#and we know most of these rapey fucks would do that eventually

[booksofwhynot]

I really dislike the rebuttal of “but most adults want sex in a relationship!” when TRAs say “but you don’t HAVE to have sex”, because that’s not the point. It actually doesn’t matter if there are lesbians who’d be fine with not having sex while dating/in a relationship, for whatever reason – they’d still have to be sexually attracted to each other to be in that relationship, and that, like everything else about female homosexuality, completely excludes males.

No lesbian, regardless of how much sex she is or isn’t currently having, can develop a crush or fall in love with a man. No lesbian wants to call a man her “girlfriend.” No lesbian wants to make out with a man. And it’s not just adults being pressured like this – teenage lesbians don’t want TIMs any more than adult lesbians do! Don’t cede any ground to these homophobes. Taking the literal act of sex out of the equation doesn’t make any of this okay. Lesbians aren’t interested in men. At all. No loopholes, no conditions, no exceptions. 

#maybe 'dislike' is too strong a word #it's not that i mind anyone saying that #it just seems to be put forward as the main argument against it #and it's irrelevant because we don't want ANYTHING past friendship with any man #and that kind of thing wouldn't be just a friendship #it would be an abusive situation where she had to fake attraction and feelings the man would know she doesn't have #it would be incredibly creepy to have a male pretending to be in a 'lesbian relationship' with you #regardless of whether he's pushing for sex or not #and we know most of these rapey fucks would do that eventually #mypost #lesbian #homophobia #lesbophobia #tra bullshit

[pleasejustfuckinghugme]

Forever

episode one pt. two (word count: 2,333)

jacobs!oc x fezco

warnings: mentions of abuse and attempted rape, crude language, drugs, alcohol, sexual themes

Nancy and I had been best friends since freshman year after her brother tried to finger me at the freshman formal. After she saw me running to the ladies room and heard her brother dick around with his friends, she knew something was wrong. She ran to the bathroom and refused to leave me alone for the rest of the night, eyeing her twin at all times. Later that night, she confronted him about it when they got back home, and he slapped her across the face. They didn’t acknowledge each other for an entire month after that. Nate eventually apologized. It was a shitty apology, but Nancy was nice. And way too forgiving. 

Then Nancy met Maddy after she and Nate started dating, and they became best friends. They pretty much told each other everything, so when Maddy found out about Nate hitting Nancy, she was furious. Nancy refused to let her do anything; she knew that if Maddy confronted him he would do the same thing to her. They promised they would always be there for each other instead, and so far, they had managed to keep that promise.

“Bitch, you’re coming,” Maddy scolded her from across the room. Nancy was sitting on her bed, watching as Maddy applied glitter to her eyelids. 

The girl flinched as Maddy stood up, throwing her eyeliner at her.

“Nate won’t be happy.”

“He’s not your fucking dad, so it doesn’t matter,” Maddy argued. “And this way you’ll meet the rest of the cheer team before school starts.”

“Fine,” Nancy sighed as she began to apply her eyeliner.

“Honestly, I think Nancy’s gonna catch the most dick tonight. She look hot as fuck,” BB snorted, taking a breath of her vape. 

“Yeah right,” Nancy scoffed. “If I did, it would only because Maddy’s letting me borrow her dress.” She winked at her friend through the mirror, but Maddy didn’t see as she was too preoccupied looking at her boobs.

“Do you think my areolas look weird?” she asked, turning to look at Kat and Nancy.

“No,” Kat returned, scrolling on her phone. Nancy said nothing as she chewed her bottom lip, concentrating on winging her liner.

“But, like, the edges though,” Maddy pressed.

Kat finally looked up at the girl, “Maddy, they’re fine.”

Maddy narrowed her eyes at the girl, “Fine like they’re kind of weird, or fine like nobody would ever notice what I notice?”

“Fine like shut the fuck up, Maddy,” BB called from the bathroom.

“Your boobs are wonderful,” Nancy reassured. She stood up from the bed and started slipping on her black a-line dress.

“I’m disgusting. I literally look disgusting,” Maddy rambled, looking at herself in the mirror.”

