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matan4il · 3 months

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I saw your post about Noah and it just but a bee in my bonnet about how people in all sorts of fandoms have been doing similar things to Jewish actors (but it’s not as well known cause they’re obviously not as high profile as stranger things). I follow you from the 911 fandom, and I also watch 911 Lone Star and both Ronen Rubinstein (who plays TK) and Lisa Edelstein (who guest starred so isn’t a regular anymore but is iconic in her own right) have gotten hate. Ronen removed his twitter after people started calling him a Zionist and harassing him. Lisa turned comments off on some of her ig posts and specifically said it was so she wouldn’t get attacked. The only things those two have said are in regards to getting the hostages home safe or in reaction to the immediate events of Oct 7. Yet they’re being called supporters of genocide. The antisemitism disguised as “antizionism” is so fucking obvious and it’s sad how it’s infiltrated even the smaller fandoms if actors involved dare to be Jewish and express concern for fellow Jews.

Hi Nonnie!

First of all, yes. Sadly, there is not a single fandom I have been active in, that has been a safe space for Jews in general, and they've all become worse since Oct 7. So I'll talk a bit about the 911 fandom, but let's be clear that this fandom isn't the issue, it really is a symptom of a much bigger problem, which is very prevalent in online spaces, not just online fandoms. What I'll talk about is obviously not true for every single person, but it IS true for enough people, and especially for some very vocal ones, who shape what the "allowed" discourse is.

I have not been following what the 911 fandom does and says about Ronen Rubinstein for at least 2 years, but I can't say I'm surprised by what you told me.

I've written more than once about the fact that Jews are not white, not even the white passing ones. Also, I'm hardly the only Jew raising their voice about this, and yet I've noticed that the 911 fandom, which raged when half-white Eddie Diaz was not recognized as a POC by one fan, the fandom which has accepted Christopher Diaz as a POC (even though he's canonically only 25% Mexican, and is played by an actor who actually IS white, which means there's no arguing over the fact that Chris looks white), is also the fandom which has repeatedly conceptualized Ronen as a white guy, same for his character TK (even though he's canonically only half white), and with that view in mind there's been hostility towards Ronen that I've come across not long after 911LS just started. Ronen's family is from an area where Jews had been repeatedly slaughtered, including during the Holocaust for NOT being white less than one hundred years ago. TK looks white (you know, exactly like Chris), so that's enough to ignore Jewish identity, history, being native to the Middle East, and anti-Jewish persecution. Ronen gets conceptualized as a white oppressor. And as such, he's a fair target, even an encouraged one.

Gavin, whose character Chris is recognized as a POC, even though he himself is completely white.

Ronen, whose character TK is not recognized as a POC, even though the actor is fully Jewish.

Natacha, whose character Marjan is recognized as a POC, even though the actress herself is half white. She's also half Lebanese, Marjan is fully so, and whatever Arabs are, Jews are the exact same, because both groups are native to South West Asia (similarly, both groups come in a variety of skin tones).

So I'm not surprised that Ronen is being mistreated. Jews are mis-conceptualized as white, and the Israeli-Arab conflict gets mis-conceptualized by applying to it a race-based model imported from the US, in which Israelis are white Jews (even though 21% of our population is Arab, a part of our leadership is Arab and has been since the first Knesset was elected, over 70 years ago, and even though many of the Israeli soldiers fighting to protect us are Arabs... when the conflict is explained, they're all erased, and Israelis are only understood as - and blamed as - white Jews), who are evil oppressors of brown Arabs (even though some Arabs are just as white looking, or even whiter than some Jews). Then, this conflict is used to vilify and justify harassing Jewish actors, whether Noah in Stranger Things, Timothee Chalamet, or Ronen and Lisa.

Here are some white looking Palestinians, who always get ignored by the people conceptualizing the conflict as white vs brown people:

Two pics of Israeli soldiers killed, each pic from just one day in this war in Gaza, and you can see the diversity of skin tones...

Like I said, I haven't been following Ronen, but I did happen across a post that claimed he needs to be canceled for the crime of blocking people who the poster said were pro-Palestine. But in my experience, even when you're a Jew who is not being hateful towards Palestinians, you're just pro both groups, because you recognize they're both humans, the fact that you have the "audacity" to stand up for Jewish people and Jewish rights, and against the mis-representation of Jews in Israel, is enough for antisemitic bullies to use that to come after you with antisemitic abuse under the guise of being pro-Palestinian (here's just one example. I wonder how many Palestinians have been liberated by harassing Jews online. Pretty sure the answer is zero. I also always love how this crowd never actually stands up for Palestinians when they're wronged by fellow Arabs, in Kuwait, Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon or Syria. It's only the Jews who bother these "pro-Palestinians," not the actual well being of Palestinians). I'm sure that if we could see who Ronen was blocking, it would be the same kind of people who have been sending me these very caring, human rights-oriented messages:

^ This ask was specifically a response to my reply to an anon telling me I lost my claim to humanity when I became an Israeli (and me answering that that was at the age of 5 months, and that my parents' decision to bring me to Israel actually saved my life).

^ Just a small collection, nowhere near what I actually got, but I kept them 'coz I wanted to show people at some point what Jews who dare to not want Israel destroyed are subjected to. And Ronen probably got similar ones, he blocked them, and for saying he was blocking them, he got further hate... At what point are people going to wake up and see that this is how an antisemitic misinformation campaign works? Lots of Germans genuinely believed in the narrative that Jews backstabbed them during WWI. If you were to ask them in the 1930's whether they hate Jews simply for being Jews, they'd say no, that they hated Jews, because Jews deserved to be hated due to their actions. In the exact same way, now support of the existence of the Jewish state, not even of its specific policies, is being spun as justification to hate on Jews.

I'll say this again. This reply isn't about Ronen. It isn't about Noah. It isn't about Lisa. This isn't about a specific fandom. This is a call for people to wake up and smell the antisemitic coffee, the legitimization of Jews being harassed. Please don't be a part of it, and if you can, please speak up when you see others being a part of it. I KNOW that online, and def on Tumblr, the majority of posts you see justify the vilifaction of anyone who is pro Israel's existence, even while also being critical of its leadership. And it's easy, and it feels right, to go with what everyone else in your echo chamber says. But you can be that one guy in 1930's Germany who didn't do the heil Hitler. If you will be, it may not be easy, but I very much doubt you'd ever regret it.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #ask #911 lone star #ronen rubinstein #jr #anon ask #resources #911 abc #noah schnapp

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sometimesiwritebadly · 1 year

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Out of the Spotlight (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Garcia does a little totally harmless snooping and discovers Spencer’s secret girlfriend is a movie star.

Word Count: 3.2k

Notes: has it been almost two years since i posted on here? maybeee don’t worry about it. this is just pure fluff and some penelope/derek shenanigans

Masterlist

~~~

Penelope Garcia is, occasionally, too curious for her own good. She really doesn’t mean to snoop in her friend’s lives like this, but to be fair, she didn’t know she was snooping in Spencer’s life when she started. She thought she was just learning more about her most recent celebrity obsession; rising star and incredible actress, Y/N Y/L/N. She hadn’t even gone too far with it yet, really! It all started after she’d left the movie theater, where she finally got to see Y/N’s newest movie with Derek. He dropped her off at home, and she decided to follow the actress on instagram and scroll through some of her posts. Which is when she found one from three months ago that looked weirdly familiar. It was just a picture of some bookshelves, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. Then she saw that Y/N had tagged the location, and it was in D.C. The celebrity hadn’t given up the exact name of the bookstore; a slight annoyance for Penelope, but she knew it was probably just so Y/N would be able to visit the place again without a crowd of fans or paparazzi, so she’d let it slide this time. Penelope isn’t one to frequent bookstores, but she remembered Spencer had taken herself and JJ to a small bookshop when they had decided their new year's resolutions would be to read more often. Spencer kept trying to get them to read the classics, but both women were shopping the romance section, much to Spencer’s annoyance. So, she called an amused Derek back to her place so he could take her there.

“So we’re doing this because some actress may have been to the same bookstore three months ago?” He asked, driving with one hand as he talked to Penelope.

“Well when you say it like that it sounds silly!” She said, still scrolling through the instagram page. “Besides, it’s not just that, a lot of these pictures are in Quantico! What’s a big name actress like her doing here?” Since the discovery of the bookshop picture, she’d found 3 more that were obviously in the city; a well known coffee shop, a mall Penelope has spent way too much money at, and a picture of a sign from the nearest highway. There were some others that she thought might be, but there was no definitive proof to be found.

“She probably just has family here, baby girl.”

“Um, do I look like an amateur to you, hot stuff? The first thing I looked for was her family, who are all happily living far, far, away, thank you very much.” The next picture she scrolled to gave her pause. It was a picture of a TV with a still from Y/N’s breakout show on it, but a coffee table, with someone’s sock-clad feet on it, was just barely visible. The socks were covered with the logo for her show. It was captioned “Will it ever stop being weird to see myself on TV?”

“Does this look familiar to you?” Penelope held the phone in Derek’s line of sight, causing him to swerve the car a little and push her hand out of the way.

“Do you think that could wait until I’m not driving?” Penelope just rolled her eyes, taking a screenshot of the picture for future reference. In just a few short minutes, they were pulling into the parking lot of the bookstore. Penelope rushed in, with Derek strolling behind her. She quickly found the spot that was featured in Y/N’s instagram post.

“See! Told ya it was here!” She said, showing Derek the picture so he could compare it himself.

“Yup, definitely it is the same place. I still don’t see why this is a big deal though.”

Penelope opened her mouth to argue with him, but was interrupted by the store’s owner; a little old lady. “Can I help you two find anything today?”

“Oh, no ma’am. I just saw your store on my favorite actress’s instagram, and wanted to see it for myself.” Penelope explained, feeling a little bad for wasting the woman’s time. Maybe she’d find a book to buy, even though she’s not even finished with the last book she bought here.

“Oh! Miss Y/L/N, right? She and her boyfriend are around here all the time! What a nice little couple; her boyfriend is a little skinny though, I really need to make some cookies for him the next time they come by.” The woman explained, walking over to the wall of the store to point to a framed picture of herself and Y/N, signed and all.

“She has a boyfriend?” Penelope asked, shocked that she hadn’t at least figured it out. In all her snooping of Y/N’s instagram, she hadn’t seen a hint of a boyfriend.

“Oh, yes. They’ve been coming around for, goodness, six months now? They always buy each other books, it’s so adorable. He always buys her one of the classics, I think it was Romeo and Juliet last time. She usually gets a romance of some kind.” That made sense; the most recent picture on her instagram was one of two books; Romeo and Juliet, and The Duke and I. Eventually, Penelope and Derek made their way out of the bookstore, and that was the end of Penelope’s investigation of Y/N Y/L/N’s life.

Well, the end of Penelope’s investigation for that week.

It’s not like Penelope could track down Y/N Y/L/N’s secret boyfriend…not without seriously abusing her FBI database and maybe breaking a few privacy laws. She almost forgot about the trip to the bookstore, but during a rare case where she actually got to join the team on the jet, she noticed Spencer was reading something out of character.

“Uh, Reid?” He looked up from the book he was reading.

“What’s up?” He said, quietly, as everyone else was sleeping after the long case.

“Why are you reading The Duke and I? I thought you were a total book snob?” She asked, sitting across from him.

“Oh, um,” Nothing could hide the slight blush that appeared on his face. “A friend of mine told me to read it.”

“Like a girlfriend?” Penelope teased, watching as his blush became even more noticeable.

“Y-yeah. Uh. Like a girlfriend.” Spencer opened the book back up, hiding behind its cover and promptly ending the conversation. He brought his feet up onto the small table in between them, causing his pants to ride up just enough to show off his socks. One sock was just plain black, but the other one was covered in the logo for a familiar TV show.

“Are you a fan of Y/N Y/L/N too?” Spencer just looked up in confusion.

“What?”

“Your sock, that’s her show right? It’s really good, I watched it in like a day.”

Spencer’s eyes went back to the book. “Uh, yeah. It’s a great show.”

Sure, Penelope thought he was acting a little weird, but that’s just Spencer. He doesn’t talk about his life outside of work too often, but she was glad he at least told her about the girlfriend. Even if he wouldn’t tell her her name, she was sure she could figure something out. So the next day, she updated Derek on her new information about Spencer.

“Wait wait wait, Spencer was wearing socks with the show’s logo? And reading The Duke and I?” The two of them had been walking towards the BAU kitchen to get a cup of coffee to help them get through the paperwork day, but Derek had stopped walking abruptly when Penelope gave him those details.

“That’s what you’re most interested in? Not the fact that Spencer has a girlfriend?” Penelope asked.

“C’mon baby girl, it’s obvious that Spencer’s been dating someone.”

“What! You knew! And you didn’t tell me?”

Derek laughed, resuming their walk towards coffee and letting Penelope hurry along behind him. “Sorry cupcake, I figured you knew too. He’s just been so happy for the past few months, in the way only a lady would make him.”

“Ugh, ok, well some of us aren’t profilers, Derek. What’s so important about the socks and book?”

“Well,” Derek grabbed the coffee pot, pouring some into Penelope’s mug as he spoke. “Just a few weeks ago you dragged me to a bookstore, where we learned about a certain couple. A couple where the guy likes classics and the girl likes romance, right?”

“Yeah-Oh! No! There’s no way you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

“And didn’t Spencer get flustered when you mentioned her?” He asked, now pouring the coffee into his own mug.

“Oh my god! The socks!” Penelope pulled her phone out of the pocket, quickly making her way to the picture she’d saved. She showed it to Derek once again, this time zooming in on the coffee table. “Those are the socks he was wearing! On her instagram!”

“Uh, why are you staring at a picture of Spencer’s living room?” Penelope jumped, not having noticed that JJ was standing over her shoulder, looking at the picture on Penelope’s phone.

“Wait, you’re sure this is his living room? Like, 100%?” Penelope had never actually been to his place before.

“Uh, yeah, he babysits Henry a lot. Why, what’s the big deal about it?”

“Oh my god, Spencer is dating a movie star. Spencer Reid is dating a movie star!” Penelope couldn’t help but jump up and down, almost spilling her coffee.

And then Spencer walked into the room, promptly ending the gossip between coworkers before Spencer could hear.

Derek had made her promise to wait until Spencer was ready to talk about his relationship, but after an agonizing week, she felt like she was going to burst at the seams. So when she got a notification on their night off that Y/N had posted a new picture, she was aching to get more information about the secret relationship. This was, again, a picture in what she now knows is Spencer’s living room. This time, there was an open box of pizza on the table. It was captioned, “Lovely night in.”

So, naturally, Penelope immediately headed to Spencer’s.

