needle filled with a strange clear liquid.

That liquid as Eric would come to find out was a highly toxic hormone alteration drug that cause all his male hormones to shift to female. One needle wouldn’t be able to do too much damage, but that wouldn’t be an issue as each girl had their own needle along with other hormonal alteration drugs and pills. All the girls charged at Eric pinning him with the needles. Eric’s body began to twist and contort, as he violently shook about. Madison ripped off the duct and forced Eric to cough down some pills, and medicine as Eric’s body began to shrink. The girls all laughed leaving Eric to suffer alone in his apartment as his hormones rapidly began to change.

A few hours later the landowner made his way upstairs to Eric’s apartment to see what the commotion was about. He gave a few hard knocks on the door, but when no one answered he used a spare to get into the apartment. The landowner looked around the apartment, he walked over into Eric’s bedroom but found no one there, only a pile of empty needles and pill canisters. The landowner startled by this stepped back to make a dash for the front door, that’s when he heard a slam come from the other side.

The landowner ran around to find a young petite teenager girl, only wearing green panties standing there. She looked like she wanted to say something, like she was holding in some huge secret that she wanted to blurt out. However, instead of speaking all she did was brush aside her long hair to reveal her small breasts. The landowner who was in his in his later 30s didn’t know what to make of this. He did however notice the girl was emitting a strange green glow. The longer he seemed to stare at the girl the more he grew to have thoughts of sex. This was by no means the man thinking this himself as that strange green light was caused by the combination of all the medications and shots used on Eric. He had become a young teenage girl who had lost control of her body, and that green light was radioactive and would cause any male who looked at it for too long to become infatuated with Eric and want to fuck her. Eric sadly could only consent to this sex as she herself had lost control of her body, and become incredibly horny in the process.

In the end, you could say Eric got what she wanted. She always wanted sex and attention, and now she had that for the rest of her life.

Red Velvet Reaction to: Proposing to You

@joohyunsoojung: can u please do how red velvet would propose to you please?? love your writing heaps!

a/n: thank you so, so much! I’m sorry for the long wait but I hope you enjoy! >.<


Irene: This old fashioned gal wanted to stick to tradition. She’ll ask for your parents blessing and only with their consent, will she plan the proposal. You arrive home to a home cooked meal, candles burning and the lights dimmed. After dinner, she brings out two glasses of very expensive champagne. As you tilt the glass back, something … metallic … touches your lips.

From the glass, you fish out a ring.

“Oh my gosh,” you gasp, understanding what was about to happen.

Smiling, Joohyun gets up and down on one knee. She’s so small that she has to peer at you over the table, her cheeks flushed.

“Well?” she asks. “Would you do me the honour of being mine, forever?”

Originally posted by fyeah-redvelvet

Wendy: Proposes on stage, at the end of a concert. She wants to share this moment with the fans, who she feels deserve to know about her love and who she hopes will support her. The girls all know her plan and watch excitedly as Wendy speaks to the crowd in English: “Although this is the end of the concert, there is one thing that I want to say. You all know about (Y/N), right?”

The crowd yells back.

“Well, they’re here tonight and I have something very important to ask them. (Y/N), can you come on stage, please?” The crowd, even those who don’t speak English, understand what’s about to happen. Their screams are deafening but heartwarming, yelling words of support in various languages. The feeling of love was suffocating and you were in tears the second Seungwan dropped to one knee.

“(Y/N), will you marry me?”

Originally posted by dumblets

Seulgi: She plans the moment thoroughly, for months on end. She wants it to be perfect. Seulgi wants to propose in front of your family, at Christmas time (if you celebrate it) with the snow falling outside. She’s completely calm until D-Day, when you’re unwrapping your present and find a black box.

“A ring? It’s beautiful!”

The nerves hit her and she feels so aware of your family staring at her as she tells you; “It’s not just a ring. It’s an engagement ring - I mean, it is if you accept. But I haven’t asked a question yet so …” She stumbles on her words, annoyed that she’s forgotten the speech she had all planned out. “Do you want to marry me?” she concludes.

Originally posted by bearseulgi

Joy: For once, she’ll be calm externally. Inside, she’s screaming but on the outside, she’s reserved and cool. She won’t do the traditional knee drop but she’ll book a romantic dinner, hoping to set the mood. After dessert, she’ll slide the black box across the table, nervously fixing her hair. It feels as if the entire restaurant is watching but she knows that’s just in her head.