“Maddy, you need to snap the fuck out of this. You’re hot as fuck. Nate’s a loser! Who cares?” Kat whined.

Nancy plopped down next to her on the bed, grunting in agreement. “Exactly, that’s why we should just skip the whole thing.”

Maddy rolled her eyes and faced them, “No, Nancy. Besides he’s not a loser, he’s a dick.”

Nancy scoffed as Kat mumbled, “All dicks are losers, duh.”

“Look, bottom line. Y’all need to walk into this party like your pussy costs a million dollars,” BB slurred walking to Maddy’s closet.

Nancy shifted awkwardly on the bed as Maddy replied, “I’d probably settle for, like, fifty grand.”

“Fifty grand is a million dollars.”

“I’d settle for, like, four Corona Lites and some non-rapey affection,” Kat muttered. Nancy pushed her shoulder playfully as BB cringed, “That’s kind of depressing.”

“Nate just, like, totally ruins my confidence,” Maddy huffed. “You know when somebody just constantly criticizes, like, everything about you?” 

This prompted Nancy to go over to the girl, giving her a small, comforting hug and a peck on the cheek.

“Yep, that’s like every guy,” BB assured.

“You just need to catch a dick and forget about your troubles,” Kat affirmed, causing Maddy to whip around as Nancy giggled.

“Girl, you just need to catch a dick,” she accused. She lightly smacked Nancy on her cheeks. “And you’re no better either, bitch.”

Nancy rolled her eyes and flicked Maddy’s forehead. “Shut up,” she scoffed, laughing.

“Seriously, Maddy. The best thing to do after a break up is to fuck someone new and then move on.”

“Please, Kat, remind me again how many guys you fucked, and um, oh yeah, catfishing, that don’t count,” BB accused, waving the girl off. Hurt flashed in Kat’s eyes as she returned to applying her mascara.

“BB,” Nancy warned.

Maddy faced BB, scowling. “Can you not be a cunt for like fifteen seconds?” she shot, defending the girl.

A knock interrupted their conversation. The door to Maddy’s room opened and her dad began to speak.

“Dad! Stop being a pervert! We’re literally, like, all naked!” Maddy squealed. The door promptly shut again, and the four girls looked at each other before breaking out into laughter.

The small town seemed to come alive at night. Red, green, and pasty yellow lights reflected through Maddy’s car as the four girls rode to McKay’s. Nancy laid her head on the window, watching neon lights streak past as the car glided down the road. Further ahead of the car, the reflection of a golden jacket caught her eyes. Squinting, she looked at the figure walking down the road. It was a girl with long, frizzy brown hair, her caramel skin glowed under the street lights. Suddenly, realization struck her.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, jerking her head up.

“Is that?” Maddy trailed off, slowing her car down to a stop.

“Oh shit! That’s Rue!” BB gasped, taking a hit of her vape.

“Didn’t Rue, like, die?” Maddy quizzed, causing Nancy to lightly punch her shoulders, scolding her, “Don’t say that shit, Maddy.”

BB leaned back in her seat, “Oh my god, I hate ghosts.”

When the car was close enough to the girl, Nancy and Kat both stuck their heads out the window.

Nancy called out her name as Kat hollered, “Ayo, Casper!”

Rue turned towards the car.

“Wanna ride?” Kat winked.

Rue sauntered over to the car and leaned in close to Kat. A smile crept across her lips as she nodded, “Why, thank you.”

Nancy whooped in approval and swung her door open. “Bitch!” she proclaimed wrapping her arms around the tipsy teenager. Rue smiled sloppily and scooted into the car next to Nancy.

As they continued their trek to the party, Nancy thought about everything she wanted to ask Rue. How was she? How was rehab? Was her family okay? Was she okay? But she didn’t ask any of these things. Rue was already drunk; her stumbling down the road and glassy eyes made that obvious. And Nancy knew Rue well enough that if Rue was drunk and headed to a party that meant two things: rehab was not working and Rue was definitely going down a spiral. Nancy looked at her old friend, who sat staring out the window, rolling her eyes at the conversation between Kat and Maddy in front of her.

She reached her arm over and brought Rue into another embrace, “I missed you, you know?”