~~~

Y/N doesn’t think it’s possible to be any more happy than she is right now.

8 months ago she’d just ended what was possibly the most disastrous relationship in the history of humankind. She’d made the classic mistake of dating a co-star; an older guy who was well known to be a bit of a playboy. The relationship had been extremely public; everything from their dates to their fights were somehow captured by paparazzi. His fans hated her, her fans hated him, and worst of all, the network was pushing them to be even more public in the hopes of gaining more viewers. At the end of it all, she was insanely grateful her character wouldn’t be returning for the next season as she was already booked for a movie. The only thing worse than breaking up with your co-star is having to continue playing his love interest.

And just when she was at her absolute lowest, having sworn off of ever dating someone in the spotlight again, she ran into Spencer.

After wrapping filming for a movie in Atlanta, the only reason she was even in D.C. was because her flight was forced to land early; a sudden storm was arriving and there was no way the plane would safely make it to New York. What started as an hour delay turned to three, then four, and before she knew it Y/N was stuck in town for a weekend.

She spent basically an entire day hiding away in her hotel room, so Y/N just had to get out and do something. It was still raining cats and dogs, and she’d never been in the city before, so she just googled the closest places that were still open. Luckily, there was a small bookstore just down the street, and there were a few books she’d heard about that she hadn’t had the chance to buy yet. So she put on her coat and practically ran to the store.

She was drenched and already regretting the decision to leave the hotel room by the time she walked into the building, but there was no point in turning back now. The place was practically empty anyways, Y/N only spotted an older woman reading a novel at the cash register. She slowly began browsing the shelves, not looking for anything in particular.

When she rounded one of the corners, however, she ran right into someone’s chest.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” She immediately apologized, looking up to find a cute man staring back at her. “I wasn’t paying any attention, I assumed I was the only one in here.”

“That’s alright, I, um, I wasn’t paying attention either.”

The guy standing before her was holding various books, all reminding Y/N of the books she was supposed to read (but never actually read) for her high school English classes. “So, do you exclusively read books written before the 20th century or are you just taking a college class in-” She read the title of the book on top of his pile; a collection of short stories by Edgar Allen Poe. “-depressing gothic short stories?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes a bit. “I just like a bit of a challenge when reading. And it’s a rainy day, which calls for ‘depressing gothic short stories,’ not–” He glanced at the one book she’d picked up, a cartoon covered book called Red, White, and Royal Blue. “What I can only assume is a cheesy romance.”

Despite his insult of her choice in books, Y/N couldn’t help the smile on her face. “Well maybe I like reading books that are actually entertaining, not reading so I can be confused by convoluted metaphors.”

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, their conversation was disrupted. “Y/N Y/L/N? Aren’t you from that doctor show on television?” Y/N turned to see the woman that had been at the register earlier slowly walking over.

“That’s me! It’s nice to meet you!” Y/N’s real smile suddenly switched to a smaller, more practiced one. It’s not that she didn’t love meeting fans–she’d just been enjoying a conversation with someone who wasn’t treating her differently.

“Oh I knew I recognized you! My granddaughter loves her show, she was so upset when you decided to transfer to that fancy british hospital and…” The woman started rambling on a bit about the stuff her character had done and how her granddaughter reacted to it. Y/N glanced over at the guy she’d been talking to, who seemed entertained by the whole interaction. “...Anyways, do you think we could take a picture? My granddaughter will just never believe you were here!”

“Of course, um, do you mind taking it for us…?”

“Spencer. Yeah, I’ll take the picture for you. Do you have a camera, Mrs. Waverly?” Clearly the guy, Spencer, was a bit of a regular here if he knew her by name.

“Yes, yes, it’s around here somewhere…” The woman scrambled off, muttering to herself about where she’d last seen the camera.

“So…” Spencer spoke first, breaking the somewhat awkward silence while they waited for Mrs. Waverly. “You read cheesy romances and star in cheesy Grey’s Anatomy knockoffs?”

“Hey! It wasn’t a Grey’s-” His pointed look made her stop. “Ok, it was totally a Grey’s Anatomy knockoff, but I’m not on the show anymore so you can’t make fun of me for it!”

Mrs. Waverly finally reappeared, with an old polaroid camera in her hands. The two quickly took a picture, which Y/N happily signed for the woman. By the time both Y/N and Spencer had bought their books, the rain had slowed to a light drizzle.

“So, um…” Spencer started, but trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“My hotel is just down the street.” Y/N said, pointing in the right direction. Spencer’s eyes widened a bit before Y/N realized what she’d said. “Not that I’m like, inviting you to my hotel room, I’m not, that’d be crazy, I just-” She cut herself off, trying to not ramble anymore. “Do you wanna walk with me? Tell me more about your depressing book?”

Luckily, Spencer wasn’t put off by her rambling. “I’d love to. Poe isn’t always depressing, really…” He started, as the two of you walked slowly towards your hotel.

From there, the short walk turned into a coffee date the next day, which turned into long FaceTimes while one or both of you were in different cities, which lead to where you are now; 8 months deep in a relationship and finally in town with Spencer. He’d still have work of course, but you’d be in town for the next two months as your next job wasn’t starting for a while.

The two of you were basically in an extended honeymoon phase. Only your closest friends knew that you were dating anyone, so you never had to worry about it leaking to the press. You figured when the two of you got more serious you’d eventually have to go public with the relationship, but for now it was nice having something just for you.

You were in Spencer’s apartment, scrolling through Netflix looking for something new to watch, when Spencer arrived home from work.

“I think my team knows that we’re dating.”

“What?”

Spencer made his way to the couch, laying down next to Y/N as he continued, “Well obviously JJ knows, but she said she wouldn’t tell anyone. I’m sure Hotch and Rossi at least have figured out that I’m dating someone, but I don’t think they care enough to figure out who. But today Garcia and Morgan were just acting weird. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if-”

Spencer was cut off by a knock at the door. “Spencer Reid if you don’t open this door right now I’m making Derek kick it down!”

“Let me guess…that’s Garcia.” Y/N said, laughing as Spencer rolled his eyes and got up to open the door.

“Spencer, are you actually dating a movie star? And you didn’t tell me?�� Garcia complained, not yet seeing Y/N sitting on the couch as she entered the room, solely focused on Spencer. Derek walked in next, immediately noticing Y/N and smiling at her. Y/N made her way over, trying not to laugh at Garcia’s widening eyes when she noticed her.

“Sorry, I think it’s my fault that he didn’t tell you. We’re just keeping things quiet right now.” You explained, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Derek was the first to grab your hand. “Derek Morgan. I’m sorry about all this, she was just curious.”

“I’m Penelope! And you’re Y/N and I love your work so much you don’t even know!” Penelope began rambling, taking Y/N’s arm in hers and leading her over to the couch as she talked about her favorite parts of Y/N’s movie. Derek and Spencer slowly followed, talking amongst themselves.

“So…Spencer Reid and Y/N Y/L/N. How’d that happen?” Derek asked.

Spencer smiled, thinking back to that night 8 months ago. “We met in a bookstore last year.”

Derek laughed, because of course Reid would meet a girl at a bookstore. “You happy?”

