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chosos-mascara · 1 year

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summer

𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - you and eren don't want to start college as virgins.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - smoking, make-out, dry humping, PiV, virginity loss, smut with a story

minors + ageless dni 5k words

Twelve months ago, the last exam had taken place. The day a weight was lifted graciously from the shoulders of the students around you, a day freedom was cast. No longer would you waste nights cramming, or evenings exhausted on subjects you'd cared little about, when they'd have been better spent with friends. This, was where life would begin. Adulthood was on the horizon, so close you could taste it.

A job, good money, no more worries over assessment, homework, or extra-curricular activities (at least, for a little while). A gap year of dreams you were taking alongside your best friend, one you'd meticulously planned with one another, details confirmed as if already experienced. The pair of you had celebrated, a parade of final good-byes to friends leaving for university, drinks to commemorate the past years of your life, and the future yet to participate within. You'd spoken with them too, of the ideologies, the great expectations of the next three-hundred-and-sixty-five days, leaving behind deadlines for nights out, visualizing flashing lights and bass boosted music through intoxication. This was the start of your twenties, after all.

But sometimes, through the consumption of media, we glorify things, scenes from movies blurred with that of real life. Sadly, these experiences do not occur for the average person. Eren and yourself, in particular, working shifts and going home to sleep, were a part of that majority.

Working was dull and unfulfilling, draining energy from you as if you'd been a mere battery in need of a recharge following an eight-hour shift, too tired to do much else. The year of greatness had come and gone, and nothing had changed other than the cycle of four seasons, of which you'd worked on auto-pilot for minimum wage. A soulless stacking of shelves.

The prospect of working along-side your best friend had been appealing in concept, though in actuality it had consisted of working on opposite ends of the store, only able to fit in a mediocre glance while passing one another. On occasion, the pair of you would be rewarded with a break spent in the other's presence. Though as time had progressed, it had become another monotonous part of the day, because it was another half-hour spent in the confides of the workplace, around colleagues twice your age with half the amount of wit, and motivation. More often than not, you'd worked alternating shifts all-together, and despite the fact you'd barely seen one another during working hours, those eight-hours were still harder to get through without him.

Armin was a three hour train journey, Mikasa a plane ride, and everyone else from school had been dotted throughout the country. Just as the pair of you had envisioned the gap year, your peers had plans for university too, intentions to return home once a month for catch-ups and drinks. These, much like your schemes, did not occur. It was more due to the fact they'd moved on with their lives - another rub in the face that the pair of you were still in the same place a year on.

Despite the lack of development surrounding your circumstances, Eren had changed. The differences had become more apparent, now - brown hair longer and tied into a messy bun, biceps peeking from the black uniform shirt had grown in size, as had he. The two of you frequented one another's homes, though the time would be spent playing games or watching movies. Conversations didn't happen too often, and wouldn't stray far from the topic of work. Though, you'd accepted the fact he wasn't a kid anymore, and most likely hadn't been interested in your babbles - not that he wasn't aware of every detail of your life anyway. You'd worked at the same place, lived a few doors down; your lives were practically carbon copies.

The last shift the pair of you would work at what had become an unremarkably repetitive part of life had passed, and you'd been relieved to part with the job. Every minute of the last stretch was one minute closer to the start of summer, the freedom of unemployment and transition back into student-life. A parallel you hadn't expected a year ago. Now, you walked side-by-side, just as you had on the last day of school.

Eren placed a cigarette to lips; a habit he'd picked up from his older brother's visits. Inhaling, amber burned inches from his face, the light dimming as he pulled the stick from his mouth to exhale a cloud of smoke. Late afternoon was turning to evening around you, but the sun was still warming on your skin, crickets singing in the patches of grass slotted between tree and pavement.

It was peaceful. The nostalgia of older times pottering back from school had followed you, simpler times that you'd shared with your friends. The first walk home from work had been so bizarre, turning the road without Mikasa and Armin trailing behind. This stroll home would be the last spent in his presence - Eren had a license now. He'd be driving the pair of you to university in a few months, though you questioned each vision that had come to your mind, because this year had let you down - who's to say upcoming ones wouldn't, too?

Closing on on your street, you'd peered over the familiar wooden door, chipped brick wall separating street from garden. Reaching a hand out, your fingers rested over the latch of the iron gate, paint peeling to reveal the orange of rust beneath. "See ya." A tired voice spoke, moving eyes from the tarmac beneath your shoes to meet his green irises, of which had been scanning over you in contemplation. A final puff of smoke left his lips while he'd flicked the butt behind him, leaving it to fall somewhere in the road. You waited for his good-bye, but as a few moments passed, you'd assumed a simple glance was all you were going to get.

"My parents are away tonight. Wanna stay?" Eren questioned, abruptly. Movements halted as he'd spoken, you turned from halfway down the stone path to look over your shoulder. It had been a while since the pair of you'd had a sleepover. Over the past few months, you'd spent no more than a few measly hours together before the other would return home for food or sleep. But, the glint in the glint in his eye was one you'd recognized from childhood - as if he'd asked you to come play for the first time again.

"Yeah, okay." You replied with indifference, though within your chest your heart had picked up pace, excitement coursing through fatigued bones as the prospect of old times wondered over you. You'd cursed yourself for hoping for anything more than the lousy gaming sessions you'd shared over the past month, but his expression had enlightened a glimmer within you that you couldn't shake.

Rushing inside to shower, you were focused on anything other than the water running over you, instead pondering over the evening ahead. Perhaps you'd find courage to ask him what you'd really wanted to, instead of shallow small-talk. Honesty shared between you, just like you'd used to be with one another.

Cramming clothes into a bag, a charger, a toothbrush, you deemed yourself ready, before long at his door. Hand raised, fist balled, knocking and waiting. Footsteps echoed through his hall, ones that brought a feeling into your stomach as you listened to him approaching you, lock turning. The old oak crept open, revealing your friend behind it, a loose fitted white t-shirt, relaxed black trousers, bare foot. "Hey." Greeting him, a smile on your face, bag slung over your shoulder.

Eren didn't reply, simply stepping back to allow you space to enter his home. You tread through, throwing your bag down in the usual spot, in the corner of the hall. "I got pizza." He stated, walking toward the kitchen. You followed him with your eyes as you'd taken off your shoes, finally trailing behind once they'd been placed neatly alongside his. Floorboards creaked beneath you while you'd passed through the narrow landing, through the unpainted door frame.

Two boxes, one open with a few slices missing, the other still folded shut, sat on the old stained table housed in the corner of the room. Opening the box had revealed a pizza you'd gotten many times before, one you'd considered a favourite. "You did good." You smiled, picking a piece up and taking a bite, glancing up to meet green eyes. He was leaning back against the table, arm folded over the other. He'd always worn a brooding look, one you used to pride yourself on reading, though with age you'd become less able to figure out what was going on inside of his head. "Not hard to remember the thing you always order." He commented, a bite being taken shortly after, an awkward silence airing between you disrupted by quiet chewing sounds. Once he'd finished the slice, he grabbed a remote, turning on the small TV that his mother had situated high on the wall, a source of entertainment in the small, dated kitchen for when she'd had to spend a few hours cooking a meal.

Memories of childhood with the Yeager family flooded through your thoughts, his mother's warming personality when you'd come in from the old outdoors, usually in tears after being picked on by her son. At first, yourself and the blonde had been closest, though with age you'd grown a backbone, no longer giving into Eren's teasing. Once this had occurred, the four of you got long well, a good balance between teasing and empathy, each part bringing their own qualities to mix within the group. Without them, the house had felt a little empty. You'd wondered how Eren had felt, losing what had been like a sister to him as she'd gone to study far from her adopted home.

Sounds of a game show had filled the space, replacing stale silence with soft chatter and laughter. You'd continued to eat, mind wondering while you were perched on the rickety chair, elbows on the table, eyes on the contestants. The brunette paced to the fridge, shoving the crust of a slice into his mouth as he pulled two cans from a shelf, placing them on the table before finally taking a seat - though over halfway through his meal.

"I can't believe we're done." You spoke through chewing, peeling your gaze from the small television to your friend, who'd been hunched over his own box. His eyes remained on the cardboard until he was done with his mouthful, finally flickering up to meet you after swallowing. "Thank fuck, couldn't stand that place." Eren spoke, bitterness raking through his voice as he'd recalled the past year of his life. He too had wished for better experiences, and was left with one of the worse years of his life. "It wasn't that bad." Disagreeing with him was something you'd often done, though as his stare hardened, you fought the urge to take back the words you'd spoken. "What're you talking about? Every day we were just hamsters on a wheel, just fulfilling meaningless tasks without question." The passion you'd heard him express many times before radiated through the words he'd spoken, brow furrowing as he'd looked over you in disgust.