“Will you …?” She chokes, unable to finish but you understand. Now, she just has to anxiously await your response.

Originally posted by fourwallsfx-archive

Yeri: Needed her unnies help, for sure. She was so nervous and anxious, unsure of how to propose and afraid of a possible rejection. Having them help her and support her as she proposes, feels reassuring. She wouldn’t get down on one knee, simply standing instead and nervously pulling the black box from her pocket, fumbling to open it.

“Will you marry me?” Her voice is strong but the way her hands tremble betray her true emotions. This was the most nerve wracking moment of her life.

Originally posted by redlvet

anonymous asked:

Will I die if I give Morrowstar a hug? (Would she even give me consent?)

 I… can only hope you wouldn’t die, anon. Morrowstar thrives from affection and attention, she would definitely consent for hug. 

This is more morrowstar giving rather than receiving hug but im gonna toss it back out there for ya anyways 

Why I like Joker x Harley in the Suicide Squad movie. *SPOILERS*

First of all I wanna preface this by saying that I don’t like the JokerxHarley ship in like anything else. I really wanted to like it, because I think they work very well as a Bonnie/Clyde style relationship, but thats just not what Joker and Harley have been about up to now, the Joker never really gives a shit about Harley, except in Suicide Squad. Why? To list a few reasons:

Lets compare the scene where Harley bleaches her skin. The joker in the comics tosses Harley into the chemical vat by force as she screams “NO!” and generally takes a while to get down to pull her out, she very well could have drowned, but then again, what does comic book Joker care? He doesn’t really care if Harley lives or dies. So to summarize, comic book Joker not only doesnt care if she consents or not, but he doesn’t give a shit about her, and of course, the more obvious, Harley herself never consents to being thrown into the vat.

Now, let’s take a look at the Suicide Squad version of this scene. Joker asks Harley if she wants to be with him. He’s practically telling her to acknowledge he’s nuts and if she actually wants to be with someone who’s nuts. He even says, “Careful, do not say this oath thoughtlessly”. He’s giving her a chance to back off. Continuing, while already miles ahead of comic joker, Harley jumps in by her own will, and Joker who turns around and begins to walk off, perhaps because he thinks he’s above jumping in with her, maybe because he even wants to think he’s above caring for her, after a sudden change of heart, as shown by his facial expressions, throws his jacket off and jumps in with her, before pulling her out to make sure she doesn’t drown and kissing her. This joker is fully well aware he’s in love with Harley, and he might’ve struggled with it at first, he might’ve tried to fight it off which might explain the torture scenes in the asylum.

Moving on, let’s discuss the club scene. The thug who comes to visit the Joker calls Harley a “bad bitch”. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the Joker is pissed when he hears that, I mean look at his face. So he plays a joke on the guy. He calls Harley over to ‘give her to him’. Of course, he has no intention on giving her to him, the second he reciprocates Harley’s advances, he wouldve put a bullet between his eyes. Harley, probably in on the joke out of spending so much time with him and understanding how he works, is extra provocative, barking at him and giggling on his lap. When she says you’re cute, Joker gets up and starts walking around to perhaps get better aim, but look at his face. He’s agitated as fuck. And then, she proceeds to say “I’m all yours” and Joker’s face is nothing but hatred, in fact, he probably thinks the joke’s gone too far by now. Seeing his anger, the thug rejects Harley’s advances in an attempt to save his life, but the Joker shoots him anyway, now even more infuriated that he saw this exchange go down between him and Harley, even though he made it happen. 

Next, the animated series Joker is more agitated if anything whenever Harley finds her way back to him. But lets take a look at what Suicide Squad Joker does when his Harley goes missing. He looks himself in a room and neatly lines it with alcohol and guns and knives, probably what remind him of Harley and sits in the middle of it, just reminiscing. Also if I remember correctly theres a Harley outfit on a mannequin in the background, but don’t quote me on that. Next, when someone comes in, he’s agitated, he’s irritable, he points a gun and nearly shoots one of his goons just for entering his room. Why? He’s irritable and agitated and in a terrible mood because he’s lost someone he cares about so much, and that interruption probably broke him out of a trance or something.