Again, he smiled. “I’ve never been happier.”

~~~

taglist

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @kenzi-woycehoski @esposadomd @andreasworlsboring101 @peculiarinsomniac

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fic #Criminal Minds #spencer reid fluff

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genericpuff · 3 months

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ok listen right

please don't take the implication of what i'm about to say the completely wrong way, there's a point i have to make here

there's this gross thing that happens in LO that's been definitely talked about numerous times (by many people) where fashion is used to label a character's like, "alignment" between "good" "bad" "pure" "tainted" etc. this is something that comes up a lot when discussing Minthe and Persephone because there are a LOAD of double standards in how Minthe was treated and viewed for dressing like a "slut" but then Persephone wears the exact same fit and suddenly she's a queen-

(image courtesy of @anoldplace on Instagram, I'll be showing a couple of their posts in this because they show off a lot of the great - and frankly disturbing - parallels in LO, whether intended by Rachel or not)

-but can we talk about how the "bad ending" version of Persephone where she ends up with Apollo slaps WAY FUCKING HARDER than anything we've seen her dressed in since she got with Hades ??

fucking hello?? where's THAT fit ??

you're telling me this girl is queen of the underworld and the best she can do in the fashion department is looking like a color-swapped version of Hera ???

and I WANNA MAKE THIS PERFECTLY CLEAR, this isn't me trying to say "Persephone would have been way cooler if she got with Apollo", that is FAR from the point, more so just pointing out the pattern of Rachel aligning "bad" with "dresses with more flavor than an extremely out-of-touch conservative boomer". Even when she tries to draw Persephone in more "out there" clothing it just comes across as ... tacky? And only at her own detriment?

Like, how the fuck is this supposed to be Persephone being drawn through a literal male gaze (Apollo):

And THIS is supposed to be Persephone being drawn from a female gaze (her own because she dressed herself):

Like literally how? How does this happen? Especially when the latter is STILL being framed from a male perspective (the green guy behind her, "Jeffrey") but we're supposed to believe it's some "boss babe" moment for Persephone to just be walking down the street while getting oggled inappropriately by a male onlooker? How could these scenes be any more different and yet more alike? She's still being objectified for the characters around her and the audience, but we're supposed to believe the second is better than the first one because... she chose to wear that?

Sure, one could argue that at least she dressed herself and that definitely gives her agency, but it's really Rachel telling on herself where her priorities are in trying to write a "feminist comic" that she had Persephone dress herself and then STILL have its only purpose be for men on the sidelines to stare at and objectify her. When you just know this same outfit would have undoubtedly been used to slut shame characters like Minthe or Thetis or Leuce.

I don't even know, man. The intentions in LO's writing are so confused, contradictory, and ultimately pointless. It's trying so hard to be "feminist" and a "deconstruction of purity culture" but then it turns around and reinforces all that same shit it's claiming to be fighting against anyways. Persephone would be an evil slut if she was with Apollo, look at her outfit! But not here, not the banana purse dress being oggled by strangers on the sidewalk, not now that she settled down with her old rich husband who she only knew for a couple weeks before being separated for 10 years but their love was just so strong and the thirst for dick so real that she and him loyally waited for one another until she was old enough to make it "not be creepy" anymore for them to hook up, but only after marriage. She's definitely not a gold digger like Minthe or a vapid slut like Thetis or a homewrecker like Leuce, nah.

I just wish she'd dress herself, for the love of god. Let her dress herself with her own input and not the influence of the people around her or the tone of the comic's own internalized misogyny that demands "woman must always be objectified for better or for worse, that is The Rule!"

Of course she can't "dress herself" though. She's an extension of Rachel and Rachel herself writes like an out-of-touch boomer who will and has gladly gone about how men are just clamoring at the bit to stare at her and get to her... but then claims she "didn't realize sexism was all that bad" until she started working on LO.

Sorry, this post got very long and very mean, I initially just wanted to make the comparison in a very silly haha "wild how bad ending Persephone has way more visual personality than good ending Persephone" way, but then I thought about it too long and pissed myself off LMAO

And no, I don't want to go back to beating the dead horse of "banana dress bad" because honestly, I think in any other context or comic, sure, it would be very cute to see her walking around in an outfit she chose herself even if it's "objectively" not a great outfit, it shows agency and not caring what other people think which is VERY freeing. But we're not reading that comic, we're reading LO, where a woman's worth and value is only determined by how the men around her react to her and only Persephone is allowed to be empowered by wearing outfits that would otherwise be treated as "slutty" if worn by anyone else.

I don't want the message to be "Persephone looks like a dumbass bimbo" or, on the flipside, "Persephone looks boring and out-of-touch", I want the message to be "Persephone is valid for dressing how she wants, just like how the women around her are valid for dressing how they want regardless of whether or not they're protagonists or antagonists."

Quit using women's fashion as an alignment chart, quit using these "not so sly for a misogynist guy" dogwhistles as a way to "other" the women around the power fantasy main character. Women deserve to dress how they want without shame or objectification - all women, not just the women you like.

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical

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charlottecutepie · 3 months

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☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

author note: Ive been thinking for a very long time whether I should publish this fic here. this is my fav fic I wrote for fnaf, I especially like the way I portrayed William here. so please, if any of you would like to see this story here, can you leave a comment? It’ll help me to understand. I’m just unsure if I should post this fic here :’’)

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 2.

Chapter 1. Thoughts

Chilly spring night. Light wind and rain. It's so fresh outside that the opposite effect appears: you feel as if you are suffocating from excess air. Outside is your favourite smell of wet grass after the rain. Light smile appears on your lips, and you carelessly go out on the porch of your house, looking at the beautiful view in front of you.

At such moments, everything around seems to be a part of you, you feel some kind of connection with nature and this world. Peace, tranquility, two things what you lack in life.

Today was a bad day. Maybe tomorrow will be better? Tomorrow will be the same. And when will it be better? Does this hell have an end?

Your head is filled with bad thoughts. It feels like every day is getting a little worse than the previous one. You never understood why you deserved such treatment from your father. It was as if he was doing everything so that you wouldn't feel like his daughter. He never even called you that. Something bad happened in your family every day, mom and dad always argued, and you always ran into your room in a state of panic, anxiety. What if father does something to her? That's what happened a few years ago. When you called your aunt in tears, begging her to come, because your father broke your mom's leg and beat her to a concussion. You could have been next if your aunt hadn't arrived on time. That evening, the picture of father changed dramatically in your little child's head.

“Father” means something cold, something cruel. The one who can punch, beat, shout, scream. Abuse.

You live with this thought to this day, but the only thing that has changed is that now there is no father anymore. He died a month ago, which was a shock to your whole little family. You hardly remember what happened exactly on the day of his death, but you clearly memorised your mother who cried all night because she knew well that the only one who could work to feed the family was her husband.

And now, because of this husband she cannot find a well-paid job, because he took care to provide her with a serious disability. And you're too young to work, first you must finish school and university.

Your skin was covered with goosebumps, you went back into the house. Passing by mom's room, you made sure that she was asleep and went to your own one.

Tomorrow is another day.

…

June 22.

“Y/n, breakfast is ready.” you heard mom's voice from the kitchen. Telling her you'd be coming soon, you headed to the bathroom to comb your hair and wash your face.

On the dining table you saw a plate with your favorite breakfast. Pancakes with honey, it couldn't not make you happy. You smiled and sat down opposite your mom. Woman was in a joyful mood.

“Good morning, dear, how did you sleep?” she asked gently, examining your face expression. That's how your conversation started, about everything and nothing at once. She told something about her plans for today, for a week, about her friends, about how one of them gave birth again. You just enjoyed her monologue, sometimes nodding and shaking your head. It was nice for you to see a sparkle in mom's eyes, it was something strange and unique for you, but warming soul. “I absolutely forgot that soon is your birthday!”

“Oh, really? If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have remembered…” you answered in confusion, fidgeting in your chair and twitching your leg. For some reason, the mention of your birthday made you uncomfortable. Probably because it will be your first birthday without your father. After all, when he was alive, you never really celebrated it. The maximum that was — sweets that your mother gave you in secret from him. You wonder what will happen this time?

“How are we going to celebrate?” Mom asked, smile on her face.

You looked at the floor, nervously fiddling with your shorts. You scratched your head, trying to think of something, but no idea came to mind. Your thoughts are empty again.

“It's your 18th birthday… We need to celebrate it well somehow.” for a second she paused, before looking at you with cheerful face. “Oh… Mr. Afton!”

Your eyes widened in surprise, because after the funeral, your family stopped communicating with Afton family.

“Mom, what are you up to?” you frowned. To be honest, you always got shivers running down your spine from his name, because your last meeting was at that cemetery, on the day of your father's funeral. Memories have entered your mind, forcing you to remember your last dialogue with Mr. Afton.

After the burial itself happened, you ran away from the crowd away. Your heart was racing like crazy, trying to jump out of your chest. You sat down on a wet bench, covering your face in hysterics. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping onto a puddle under the bench.

“Young lady,” a low-pitched male voice called you out of hysteria. “Everything is okay? You've been sitting here for hour.”

You opened your eyes and raised your head. Next to you was standing was a tall, middle-aged man with dark brown hair, dressed in black trousers and a jacket. He leaned towards you, holding an umbrella over your head. His face seemed painfully familiar, but because of the hysteria, you couldn't remember who it was.

“Oh god, Y/n? I didn't recognize you, little one. Why are you sitting here all alone?” he smiled broadly as he sat down next to you on the bench, still holding the umbrella for you. “Your mom is looking for you, she's so worried. Her beloved girl is lost.”

You recognised this man. It was none other than William Afton. One of your father's friends, he often came to visit you, and your family also visited him. You were embarrassed by ignoring his questions because you didn't know what to respond. He's been staring at your face the whole time.

“Come on, princess, I see how cold you are.” with these words, he took off his jacket, putting it on your shoulders. “I understand how hard it is for you, honey.”

You haven't received so many nicknames from any men for all your 17 years of life. Never, not once. His voice at some point began to seem more comfortable and soothing. Because of all the surging emotions, you burst into tears again in front of him, no longer hiding your face. William, not wasting a minute, threw umbrella and took you in his arms, so that your face was hidden in his chest. His cold hands stroked your hair, soothing you, calming you. It may have looked strange from out of context, but you really needed support in such hard moment.

“Don't cry, Y/n. You'll be fine, little one.” he talked and talked endlessly, but because of your own tears and sobs, you ignored everything, only burying your nose in his chest more.

“He's the owner of a pizzeria! Do you want to celebrate there? I'm sure he'll give us a discount in honor of such an event.” her smile never disappeared for a second. You were already beginning to doubt at how real her emotions were.

“Are you sure? We don't have much money anyway…”

“Never mind, I want you to finally have the best birthday, dear.” she winked and got up from the table, putting the plates and mugs in the sink.

Your lips curled at the thought of having to see William again.

#william afton smut #fnaf x reader #william afton x reader #steve raglan x reader #fnaf william afton #michael afton x reader #william afton imagines #fnaf x y/n

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twinklelilstarkey · 2 years

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Silence - Hangman

Words: 5.4k+ Type: Smut & Fluff Summary: After a fight, Jake invades your morning routine. Warnings: Fem!Reader. Mentions of fighting and it is a petty fight that escalated. Silent treatment. Some childish behaviors from both characters. SMUT {shower sex, piv sex, no protection}. from this request by @barbiegirlbaby

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

By clicking to read more, you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and mature enough to read mature scenes :)

You love your boyfriend. Love him more than anything on this Earth. And that is why you can say that he can be the most infuriating person you’ve ever met.

You two fight like any other couple. It’s never too many fights but they do happen, just whenever you two disagree on something strongly or when something goes slightly wrong and neither of you wants to admit your fault in the matter. Sometimes the fights can be big but, most of the time, they’re quite small. The two of you are good to go on the next morning, usually.

The argument you had yesterday night... it's debatable. You two argued over something extremely small. The argument became so ridiculous that even Jake started laughing at one point. It was a small thing that escalated to more because the both of you hadn’t had a good day at work and came home tired. If you knew you were to finish a night in that way, you would’ve slept in the car.

It was followed by the silent treatment. Jake started it by walking off and, when he came back to ask you for something, you decided to be petty and leave him in the silence for at least some minutes. When going to sleep, the two of you faced opposite sides and drifted off to the world of dreams eventually.

Jake woke up this morning earlier than you, as he usually does to work out in the morning. He saw you asleep and facing him this time, and he simply stared at you for quite a while. He knows that everything will be sorted by the first hour of either of you being awake, yet, still, he stayed in bed for just a little longer.

When you woke up, ready to go to work for the last day of the week, you can’t exactly say you were in a bad mood. You had the same plans as Jake: you wanted to make up. But something came up. You started with your usual morning routine. Started off by turning on the coffee machine so you have coffee to have with breakfast and to take to work, sort out your clothes, and much more.

But all of your plans of following your morning routine perfectly are ruined when you walk to the bathroom.

You’re just now standing in the doorway, hearing the shower running at full strength, and, obviously, occupied. Sure, you could use the other shower in the guest’s room, but you still need to grab your essentials inside this same shower to do it.

Your plans to make up with Jake disappeared from your mind for these exact seconds. Why is he still in the shower? By this time, he should’ve been more than done with the post-workout shower and already in the living room or something.

You walk inside the bathroom, looking at yourself in the just small fog that is appearing at the corners of the mirror. He probably didn’t start showering that long ago since the room doesn’t even feel hot yet. You let a sigh out loud and begin to undress.