You shrugged, looking down at the food in front of you once more, uncomfortable in the way he'd studied you. Although he was hard to read, his hatred was not. When Eren was angry, it was as apparent as the sky was blue. It had most likely been down to the fact his features had already been so cold, but when he was annoyed, the distaste ran through his expression.

"It was always temporary," You picked at the crusts you'd left in the box, prodding them as if to distract yourself from the male before you. "So, it didn't bother me." Voice timid, you surrendered your own argument, a weak defense as you'd wished upon the conversation coming to an end. "You back down too easy." He'd spoken the words under his breath, tearing his food with his teeth as his mouth was stuffed full. You chose not to fight back, maybe as young teenagers you would've bitten the bait, but now, you had little interest in debating with him. Though, this was most likely a positive, as Mrs Yeager wasn't here to come to your defence if her son kicked off at you.

She'd always been there, even when your parents hadn't been. She'd even housed Eren's brother despite him not being her own, and had been some what delinquent through his years. He encouraged the worst out of her son, but she supported him nonetheless. When you'd questioned her over the decision, she'd simply told you he'd needed a home, just as Mikasa had.

"Wanna smoke?" Eren asked, closing the now empty container before him, standing and brushing the crumby fingers down trouser legs. He wondered to the countertop, grabbing the carton and lighter he'd left there, glancing over to you as he made his way to the back door.

The sun was setting, you could see the amber glow through the gaps in the blinds, peering through to the garden. You stood, meeting him at the half-opened door, following through to sit on well-kept grass. It was always short, littered with daisies, bordered with stones and soil housing a few varieties of flowers. Nothing spectacular, but it'd had a homely feel. Another aspect of his house that had been unchanged since the day you'd first stepped foot within it.

The air was still warm on your sun-kissed skin, a faint hum of music playing a few doors down, most likely that of a garden party. There had been the scent of a barbecue too, one that had always reminded you of summer evenings like this. Eren lit his cigarette, tilting the box to you, allowing you to take one. You pulled one out, placing it between your lips, allowing him to lean toward you and bring the flame to kiss the end of the stick, innately sucking in. The familiar orange glow, a breath in and out.

"Still going to the same college?" You asked, though aware of the answer. He nodded, closing heavy eyes as he exhaled. "Can't get rid of me yet." Eren's voice was low, lids opening to let orbs wonder over the fence surrounding the small corner of the world you'd resided in, one he'd be able to recall blindfolded. You were sure you could, too.

"Do you think," You began with hesitance, watching a bee land a few feet in front of you, mingling in a buttercup. The insect collected a small amount of pollen, flying to the next flower. "-things will change?" The question left your lips, some worry within your voice, as you remained fixated upon the show before you, on the small creature conducting its way of life; fullfilling its purpose. With this, you'd wondered if you were satisfied within your objectives. Maybe everything would be simpler if the two of you had been born another species.

"Doubt it, they didn't after high-school, did they?" His reply was apethetic, and somewhat confusing. Things had changed, maybe he'd been oblivious to that, too caught up within his own mind to think about those surrounding him. "A lot has changed, Eren. Your sister moved countries, Armin has gone off to do some fancy degree-" You spouted, though the vent had been cut short by the slightly louder voice dominating the conversation.

"We haven't changed, though." He brought the cigarette to his lips once more, and as the tip illuminated his face, you'd realised how quickly the sun had set. It'd been minutes, but a curtain had still fallen over the garden, night nearing. The bee you'd peered over was now gone, most likely making its way back to the colony.

"Guess not." You replied, for the first time that evening you'd actually agreed with a statement. It had felt as if the pair of you had lagged behind your friends over the past year - they were all done with their first year of university, and yet, you were in the same place you'd been since high-school.

"Talking to anyone?" You asked between drags, the cigarette burning a little too close to your fingertips. The question made your chest tighten, anxiety rising as you'd awaited the response. You hadn't known why - he was free to see anyone he'd pleased, though deep within the confides of your brain had been a tinge of jealousy whenever you'd pictured him with another. Most likely a sisterly instinct, as you'd grown alongside him, though you'd been unable to deny your small crush on your childhood friend.

Eren never appeared to respond with his body language, only words. It made interactions with him a little stressful, as there had been no way in which one could predict what he'd say before the words were pulled from his chest. You'd simply had to await the response.

"Nah. You?" He replied, to which you'd shaken your head, finally parting with the burning paper between your fingers, flicking the nub to the other side of the garden. Sighing, your back hit the grass beneath you, gaze moving to the sky above. There was a deep blue painted overhead, a glow from the newly risen moon, stars dotting the canvas with a bright burn. The lawn was cooling over the skin on your back, arms situating themselves beneath your head, tickled with the nature under your skin. Eren mirrored your actions, the warmth of his body grazing yours as he laid beside you. He was longer than you, but he'd positioned his head to sit beside yours, to see what you'd seen.

"Do you feel like everyone's moving through life but us?" You inquired, tracing the small white glows to search for constellations - though you hadn't been too sure on what you were looking for. "Sometimes, yeah." Eren's voice was soothing, but you'd felt your stomach churn as he shifted beside you, a reminder of how close the pair of you had been laying. His tone was something you'd wished to hear more, longing to spend more time like this, alone with the world.

"Can I tell you something?" You'd been aware your continued questioning had probably held some annoyance to him, though within the moment, you'd felt at ease. The dynamic between the pair of you had complimented one another; you would talk, and he would listen. Others may assume his lack of dialogue had been due to disinterest, though you'd understood it was simply because he'd had little to say.

"Go ahead." He spoke, a sigh escaping his lips as you opened yours, curving them into an embarrassed smile as you spoke; "I'm still a virgin." Admitting your secret had left a tense strain over your mood, a small giggle erupting from the silence as if to aid the strain. The lack of response from your friend had left a bad taste, and with hesitance, you turned your head, praying that the impassive expression you were met with would reveal something of use. "Really?" Eren had sounded intrigued, though manner still cold. "Yeah, kinda pathetic, right?" An exhale had replaced the awkward laugh, though as he hadn't mirrored the innate response, you grew concerned over the topic.

Sex, and relationships, hadn't been something you'd discussed with him for some time. He'd assumed you'd delve into such thoughts with Mikasa, likely sparing no detail as she'd been forced to listen to one of your unforgiving rants - yourself assuming he'd boasted about under-cover experiences with his male friends.

"Sorry," Exhaling, you brought a hand to temple, face screwing up as you'd mentally cringed at the discourse. "Was that too deep?" The relationship between you had been a little hard to understand, and you'd been unsure where boundaries had laid. At times, it was as if the two of you were strangers, though evenings like this, he'd felt at one with you.

"Nah." His reply was late, allowing you to mentally fuss over the stillness following your admission, awaiting a response. "I am, too." He'd mentioned nonchalantly, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. It'd made sense - the pair of you were rarely out without the other, but with Eren's appearance and charm, it was questionable.

"Oh." There had been difficulty formulating a response other than the small sound you'd made, and you'd recognised the discomfort he must've felt when the subject had been introduced to begin with. "Well, at least I won't be the only one in college with a v-card." An attempt at light-heartedness, though again, he hadn't laughed. Instead, he let his thoughts brew until he'd formulated a comment.

"Or, we could just lose it before college." He suggested, to which, instead of an awkward giggle, a genuine exhale of amusement passed through your parted lips. "How do you suppose we do that?" You moved the hand that had rested at your forehead to reside on your chest, the other arm still supporting your head. "Might be easy for you, but no guy would wanna fuck me." The response was solemn, even if you hadn't intended it to be. It's not that you had doubts within yourself; it was your confidence had let you down when it had come to an interest in a member of the opposite sex.

"God, you're so thick at times." He sighed, mentally cursing as you'd furrowed your brow, turning to him in annoyance to question what he'd meant, but before the words could spill from you, his lips were pressing against yours.

The movement had left you in shock, eyes open, his face atop yours. Though, as he lingered on you, adjusting to support himself with his forearm, the realization sunk in. After analysing the situation, riding out the wave of surprise, your lips moved in synchrony. The taste of burnt tobacco had radiated between the pair of you, a small hint of pizza, though mostly, the flavour you'd focused yourself on had been him. With a decade of friendship, you hadn't imagined yourself able to do this - to taste him. Though now the permission had been granted, you didn't want to stop. The way his lips danced with yours had felt as if you were made for one another, mouths created purely to accompany their counterpart.

The action had ignited a swirl in the pit of your stomach, radiating desire through you, to create a pulling between your legs. One you'd felt during fleeting moments of self-pleasure, though this had been the first time an action of intimacy had created the sensitivity. Eren's nose bumped with yours, a string of spit building between the two of you, a sheen over lips, though ignored. His skin felt smooth as you'd ran your fingers across his cheek to cup his face within hand, adjusting the arm that had been a pillow to your tired head to rest at the back of his head, intertwining his hair between digits.