Finally, while comic book Joker from what I have heard has busted Harley out of prison before, comic book Harley is much more ‘powerful’ in terms of the universe in comparison to this Harley. Suicide Squad Harley is probably one of the weaker characters, Joker has plenty of people to replace her with. That honestly doesn’t stop him though from going out of his way to find a way to deactivate her bomb implant, and hijack a helicopter, and rescue her. When she climbs up on the helicopter, he’s very obviously delighted to be reunited with her, as much as he is angry when she falls off. In fact, it doesn’t even look like he’s angry at all that he’s in a near death situation, he’s more pissed at the fact that right after his reunion with Harley, she’s snatched away from him again. And even when his helicopter crashes, he still somehow comes back to bust her out of jail, honestly, this Joker has plenty of goons that can do Harley’s job as a member of the gang, but I don’t think anyone can replace her in his heart.

Is it a traditional ideal relationship? Probably not. I mean they’re both lunatics, but its not abusive like traditional Harley and Joker, which is something I don’t ship and I genuinely feel terrible for classic Harley for being with someone like that. But as for their iterations in Suicide Squad? I will ship it thank you very much. 

Rant Over.

Just Thought I’d Check in on My Beloved - Pt 6b *Adult Content*

((If you do not wish to read adult content, please skip this part.  You will not miss any pertinent plot information, I promise!))

Benvolio reached forward with both hands to cradle her face, staring into her eyes for a long moment, and Rosaline was sure the skin where he touched her was aflame.  The longer he held her gaze, though, the more calm and sure she became.  Without closing her eyes, she lifted herself up onto her toes and gave him a sweet kiss.  His tongue darted out to taste her, and she slid her own out to meet it.  They lost themselves in the embrace for a moment, both pouring their emotions into the way they pushed and pulled, tongues dueling for dominance.  Rosaline clung to him, fingers digging into the bare skin of his back.

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Kouri rewatches Sense8, episode 2.09

  • Nomi’s story about her surgery confuses me. She says she forged her mother’s signature on the medical consent forms … but she would only need those if she was under eighteen, and literally nobody that I know of does transgender surgery on anyone that age, with or without parental consent. It’s just not done as far as I know.
  • “let us remember that cancer is also natural” thank you Kala XD
  • “We’re heading into a creepy house and you’re talking about a guy named Whispers?” ilusm Diego
  • So did Jonas kill the Assistant or did she kill herself? Was he Bolgering her? I still don’t understand how that works. *splat*
  • “Who starts a wedding on the dot?” Uh, who shows up exactly on time for a wedding when they’re in the wedding party? I hate to tell you guys, but you’re the weird ones here. You shoulda been there hours ago LOL.
  • Sun hurting the transphobic groomsman XD
  • Everything about Teagan’s wedding is gold. Such a fantastic scene.
  • The 58 Minutes scene is so amazing, too! Ahhhhhh Dani is awesome and Lito and Hernando are so cute!
  • Okay, I understand that everyone has things going on, but Will is crying in a shack in London, couldn’t at least a couple of you go give him a hug or something for God’s sake

Thought: Goro Akechi is the true embodiment of envy in this game–what really makes him snap is the Thieves possessing something he doesn’t. He wants to drag others down to his level.

Sae is wrath. She is in fact, guilty of murder according to the New Testament. (Matt 5:21-22)

Futaba is despair and is the only one who does not sin because she lacks full consent of the will.

“Somebody…please believe me…

Through tear stained eyes she looked upon the hot summer day and the last scene her living sight would ever know.

Clothes tousled, pale skin covered in cuts and scrapes. On her right arm a gaping wound seeped black ooze onto ragged bandages that had not been changed in days. Her hands were bound with coils of rope. 

The yellow flower in her hair fluttered in the warm breeze, an uncaring damnation of the girl who had begged pitifully for her life from her judges, her jury, and now her executioners: the people she had once called ‘friends’

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anonymous asked:

"Have sex with me and let me film it and pay you for it or starve or become homeless" This is not consent. It's s not consent when she only says yes out of fear of becoming homeless bc she can't pay her rent if she doesn't let those men penetrate and slap her and spit on her (violent porn). Of course some people like it but those people do it for free bc they really want it and not bc they desperately need money. How can you be SURE if she isn't pressured into it by poverty or drug addiction??