You have to take a shower. You don’t have much time before work, and today also wouldn’t be the first time you’d do it with Jake with you. So, no problem at all.

Your shirt (originally Jake’s) is thrown into the laundry basket and so is your underwear, and, with only two steps, you’re standing by the shower. Jake doesn’t even react when you pull the curtain open. Yet, what he does not expect is to hear you get in behind him and close it back up. Something in his chest flourishes at the idea that maybe, just maybe, you’re going to talk to one another and be okay as always. But your silence continues.

Jake does consciously give you some space to stand in the shower too, even when he’s deep in his own mind, but when your eyes meet, that grin appears on his face. It’s this cocky grin that he does a lot, and you know it’s just to tease you.

“Good morning.” He tells you.

Your silence and look of no readable expression are enough to confirm Jake’s suspicions. You’re still mad.

You stand in front of him as he gives you space under the showerhead, and you turn your back to him, letting the hot water cascade down your body. Your silence continues as Jake stares at you as if you’ve grown 2 more heads, and he still lets his eyes look you up and down. You shut off the water and reach in for the product you need.

Jake hasn’t lost hope, in fact, this exact moment is fueling his mind with ideas. He leans in closer to you as you begin to scrub your arms with the soap, and you pause at the feeling of a pair of warm lips laying a kiss on your shoulder.

Your body likes to behave in ways you don’t want it to when it comes to your boyfriend, but, thankfully, you get back to washing yourself as before. Jake doesn’t stop when you go back to what you were doing. His kisses begin to move up your shoulder to the crook of your neck and eventually your neck. You try to ignore the chills running down your body. His kisses are simple against your skin. They're wet and loud in the silent shower. You can feel him stand mere inches behind you, and you can only swallow in dry and keep on going.

Jake then puts two and two together to understand that you’re trying to ignore him completely, not just his words. You’ve done this before, and it ended in a way he’s very proud to say was 5 minutes later. He can always try and see if he can make it faster.

He nips at the skin of your neck, and you almost flinch, so, he changes to your other side. The kisses are soft, and you’re constantly fighting your own body as your eyes want to close and force you to enjoy it. You can’t let them. Jake takes a step closer and lays a kiss on your head as well. You continue on with the soap, moving on to your chest and stomach, as well as ignoring him as best as you can.

“Still mad at me?” He whispers right into your ear, and he doesn’t get any sort of answer, “Because when I woke up to see you all cuddled up with me, I thought we were okay.”

You don’t let his words get to your head but you do almost gasp (again) when you feel his hands lay over your hips. You focus on keeping your breathing steady and seemingly unaffected and keep working the soap throughout your body. Jake pulls you back and closer to him, and you feel his chest against your back. You still don’t react, but you do put down the soap to just work the product with your hands.

Jake watches as you do it, his hands still by your hips and his head just beside yours. He watches as you spread the soap all throughout your naked body and continue to ignore his presence. One of his hands lifts and starts working the soap on your skin slowly. His hand is bigger than yours and harsher than yours, but it moves slowly and softly. No touch is harsh. His other hand eventually joins in, and you try to be petty to the point of washing over his hands, acting if they’re not there, but he doesn’t let you. He holds your hands as soon as they try to move over his. His arms still hold you, and he pulls you closer to him.

You don’t try to pull your hands away from his, but when he places a kiss on your cheek, you look at him. Jake is surprised to see you finally do it, but the look you're giving him is so unaffected at first, that it almost scares him. That is only until he notices that small little bit of defiance in your glance. After all, you’re playing as much as he is.

He lets go of your hands and, as you don’t move at first, his hands do and they continue to wash you. His palms and fingers spread the soap further, not hesitating into moving to your breasts. You don’t stop him. His skin works against yours as if with no problem. He does know every little inch of your skin as if it’s his, he has touched it, seen it, and tasted it many times before.

It’s when his hand begins to move over closer to your chest that you finally move. You grab the soap back to try to continue to wash the rest of your body, and Jake snatches it from your hand. You, now empty-handed, follow to see how the soap is taken into his hand and disappears behind you. You almost let yourself laugh when you feel the soap against your back. One of his hands lays the soap and the other one spreads it. You let him do it, and then, you stop feeling it.

You wait for only a few more seconds, acting as if you're still washing the already scrubbed skin, and finally turn around to look for your soap. You’re faced with Jake using your soap across his hairy chest, from both of his pecks to his abs, and you try to disconnect the part belonging to your petty brain from your horny brain for a little bit. He does the same thing he did to your back, one hand on the soap, and another one on his skin.

You watch him, trying to act as unbothered as possible, and wait to have your soap back. You look at his chest, forcing yourself to never get the urge to touch him or anything of the sort. When he’s done, even with his arms and shoulders - which you forced yourself not to stare at for too long -, you reach to get the soap back. But, unsurprisingly, Jake doesn’t let you take it.

“Do you want it?” He asks you as you just stare at the soap, “That comes with a price.”

You could not hold yourself for giving him a glare. He smiles at your annoyed expression and pretends to offer you the soap, but when you go to grab it, he pulls it away all over again. He leans closer to you and puts his hand (and the soap) behind his back. You look up at his face and wait for him to speak.

“You gotta ask.” He tells you, “First if you can have it, and, secondly… If I forgive you.”

Your glare was not held back yet again.

“Are you going to do it?” He asks you.

“Just give me the soap.”

He smiles down at you with his perfectly white straight teeth and leans his head closer to yours. He expects you, since you are mad, to pull back or away from him when he does it, but you do not move a muscle. Your noses are almost touching, and he still smiles down at your frowning face.

“Are you still mad over yesterday?” He asks you in a whisper.

The silence in the tiled bathroom almost makes his voice appear louder than it really is, and his words haunt your brain.

You continue to stare at him, from his smile to his eyes. You notice how his smile subsides a little and it’s substituted by his grin instead. His eyes continuously stare back into yours.

“Give me the soap.” You say very slowly while tilting your head a little higher.

His hand appears from behind his back, but you don’t take it just yet. You stare back up to see he hasn’t moved much, and his eyes appear softer now.

“Are you going to let me take it?” You ask, just in case.

“Are you going to stop ignoring me?”

“Are you going to apologize?”

Jake stays silent for just a little bit.

“Are you?” He asks in return.

You lean your head back just a bit to take a better look at his face and see how he just awaits your answer as much as you do his. He brings his face a little closer, and you let him. Your lips are almost touching and, under his breath, you hear him whisper.

“No deal, then.”

You bring your hand up and smack his pec, making the man laugh in your face and stand up straight once more. You turn around to look for an extra bar of soap, and Jake glues his body to yours right away. His arm is laid around your chest, and you try to ignore it as you keep looking.

He starts laying kisses on the side of your head now, then around your ear, your cheek, your temple, and your forehead. He takes his arm from around your chest and brings his hand with the soap back to your body. He washes your skin, moving down to your hips, ass, and thighs.

You let him do it. Why wouldn’t you? If you’re going to be late to work for sure at this rate, might as well go in knowing that you can make your boyfriend your servant every morning. Jake becomes so invested that he even turns you around to keep on going.

You watch him as he does everything with such a concentrated stare. Something inside of you made you forget what you were just doing seconds ago, noticing how soft and tender he’s being after being so terribly annoying.

“You missed a spot.” You say, eyeing your knee.

Jake can’t help but laugh at what you say, and you lift your leg to point at the so-identified ‘unwashed’ spot. Jake does as told. When the soaping is done, you watch as he throws the little bar over to its usual spot and begins to use his hands to work all through your body. He eventually comes back up and pulls you flush against him.

“Any more spots I missed?” He asks you.

That shouldn’t have made you laugh, or smile even, but it did. A small chuckle, one carried with an exhale, escapes your mouth, and Jake swears that he has never been prouder than in that exact moment. His slippery hands continue to hold you against him, and your hands move over to his forearms, planning on pushing him away.

You still don’t talk to him. God, you don’t even open your mouth to do so. Jake stares at you and swears that if he has to hold you in place and wait an hour for some sort of response, he will do it. Oh, and he would do it in a heartbeat.

You notice his need for your answer. Your boyfriend has always been determined to get what he wants, and that is why you open your mouth to speak. Words do not come out, though. Not a thing does. But you do lift your hand from his arm and turn on the water above you, surprisingly startling the pilot glued to you.

His hard work, all of the scrubbing and soaping around is washed with the water cascading the both of you, and you still haven’t said a word to him. So, even under the water, he holds you tighter to him, and you feel it. You look up at him and, when noticing that it’s easier said than done to stare into his eyes, you distract yourself by bringing water to his chest with your hand and letting the water wash away the soap.

It’s out of nowhere but, suddenly, Jake leans down and kisses you. It’s a peck, a simple kiss, just lips on top of lips for a few seconds.

The warm water is now hitting his shoulder and shielding you from the spray, and he begins to part his lips. You shouldn’t have kept on going with him. You should’ve stood your ground as the determined woman that you are. You have responsibilities for this morning, such as your work and the coffee machine in the kitchen. You know that. But Jake will always be hard to say ‘no’ to.

The kiss never becomes wild or desperate but does evolve into making out. One of your hands stays on his pec and the other one comes to hold the back of his head. Kissing made you forget your worries and your childish ways to fix real-life problems, and, deep down, you know you need to have him close to you all over again.

Jake is the one that breaks the kiss, and that leaves the two of you to stare at one another. He lifts a hand off your body and turns off the water, leaving the two of you in awful pure silence once more. His hand comes back to your body as you continue to stare at him, and Jake’s mind continues to try to remind him of his plan.

“I will still need an apology to continue on.” He whispers.

That breaks the bubble you were just in, but you don’t let him notice it.

“So do I.” You tell him too.

Jake squeezes you close to his body, and you swear that your torsos have never been this close, there is not an inch of skin that isn’t touching. He moves and takes a step closer to you, only to force you to take one step back due to the lack of space.

A clear gasp escapes your lips when your back hits the cold wall and, before you even have time to complain or send some sort of threatening glare at your boyfriend, he kisses you yet again. This time, it takes you way less time to kiss back.

The wall begins to warm up with your own temperature, and you feel one of Jake’s hands let go of you. Your fingers cling onto the wet strands of hair at the back of his head and even move further up to grab the longest ones. You only pull him to bring his mouth closer to yours - if that is even possible - and a groan leaves Jake’s lips, vibrating against your own.

He separates his lips from yours and begins to leave down a trail of kisses all the way over to your neck. It’s the kisses on your neck that almost make you melt and become one with the surface behind you. The warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the sensation of his tongue. All of it just to leave a trail of so desperately good kisses on your skin.

Jake’s vacant hand comes back to you, smoothing over your skin in the meantime. He palms at your hips, your ass, your thighs, anything that he can get a hold of. This was his plan to make you speak your sorrows and forgiveness, but he swears that it’s beginning to backfire.

He brings his lips back to yours, and you let out a small moan against his lips. Jake swears that sound alone is sacred, something carved from the world’s best, and it all reaches his ears simply because he is making you feel good while not doing much at all. He would be stupid to not consider himself lucky to have you.

The sounds of making out fill the empty bathroom, they appear louder and that only motivates the two of you to subconsciously deepen the kiss and grip each other more tightly. It doesn’t make sense how it works. It’s some sort of hypnosis that you give one another with just each other’s presence.

Before Jake can get lost in his plan even further, he pulls away from the kiss. He can feel the way your hand grips onto his hair to pull him back to it, but he doesn’t do it, he just stares at you. Your hand slides from the top of his head to the back yet again, and your touch almost makes him forget everything. He seriously needs to concentrate.

“Why did you stop?” You whisper innocently.

He leans in closer to you, acting as if he’s going to kiss you again, but he doesn’t do it.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” You whisper back to his mouth. Your mind has gone foggy after what just happened.

“Your apology.”

Your body goes rigid, snapped awake from your dreamland. You two are too close up to have this conversation, you can’t even look at his face right. Lack of patience grants you your next move. Your fingers cling onto his hair, and you push him away from your face by the strands. You look angry, angry at him.

“You really like to ruin things, don’t you?” You ask him, making his smirk reappear.

He doesn’t answer, he just grins proudly at himself.

You pull at his hair, and he inhales sharply at that. Your hold on his hair relaxes once he's distant enough, but he brings his face closer to yours again, unaffected by your actions. He looks at your angry face and pecks your lips just one time. The two of you can’t stay mad even if your life depended on it, so, Jake likes to abuse that theory.

“I’m not saying it until you agree to say it too.” You tell him before receiving another kiss on your lips.

Jake’s hand on your body begins to work the path it was making during your long kiss, and it squeezes and explores your flesh while the two of you stay silent.

“Say it.” He whispers against your lips.

His hand moves downwards and grabs onto your thigh. He grabs it and holds it to his hip. You let him do it, already feeling the flame awake at the very bottom of your stomach.

“Say it.” He repeats. “Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Some sort of warm shiver works through you, and you bring your mouth closer to his. He pulls back, giving you the same space as before. He presses a kiss on the corner of your mouth and brings his mouth to hover back over yours, but he doesn’t kiss you anymore.

“Say it with me, then.” You whisper back at him, trying not to smile at him. “We can say it at the same time, and it all will be done.”

Jake analyzes your face for a while, and nothing suspicious is noticed. You want to laugh at your plan or smile at the very least but you can’t. You need to focus. You work your fingers through his hair and remember how he was the one that was in your shower at this time of the morning. Exactly when he should’ve been out and about by then.

You need to remember the cause.

“On 3?” You ask him with a tiny smile.

Jake, still unaware of your plan, actually agrees to it, and you swore that it made your heart squeeze at it. Poor thing.

“One…” You whisper against his lips before pressing a kiss on his lips, so short yet so loving at the same time, “Two…” You do it again, yet this time Jake almost chases you, “Three…” There’s a beat of silence, “I’m so…”

You don’t finish your words, but Jake does.

“I’m sorry.”

By the time he gets to the last letter, he notices. He didn’t get or act mad at you, he chuckles against your mouth and pulls you in closer to him.

“Oh, you’re in trouble, now.” He says against your mouth, louder than a whisper.

You giggle when he attaches his mouth to yours, and he lets go of your body to grab onto your other thigh. It’s risky to do such a thing in the shower, but you seriously have much else to focus on.