He hummed as you'd lightly pulled at his hair, sinking his head lower with yours to deepen the kiss, while you'd tugged at the strands at the nape of his neck, fingers snug between bun and head. Eren's arms caged around your body as he pulled himself between your limbs, the summer dress you'd modeled falling upward, exposing your wettened panties to his clothed cock. You'd felt his hardness as he'd rocked himself over your slit; another feeling you'd yet to experience until now. A moan caught in your throat at the contact, hips bucking upward and legs curving to wrap around him. The kisses grew sloppier between you as the new sensation arose in the places between legs, frenzied humps against one another, a tightening in your stomach.

The eager whines from your lips fell straight into his, hands desperately clutching, tugging at his hair with maneuvre. His bulge massaged against your slit feverishly, building up a tension in your core, breaths between you manic as you shared the moment, savoring how your body had felt on his. This was something you'd never done before; you wondered if Eren had felt the same stir within the pits of his abdomen too, a tingle gracing down your arms, the tickle of the grass on your back as the frantic movements between you had caused the skirt to hike up further, exposing more skin.

A guttural moan left your chest, followed by stuttered gasps from your lips, eyes squeezing closed while your body tensed up, pathetic humps against his cock as you felt your orgasm crash over you, at an intensity you'd never felt before. The ecstasy flowing across your body hadn't been like what you'd given yourself before - it was different. You'd grasped his face tightly, a mess under him, a heat spreading across your cheeks as he'd been a bystander to the otherworldly experience you'd just had, allowing his friend to use his erection to reach her high.

When it had fizzled out, you hadn't time to flush with embarrassment, as Eren had been unbuttoning his trousers with one had, his body-weight supported by the other arm, lips ramming back onto yours. You pushed your tongue into his mouth as you pulled at your underwear, pulling away from his lips for a moment to roll the cotton down your legs, and he imitated the action, knees bare against the grass of his garden, chill hitting his exposed skin.

"Will anyone see us?" You asked, chest heaving. His green eyes meeting yours made your heart flutter, his cheeks tinted with a crimson tone as he guided his cock to sit at your slick, pumping over the shaft. "Nah, they're all old, they'll be asleep." His reassurance was half-assed as his eyes left your face, instead flicking to his cock pressed up against you, slowly teasing himself in. He exhaled, mouth hanging open as he pushed forward. You watched his guise falter, face relaxed as he felt your cunt embrace him, a whine escaping his lips at your warm walls hugging his leaking cock. The amount of friction he'd endured had almost been enough to have him come in his boxers, though he resisted the urge.

After pushing himself into you fully, his gaze flickered down to yours. A smirk played at his lips as he glanced over your blissful demeanor, expression soft as you'd watched him through half-lidded eyes. "Does 't hurt?" He questioned, pulling halfway out before easing back into you. Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, eyes locked with his. "A little." You commented, voice wavering. His movements were slow, gentle pants falling from him as he moved in and out of you with ease. Your tired eyes rolled back, back arching off of the lawn as pain turned to pleasure. Eren took that as a signal you were okay, and sped up, hands gripping at your thighs. It was hard to hold himself back from cumming during the first few moments; the way you'd clenched around him had his dick in heaven, biting his lips to contain moans he'd felt rising through him. He'd only had his hand for the past twenty years, a pussy had felt a thousand times better, tight yet soft, made for his cock to fuck.

You were whining under him, the top of your head kissing the ground as you'd arched back upward in pleasure, your fingers fining their way to circle over your clit. He watched you contort for him, gritting his teeth at the display, fighting the urge within him to just shoot his seed inside you. He'd wanted to fill the virgin pussy with cum, but he'd resisted, unable to allow this to end so quickly. Eren wanted to savor this moment he'd had with you, to watch your body move with his, his cock taken in by your warmth.

Coarse hands gripped at your hips, a cacophony of stuttered breaths and mewls played a synchrony of sounds, an orchestra made up of two. The way he'd held you, how he had loomed over you, the fact you were his first, were all things you'd be unable to forget. His face fixed on you, pleasure written across his features, burned into your mind. This was something only yourself and Eren would share.

"Eren-" His name fell from your lips, another swipe across your sensitive clit, his fingers squeezing the fat of your thighs tighter, until he'd had to halt altogether to stop himself from cumming. You continued to rub regardless, panting and circling your hips, stuttered humps as you worked yourself up again, clenching, tensing, pulling over his member. He groaned, the small motions from your pussy keeping him seconds from spilling. "Inside?" Only half of the question left his lips, thighs clenching to stop his orgasm. "Can I cum inside?" He was reduced to a murmur of words, a mostly incoherent sentence, though your frantic nodding had been enough permission, and he was slamming his hips into yours once more, a loud moan leaving his lips as his chest rose and fell, grunts erupting from his chest. You'd come undone too, for the second time, his name the only thing on your mind as you'd clenched around him, repeating the syllables over, and over.

He lingered for a moment, tracing a thumb over your cheek and pulling out, a warmth dribbling from the hole he'd just evacuated as his seed left you, too. An unfamilliar sensation, though knowing it'd been from him had created a new feeling within you, one familiar to that of arousal, mingling with a sense of accomplishment. A smile crept across your face as he pulled his trousers upward, laying beside you once more. You straightened out the creases of your dress, pulling it over your knees, goosebumps prickling over you as the heat of the moment had died down, cool air over you again.

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fatliberation · 9 months

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Fatphobia kills people. Fatphobia kills Black Women at a much higher rate. That hasn’t changed since Lizzo first came onto the music scene, and unless we collectively do something about it, it won’t change long after we’ve collectively forgotten her name. I’m not interested in body positivity or body confidence. These are all perfectly noble pursuits but they won’t change whether a person gets access to medical care. They won’t fix the Fat wage gap. They won’t help kids who are being bullied by the adults in their lives. Fatphobia is rooted in racism, in particular anti-black racism. So say whatever you wanna say about Lizzo but keep her weight out of it. Not for her sake, but for every Fat Black Woman out there.

Asher Larmie @thefatdoctor

#queued

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souryogurt64 · 3 months

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you probably explain this before but what is this bad emo book and why is it bad?

It's the one that came out last summer, I don't like it because it does a lot of misleading things on purpose to like craft a narrative that is often not true and is also just like full of bad opinions

Here are some examples off the top of my head-- didn't double check but pretty sure these are all right

Quotes someone saying that Brand New never got credit for inspiring other bands to write rock operas and then almost immediately cuts to the recording of The Black Parade. Obviously, the implication here is that Brand New inspired The Black Parade. In reality, TBP came out before Brand New's album and Green Day's American Idiot came out before both.

Quotes someone who says they never liked Panic! and has never been personally involved in any capacity with Panic! as saying "Ryan left the band." Ryan and Jon were very adamant this was not the case. I do think this was a very important person to interview, but this person should not have been the one to explain the split.

The producer for Fever claims that the Plain White T's quit the Panic! tour on a specific date and its implied that this was a factor in why Ryan "left Panic." In reality, I found several sources all saying The Plain White T's performed with Panic long after this date. TBH, I doubt this happened, let alone influenced the split.

Quotes HIMSELF saying FOB and MCR went on hiatus "at about the same time" when in reality they went on hiatus 4 years apart. When you think about how short-lived emo as a genre was, 4 years is huge. This is so lazy and is probably just because he thinks Danger Days is not worth talking about because he has the same basic opinions every other man on reddit has

There's like a ton of irrelevant losers whining about Hayley Williams like she's a misandrist dictator that doesn't pay her male employees fairly. Brendon is not talked about like this AT ALL-- Hayley has "sideshows" and drama because she's a catty woman, but with Brendon it just kind of happens, oops! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

IIRC there is little to no discussion of the political/religious elements of the Paramore split and Taylor York is not mentioned at all. It is made out to be entirely about royalties and the misandrist wage gap. No one from Paramore was actually interviewed, they used quotes from a Paramore interview done by a woman and obtained permission from Vox media company, NOT the actual author. The fact that this was done is not clearly stated and is slipped into the copyright at the back.

This is like a whole side quest I don't want to get into because I had to attempt to decode what happened via LiveJournal comments which isn't the best source. But like this guy interviewed in the book who whines about Hayley's royalties like interviewed Paramore on tv. Apparently allegedly during the interview the homophobic one accused her of sleeping with Taylor York and it not being Christian or something among other things, and also he wrote this really unnecessary article about an AbsolutePunk thread where guys were talking about whether they'd fuck her or not. I think this explains a lot about how the entire Paramore conversation in the book is just a bunch of random incels whining about something that has nothing to do with them

Quotes HIMSELF saying the "Farro brothers finally left the band." At the time of the article he quotes himself on, one of the Farro brothers was already back in the band and is still in the band. But that cuts against his cute little story about Hayley being a bitch everyone hates, so he had to quote his own lie I guess. Enough about Paramore

When white band dudes like Ryan and Spencer's addictions are discussed, it is always framed in polite euphemisms. When Black musicians like Travie are mentioned in the book, it starts bringing out scary scientific drug names. Not cool.