Are you fucking retarded

First off no pornstars dont “do it for free” if they like it you entitled pos, its a JOB and they are professionals who expect payment like any other professional, this is like saying if artists really enjoyed their work they would do it for free

Second off i can be sure they consent because of CONTRACTS

The actresses have to be aware of and consent verbally and in writing, on camera, to every scene, action and bit of dialogue which you would know if you weren’t just watching clips

They do before and after interviews with the stars and most of the stuff is faked because, get this, porn…is acting!

Any abuse would be caught on tape and guess what, in the rare instance it happens, the entire studio is punished!

God you people are fucking exhausting

Sex workers dont need or want your condescending ass attitude

You’re not fucking saviors, you’re not helping, you’re not even right about the conditions and circumstances

Fuck off

Ps: fuck this trend of acting like sex workers are all poverty stricken drug addicts, thats fucking bigoted and its misogynistic

I’m somewhat skeptical to believe you, after all, a common theme with feminists and SJWs is that they leave out certain details of encounters in order to create outrage. But let’s say that it did actually happen.

My question is why do you think that this is a woman’s only issue? Assault on men can be just as easily forgiven too you know. There’s stories of men being locked up or not taken seriously when they were the victims of domestic abuse at the hands of a woman. There’s stories of alleged rape where both parties were drunk, but they only arrest the man because she took back her consent she made while she was drunk, ignoring the fact that it was her fault for getting drunk off her ass and then saying yes to sex.

Why do you need feminism for this again? It’s not like that it’s a gendered issue or anything going by the facts.

W-well… 203 was a prisoner at the Agency I worked with. One of my job at the Agency was to help take care and monitor our captives. 203 seemed quite different from the other prisoners. I can’t really explain it. One day while bringing her her meal, I decided to sit and talk with her. Pretty soon we became friends. A-and eventually, we developed feelings for each other. I remember one day asking what her real name was. Apparently she didn’t have one. So I named her Zoe. Get it? 203. ZOE. A-anyways, we spent a lot of time together. Eventually she confessed to me and I accept her feelings. We kinda started dating. And one time we uh- fiddled the diddles if you get what I’m saying. I loved her very much. She was the only one that ever got consent from me. …….another one of my jobs at the Agency was to torture and kill our captives. I was taking a look at the schedule, and saw that 203 was to be my playmate that week. I didn’t want that for her. I did a lot of whit and managed to help her escape the Agency. We promised we would meet up a week later. …..but that night, at a meeting, it was announced that she had been found, and shot in the head on sight. I couldn’t save her. ~Karma

Karma……

Wrap it

Luke Hemmings

Requested: YES SO LONG AGO I AM SO SORRY

Could you do an imagine where you’re like 16 so quite a bit younger than Luke and Liz walks in on you having sex and then is like Luke can I speak to you and she’s like I’m not sure you should be doing stuff like that with her she’s so young and yeah. I know you’re busy but if you find time 😊

Luke’s POV

She felt so good. Almost too good, my princess writhing underneath me, her moans muffled by my mouth. My sweaty forehead pressed to hers, my matted hairs against her knotty ones, her perfect teeth gently biting my shoulder that sent pleasant tingles throughout my body.

She was close, I could feel that and I only wanted to push her right through it. She clenched slightly around me, making me groan quietly as she breathed heavily in my ear, her nails raking down my back.

“L-huke.” She gasped into my ear as I pulled her closer to me, her back arching into me as I urged her on.

“Come on, beautiful.” She whimpered as she finally hit the edge, pressing her face into my chest to quieten herself. A few more thrusts and I hit mine too, my nose in her hair as I felt the condom fill.

We were so lost in our euphoria that we stayed like that, until a loud bang sounded our ears, causing us to whip up like rabbits in headlights whilst we were still stuck in our warm embrace.

There was a small squeak from outside as I groaned.

“That was your mum wasn’t it.” She scrunched her nose up in embarrassment as there was a slight knock at the door. I sighed, getting up to pull on my clothes as it went on.

“Uh, sorry, can I please talk to Luke?” I raised an eyebrow at her question, like we really wanted to talk to her this soon after she saw us both naked and very, very compromised.

I watched Y/N throw her head back, gripping the covers to her chest as she burrowed underneath them.

“Have fun.” She giggled as I throw her bra at her, making her squeal a little with my smile.