You disconnect from the kiss to jump into his lap and wrap your legs around Jake, propping you up higher on the wall. You laugh your way up and then look down at your boyfriend. He still looks surprised that he was defeated after trying out his plan, but, right as you cradle his face close to you to kiss him, he forgets it.

His hands squeeze and hold you by the back of your thighs, your bodies are wet and glued to one another.

Midway through the kiss, he moves his hips against you, making you let out one of those heavenly sounds all over again. He’s hard against you, he has been for a while now. You deepen the kiss when he lifts one of his hands and begins to move his body to somewhat create a distance between you.

You can feel the tip of his cock between your folds in a space of a second, and you sigh into the kiss. You’re wet and have been ever since he was spreading the soap throughout your body. It’s with ease that he slides right in.

“Fuck.” He grunts when the two of you have to forcefully separate your kiss to breathe.

You move your hands to his shoulders and close your eyes while leaning your head on the wall. Jake is stretching you like he always does, and it feels way too good. Your walls squeeze his cock tightly, and your boyfriend breathes heavily at it.

You bring your lips back to his before your hips completely attach, and the two of you freely moan against each other’s mouths when it happens. Jake stays in place for just a second, giving you time to adjust to him.

Your entire body feels like it’s going to implode with how much you can feel and how much you missed every bit of this. When Jake begins to move his hips against yours, you cling to him and separate from the kiss to gasp for breath. He presses you against the wall and, sensing the low temperature of the tile, you gasp as another sort of shiver runs through you.

Jake begins to really move and his cock begins to easily slide back and forth inside of you. His hands on your thighs grip them forcefully. He watches as he slides in and out of you, his length collecting your slick and moving with such ease inside of you. Your walls grip him each time, and the sight of your naked wet body before him is just another reason for his body to burn under his skin.

The two of you try to kiss but it’s a lost effort. The pleasure is too high. It's some kind of turmoil in your stomach, tightening and twisting at every movement each of you moves. Every time you bring your moths together for a kiss, it's a plan lost. Your minds are going blank and blind to your objectives, completely lost in the pleasure.

You begin to move your hips as well, and Jake can only hold you tighter to him. Even the feeling of your wet torsos sliding on one another seems stimulating. Your boobs squished into his hairy chest, your stomach against his abs, his hands digging into your soft thighs. Everything feels too good.

“Jake” You moan his name right after you moved your own body to meet his thrusts. Your boyfriend groans into your skin, feeling your soaked warm walls squeeze his cock as he watches your face just above his. Your face frowned with pleasure while sweet sounds come out of your mouth time and time again.

“So good, baby. So good.” He whispers into the skin of your chest.

The sound of your skin slapping together is heard in the bathroom from time to time during the deeper thrusts. The bathroom is so silent and so echoey that you can hear everything. When you’re able to kiss, you can hear your lips connecting and disconnecting. You can also hear your breathing against one another’s mouths. You hear the wet noises of his cock going in and out of you. Everything.

Your hands move all throughout the skin that you can reach. You go from Jake’s hair to his neck, shoulders, and chest. Everything feels like him, everything feels exactly how you want it to feel. Your breasts move with each of Jake’s thrusts when you lean back on the wall, and your head falls back onto the tiles each time he brings his mouth to your skin.

The two of you aren’t sure why everything feels so good. It could be from not talking to one another. Going from not receiving any attention or touch to feeling all of it. Jake loves to feel your hands on him, and he loves to move his own around every inch of you. He swears that sometimes he holds you a little tighter because he can’t believe you’re even real, let alone his.

“Don’t stop, Jake, please, don’t sto-” You whisper breathlessly into his mouth, cutting yourself off with a moan.

He’s able to let go of one of your legs as it alone squeezes him closer to you, and he lets that same hand explore you. He holds your waist, your hips, your breasts… Even your face. Your kisses keep on going, sometimes being able to last a little longer than before as you're able to concentrate even when the pleasure keeps on building up.

You moan loudly against his mouth as soon as Jake's vacant hand finds your clit. His fingers move over the small nub time and time again. You move your body just as a mere reaction to his touch. There wouldn’t be a way that your own hands could ever compare to his, and you swear that he knows your body better than you do. He knows where and when to touch, where to kiss, where to squeeze, how to thrust, how to pinch, how to do everything.

Your orgasm approaches much sooner than you expect. The burning never really stops exploring your body and running through you from every artery and then every vein. Your body glues itself to Jake’s, wanting more of him attached to you. You whine into his kiss when you can’t exactly have that, and Jake just wraps his arm around you and squeezes you to him. He will always know what you need.

You detach from the kiss, letting out a moan of what seems more like a sob, and Jake keeps doing everything that you need. Even when his hand isn’t over your clit anymore, everything else is enough. His mouth on your neck, his hand digging on your thigh, and the way his thrusts just get more and more precise to exactly where you need him the most. It only takes him one more thrust, and you come absolutely undone around him.

The orgasm is so powerful, that your ears ring, and your vision goes white. Your body tenses up and relaxes in various ways and moves exactly like it did not too long ago. Your walls squeeze Jake’s cock and wet him to the point of the sounds becoming nastier and more addicting to listen to. And he cums right after you.

The two of you ride your highs together, bringing your lips to one another even if it's just to have that extra bit of skin touching. When done, you two kiss, and you can only lean onto Jake.

When you put your first foot down, Jake is still supporting most of your weight, yet you can still feel your leg shaking. That makes you chuckle, and Jake notices it just like you do, helping you stand when he lets go of your other leg.

You wrap your arms around his neck when both feet are on the ground, and his arms wrap around you securely. You look at one another for a few seconds, trying to be back to a normal heartbeat and breathing rhythm.

“I’m sorry.” You finally decide (and remember) to say it back to him.

Jake’s face washes in confusion.

“For what?”

You smile at him and shake your head as you begin to laugh. It takes the blonde a great bit of time to understand what you could possibly be apologizing for and, by the time he does it, you’re shamelessly giggling at him while leaning your face into his chest.

When he chuckles with you, you look back up at him and bring your hand to the back of his head to pull him into a kiss.

“You’re lucky I love you.” He tells you with a smile.

“I am.” You answer back with a smile of your own.

Before he could say anything, you turn back the water and let it practically hit Jake straight in the face. Your giggles fill the bathroom once more, and, all of a sudden, your laughter is broken with a gasp as Jake is able to reach in and turn the water to cold while you’re right in range.

Your laughter eventually comes back and it is then muffled with a kiss, making you melt onto him.

Hope you liked this!! Feedback is always appreciated <3

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dance-to-mythoughts-blog · 4 months

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Pro-hero Katsuki Bakugo x Pro-hero Black fem reader

Happy New Year Everyone! I hope everyone has a wonderful day and they enjoy themselves. I decided since I posted my first work earlier today why not provide a second one.

Synopsis: What happens when you fight fire with fire? You and Katsuki are the epitome of hatred. But when you are tired of his shit, what happens when fire meets fire?

Warnings: Dick in pussy, degrading, slight use of quirk play, nipple play, and swallowing, office sex, hate sex, nutting on ass, use of the word daddy ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

"Goddammit Katsuki! You always have to come and fuck up some shit dude! I told u I fucking had it! Now this bitch got away!" you screamed at the top of your lungs because again, Katsuki decided he wanted to take your shine away and paint you as a damsel in distress. You work for the top hero just like he does and can do the exact same things that he can but better!

"You sure about that brat?! Cause from the looks of it, you were about to get crushed like a fucking pancake until I saved your crying ass. So how about a little less bitching and a little more thanking since I saved you life!"

"You didn't save shit! I fucking had it. Now because you did that stupid shit dude got away. Not only did dude get away but you let that bitch Mirko get him and bring him to justice! MIRKO KATSUKI!!! OF all fucking heroes you let that nigga slip into her hands to bring him to justice."

You HATED THAT BITCH MIRKO. Since you guys were elementary-aged kids' you guys always had this fucking rivalry. Deep down you knew she was always better than you and you hated to admit that. And the fact that you guys had been going at it since yall were fucking kids and today was another mark on her Talley chart you were fucking heated! I mean heated so bad that the center of the earth would be damn cold because you were so fucking pissed of at him. You guys fought all the way back to the damn agency. Everyone knows you and Katsuki and oil and water but when you guys work together with your quirks, you guys are fucking unstoppable, which is why when the number one hero, Hawks added you guys on after graduation you were honored. There was so much paperwork that had to be filled out because you and Katsuki both had injuries and made kind of a big mess. It was late when people started dwindling out of the office when one of your mentors, Hellcat, stopped by your desk.

"Working late again sugar plum? You know it's not good to work all the damn time"

Taking in a deep heavy sigh " I know Auntie. But this work has to be done and I'm trying to take my mind off what happened earlier. I can't believe he did that goofy ass shit and let dude get away."

"You know baby, in watching the fight back again, he was actually right to defend you"

You looked at her surprised because you couldn't believe what she just said. She said that Bakugo had the right to defend you. That's fucking horse shit. "What!? Auntie that's crazy. Mans is self-centered and always wants to take my shine away. He's done it before so why is this time any different?"

"Well, that's part of being a hero. Accepting your flaws. Now I know both of you are fire. I went back to look at the fight and from the outside looking in, he did save you. You were about to take a huge hit that could've possibly killed you but you didn't because he did what he did. Sure, both of you came out bruised and a few buildings destroyed but if he hadn't, we would be planning a funeral right now for you. See you in the AM"

With that she left and really left you wondering why he decided to save your life. To think since you started working here 7 months ago and have been arguing with this man consistently and now he saved your life? Thats crazy. So, you decided to get on YouTube to see what Auntie was talking about. You typed i your hero name and the most recent fight popped up.

Dynamite saves hero name again. In reading the caption and the comments people were clowning you. They were saying how you should have not decided to be a hero but you should have done something else. It hurt. To see the people that you wanted to protect say such nasty cruel things about you hurt. You swallowed your pride and went to Bakugo's office. Upon nearing his office you could faintly hear him typing away on the computer. You knocked on the door.

"What?" Damn. This man is mean and doesn't have any fucking manners to just be saying what to people who want to talk.

"It's Y/N. Can I come in?"

"I don't fucking care". With that being said you opened the door and spoke to him. He mumbled something but you weren't able to hear what it was. He was focused on whatever the fuck he was doing on his fucking computer. Man didn't even look up once. You took the time to really study his features. Man was not ugly. He had a nice jawline, beautiful intense red eyes, and an undercut that you could see with the way he was angling his head. T-shirt that was tight enough to show his muscles, grey sweats that kind of hung low and some nike slides. He must've just taken a shower because he looks so good and looks like he is determined to finish whatever shit that he has going on.

"Thank you"

He looked up and cocked his eyebrow like he was confused.

"For?"

"Saving me. I went back and rewatched the fight with the villain earlier and I see how you came in and saved me. I appreciate it. If you had not done what you did I would completely be dead as fuck. Maybe you could help me train, considering those comments on YouTube about me are fucking nasty"

"What comments?" You went over to his desk to pull up YouTube. You pulled up the video, played it for him and showed him exactly what they were saying about you.

"Dynamite saves H/N. She sucks. He's going to be a fire ass pro hero. Sis is gone be like Daphne on Scooby Doo, the damsel in distress. Dynamite is fine as fuck. H/N is cute but her getting caught a lot makes her kind of dumb. H/N gradated at the top of her class at UA? More like on top of the monkey bars at the park because she's childish. " Hearing him read those comments out loud hurt a lot more when its read out loud than read silently. He could tell you're unconfortable so he decided to help.

"Oi.. you not trash. But you could be better. We jut have to work on your defense. Thats all. But you could stop getting your ass kicked every now and again "

"Well thanks. I still fucking hate you tho. But seriously. I am not a fucking damsel in distress. Sometimes I can take care of myself but what you did today was needed. "

"How are you going to tell me thank you then proceed to be a brat in the fucking process?"

"How are you going to be an asshole while I'm thanking you for saving my life? I bet you liked reading those fucking negative comments about me didn't you?"

He gave me a little smirk "I mean.. in a way they weren't wrong" God you felt so fucking offended. You were trying to thank him for saving your life and he round here playing like he ain't got no fucking common sense.

"Whatever. fuck you nigga" As you started to walk out, he grabbed your wrist. You looked at this man like he lost his fucking marbles. "what the fuck is you doing?! Let my wrist go ass"

"Oi..stop being such a fucking crybaby. You signed up for the wrong profession if you gone let some random motherfuckers make u cry like a baby"

"Are you serious? That shit they said is fucking rude and disrespectful. Not only that nobody likes your punk ass either. They to busy gawking over how big your dick is, if you have one, and how cute you are. They dont like yo bitch ass"

"WOW. Who said I dont have a big dick? If you wanna see it all you have to do is ask princess" he said smugly while he had a smirk on his face that made him look like a fucking god.

The name princess just kinda made you feels some kind of way. It made your cheeks blush red as a rose and your pussy started to get a heartbeat.

" For your information, I think your genitals are smooth like Barbie Ken because you act like a bitch and can't do anything right! Second of all, don't fucking call me princess. Third, fuck you. I'm officially leaving. You can try and find another partner who can put up with yo shit. Nigga im out."

The way he looked at you like you just pissed him off with that comment about barbie Ken.

"What the fuck did u say about my dick brat?"

You scoffed with a smirk "Hoe I said that you act like a bitch and you are so bitch made that you don't have a dick. You don't have anything down there where ya dick should be because you are a bitch. B.I.T.C.H" As you spelled out bitch and pointed to his face and pushed his chest with your pointer finger when you spelled out bitch. And boy oh boy did that piss him off beyond fucking repair. It happened so fucking fast that you didn't even see it coming. He stepped close to you and grabbed your throat and pushed you onto his desk, grabbed your throat to make you look at him and he looked deep into your eyes.

"You are such a fucking brat and I hate it. Like I said crybaby if you cant handle rejection and people talking crazy, then you need to pick a different profession. Stop doing that shit man. Fucking ridiculous. If you wanted to personally see my dick, then you could've just asked but no you have to go be a brat."

The whole time he was yelling at you, you couldn't help but think of all the nasty freak shit you wanted him to do to you. He just manhandled you in his office you're soaking wet like Niagra Falls. He leaned into your ear and said something that shook you to the core.