Has this random nobody who is way too young to be an authority on this say that Pete's hardcore band was one of the first bands to address women's issues. This is absolutely ridiculous and a flat out lie. Almost a decade before this band even formed, Riot Grrrl started as a specific reaction to women's issues in hardcore. A lot of the hardcore bands Pete was playing with were explicitly and adamantly pro-life. The idea that Pete Wentz pioneered feminism in music is completely fucking ludicrous, I hate it so much.

Quotes someone who plays in a band that has written multiple songs mocking feminism and discussions of sexual assault and rape culture as saying there was no sexual assault on Warped Tour. This one in particular makes me homicidal

Somehow can't muster up a woman to ask about sexual assault in the scene, but suddenly pulls out all these random women nobody's heard of to say they know for a fact all these band dudes are straight

As a note to the above, I understand sexuality is very personal and a lot of these band dudes are straight. But that section was so mean spirited and weird and unnecessary and there were better ways to handle it, like having GNC or gay fans talk about how it meant a lot these straight guys supported gay rights early on, or how the gender nonconformity from straight guys in emo made them comfortable, or how Gerard/Brendon being out as NB/pan made them feel represented. Instead it's just weird and uncomfortable to have these random women say "I never saw anybody do anything gay!!!!"

Quotes this random journalist as basically saying Pete refused to admit if he attempted suicide or not and spun it up to get attention. This same journalist also claims to be know FOB and MCR personally and know they have beef. IDK maybe they are friends but I feel like someone legit friends with Pete would not say something so insensitive to not only him, but people who OD or struggle with suicidal ideation in general.

The lack of meaningful discussion about Brand New-- not only disrespecting the women Lacey hurt by not addressing the allegations at all, but also disrespecting Jesse Lacey himself by talking about his band basically like he wasn't in it. The name "Jesse Lacey" is only used six times. It's like he wanted to get paid fanboy about Brand New so badly he didn't care about anybody but me, me, me.

Stuff like this goes on and on and on but you get the point.

Also I want to say that I felt constantly confused on what was going on and what the fuck people were even talking about and I am very familiar with all this band lore. I've read other oral histories for bands I knew nothing about and didn't feel confused at all. This one is just badly done.

He is a bad writer. He is obsessed with quoting himself when his articles aren't well-written, and he, like most people in the book, is a nobody.

The introduction in particular is badly written. It is very obvious he felt guilty about the way he covered Brand New and sexual assault in the scene and was scared someone was going to call his bullshit. So he wrote this weird mea culpa to feminists at the front like Please Forgive Me For Loving Tortured Artist Jesse Lacey but he couldn't put it at the very front because it would be too obvious, so he wrote this weird intro where he tries to connect Paramore/MCR/FOB/Panic/Warped/VMAs in a way that is very weird and illogical and falls flat because there is no real emotion or sense behind it and it only serves as a vehicle for his Mea Culpa To Feminists. It's so weird and awkward and Paramore are, again, a complete afterthought in it. He also makes a kind of gross comment about Hayley's voice just magically affecting people's bodies after he goes on and on about how these MEN suffered and worked hard for their music. Because, y'know, she didn't.

There is no transition into the weird apology either, it is so awkward and out of nowhere after this bizarre and shitty intro.

ALSO SORRY JUST THOUGHT OF THIS there is zero discussion or acknowledgement of Gerard's gender identity in this AT ALL. I would need to go through the book but I'm pretty sure only he/him pronouns are used as well. No wonder 3/4ths of MCR were not willing to be interviewed by this chump

Last comment but in that introduction he tries to make it out like he cares about women's issues and thinks what Lacey did was wrong but the people he is quoting from on sexual assault absolutely screams otherwise. He is a sniveling coward.

TLDR if I wanted to read nobodies whine about their bad and wrong opinions on emo music I would go on Reddit . Which is fitting because he QUOTED A REDDIT MODERATOR

#where are your boys tonight

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run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 1 year

Note

Would you consider writing something about izzy being turned on, but also VERY self conscious, about the age gap between himself and reader? (Both are obviously adults)

You Shoot Your Shot with First Mate Hands (semi-NSFW):

Of course, during their shore leave, Bonnet’s crew had chosen to infest the one tavern in this port that Izzy could stand. So, he was forced to visit the same establishment as them.

As expected, the crew had left him to himself, which he was at least grateful for. He was able to take his preferred seat in a quiet corner with a drink and just observe the other patrons while the rest of the crew busied themselves with drinking their wages worth of booze. He could just ignore them for the most part…at least, he would be able to if you weren’t there.

No matter how hard he tried, his attention was always dragged back to you. Watching you speaking with the rest of the crew, laughing joyfully at their jokes, leaning over the table with a bright smile to take the drink being served to you. A part of him admired the way you weaved through the other patrons with ease, finding an easy closeness with your crewmates. It was an ease that Izzy felt came with being of a younger age, when having fun on shore leave was more important than worrying about the ship.

What Izzy always seemed to miss in his observations, though, was that you were watching him too. Even as Frenchie chatted to you, a conversation you were genuinely invested in, you couldn’t help but steal glances at the isolated first mate. Sat in the back of the room, drink in hand. He certainly gave off the vibe that he didn’t want anyone bothering him, that he was here for a stiff drink before getting on with his night.

Over the brim of your tankard, you watched Izzy. Surely, the rest of the crew knew who had your attention. The two of you had been dancing around each other for a while now. You hadn’t missed the looks he sent in your direction, the way he reacted when you were close by, the way he flushed when you decided to flirt from time to time.

It had never felt like the right time to try for anything more but maybe shore leave would put some separation between the two of you and your positions aboard the Revenge.

Tonight, you were going to make your move.

Once the crew was distracted with a story that Black Pete was telling, you slipped away from the group. They would probably notice you were missing at some point but know not to interrupt when they saw you with Izzy, you had not been secretive about your interest in him. If nothing else, Lucius would support you in your goals and make sure nobody ruined your chances.

Izzy quickly noticed you approaching, watching you as you walked up to his table. You just smiled at him as you perched yourself on the bench with him, close enough to seem familiar, but not close enough to make him uncomfortable.

“What are you doing sitting all on your lonesome over here?” you tried to keep your tone as neutral as possible, while hoping he didn’t miss the underlying suggestiveness.

“That's the best pick up line you’ve got?” Izzy scoffed. He sounded unimpressed but you saw the way he shifted in his seat, put on edge by your presence.

“Do you want me to be picking you up?” you smirked, elbow resting on the table as you lent towards him.

“Fuck off,” he turned his face away from you.

“Tell me to fuck off again and I will, I’m not an asshole. So, no saying it unless you really mean it,” your voice turned serious, verging on stern, and that caused Izzy to look at you again.

He assessed you. You had backed up ever so slightly, allowing him some space, and your expression was serious. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking, but maybe that was the point.

“Who says I don’t really mean it?” Izzy huffed.

“You really want me to answer that honestly, Iz?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“Fuck you,” Izzy looked away from you again but the change felt purposeful, and that put the smile back on your face.

Leaning towards him again, you peered into his tankard. It looked like rum but you couldn’t be sure. “What’cha drinking? Can I get you another one?” you asked.

“Still got plenty left,” Izzy shrugged.

“Really making me work for it here,” you joked, not letting it deter you. If he didn’t want your company at all, Izzy would definitely let you know. “On a serious note though, why aren’t you mingling with the crew?”

Izzy lifted his tankard up to his face, not managing to mask his scowl. “I couldn’t think of anything worse.” He took a drink.

“Oh c’mon, I think you’d have fun. I think Ivan and Fang would appreciate it and I’m sure the crew would like to get to know you better.” You would love him to get along with the crew a little more, to join them during times of recreation, but a selfish part of you liked having him all to yourself.

Izzy looked at you again. And you definitely didn’t preen under the way he looked you up and down. “I’m talking to you, right?”

“Sure,” you nodded.

“There. I’m mingling with the crew,” Izzy shrugged, fiddling with the handle of his tankard as he placed it down on the table again.

“Baby steps,” you agreed, amused and pleased. You lent towards him some more, still not touching him but pressing into his space. “Care to do a little more mingling?” you asked, voice lowering a little.

Izzy wasn’t stupid, your attempts at flirting were blatant. Admittedly it had been a long time since he had actively attempted to flirt with anyone or anyone had been forward about their attempts at flirting, but he still recognised it.

You were young and carefree, something he both envied and resented.

He had never been very carefree but he had been more so than he was now when he was younger. Edward and Jack had always been far more careless than him, having confidence that Izzy could never even hope to achieve. You reminded him of them, a little. Bright eyes and smiles, charming and alluring.

Now you were looking at him, smiling brilliantly at him, like he had put the stars in the sky.

“Do you think you’re being subtle?” Izzy asked, genuinely curious. Was this your idea of subtlety or were you really just that unashamed about it?