I hesitated as I reached for the door handle, bracing myself as I had to look into my mom’s eyes when she knew exactly what I was doing. I took a deep breath, opening it and sliding out into the hallway where my mother clutched a pile of laundry, looking anywhere but me.

She wordlessly handed the pile to me; still looking elsewhere as I took it and she finally met her eyes with me.

“Right, uh, now, Luke.” She coughed a little, a slight blush grazing her cheeks. “I know I raised you well enough to be, uh, safe. But I don’t think that you and Y/N, well she,”

“Mom.” I frowned, cutting off her stuttering.

“She’s only sixteen, Luke. She’s too young.” She lowered her voice so I could only hear her.

“She’s legal. And she consents.” I argued as my mum in took her breath sharply.

“I know that. And I know that you two obviously like each other, uh quite a bit.”

“I love her.” I corrected as she rolled her eyes.

“Okay, you love her. But there are other things you two could be doing, perhaps more productive than anti-producing?” I choked on a laugh, watching a smile roll out on her face.

“Mom, I’m going back on tour in a week. You’re expecting us to go on nature walks or something?” She hit my arm as I tried to stop laughing, but I couldn’t and I only shook my head.

Luke. Look I’m just saying that if you two get older, you’re gonna regret not doing other stuff together!”

“Mom, do you think we’re animals or something? Of course we do other stuff. Did you think all those stupid documentaries that you hate watching with me just disappeared? No, I make her watch them! We’ve been out all day!” I pshhed her as her small smile returned.

“She’s still too young for me.”

“I should think so, mother. You have dad and you have like 30 years on her.” She hit my arm again, laughing loudly.

“You know what I mean!” I nodded, still chuckling.

“I know mom, but it’s not your decision. Safety first!” I grabbed the pile of laundry from where I had put it on the floor, heading for my bedroom just as she smiled devilishly. I jimmied the door open as she shouted loudly.

“Luke, just remember. Wrap it before you tap it!” Laughing loudly when I choked on my smile, tripping in embarrassment. I heard her cackle as she went back downstairs.

I hope this was ok :)

You can request any type of writing here!

MY ASK IS ALWAYS OPEN FOR REQUESTS, ADVICE, A CHAT OR ANY QUESTIONS YOU MAY HAVE ABOUT ANYTHING, 5SOS RELATED OR NOT. HOPE YOU’RE HAVING A GOOD DAY :)

anonymous asked:

Ya ya! apki queen & unka nakhra mode 😂 hum tou abhi bhi TeamOmkara hain 😍 but yes Gauri looks gorgeous in this scene 😍

HUM NE TOH YE BHI SUNA HAI KE OMKARA NE POOCHA, “May I?” AND TIED THE DORI ONLY WHEN SHE NODDED HER CONSENT!! Aaj toh TeamOmkara aur TeamGauri DONO on fire hai!! Beech mein jal toh main rahi hoon cuz I really need to watch this scene like RIGHT NOW! How will I take the random episodes till we get to this?!

Tilda Swinton, as Orlando, reading in library in the 1992 film based on Virginia Woolf’s novel Orlando: A Biography.

Queen Elizabeth I, on her deathbed, promises an androgynous young nobleman named Orlando a large tract of land and a castle built on it along with a generous monetary gift which she will only bequeath to him if he consents to her command, “Do not fade. Do not wither. Do not grow old.”

“…the only hope for rock'n'roll, aside from everybody playing nothing but shrieking atonal noise through arbitor distorters, is women. Balls are what ruined both rock and politics in the first place, and I demand the world be turned over to the female sex immediately. Only hope. Valerie Solanas was so much greater a prophet than Warhol that I can only pray she might consent to lead the group I’m forming. The absolute best rock'n'roll anywhere today is being played by women: the other night I saw God in the form of the Au Pairs, the Slits are stupendous, the Raincoats are better than London Calling or anything by Elvis Costello, Chrissie Hynde doesn’t count, Joan Jett deserves her place in the sun if not reparations, Lydia Lunch is the Female Role Model for the ‘80s besides being one of the greatest guitarists in the world … the list is endless. (Patti, come home!)”

- Lester Bangs, “Better Than the Beatles (and DNA Too!)”
The Village Voice, Jan 28-Feb 3, 1981.