"Since you wanna know about my dick so bad princess, why don't I give it to you?" he said as he slightly bit the lobe of your ear and also dropped his voice deeper than normal. You don't know what came over you but you turned completely submissive. To let him have whatever he wants with you.

"Fuck. You can do what you want Katsuki. I don't care. you have permission to break me like an egg."

"Good girl" and he picked u up and pushed you onto the table. Spreading your legs so he had enough access to feel your core throbbing and being soaking wet for him. He kissed you passionately. His lips were soft and warm. His kiss was fierce with passion but gentle. He licked the bottom of your lip to gain access to your mouth. The make-out session became heated as he was grouping you and kissing dow your jawline and then moved to your neck.

"You so fucking sexy. You know that?" he whispered to me while he was starting to unbutton my shirt. The way my hero costume is you have to unbutton it from the front. We're working on a new costume anyway. He unbuttoned the top half of my uniform to reveal my bra that had the girls sitting up there like I had surgery.

"Fuck these titties are pretty. When was the last time you had someone suck on em?" he asked as he popped a pretty pierced brown nipple into his mouth. You moaned at the feeling because it had been a minute since you'd had a mans touch. Honestly, you hadn't had any action since you stopped dealing with Denki.

"Fuck.. I-shit.. it's been a minute. God that feels good." He took that as a cue to pop the other nipple in his mouth and kneed your tit like he was making biscuits. It felt so fucking good. Here you are, being submissive to Katsuki Bakugo, AKA, Dynamite because he was making you feel good as fuck and also about to possibly fuck you senseless into the new year.

"You got me all hard and shit. Look" He pulled back so you could see his hard-on through his sweats. And he looked fucking massive. "You did this shit and now you're gonna fix it. Get on your knees princess."

You did as told and got on your knees. He whipped his dick out and it was so impressive that it had you speechless. It was pretty. It was long and thick with a massive vein on the topside of the shaft. Very suckable. You immediately got to fucking work. You used two hands to hone into the dick and suck it like your life depended on it.

"Fuck... Like that princess. Spit on it baby" You spit on it. Made sure to go all the way up to his tip and suck antagonizing slowly. "If you keep that up im coming... Shit." with that he nutted in your mouth. You swallowed all of it like a good girl and decided to keep sucking after he came. You spit his cum back on his dick and slurped some more and made him come again. You didn't even need prepping with how big his dick was.

"Hurry up and fuck me please." you whined. Man oh man was he taking his sweet everlasting time with you. He grabbed you by your throat and provided a super sloppy kiss to you and then started to pull the pants down from your hero suit. Soon as he did, it was a large wet spot. Clearly you were soaked by being manhandled.

" Damn princess. You're soaked and I haven't fucked you yet" You let out a loud whine because you were tired of being teased. He teases you all fucking day for 7 months to be teased again while attempting to get fucked. He didn't even need to prep you because you sucking his dick and picturing his face while he put his hot cum down your throat was amazing. Made your pussy wet like fucking Niagra Falls. He turned you around so you were facing the back of his office with your ass facing him. He gave your ass a nice smack.

"Smack it again" He smacked it again and again. "Babe smack it again with your quirk activated" He looked at you with a mischievous grin. "You sure about that princess. Might be a little much for you to handle."

"Dammit I-" before you could even attempt to complain you heard little pops coming from his palm. Before you knew it, he activated his quirk and smacked your ass. "Fuck...do it again baby" He smacked your ass with his quirk activated a few more times before he stopped and placed a kiss to the red ass cheek. He finally put the tip to your entrance. You started throbbing before he could even do anything.

"look at you. being so fucking needy for me" he finally stuck the tip of the dick in and it felt fucking amazing. "Damn princess. Didn't realize you would be this tight" He bottomed out and started moving hella slow.

"katsuki.. please move" he let out a chuckle. "since you said please. your wish is my command." He started to really fuck you. And I mean fuck you! The man was rearranging guts that you didn't know you fucking had. You were rocking forwards so hard from him thrusting into you that you damn near knocked his computer over.

"Yes... Fuck..Ohh" you damn near screamed because he was fucking you so good. Fucking you better than Denki ever could. "Thats it. Right there."

"right here?" he asked as he sped up his pace and smacked your ass and activated his quirk. "you nasty slut. you like taking this big dick huh?"

you could barely talk and managed to squeak out a "yes daddy" as he fucked you into oblivion.

"this is for calling me a cunt when they first partnered us together." smack to the ass. Every time he smacked your ass he knew you like when he activated his quirk. "This is for talking about my dick" smack. "this is for letting the sled monster go" smack. This next smack was lethal and had you on the brink of coming everywhere. "this is for almost getting yourself killed earlier today and being a brat about it."

"ohh shit, I'm sorry! fff-fuck you feel so damn good baby" you cried out. "its to much baby...I can't" you wailed out. It hurt but it felt so fucking good. He was putting you on cloud 9 and scrambling your eggs to oblivion.

"take it baby" was all he said before he out one leg on the desk and started to really plow into your pussy. "fuck.. Im coming, im coming, im coming!" you cried out.

"Do it. Come all over my fingers princess. Make a mess for me." with that you had the biggest orgasm of your life! "pull out and cum on my ass daddy!" he pulled out and came all over your plumb brown ass cheeks. Best dick of your life! You also didn't fake it. You let him hit and he gave you a fucking orgasm that has you on cloud 9. Both of you breathing heavily you took the opportunity to look at him.

"What?"

"You are so fucking fine but such an ass. I can't believe you got good dick and you just scrambled my eggs like that" you laughed. He laughed too and just smirked. "I fucked the great Dynamite, AKA Katsuki Bakugo."

"well if you like it.. how about we do it more? I'll pick you up this weekend and we can go out so you can get some more. If you act like a brat you wont get shit."

You pondered about it for a second. "What if I want to act like a brat? Will my punishment be you fucking me to the oblivion again?"

"Only one way to find out princess," he smirked at you. "Be ready because when I come get you we going to eat."

"Fine" you planted a small kiss on his lips and sat on the desk while he went back to doing what the fuck he was doing on the computer.

@fantasydaydreamers @dabisqueen This is the second oneshot I wrote. I hope you enjoy. Wanted to tag yall that's all lol

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #dynamight #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x black reader #bakugo x black fem reader #mha x reader #bnha #bakugo x reader smut #mha smut

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venus-haze · 10 months

Text

Girls on Film (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: As a film studies major at Windsor College, your junior year is proving to be an eventful one as the eponymous Ghostface begins targeting fellow students, some who you consider friends. You try to focus on your classes, mainly the short film project you’re working on with Mickey Altieri, who your professor inexplicably paired you up with despite the two of you having almost polar opposite views on the medium.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. You’re also into gross out movies because I wanted a strong contrast to Mickey’s “blame the movies” thing and also irony…as you’ll see. This is an extremely dark fic, so look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this. Also, you know and I know that Mickey didn’t kill Randy, but in the context of the fic, the reader-character doesn’t know that. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: One-sided rivalry (Mickey hates your guts). Discussions of “gross” movies and themes. Descriptions of violence. Major character deaths. Sexually explicit content which involves non/dubcon, knifeplay, bloodplay, sadism (slight masochism). Do not interact if you are under 18.

Film Theory went from okay to off the walls when Mickey Altieri decided to make the argument that movies could be responsible for people’s actions. Using the brutal murders at the early Stab screening in town as an example was in poor taste when it had just happened the night before. It wasn’t even that you disliked Mickey, having met him in your Introduction to Film History course. He was pretty funny, and the two of you had a lot of the same classes together, moved in the same social circles.

He’d expressed similar views before, but never so egregiously. You couldn’t believe a fellow film student would have such a regressive view of cinema. It was asinine to even entertain the idea, but you couldn’t let the conversation go on without giving your two-cents to your peers.

“CiCi’s right. That exact thinking is what led to the Hays Code.”

“Bonnie and Clyde was one of the first post-Code movies to make it big. It showed there’s profit in glorifying crime and violence,” Mickey said. “The decade after it came out was the golden age of serial killers.”

“Oh sure, I watched one too many John Waters movies, and now I’m having sex in confession booths,” you said, earning snickers from your classmates.

“Thank you,” Randy said. “I don’t think anyone was eating dog shit after watching Pink Flamingos.”

“Maybe Ghostface got the idea for the phone calls from Serial Mom,” one of your classmates quipped.

“Kathleen Turner’s character in that was inspired by serial killers. She read true crime books and collected paraphernalia,” Mickey argued.

“I’ll do you one better and raise you John Waters himself,” you said. “The guy has a morbid fascination with the Manson Family to the point where he incorporates references to them in almost all of his movies. He hasn’t committed any mass murders.”

“No, he just makes movies that make people wanna puke,” another classmate said.

Mickey opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Sidney and Hallie rushing to the classroom door, looking for Randy. Unable to keep the class’s attention after that, your professor dismissed everyone.

CiCi made her way over to you, giving you an exasperated look. “Reagan-era politics have really poisoned some of these people’s critical thinking skills.”

“Tell me about it,” you agreed.

CiCi had been in a lot of the same classes as you your freshman year, and the two of you became fast friends over your similar taste in movies and distaste for closed-minded people. She was a big Lee Grant fan, wanting to make candid documentaries about tough social issues too.

You had some time to kill before your next class, so the two of you made your way to one of the empty picnic tables outside and continued the discussion, which had quickly turned into mutual ranting. Her point about the Slumber Party Massacre movies being directed by women was cut short when you realized you’d have to book it across campus to make it to Film Production II in time.

It was one of the higher level courses for film students who were looking to make feature films rather than focus on screenwriting or making documentaries. Among the prerequisites for Film Production II were Screenwriting I and II. In theory, everyone in the class would have two or three short film scripts ready to be adapted for an advanced Film Studies class. Few films were ever solo projects, so you weren’t surprised when your professor told everyone on the first day of class to prepare to be partnered up for the project, which would count for most of the course’s grade.

When you walked into the classroom, your professor handed you a slip of paper with two names on it. Yours and–of course. You almost had to laugh at the irony. Mickey. His attitude toward you could be unpredictable. Some days would be fine, and others it was like the two of you were about to bite each other’s heads off.

Speak of the devil. You watched his reaction to the slip of paper when he walked in. Unreadable, even when his attention turned to you.

“Is Sidney okay?” you asked when Mickey sat next to you.

“As okay as anyone can be in this situation. That cop from Woodsboro’s here—Dewey, he’s keeping an eye on her.”

“That’s good.”

“So, let’s get started on this thing I guess. Any ideas?”

“Okay cool. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and my strongest script is ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”

He scoffed. “The one about the cannibal girl who gets lobotomized?”

“Well, we could take the easy route and make a porno,” you snapped. “Not that it’d be very long.”

“Knowing you it’d be snuff.”

“Whatever. We’ll do one of yours, but I get to do casting and set design.”

“Easy enough, ‘Stakeout’ has four characters,” he said, digging through his backpack for a copy of the script.

You flipped through the script, scanning the first few pages to jog your memory. An action-comedy about a group of criminals who knew that they were being staked-out by undercover cops, unaware that one was within their midst. Mickey’s comedy writing was fast-paced and genuinely funny. You’d told him so in your peer review of his script in Screenwriting II. The reviews were anonymous, but the effort was still there.

Most of the reviews for ‘The Tongue Remembers’ were positive, with criticisms of some minor plot points that helped you make the whole script stronger in the long run. The review you appreciated most tore the damn thing apart, but gave detailed explanations for the suggestions given, all of which were so good you almost wanted to seek out who the source was. A handful of people didn’t care for your script at all, objecting to the plot altogether. You quietly suspected Mickey was one of them.

You tried to shake the tension that had settled over you and Mickey following the exchange just a few moments prior. At least it’d be good experience for dealing with inevitable assholes as you worked your way up in the film industry. It was tough to make it without connections, and even tougher for women.

By the end of class, the two of you agreed to meet in the library the next day and start planning casting and a general production schedule. Mickey had more editing experience than you did, but you wanted to sit in on the process after initial production of the short film was over. He begrudgingly agreed, and you left the classroom for the dining hall in a sour mood.

When you walked into the crowded dining hall for dinner, you spotted Randy and rushed over to join him. More often than you’d like, he’d have to be the mediator when you and Mickey would really get into it. At least he seemed to find it amusing.

“Hey, is everything alright?” you asked.

He handed you a plate that already had two slices of pizza on it and grabbed one for himself. “Besides the whole ‘Ghostface is back and people are being murdered’ thing? Can’t complain. How about you? Get your partner for Production II yet?”

“Yeah. Mickey.”

Randy laughed. “Nice. I’m sure that won’t be a disaster.”

“I don’t want it to be! I even said we could do one of his scripts.”

“Which one?”

“That action-comedy he wrote, ‘Stakeout’,” you said as the two of you sat at an empty table. “It’s a good script. He’s a great comedy writer. I’m just pissed he wouldn’t even consider ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”

Randy nodded in acknowledgement. “I liked that one. You did a good job of making the cannibals sympathetic. Strong ending too. I’m not so sure it’d go over well at Windsor’s student film fest. Lotta weak stomachs.”

“Last year’s winner was a fucking romcom.”

“So you give the cannibal a love interest. Go a little further than Texas Chainsaw 2.”

“I’m not trying to win awards. I wanna make art.”

“You gotta sell out before you can make art. That’s the industry, kid,” he said, patting your shoulder sympathetically. “Are you gonna be at the Delta Zeta whatever party tonight?”

“Delta Lambda Zeta? I don’t think so,” you said. “I gotta find people to be in this movie.”

It turned out to be one of the best decisions you could have made, because you ended up with a list of people interested in a role in ‘Stakeout’. More pressing, however, was the news that Ghostface had made an appearance at the party, after killing CiCi in the Omega Beta Zeta house. Your stomach dropped at the news. Just a few hours before her death you’d been talking to her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t connected to anyone from the original Woodsboro killings, the students who were killed at the Stab premiere hadn’t been either.

In a small college like Windsor, news traveled fast, and by the time you finished eating breakfast, you’d heard that Sidney, Randy, Hallie, Derek, and Mickey had all spent the night at the police station following the attack.