“I hope not!” you almost looked offended that he would dare accuse you of subtlety. “Think my motives here are pretty obvious. Sliding up to a man all alone in some tavern of ill repute,” you hummed, brushing your fingertips over the tabletop, nearly touching his arm.

“It’s not-it’s just a normal tavern,” Izzy grumbled, cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

“Have some imagination, Iz,” you tease. Maybe he wasn’t one for roleplay, maybe this just wasn’t the time. “I’m not just some crewmember of yours, I’m an exciting stranger in the establishment you’re visiting. An exciting stranger who took an interest in the handsome pirate sitting in the corner, the handsome pirate who I definitely happen to share some tension with.”

“Fucking hell,” Izzy definitely wasn’t going to play along with that fantasy but he seem somewhat amused by it, and that was enough for you. “Think I’d rather you just be yourself,” he confessed with a mutter.

You couldn’t help but smile, expression softening a little. “Aw, Iz. That’s actually pretty sweet.”

That had the blush on his face deepening. “I didn’t…fuck it, whatever,” turning his face again once again didn’t hide his blush, you could still see the warm colour creeping up his neck.

You bit down on your lip to hold back a giggle.

You both knew perfectly well why you came over here, where this would hopefully be going. Izzy clearly wasn’t an enjoyer of small talk, and he really wasn’t giving you much to work with, so you decided to just get right to the point.

“Can I kiss you?” Perhaps with somebody else you would have let things happen a little more naturally but you didn’t feel like being stabbed for assuming and trying to kiss him without asking explicitly.

“What the fuck?” Izzy breathed out, head snapping to face you again, but there was no bite to his words.

“Can I kiss you?” you repeated, clear and soft. Not a hint of teasing or joke.

“No, I heard you,” he muttered, taking another short drink from his tankard.

“I want to kiss you, Iz, have for a while now. And I think you want to kiss me too.”

“That’s presumptuous.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even as he spoke into his tankard his flush turned more red. “So you don’t want me? You just stare at me because…you like my fashion sense and you’re looking for ideas? When you’re watching my mouth when I talk, you’re just reading my lips, right? Yeah, Iz, I see you,” you felt a little bad when he started to look honestly embarrassed, but you weren’t mocking him, so you continued. “I see you because I watch you too, love the way you can’t look away from my mouth when we’re talking, the way I can feel your eyes on me, feel my knees going weak when you’re pissed off and get all up in my face.”

“You don’t have to make fun,” Izzy grimaced down at his emptying cup, his grip on the handle tense and tight.

“Izzy, I’m not…I mean it.” It was the softness and sincerity of your tone that gave Izzy the ability to actually meet your gaze.

He still looked cautious as he assessed you, as if he may be walking into some sort of trap. “You don’t mind?” he questioned.

It took you a second to realise just what he was asking. Asking if you didn’t mind the way he looked at you, the interest he took in you. “Why would I mind?”

“Your first mate, a man 20 or 30 years your senior, leering at you.” He was glaring but not at you, you had a feeling it was directed more at himself.

Ah, now you were seeing what was bothering him. You gave him a small smile. He tensed when you placed your hand on his knee but relaxed a little when it just stayed there, like a grounding weight. “I don’t feel like you’re leering, just watching. You’re not some creepy old man, Izzy. You’re the smoking hot first mate,” you assured him, balancing the right amount of sincerity with flirty.

“Fucking hell.” There was an element of disbelief to his breathy curse.

“You like me, I like you. That’s that,” you shrugged, as if it were that simple. And, of course, it was that simple if Izzy could get out of his own head. You let your words sink in for a moment, let him process them in whatever way he needed, before giving his knee a small squeeze. “So…about kissing you?”

Izzy released his hold on his tankard and sat back slightly. He looked down at your hand against his knee, still unmoving, before meeting your gaze again. “How much have you had to drink?” Izzy asked.

A part of you felt frustrated that he felt you could only hit on him when you were drunk, but another part of you felt fond that he would worry about it. “I’m not drunk,” you assured him.

“How much?” Izzy repeated sternly. You hadn’t actually answered his question.

“Like three? Enough for a bit of a buzz but I promise I am in the right mind to make these sorts of decisions. Want me to walk in a straight line to prove it?” you asked, only a little teasingly.

“No, fucking hell,” Izzy huffed, rolling his eyes.

“And what about you?” you asked. You had come over here to finally make a move, certainly not to take advantage.

“I was on my first drink when you came over,” he told you, nodding towards the tankard that only had the dregs of his drink left.

“So…now can I kiss you?”

The question lingered for a moment, Izzy only watching you. You were sitting close, though the hand against his knee was the only way you were touching him, it was nearly respectful. You were watching him with shimmering eyes, all hopeful but honest.

“Suppose so,” he had aimed to sound unaffected, almost disinterested, but instead it came out a little shaky and quiet. He would have cursed himself for it if you gave him a change.

Feeling almost overwhelmed with fondness for Izzy’s little oddities, you lifted your hand from his knee and cupped his cheek. Then, your mouth was on his, warm but hesitant. You were light and cautious, lips brushing his before pressing a little closer.

Overcoming the initial pause your kiss had caused him, Izzy timidly returned your kiss. Feeling his reciprocation, you smiled into the kiss and pressed a little closer, sliding along the bench until your thigh was pressed against his.

You sighed contently into his mouth before running your tongue over his bottom lip, and just like that, the tavern fell away around you both. Suddenly, Izzy couldn’t hear the shouting and clatter of the tavern, couldn’t even bring himself to think about the other patrons or the crew that really wasn’t all that far away.

Just then, it was only the two of you. You were the only thing Izzy could pay any mind too. He found himself lifting his hands from his lap, a hand curling around the back of your neck and his other resting against your waist. His lips parting, allowing you in.

Feeling the change in his demeanour, you found yourself helplessly climbing into his lap. It was a little awkward with the table in the way but you positioned yourself in his lap, a knee on either side of his hips, a hand on the underside of his jaw and the other buried in his hair.

Izzy tilted his chin up, ensuring you didn’t break the kiss as you moved. The hand on the back of your neck remained, holding you close enough that he couldn’t lose your mouth, while his other arm slipped instinctively around your waist to keep you steady in his lap.

His mouth was hot and searching, inhibitions fading quick. You pressed yourself closer, the kiss becoming more desperate as your body pressed against his. Izzy gasped as you rolled your hips down and against his, already feeling him growing hard beneath you.

That seemed to snap Izzy back to reality, reminding him of where the two of you were. He pulled back, breaking the kiss. The two of you breathing hard, faces flushed and lips kiss bitten.

“People will see,” Izzy warned breathlessly.

“Let them see, I don’t care,” you shrugged, hands on his shoulders.

Izzy’s breath hitched as you settled comfortably down against his crotch, thumbs rubbing small circles into his shoulders.

“The crew…” you could practically hear his arguments growing weaker.

“Don’t care about the crew seeing,” you admitted, dipping your head down to press a kiss to his jaw. “Let them see that I have the attention of Israel Hands.” He could feel you smirking against his neck as you planted a few more kisses.

“Fuck,” Izzy groaned, taking hold of the nape of your neck. You didn’t protest, let him lift your head and bring you back in for another kiss. All of a sudden, he felt like he needed to kiss you like he needed to breathe.

You nipped at his bottom lip before pulling back again. “But if it’s bothering you, I have a room upstairs,” you informed him, innocently playing with the collar of his shirt.

Izzy looked up at you, eyes turning even darker, pupils blown out. You assumed that was a silent acceptance of your offer.

“Wanna come up to my room, Mister Hands?” you asked, as sultry as you could, batting your lashes at him. Laying it on thick, just to see that blush of his deepen.

“Do you want me too?” Izzy asked, hands settled on your hips.

“More than anything,” you couldn’t possibly sound more sincere and Izzy’s mouth went dry.

You weren’t going to lie to him, though, or downplay your own desires. You had been pining for him for too long, dreaming of this opportunity for too long, you definitely weren’t going to ruin it by playing coy or hard to get.

“Alright then,” Izzy nodded, voice only cracking a little.

You smiled brightly, kissing him once more before slipping off of his lap and from the table. Izzy cleared his throat and straightened out his clothing that you had ruffled, suddenly cursing his leather pants for failing to hide anything, before standing with you.

With another smile, this one fond and sweet, as you took his hand in yours and led him towards the stairs. Instinctively, Izzy looked over at where the crew was gathered, to see if they had noticed, to see how they were reacting.

They apparently hadn’t noticed your absence and hadn’t noticed the two of you holed up in the corner, or just didn’t care. They hadn’t noticed the two of you, too caught up in their own conversations and drunkenness to see how the two of you slipped through the tavern and disappeared up the stairs. The lack of audience helped Izzy relax some more.

Izzy followed you to your rented room, you only let go of his hand to unlock the door. You stepped inside, letting him follow you in, before closing the door again.

As soon as the door was shut, you wrapped your hand around the collar of Izzy’s waistcoat and pulled him towards you. You braced your weight back against the door as Izzy’s body collided with yours, one arm wrapping around his neck as you pulled him into a kiss.

He gripped your waist, steadying himself from your sudden manoeuvre, meeting your kiss with fervour. He couldn’t think about anything other than how you touched him, how you clung to him, like you just couldn’t get close enough. Your fingers threaded through his hair, a tug making him moan quietly.

You had pressed yourself between the door and your first mate, completely purposeful, and there was nowhere else you would rather be. The hand that wasn’t in his hair clutched at his shirt to pull him impossibly closer.

Your hips involuntarily rolled forward in the search for friction. Izzy’s hand slipped from your waist to your hip, his grip strong as he anchored you back against the door.

“Are you sure?” he asked, as if you hadn’t already been more than clear about what you wanted.

“Completely,” you nodded, close to whining about him being too far away when the reality was that he just wasn’t kissing you anymore.

“With…me?” Izzy asked again, more carefully this time. As if you had somehow misunderstood him the first time, like you forgot who you were standing in a room with.

“Izzy,” you sighed softly, bringing both of your hands to his face, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks and making sure he didn’t look away from you. “Of course with you. If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have come to sit with you. If I wanted somebody else, I’d be talking to them,” you told him, like it was obvious. He was your first choice, the person you wanted to spend your time with tonight. “I want you, I’ve wanted you, will want you after tonight as well,” you promised, tenderly caressing his cheek before asking, “you want this, Iz?”

“Yes. Fuck yes,” Izzy sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. “Just don’t want you to…regret-”

“You listen here, Izzy Hands,” you tutted, not even letting him finish the thought. “I won’t regret this. I won’t regret you. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.”

More than anything, you wanted Izzy to be able to see what you see. A feared pirate, a dedicated first mate, an insanely attractive man.

“I can, as long as you don’t give me a reason to regret it,” you insisted.

“I will,” Izzy sounded so certain, so sure that he would do something that would change your mind about him.

Maybe he would. Maybe he’d run off before the sun rose, maybe he would chastise and degrade you once you returned to the ship just so you didn’t think he was getting too soft on you, to remind you of where you both stood. You couldn’t predict how he would react, couldn’t predict how things would progress in the future, but that was just life.

“And I’ll forgive you.” Once again, you spoke as if things could be that simple.

“Why?” Izzy’s voice sounded strained.

“Because I like you and I think you’re worth it,” you smiled, running your fingers through his hair.

“Don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Izzy muttered but you would swear that you heard fondness in his voice.

“Plenty, probably. But that has nothing to do with this,” you joked, managing to pull a small smile from Izzy. “So…?” you started to play with the buttons of his waistcoat, waiting for him to give you the go ahead. Letting him decide whether he wanted you to continue or if he wanted to stop.

Izzy assessed you one more time before being hit with the realisation that you were perfectly capable of making these decisions, perfectly capable of knowing what you want and taking it.

It was only him getting in his own head about it, viewing himself as he leering older crewmates from the first ship he was on. That wasn’t the same as this, he never once put any pressure on you, you came to him, you wanted him. He could see that now.

You had invited him up to your room, had practically thrown yourself at him. He needed to fucking relax and let himself enjoy something good.

This time, it was Izzy that kissed you. A hand steadying your jaw as his lips met yours. You smiled into the kiss, wasting no time in getting your hands on him properly again. This time, Izzy took an active part in pressing you up against the door, letting himself give as good as he got.

You have his chest a small shove and the two of you clumsily made your way across the room. Deft hands worked on your clothes. You may not be as skilled at tying knots as Izzy, but you undid his ties downright expertly.

By the time the back of Izzy’s legs hit the bed, the two of you were down to your smalls. When Izzy sat on the edge of the bed, you followed fluidly, straddling his lap.

His hands stroked up your back, a little fascinated by the smooth skin. Skin yet to obtain the plethora of scars that came with a lifetime of piracy. Even more fascinated by the way you writhed and preened under his touch and attention, squirming shameless in his lap.

In a tangle of bed sheets, your hands endlessly explored Izzy’s skin. Kissing and nipping over his chest and stomach, licking over his silvery scars. Unfazed by the lifetime behind them, treating each of them as if they were precious.

One moment Izzy’s body was pressing you down against the mattress, the next your body was draped over his. Hands always roaming, mouths always busy, whether it be with kisses or rambled praise.

It couldn’t have been long after sunrise when Izzy woke up, a warm light soaking into the curtains. He woke up to an unfamiliar weight against his chest, and an even more unfamiliar warmth surrounding him.

Blinking himself awake properly, Izzy remembered where he was. In a room above the tavern the crew had been visiting the previous evening. He glanced down at the weight, finding you curled up against his body with your head pillowed on his chest.

You hummed in your sleep, nuzzling closer to him. Izzy was overcome with one inane thought, this was nice. It was warm and comfortable.

Slowly, as to not wake you, Izzy extracted himself from your embrace. Using only the slight light coming in through the window, he dressed and slipped out of the room, clicking the door shut behind him.

When you woke up, you stretched your body out and instinctively sought out the source of the warmth beside you. Much to your disappointment, you found no warm body beside you, just the empty space it once occupied. Still a little warm, but not at all what you actually wanted.

With a small frown, you glanced around the room to see that all of Izzy’s clothes were gone as well. So, he wasn’t just visiting the bathroom.

You flopped back down onto the mattress, sighing into the pillow. You weren’t too surprised that Izzy had run off for whatever reason he had come up with but it was still disappointing.

Burrowing into the pillows and blanket, you decided that you might as well make use of the room even if you didn’t have the first mate to share it with. Just as you were about to drop back off to sleep, the door creaked open.

You shot up in the bed, surprised by the intrusion, ready to face the intruder. But you quickly relaxed when you saw Izzy entering the room with a tray in his hands.

You just blinked at him, unsure of what to say. He didn’t speak either, just closed the door and gave you an awkward nod as he approached and placed the tray down on the bedside table. You eyed the tray of food and drink. Two mugs of coffee, and some bread and cheese. It was nothing fancy but certainly appreciated.

“Thought you ran off,” you confessed, watching him fuss over the tray.

“You paid for the room, thought I’d pay for breakfast,” he shrugged, silently pleading that you didn’t make a whole thing out of it.

“Holy shit, you’re a real gentleman, Iz,” you grinned. He supposed that was too bad, he still kept his attention on the tray in the hopes you didn’t catch his blush. You definitely did, though. “Okay, not get naked and back in bed,” you ordered lighty, patting the empty space beside you.

Izzy looked at you then, more confused than anything. You just chuckled at his expression before explaining, “you’re going to get undressed again so that I’m not underdressed for this date. Then you’re going to get back in here and we’re going to have breakfast in bed.”

Obviously, duh, how else would you spend the morning?

Izzy cleared his throat, deciding against thinking too much about how you called this a ‘date’. “Alright,” he nodded.

You at least had the decency not to watch him as he undressed, despite having seen it all already. Once he was down to his smalls, he climbed into the bed.

He placed the tray in front of you both and you helped yourself to one of the mugs. “I love cheap coffee in the morning,” you sighed happily into your mug before taking a sip.

“Does the job. Wakes you up,” Izzy took a generous drink of his own coffee.

“With a fucking jolt,” you laughed, nibbling on some bread and cheese. Izzy smiled into his mug.

The two of you ate and drank in a comfortable silence until your mugs were empty and all that was left was crumbs.

“How long until our shore leave is over?” you asked, placing your mug down and letting Izzy move the tray.

“Have until noon. Would’ve been better to leave in the morning but the captains didn’t want an early start,” Izzy informed you as he placed the tray back on the bedside table. You smiled a little, amused by his irritation with the captains.

“So, we have a couple of hours before having to get back to the ship?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, squinting at you slightly. You sounded like you were up to something.

“Brilliant,” you smiled happily and easily as you fell back down onto the bed, making yourself comfy.

Izzy admired the freeness in your movements, the way you stretched out like a cat in the sun. While he just sits beside you awkwardly.

“Lay with me, Iz. It’s our shore leave, we’re supposed to be relaxing,” you guided sweetly, still smiling but now looking at him.

Izzy sighed, feigning effort, but happily lay with you. And he didn’t complain when you snuggled up to him, arm draped over his waist and head resting on his chest. Just like the way he had woken up.

“This okay?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Izzy relaxed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you against him.

You hummed approvingly as you nuzzled your face into his neck, leaving little kisses against his skin. “This is nice,” you commented.

“Yeah…yeah, it is…” Izzy whispered up at the wooden board of the ceiling, letting his hand stroke up and down your side.

Maybe Izzy could allow himself to be a little selfish, to let himself enjoy whatever you’re willing to give him until you realise he didn’t deserve it.