You didn’t want to ask Randy if you were a suspect. Your film taste alone would put you at the top of the list by default. As much as you understood the reasoning considering the last Ghostface duo’s obsession with horror movies, it didn’t mean everyone who watched them would be inclined to commit murder, despite what Mickey thought. Besides, who would your accomplice even be? Derek or Hallie would be too obvious. Gale Weathers was cutthroat, but not in the literal sense. Randy or Dewey would be a devastating twist if the goal was to mess with Sidney that much more. You felt bad. This type of thing was fun in the movies. You couldn’t imagine it being your life.

Making your way to the library, you weren’t sure whether or not Mickey would actually show up after spending all night in a police station, but it didn’t hurt to go anyway and get other work done.

To your surprise, he sat down across from you a few minutes after you’d agreed to meet. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, dark circles under his eyes.

“Jesus have you even slept? We can do this another day.”

“Spare me your concern.”

“Look, I don’t want this project to be miserable for either of us,” you said. “Between Film Theory and Production, I was kind of being a bitch yesterday.”

“It was really that porno comment that hit me deep. I’m no two-pump chump,” he said with a smile.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Oh, I have some people interested in three of the four roles for ‘Stakeout’.”

“Already?”

“I wanted to make it up to you.”

He was silent for a moment, placing a hand on your arm and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry about CiCi. I know she was your friend.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, trying to keep it together. The last thing you wanted was to break down in the middle of the library.

The two of you planned to do a test shoot in one of the theater’s empty practice auditoriums over the weekend. The main stage was being used for the theater department’s annual play, but Mickey pointed out that ‘Stakeout’ mostly took place in one room anyway. You went ahead and booked the auditorium on the library computer for about three hours, just to give enough time to work out any kinks and not worry about being interrupted.

While Mickey was going to spend the following couple of days getting props together and making any last minute changes to the script, you would finalize the cast since he approved of your choices, surprisingly. At least, you were going to, until Randy ended up dead not long after CiCi.

You spent a day locked in your dorm room, partially out of paranoia and also in the depression of losing two of your close friends within days of each other. It was getting serious. Randy had survived Woodsboro. If he wasn’t off limits to Ghostface, no one was.

By Saturday, you’d debated bailing on Mickey and not bothering to show up for the test shoot. You decided against it. Moping wouldn’t do you any good.

He looked shocked to see you when you walked into the auditorium. You felt bad your progress on casting stalled. His friend had died too, but he had his shit together enough to bring a box of props and the camera.

“Are you sure you’re good to shoot today?” Mickey asked from behind the camera, set a few feet from the stage.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, your voice cracking a bit. “Really, it’s all good.”

“We don’t have to–”

You shook your head. “Let’s do this.”

“Alright,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “You mind locking the door?”

“Okay.” You walked back to the door, locking it. “I got two of the leads for ‘Stakeout’ down, Frank and Alex. I know Frank wasn’t our first choice, but Greg backed out.”

“No problem–shit, I forgot something in the props box over there,” he said, adjusting the settings on the camera. “Could you get it while I finish setting this up? You can’t miss it.”

“Sure,” you said, making your way over to the cardboard box Mickey had brought with him. It took a lot to rattle you, but as soon as you looked in the box, your skin crawled. The Ghostface mask stared back at you, eyes empty black holes. The same ones your friends saw before they died. “Mickey? This better be some kind of stupid joke.”

You turned around to find him less than a foot behind you. Camera set to record. Knife in his hand. Dangerous gleam in his eye as he took a step toward you.

“Last minute change—unprofessional, I know—but I decided to go in a different direction for our short film,” he said, a sadistic grin spread across his face. “You’re gonna be the star. Too bad you won’t be able to see it.”

Just as you began to scream, he put his hand over your mouth, holding the knife to your throat. “Don’t be a diva on me now. You just say what I tell you, okay?”

You nodded frantically, vision blurred by the tears that flowed freely from your eyes. In your desperation, you accidentally nicked your own skin against the knife, whimpering at the small cut you’d self-induced. Mickey snickered, his gaze shifting from you to the camera lens.

He moved his hand from your mouth, though his thumb rested on your lower lip. Slowly, he pushed it between your lips. Fuck this. Fuck him. You bit down until you tasted copper, earning a sloppy slash across your chest that made you cry out in pain, releasing his thumb.

He looked at his hand in disbelief and then at you, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re gonna fight back, huh? You wanna play that game?” he said, an unnerving laugh escaping his lips.

Feeling bold, you spit his own blood in his face. In his moment of distraction you grabbed the knife, managing to pull it from his hand. You stumbled back, holding out the knife with a shaky hand.

Despite you having the weapon, he still seemed smug, amusement in his eyes as he lunged toward you. You wildly swung the knife, cutting his abdomen as you crashed to the ground. He climbed on you, grabbing at your flailing arms as you tried to keep him away with the threat of being cut again.

“I’ll kill you! Fucking bastard!” you screamed. “You killed my fucking friends!”

“Do it!” he taunted. “C’mon, I wanna see you try.”

In your struggle to stab him, you lost your grip on the knife, and it slid across the stage. The both of you froze. You used this moment to push him off of you, scrambling to retrieve it. He threw a punch to your back. The wind knocked out of you, violent coughs clawing their way out of your lungs. He took the opportunity to stand up as you lay on the ground in pain.

Still, with the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you grabbed for the knife, hissing as your fingers wrapped around the blade and cut deep into your skin. It didn’t matter. You had to do the most with it while you had it in your grasp.

You held the knife up in a weak defense as he kicked your stomach. When he moved to kick you again, you slashed his leg, pulling the blade from his flesh and watching as blood quickly stained his pants.

The wild look in his eye intensified, and he dropped down, his hips straddling yours. You could feel his hard cock press against your core as he shifted. And he said you got off to fucked up shit.

With one hand, he applied pressure to your throat as the other held down the arm you were holding the knife with. You released your grip on the knife as black spots clouded your vision. You could vaguely hear it fall to the ground when his hand released your throat, and you sucked in a much-needed breath. He picked up the weapon, a triumphant grin on his face. You were fucked.

He sat up, lazily dragging the knife down from your chest to your hips. “You probably should’ve killed me.”

“You think I wasn’t trying?” you wheezed.

“You put up a good fight. I’ll give you that.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“And you don’t? I saw the thrill in your eyes every time you raised this at me.”

“It’s self-defense!”

“You tell yourself that, babe,” he said, leaning down to kiss you, only for him to stop to whisper, “Try something, and I swear to god I’ll knock your teeth out.”

You were having trouble breathing. He probably crushed part of your trachea. At least you put up a good fight. You lay still as he kissed you, not making an effort to kiss him back until he pressed the blade against your throat. Even then, you let him take the lead, your lips passively responding to his as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He wasn’t a bad kisser. Shame he was a serial killer. It took everything in you not to bite down on it like you had his thumb. You didn’t have the energy to fight back. Knew he wasn’t bluffing about your teeth either.

He pulled away from you, a string of bloody saliva hanging from your lips that he swiped with his injured thumb. Bringing the digit to his mouth, he licked it. You grimaced at the sight.

“C’mon, babe, I thought you were into this kinda thing,” he teased.

“That’s all pretend. It’s not real,” you argued softly.

You gasped as he cut through your top and bra, digging the blade into your abdomen. He traced the tip of the knife around your breasts, watching in amusement as you began to cry. The cool air in the room and metal brushing your nipples made them hard. He used his free hand to pinch and pull at one, eliciting pained whines from you. Your teary gaze was fixed on the knife, though.

“Why don’t you give me a big smile for the camera and tell me how bad you want me to fuck you?”

“Screw you!” you shouted hoarsely.

He scoffed, pulling the knife away from your breasts and holding the blunt side between his teeth as he unzipped your jeans. You squeezed your eyes shut as he pulled the denim down your limp legs, leaving you in only your panties. His index and middle finger pressed against the cotton, rubbing a bit at the wet spot in the fabric.

A pleased noise came from his throat. “So you are into this kinda thing.”

He snapped the elastic waistband against your hips. You moaned. Your eyes shot open, face heating up in embarrassment.

The knife was back in his hand, though the gleam of the blade lowered, down, down, until you felt it pressed against your inner thigh. He dragged the blade across your sensitive skin until the only thing between it and your pussy was the thin fabric of your panties. You felt like your heart was going to explode from your chest.

“Stop. Mickey, please don’t—oh my god—“ you babbled. “Please—Mickey, I’m sorry—“

“You gonna do what I say?”

“Please fuck me, Mickey. I want you to fuck me so bad.”

“That’s better, baby,” he cooed mockingly.

You heaved a sob of relief as you felt him pull the knife from your panties. Closing your eyes again, you reckoned your impending doom with yourself, trying to ignore the sound of his zipper. The rustling of fabric. The air on your bare pussy.

“Time for the real show.”

Mickey played with your clit while he leaned down to kiss you again, devouring your involuntary moans with a triumphant smugness.

“The rest of them were messy and painful, just like in the movies,” he said softly, confusing you for a moment before you realized he was talking about his other victims. “I didn’t hate them, though, so I’ll blame this one on violent porn.”

“Mickey, I won’t tell anyone,” you tried. “This can be our secret. I—I like it, really.”

He groaned, pushing his hard cock between your folds. A pained cry escaped your lips as his length filled you. He hardly gave you any time to get used to him inside you as he began thrusting at a brutal pace.

“Keep going,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“You feel so good, Mickey. Your cock is so—fuck—I don’t want anyone else.” You struggled to get words out, your brain overrun by the pain and pleasure that competed to cloud your senses.

“You’re not getting anyone else.”

Your eyes drifted to the knife in his hand as he pounded into you, nervous about what he was going to do with it next.

“Look at me, baby,” he ordered.

Your fearful gaze snapped to his, cruel and unforgiving. He kept rubbing circles on your clit, so fast it was almost too painful. That’s what he wanted, though. For you to hurt. Made him feel better, get off quicker if you hurt. It was almost too easy for him, the way your body betrayed you so quickly, wet with slick so he hardly had to do a thing before claiming your cunt.

Your pussy squeezed his cock, a silent encouragement with each thrust against your will. His breathing was heavy, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he showed no signs of letting up on you. Bleeding, aching, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take the abuse.

“I want you to ruin me, Mickey.” You meant it. If this was how you were going to meet your end, it might as well be as brutal as the dark scenarios your mind sometimes wandered to after watching a particularly bloody film. Maybe he was right. Maybe the movies were to blame. “Fucking wreck me.”

He shuddered, his thrusts getting sloppy. “Fuck–Jesus fucking–”

His grip around the knife handle tightened as he came, knuckles white as he stabbed it into the floor, mere inches away from your face. You jolted, fear and adrenaline sending you over the edge. Your orgasm wracked through your body, muscles tensing, the sensation pulsing through your wounds, making them feel like they were on fire.

You nearly blacked out, but you held on long enough to feel him bottom out inside you. His head hung over yours as he caught his breath. Tilting your head up a bit, you kissed him. Softer, more intimate, hopefully enough to throw him off.

You reached for the knife next to you, but he pulled it out of the floor before you could.

“Nice try,” he said, breaking the kiss.

He stood up and walked away. For a moment, you thought he was going to just leave you there. You weren’t so lucky. He returned with Ghostface regalia in hand, looking down at your bloody body beneath him with a grin.

Mickey brought the voice modifier to his mouth. “Now, who wants to die for art?”

#mickey altieri x reader #ghostface x reader #slasher x reader #ghostface #mickey altieri #scream 2 #scream #slasher fandom #slasher community #scream franchise #scream movies

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siriusblack-the-third · 6 months

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Headcanons for Sirius black?

YES YOU CAN HAVE THEM

Smart. Like, really fucking smart.

Has silver eyes. Not grey. It's the brightest hue of silver you have ever seen, and he has this habit of staring straight into your eyes that makes him absolutely terrifying.

Intimidating as fuck. He's six foot four and built like a fucking tank, and has the most intense Resting Bitch Face™ ever. People literally scramble to get out of his way when he's walking down a corridor.

French. I know I've posted about Indian Black Family, but I have a soft spot for French Sirius.

Has the best poker face ever. The only time you will see him fazed is when James is hurt, insulted, or in danger. The whole school learnt very quickly (as early as the marauders' second year, in fact) that going after James is a Bad Idea™. Sirius could and would kill them slowly and painfully if they dared.

Gets annoyed easily, but almost never gets angry. He's scared of his own anger, because it's so similar to his mother, and the only times he has ever gotten truly angry was once when he saw Regulus being tortured by Walburga and the second time at Peter on the Samhain of 1981.

The exact opposite of reckless. Contrary to popular belief, he hates jumping into situations before thinking shit through, and has stopped James from making impulsive decisions way too many times to count. Even when people think he's being reckless, he knows exactly what the fuck he's doing, what the consequences are going to be, and how to deal with said consequences.

Wears black and emerald green the most, but also likes sea/sapphire blue shades. Surprisingly, he hates wearing red, because the colour reminds him of the deep red velvet drapes and cushions in Walburga's room.

Plays the violin, and enjoys it. He's good at it, too. At Hogwarts, people will form a silent gathering in the common room to listen to him as he plays in his empty dorm. It's become a thing. Everyone thinks Sirius doesn't know,but James told him the first time it happened. Sometimes, he plays on the first day of school after the summer, winter or Easter holidays, as a form of comfort to the children who don't really feel at home in their own houses.

Absurdly competent. He's outstanding at everything, even if he doesn't work at it— one of those people who don't need to work to get excellent results. James is the same, and it annoys the fuck out of Remus and Peter, but they help everyone out with schoolwork a lot so nobody actually has too many negative feelings about it (ahem- except for one Severus Snape)

N E R D. Seriously. Will talk nerdy shit with James for hours on end, because both of them are Nerds™. I will die on the hill of Nerd!Sirius Black, and your opinion is invalid if it's not the same as mine bc my opinion is actually canon I don't make the rules.

Long, wavy hair. He had short hair up until the end of fourth year, but then puberty hit and he realised long hair went better with his developing features. Makes him look so much like his grandfather that he has been mistaken for Arcturus several times.

School heartthrob, but didn't actually date anyone/have sex with anyone in school. He found out he was on the ace spectrum in fifth year because asked James to kiss him. He liked it, but the thought of going further didn't excite him like he thought it would. So he asked Marlene, and the outcome was the same.

Biromantic. Sex positive asexual.

No man at Hogwarts is straight, simply because of him. He's ridiculously handsome, and has people fawning over him and falling over these to get into his good books. Unfortunately for them, Sirius knows the names of like seven people out of the four thousand students that attend Hogwarts during his school career, and can't be bothered to remember the names or features of the rest of them.