#israel hands x reader #izzy hands x reader #ofmd izzy #izzy hands #ofmd x reader #ofmd #our flag means death

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ausetkmt · 4 months

Video

youtube

How to reduce the wealth gap between Black and white Americans | Kedra Newsom Reeves

The racial wealth gap in the United States is shocking: white families have a median wealth nearly 10 times greater than that of Black families. How did we get here, and how can we stop the gap from growing?

Wealth equity strategist Kedra Newsom Reeves provides a short history on the origins and perpetuation of racial wealth inequality in the US -- and outlines four ways financial institutions can expand opportunity for Black individuals, families, entrepreneurs and communities.

#How to reduce the wealth gap between Black and white Americans | Kedra Newsom Reeves #Racial Wealth Gap #American Economic Racism #10X #White economic racism.#Black Wage and Income Gap #Black Family Economic Gap

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redditreceipts · 7 months

Text

One of the worst consequences of patriarchy is unequal pay and the bad working conditions for women. These include:

no maternal leave

discriminatory hiring practices

harassment from higher-ups and colleagues

lesser pay

no or bad healthcare benefits

etc.

Also, the jobs typically occupied by women are paid worse around the world, while oftentimes being more demanding and higher in stress, such as nurses, teachers, cleaning personnel, etc.

Material equality is crucial for women’s liberation!

In the United States, women in unions make higher wages and reduce the gender pay gap significantly. Women in unions on average make 205 $ more per week. The union bonus is higher for women than for men, especially for Latina and Black women: unionized Latinas make 271 $ more per week, while Black women make 175 $ more per week. This effect is also true for Asian and white women (Asian women in unions make more than men lmao)

Unions provide health protection for female workers in precarious working conditions: 84 percent of unionized workers have access to employer-sponsored healthcare, while only 54 percent of non-unionized workers have access to healthcare

Patriarchy is a social construct that was implemented to extract free labour from women. Patriarchy is a justification for lesser pay, worse jobs, harassment in the workplace and a healthcare system that is centered around the male body.

If you want to help women, especially women of color, join a union today!

(source)

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fatphobiabusters · 4 months

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Sorry to ask a divisive and kinda subjective question but I’m wondering

Is Jack Black reclaimed fat humor?

I don't know about anyone else's opinion except my own. But for me, I don't see Jack Black as fat positive. I learned recently of one of his old works, and it was a movie that entirely depended on fatphobia for the premise and story. Then there's his other movies which have the guise of fat positivity while still promoting fatphobic stereotypes and humor that can just be summed up as "Haha, he's fat!" He also has supported Autism Speaks, though that factor should be taken with a grain of salt. From my quick double-check, it could be possible that he either didn't know how bad Autism Speaks is or doesn't support the organization anymore since he apparently has donated to other autism organizations as well, and he also seems to not have supported the organization in the past few years. But I can't say for sure what his thoughts were when he donated.

Similar to Shrek, Kung Fu Panda pretends to be fat positive by forcing a message akin to "Fat people aren't THAT bad. Some of them are funny! And maybe deserving of a little humanity. Sort of," while still heavily relying on fatphobic jokes, tropes, and stereotypes that take out the miniscule bite the original message even had. These types of movies, as well as Jack Black himself, are basically the "body positivity" of fat liberation—watered down, for profit, barely advocates for any change at all, and still purposefully at fat people's expense.

So that's why I personally am not a fan of his, but I'm not going to chew someone out for liking him because he's a much less important issue to me than stuff like the wage gap for fat people, all of the medical fatphobia, etc.

-Mod Worthy

#fatphobia #Jack Black #ask #lilitoraasi #Mod Worthy

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sofoulandfairaday · 4 months

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Please share all of your Sirius and Bellatrix thoughts ♥️

I have way too many, darling.

The TLDR is it is our choices that show us who we truly are, far more than our abilities. The long version is under the cut.

When reading about them I usually prefer stories where their original 8-9 year gap is preserved (it annoys me to no end when people write the Order and the Death Eaters as entirely made up of people in the same couple of years in Hogwarts —really? Was the conflict exclusively waged by child soldiers? Were Dumbledore and Voldemort just chilling before 1977, when they decided to start recruiting?). With that being said, I can also enjoy fics where - for shipping purposes - their ages are more compatible, to make them share time in Hogwarts or during the First Wizarding War.

I think they are very, very alike personality-wise. The narrative draws some delicious writing parallels between them, both physically and in their expressions, vices and virtues, and choices. Directly between them, might I add. The author underlines the difference between Bella and Narcissa more than once, we're meant to see it, and similarly we're meant to see the similarities between Bella & Sirius.

They are haughty, passionate, powerful, competent, arrogant, bright, much more intelligent than the fandom thinks they are. In general, they suffer from the stigmatization that many characters - but some people in real life do too - that someone who is intense and impulsive cannot possibly be as intelligent as people who are meek, soft-spoken, generally more controlled. Think what the fandom does to Sirius vs Remus and Bella vs her sisters, when every arrow points to the fact that they are actually the cleverest in these pairings.

They are both some shade of mentally ill, and not because of the curse of the Blacks - half the Blacks went mad didn't they? What's the saying? Every time a Black is born the gods flip a coin. god the Targaryen-Black parallels are gold - Sirius is very likely horribly depressed in OOTP, something no one around him seems to understand, infuriatingly. The only one that seems to get it is Harry, who has the literal Dark Lord living in his brain (= bigger problems to deal with). Bella is... I don't know what she is, ask me after my psychiatry module next year, but my money is on PTSD after Azkaban - after all, she didn't have the escape of an Animagus form behind bars. She would also very likely be victim-blamed for these different feelings, which would lend itself to a delicious nobody else in the world understands us but us type of post-Azkaban dark!fic which I would love to read.

They are both skilled at magic, and while they might despise each other for their respective political views, they respect each other because of this. Bella is probably above him in terms of magical power and skill, because she's 9 years older and because of Voldemort's training, but Sirius seemed to be keeping up quite well with her during their fight in the DoM.

Speaking of which, I am sure that Bellatrix's scream of triumph was due to her winning their duel, not because she thought she had killed him and that is probably the single thing I love the most about HBC's interpretation of her in the movies. That look. 10/10.

I am of the opinion that Bella is all bark and no bite when it comes to certain members of her family, especially her sisters. Sure, she might say that she wants to prune her family tree but 30 years later in the beginning of DH, she still calls Andromeda sister. I'm sure she would want nothing more than to put him under lock and key for the rest of his life and never let him escape, not kill him. And, to me, the way Sirius speaks of his family is very interesting. I'm sure he firmly believes that he hates them, but his actual feelings are more complex than that. You can hate someone and still desire their love, their respect. You can hate that they are the only people in the world who understand you - and hate yourself more in turn, for it.

Sirius seems to me like someone haunted by his own darkness. He, much like Harry, would be constantly worried that he's becoming like them. I'm sure it's a weak spot for him and I wish we had heard more bickering, or at least a full interaction between Bella and Sirius (I feel like she would claim him as hers, underline how much he cannot escape his own blood, even just to mock him/unsettle him in battle). But what Dumbledore says to Harry is true: it doesn't matter how alike they are, it's their choices that matter much more. And I feel like this is why the two of them would never reconcile in canon. They stand for different things.

I also think there might be some - and I know Freud is controversial nowadays, but bear with me - penis envy, on her part. Because Sirius was born the heir - something she would have given her left hand to be: to be born and die a Black instead of being expected to marry into another family - and he squandered it all away by consorting with werewolves and mudbloods. But no. He got everything and pissed on it, and it's just not fair. And by choosing not to come back, even in the two years after Regulus' death, he made sure that the Black Family name will die with him- and I think that is just something she can never ever forgive him.

Now. Everybody knows I don't like TCC and my preferred view of Bella is someone with fertility issues, even to the point of being sterile.

[I read an amazing fanfic once and a line from it stuck in my brain - "If I can't be life, then I'll be death"]

But. If we do see it as canon. This is also the reason why - despite being overjoyed at Delphi's birth - I am convinced that she wished for a boy when she was pregnant. If she had a boy with the Dark Lord, who couldn't possibly give them his name, the House of Black would have an heir. This is also the reason why I don't thing she was necessarily opposed to having children with Rodolphus - the "spare" would have been her heir.

Bellatrix would say that Regulus was her favourite cousin, but truth be told, it was really Sirius whom she respected more - at her core, in my opinion, Bellatrix is really only someone who respects power. Sirius is like her that way.

But Bellatrix is clearly a cruel person, which Sirius is not (or at least, he tries not to be: Kreacher and Snape are two very particular cases of people who are mean to him back). Also, Sirius' view of the world is much more egalitarian - If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals. Bellatrix is clearly someone who sees the world in terms of hierarchies, and lives within them (see: how she acts around Voldemort and what is implied of her treatment of house-elves who obey their masters: there is a scale and some serve others, and as long as they do so well they have certain rights; disobey, you get punished).

(Bellatrix is somewhat a feminist character but let's be real- she's not a revolutionary. She went to the Dark Lord and showed him just how powerful she was - aka my wand is bigger than all these male DEs' - and he said "okay, fair, I'll give you the Mark", thereby freeing herself. She is not a "equal representation for women inside terrorist organizations!!" type of girlie)

I also love how her death parallels Sirius'. It's thematically beautiful and it excuses her death coming at the hands of one Molly Weasley (who could never ever in a million years have beaten her on skill alone). She dies because she is arrogant. It's one of her traits. Overconfidence. She was always meant to die like that.

[coincidentally one of the reasons why she would not be a hufflepuff like some suggest: this woman is not humble]

I could go on, but I think I've rambled enough.

P.S. Let's not sleep on the fact that the two of them together would be hot.

#sirius black #bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix black #sirius x bellatrix #asks #answered

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isolarya · 8 months

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The Watchers

I think it's high time we talked about the Watchers, don't you? They're the monsters with a thousand eyes all in purple, seeking to hurt, to destroy-

Except they're not. These are Watchers told through stories and tales, passed down and down again. These are the Watchers we know, but there are others.

So let's talk about them. Let's go back.

Who are the Watchers?

(note from iso: these are my own opinions and headcanons! in no way take them as rules or me saying any other interpretations are wrong. they are all perfectly valid! this is just me making a fun headcanon and story based off an interesting fact i learned! but with fancy talk! this is honestly me just rewriting a lot of watcher stuff for personal headcanons)

This is my history of the Watchers, one piece at a time...

The Beginnings - PRE-EVO

Before Third Life, before Hermitcraft, there is Evo. The Watchers don't come from Evo. They come from before it, taken along on Grian's wings. They watch him, revel in his joy and take amusement in his falls. For now, they care about Grian, just like us. For them, there isn't much else to care about. How they found Grian, we may never know. But they did, and that's what matters. For a while, it is just a pesky bird- although he isn't quite that yet- and his many-eyed "friends". And then Grian lands in Evo.

The First Cohort - EVO

Before we remember the Watchers are gods, we must remember they were players first. When they land on Evo, they are still attached to Grian. in a way, they are part of him. His powers as admin seeps into them, and theirs into him. They watch the players with great interest, at first. But eventually, they do get bored. And so, the first portal is created. It hops them just a bit forward in time, into a slightly different universe, and the Watchers watch enjoy the new show. Then it happens again. And again. And again. Grian is the favourite, they soon learn. Chaos incarnate. The Watchers need entertainment, just like us, and Grian provides all the fun they could ever hope for. They like him, just as they used to. They play with him, even if he doesn't like it. He needs them, right? And they need him. It's fair, until it isn't. Finally, the Watchers have enough of this too. After long last, the players make it into the End. We all know the story. They find themselves alone on the pale yellow island in the void, with the black dragon looming above them. But there's something interesting about the End.

The Void - THE END

See, the End is in a void. A deadly void, full of stars that swarm you and kill you the moment you sink too deep. In the end, there is a portal, starry and shining and born of death, as dark as the void itself. And you jump in. You wake up, fresh in your bed, your anchor, your spawn. Do you wonder why? You died. But you wake up, because the universe loves you, blesses you with the precious gift of respawn. And here is where things change. Grian jumps into the portal. He dies.

With the Eyes - WITH THE WATCHERS

For a while, Grian is theirs. They take him away from Evo, claim him, pretend that everything is alright. After all, how is Grian supposed to be fun if he's upset? For a while, Grian is with the Watchers. It's fine, at first. The day the Watchers show him Evo again is the day they make their mistake. The one that changes everything. Grian refuses to toy with his friends. And so, he runs.

The Listeners - AFTER GRIAN

In the gap that Grian left behind, something new creeps into Evo. They know what the Watchers did. They know what needs to be done. And now, they aren't the only ones.

A Refuge - HERMITCRAFT SEASON SIX

For Grian, everything changes here. For the first time, he's not the focus of the Watchers' eye. Sure, they still swarm him and watch him, but that is nothing compared to Evo. Now, he has Scar and Mumbo and all the hermits and everything is going to be alright. Grian is safe. Sure, the Watchers may call for him to wage a little prank war, but what's the harm in that? Certainly nothing compared to Evo, that's for sure. Grian is free. The bird spreads its wings, and at last, it takes flight. His heart sings and sings and sings and he doesn't think he's ever been so happy in his life.

Canary Call - END OF EVO

Back in Grian's old home, the last remnants of the First Cohort linger. They've been dispersed, destroyed by time. And with their end comes Evo's end as well. The First Cohort dies that fateful night, forgotten by the Watchers that had left them behind. The Listeners escape the ruins of Evo, and they take the players with them. But it wasn't just the First Cohort that was left in the ruins. A second, older Watcher emerges from the darkness, and they change everything. They're going to go home.

Red on the Horizon - HERMITCRAFT SEASON SEVEN

At first, everything seems normal. The season starts like any other. They welcome Etho and Beef back, they have a bit of a base swap, Grian breaks down at least once- not necessarily in that order. Near the end of the season, Grian comes up with an idea. It'll be glorious. A game with three lives to live. Maybe he doesn't realise that's exactly what the Watchers want. Entertainment. They're excited, buzzing in their little corners of the world and watching with bright eyes like ours. Either way, Third Life begins.

To the Death - THIRD LIFE

The thing is, we all know what happens with Third Life. Loyalties are sworn, alliances are made, death is in the air. Whether the Watchers have a hand in this entertainment, who knows? When Third Life ends, the Red Army has fallen. The desert is a wasteland. The flower valley is abandoned. Dogwarts is silent. And above it all, there stands Grian, over a dear friend- perhaps more- who lies dead in the sand. Grian overlooks it all, and it is him the ghosts watch, accompanied by a thousand eyes. But Grian’s end is not the important thing here. No, it only brought a beginning to a new era of watching. The Watchers had followed Grian to Evo. To Hermitcraft. They had clung onto those players, twisting their tales to be entertaining. Why shouldn’t that happen with Third Life? It does.

Skyfall - HERMITCRAFT SEASON EIGHT

The Watchers are powerful. Where the First Cohort was passive, the new generation of Watchers take pride in leaning down and writing the story themselves. The beginning, the middle, and the end. The players are their puppets now, actors in a play until the end of time. And still, the Watchers are kind. The players are happy. No one knows why the moon fell. They weren't told then. You didn't know then. I can’t blame you. But let me tell you now. It was always going to be a means to an end. A world event, to bring the players together and a chance to weave new stories from the ashes, to test their control. To let them write their own stories too. The death of Season Eight was entertaining, if nothing else. And isn't that the only thing that matters? Are you happy yet? Entertained? Do you know what you have done?

The Rapture - EMPIRES

For the Watchers, the point of Third Life was never the game. It was the possibilities, the new players pulled from every corner of the world. It had never just been the hermits. When the game ended, the players went home. The Watchers followed. Here we stand, in Empires, where a new land was created by these players. Here, there are gods and deities, emperors and empires. There are Watchers. I call them the higher beings of Empires. They are not like the Watchers of Hermitcraft, who only twisted the strings of fate, nor the First Cohort, which only sought to be entertained. No. These new Watchers will create the story with the players as their puppets, even if they have to end the world to do it. You guessed this would happen. Are you pleased you are right? They listened to you. It only took a stroke of bad luck for Empires to end. An explosion, an earthquake, fire and ice and blade and ash. It could have been a coin flip. Heads, they survive. Tails, the world burns. But as we know, the coin was always going to land tails anyway. If it didn’t, what would be the point? Empires burns. The Watchers have won.

Martyn - ALONE

Sometimes, the last blessed one of the Listeners calls out. Jimmy has forgotten, and Martyn isn’t brave enough to fight them. So he turns to you. Is this what you want? Look at the fires of Empires, at the ruins of Season Eight, at the friendships shattered by the promise of lives. Look at the hurt you’ve caused. Can you still believe you didn’t care? This isn’t a show. This is a story, with real souls and real lives and real people. Why would you want this? So you will be entertained? The players are not happy anymore. It is your fault. Stop watching. Write your own story instead. Their book is closed.

Never the End - YOU

It was a good game, they say- you say. A good story. One that needed to be told. The players have done their part, and you have repaid them in good times, fun times, moments of joy. The hurt had always been there. It was a price that had to be paid. Now, they are happy. You are happy. It was been a good show. But are you happy? The players are not. Are you? When you look back on this tragic tale, will you be happy? Will you want more? Will you write them a happy ending? There are no happy endings in this story, you say. Only bittersweet ones. And really, isn’t it Grian’s fault that he’s hurting? After all, he was only ever meant to watch.

#the watchers #watchers #watcher grian #grian #martyn inthelittlewood #my writing #she is speaking

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