Rude but polite, if ykwim? Gets called mean a lot, but argues that rudeness is not the same as mean. Rude is when you can't be bothered with pleasantries, he says, and mean is when you're cruel just for the sake of being cruel.

Him not being mean does not negate the fact that his cruel streak is wider and deeper than the Grand motherfucking Canyon. He has a particular talent for weeding out your insecurities, and will not hesitate to use them against you if you piss him off too much.

Prefers verbal sparring rather than a duel, but any fight he gets into, he wins. He has both intelligent quips and powerful magic up his sleeves and he will use them to his advantage if need be.

Absolutely loves mint dark chocolate, for some odd fucking reason. James and Peter always give him shit for it, and he always laughs in their faces before taking an even bigger bite out of the bar.

Nobody knows how many languages he speaks. So far, people have heard him speak English, French, Ancient Greek, Old Norse, Gaelic, Latin and Italian. James gets asked the question "how many languages does your best mate speak?" and he breaks into silly giggles. Refuses to tell the answer, says he likes to keep people on their toes. (Sirius speaks nine languages.)

Wears eyeliner sometimes. It's bold and winged and perfectly done, and has caused multiple fainting incidents because of the way it makes his silver eyes stand out even more than they already do. He says it makes him feel powerful when his eyeliner is perfect, and James answers that he is more than powerful enough, he doesn't need any more.

#sirius black #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #please do not tag w*lfstar #james potter #marauders ear #harry potter marauders #marauders #james and sirius #sirius orion black

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mrmallard · 2 months

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The thing about Avery being banned right now is that people have been pushing back against the site's moderation for well over a year by now citing overzealous moderation - specifically, flagging trans selfies as sexual content even when the user is fully clothed - while dragging their feet on accounts that explicitly break the TOS.

We've seen users arguing between buying the checkmarks and the crabs to make the website profitable for the reason that this may be the first avenue of monetization to actually sustain the website, ever - and users who don't want to reinforce the haphazard standard that the website is being run by. We've even seen staff try to push users towards mass-buying the Tumblr crabs on a specific date, calling it "Crab Day", using the same rhetoric, only to be rebuked by users who are unhappy with the way the website is being run.

The issues that led to Avery being targeted by TUMBLR'S FUCKING CORPORATE BOSS have existed for well over a year by now. This is simply a progression in a direction that Tumblr has been criticized about before. What makes it notable is how explicitly targeted this has been towards a single user of the website, and how gormless and petty it reflects on a figurehead who singlehandedly reflects the management of Tumblr - the captain of the ship.

The core issues that led us to this point have existed for longer than this blowup, this is just the most public, unbelievably immature way that it could have crossed from "plausible deniability" to "explicit, textual confirmation".

And I just want to say: Tumblr users have never been beholden to the administration of the website. Historically, Tumblr users have rejected changes to the site whether it be the visual design, changes in TOS or whenever the website has changed hands. I remember when Tumblr was bought out by Yahoo for over a billion dollars, everyone was melting down over "yumblr" and fearmongering about a massive corporate entity forcing sterile corporate values onto our vibrant community.

That certainly did come to pass with the porn ban, but for most of the time it was just Yahoo flailing around trying to monetize the site and getting pushback at every turn, before ostensibly admitting defeat by selling the website for just over a million bucks. The porn ban sucked and we feel its effects to this day, and frankly it's probably the harbinger of this exact scenario - where again, the CEO of the website is beefing with a user after that user was harassed for years, WITH EVIDENCE, only for the administration to ban her for life and dismiss her concerns entirely on the way out.

But the sheer majority of the naysaying didn't come to pass, and the stuff we didn't want that Yahoo did try to push? Users fought back. People weren't afraid to say to management "this isn't why I use Tumblr, it sucks ass and we're going to bug the fuck out of you for it". People complained when post editing was taken away. People complained about ask limits and fanmail. Tumblr users have been complaining about Tumblr for longer than any other userbase on the internet. We have never been beholden to the administration of the website.

Are we bound by TOS? Sure, but look at all the cowards who flag users en-masse and send them death threats, who somehow come out the other side unscathed. Fuckfaces break TOS all the time. Being noticed by staff obviously puts a lot of pressure on you to follow the TOS, but think of every bastard on this website you've ever seen break the rules and go unpunished. Secondly, think about the raw, hyperbolic nature of Tumblr's comedy. This website has always had leaner guidelines than other social media sites. Short of making terroristic threats - and Christ, can't that be exploited by the world's most thin-skinned CEO - Tumblr users are known for taking a joke way further than it probably needs to go.

I'm getting off track, so here's my point.

Tumblr's culture, its norms and community, come from us. And that has always come at the expense of the reigning power over the website - whether it be David Karp or Yahoo before Automattic. Tumblr users have been enjoying the website at the expense of the website for years, but it might be time to become more vocal about it. Go back to your roots as Tumblr users. Complain. Make memes. Make sure this shit goes down just as noticeably as shit like Do You Like The Color Of The Sky. That has always been what we do.

This was not an isolated incident. It was the most visible instance of this happening, and given that once again, the CEO OF THE WEBSITE - THE CAPTAIN OF THE WORLD'S STUPIDEST SHIP - is the one going after this one disgruntled user in front of the entire userbase, this is arguably the most notable case of transphobic moderation happening since Automattic bought Tumblr.

It's not transphobic solely because the user is transgender - it's transphobic in the way that her posts were mass-marked by bad faith actors, those posts were slapped with sexual content disclaimers, the user disputed these claims (successfully, until the team reversed that decision later) and she was personally banned while nothing happened to the people whose harassment of her and admittance to abusing the moderation tools to make her a target were catalogued and submitted to Tumblr staff. As if to add insult to injury, they followed up as they banned her a second time, saying that they found nothing wrong with the evidence of harassment she submitted.

Trans users have been reporting unfair treatment ever since Automattic bought the site Avery is just one of multiple trans women who've had to deal with this treatment, and she arguably got banned for being the most vocal about it. A bit hyperbolic in what she said, but nothing that other users haven't said before and perfectly in the spirit of the Tumblr community openly and brazenly taking the administration to task for their fuck-ups.

I do feel sorry for the staff who chafe under Matt Mullenweg. A former staff member has come forward to answer questions and talk about their time working at Automattic, and there are people working there who are employed around the world, who are always putting out fires, who need the steady paycheck for the work that they do. This isn't a call to harass or single out staff.

But I do think that Tumblr users have rested on their laurels in regards to criticizing and challenging Tumblr's administration. The institution of Tumblr. And given that the foremost authority over this entire fucking website is singling out and personally banning users, and threatening to report them to the police and the FBI, I think that has to change.

I think Tumblr users have to rediscover their sense of civil disobedience and challenge this horseshit as far as it will go.

All that Matt Mullenweg can do is shut down the website. That's bad for sure, but WE are Tumblr. WE give this website its value ("value" as in the content of its character, its beating heart. Revenue-wise, we suck the place dry lmao). And I would rather take Tumblr down in a blaze of glory than let this malignant cunt fail his users and personally go after them when they get too loud in criticizing how he runs the site.

So do what Tumblr users do best, and complain. It's all we really can do imo. The worst case scenario is that Matt Mullenweg goes full meltdown, drops an orbital nuke on some tags and/or decides to ax the entire website. And that would genuinely fucking suck - I would lose a lot of longtime internet friends who have shaped my life for the better over the course of a decade.

But if the CEO of Tumblr got so ass-blasted he wiped out a bunch of tags, that's a point where we can point at him and go "that's wrong, you fucked up and broke your own terms of service, you literally cannot justify that outside of sheer petty anger". And if he nukes the website? That would genuinely be hilarious. There's no coming back from that. Dude would go down as the most high-profile ragequitter in the history of the entire tech industry.

I've lost my original point in the mix. Point is, Tumblr users have never taken this corporate dogshit lying down. Make memes. Bake this horseshit into the history of the site, and never let Matt forget the day he lost the trust of Tumblr's entire userbase. There's no way for Matt, or Automattic, to win this. So make it as hard as possible to justify what happened to Avery, and shitpost as hard as you can.

#long post #photomatt #matt Mullenweg #Automattic

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fuedalreesespieces · 2 months

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ramble-y post incoming:

tldr: is the inukag to izanori pipeline real, and am i falling headfirst into it? yes, yes i am.

[This post does contain spoilers for Kanata Kara and Inuyasha.]

recently (and by that i mean two days ago) i decided i wanted to start a shojo manga that wasn't too long, something I could read in between lectures. i checked some of my saved manga on the website i use, and found one that i had saved purely because i'd been enthralled by the cover art, which looked like this:

(i mean, look at them!!)

...that, and it was 14 volumes, so I thought i could finish it within a week or two, reading a few chapters every day.

i was wrong. i'm on volume ten and it's been a day and a half.

i haven't finished and I'm making this post (partly because i've been rambling about it in ballistic keysmash-consistent twitter posts) to say that Kanata Kara is good. very, very good. damn that one-star review on the site i'm using, because that shit has to be an accidental click. I love the world-building, the diverse cast of characters, and the art is magnificent. I think my favorite thing of all has to be the themes represented so far in the manga, perpetuated by our titular characters noriko and izark. I may make a future post about that when i finish the manga, but there is one thing i noticed while reading that struck me as really interesting: the dynamic between izark and noriko, and the characters themselves, remind me a lot of inuyasha and kagome.

now i'm gonna preface this by saying i'm not trying to say that these are the same dynamics or something, because they aren't - I just want to point out parallels i thought were really interesting, as someone who loves both relationships in their respective mangas. i also want to establish that Kanata Kara predates Inuyasha by three to five years*- so what I really should be saying is that inuyasha and kagome remind me of izark and noriko, but you get the picture. you could argue a number of things with this in mind, but i'm not here to discuss any of that. this isn't meant to be some sort of dumb gotcha; both series are good in their own ways, and some of the similarities i'm highlighting can be attributed to similar tropes being at play!

*(sources vary, some say 1993, others say 1995)

izark/inuyasha

demons - inuyasha is half inu-youkai, whereas izark is the sky demon from a prophecy that makes up much of the manga's internal and external conflict for him. an interesting contrast i found was that while inuyasha's half-demon features are present for the majority of the manga and his human side shows up only a handful of times, it's the exact opposite for izark, whose "human" appearance reigns for the majority of the manga.

both characters were shunned by their respective communities (and humanity at large, though inuyasha had his mother for some time, and izark's mother tried to kill him). when both parents died, they began living on the fringes of society, never interacting with anyone and, according to them, "preferring to be alone."

both share moments where their demon sides take over and they are unable to control themselves - unless, of course, their loved one is present to help them. otherwise, both are trapped in a violent, bloodthirsty state of mind that makes them lose parts of their identity each time transformation is undergone. both try to avoid this part of them out of fear of losing themselves, but when occasions rise where they are in those forms, their respective loved ones pull them out of it/help them ground themselves.

powerful fighters willing to quite literally put everything on the line for their respective loved ones - i'm talking half-dead-dragging their-bodies-across-the floor and thinking "well, at least she's okay."

one interesting difference to me is how izark and inuyasha approach their humanity. izark is constantly shown in his "human" form and is only in his demon form a handful of times, and the exact opposite is true for inuyasha. izark's earlier (brief) plan of doing away with noriko is spurned from his desire to avoid the tragic fate tied with his demonic form, whereas inuyasha's earlier actions are motivated by his desire to become a full demon. izark relates his demon side to inevitability, to the idea that he might just become the monster everyone prophesied him to be; inuyasha (in the beginning) views his humanity with scorn and associates it with weakness. he wants to embrace the possibility of achieving full demon status, and why? is it just because he wants power? in my opinion, no - I think it's a way of finding a place; being free to go where he wants. inuyasha is already powerful in his own right, and even when he's given the opportunity to claim a formidable weapon like his father's sword, he says he has no interest in it (until, of course, kagome mentions he could try to claim it just to spite sesshomaru, and only then is his interest peaked.) inuyasha seeks freedom by assimilating into a full demon identity, izark seeks freedom from that full demon identity, and only then will he feel in control of his life.

kagome/noriko

both from modern era japan and get isekaied into another world - kagome's instance is time-travel, though - noriko is transported to a whole other world with different culture, geography, and language (noriko having to learn the language of the people there and taking part in their customs is one of my favorite things about the manga!!)

the beacon of light in their respective groups/found family, bringing everyone together

key players in a "Prophecy of Doom" - kagome's "destiny" is to continue the cycle of the shikon jewel; noriko's "destiny" is to awaken the Sky Demon (izark). both girls, and their loved ones, change their futures.

damsels? maybe, but never in distress:

and, of course, the most prominent parallel for me: their acceptance of their lovers and the ripple effect that love has on their lovers' relationships and life:

"i'm not leaving you no matter what happens, no matter who you are - I will stay by your side":

"you changed my life for the better":

"i've opened up and become more vulnerable":

there are a ton of other examples i could use for this bullet, since it has a pretty broad spectrum of events that could fall under it, but these are my favorites.

i also want to draw attention to the way noriko deals with feeling powerless - both she and kagome are surrounded by powerful, experienced individuals, but unlike noriko, kagome has a reign on her archery and spiritual skills pretty early on in the manga, so she contributes in battles one way or another. one of noriko's longest internal conflicts is that she feels guilty that she can't do anything to help and that people are getting hurt on her behalf:

i absolutely love the advice given to her, and how it ties into the themes of the manga. noriko feels like she isn't helping, but even a simple thank you helps - even if it's just thanking one person for a single deed, everyone is intricately tied, and that goodwill spreads. it grows. it becomes a part of everyone. you don't have to be a fighter to spread good.

conclusion: the parallels are neat and READ KANATA KARA!

#inuyasha #inuyasha a feudal fairy tale #kagome higurashi #inukag #inuyasha x kagome #kanata kara #from far away #izanori #comparison

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