Rue squeezed her shoulders and gave her a tight smile, “I missed you too.”

“Maybe we can hang out sometime this week? Catch up?”

Rue’s eyes grew at the question. A hint of happiness shown through her orbs. “Yeah, I’d like that,” she grinned.

When they pulled up to the party, the whole front yard was already filled with drunk students. Red solo cups flew around the air, and the stench of alcohol and weed was almost suffocating as they walked into the house. Nancy made her way to the kitchen with her girls, and they all grabbed some beer before making their way to the living room.

Now, we all know that this night got fucking weird. So now that the four girls were all completely wasted, it was time for them to take their newfound, drunken confidence and use it to unwillingly embarrass themselves. However, luckily for Nancy, her drunk alter ego did her some favors, and while Maddy was busying herself with getting back at Nate, Kat was losing her virginity, and BB was out doing God knows what, Nancy found herself strutting towards the cute boy from that same morning. You know, the one who sold her drugs.

“Fancy seeing you again,” she jested, plopping down beside him on the couch. She kicked her feet up onto the table in front of them, showing off her Doc Martens.

“Hey, kid,” Fezco spoke, sitting up on the couch. “Shit, you come to these parties? I ain’t ever seen ya around before.”

“My first real party,” Nancy snorted, putting up jazz hands, making the man chuckle quietly.

“Word,” he affirmed. “That’s what’s up. How’s it been so far?” His eyes never left hers.

She smiled at his question, her eyes sparkling. “Fucking great,” she gushed. “I had like five shots and some beers and danced for hours.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Good for you, kid. Jus’ stay away from those drugs, right?”

She saluted and echoed his words, “Aye, staying away from drugs.”

She watched as he took a drag of the roll tucked between his fingers. He closed his eyes and leaned back as he puffed the smoke out. Slowly, he turned back to look at her, and she met his eyes, a small smile growing on her face.

However, the serenity between the two at that moment was shortcoming as Nancy began to feel her insides twist inside her. The alcohol was starting to catch up, and the hazy, relaxed feeling in her head began to turn into a throbbing sensation. She jerked up from the couch, startling the man as she ran to find the closest bathroom. She ducked around people, running into some before she finally reached the toilet, whipping the door open. Chunky liquid left her system, and the awkward feeling of throwing up, along with the horrid stench, caused her eyes to prickle with tears.

She was startled when she felt someone pull her hair back for her, placing their other hand on her back. The palm rubbed circles as the person spoke, “Shit, kid. You drank way too much.”

When she was finally finished ridding the toxins from her body, she leaned back from the toilet. Fezco handed her some toilet paper, and she wiped off her mouth. Her makeup was totally ruined, black streaks running down her cheeks and lipstick smudged.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout me. You good?” he rubbed her back, watching her closely. She refused to look at him, too embarrassed.

“I will be. Thank you,” she whispered.

He smiled warmly at her. “Never caught ya name.”

“Nancy,” she answered, finally meeting his gaze. He was smiling at her, but it wasn’t an amused smile. It was something else.

“Right. I think I heard Nate mention you before.”

“Shit,” she muttered. “He’s gonna fucking murder me if he sees me like this.”

She began to stand up, but lost her balance. Fezco chuckled, steadying her. “You betta’ slow down. I think he’ll survive. He ain’t ya dad.”

She thinly smiled, nodding. “Right.” She laughed dryly and he gave her a questioning look. “Fuck, this is, like, really embarrassing,” she confessed.

He shook his head, “Kid, I’m so fuckin’ high who knows if I’ll remember this.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Thank you, really.” They looked at each other quietly for a moment, eyes locked together. Nancy could feel her stomach starting to turn again, but something was different about it this time. There was more of a fluttering rather than her organs getting flipped around. She looked away, stuttering, “I should probably go home.”

Fezco nodded, “Alright. I’ll see ya around, kid.”

She let out a soft okay before turning to find Maddy in the crowd. But she ran into her brother first.

“The fuck you doing here? What happened?” Nate bellowed, looking down at her. Her hair was a frizzy mess and one of her spaghetti straps had fallen off her shoulder. Her eyes were puffy when she looked up at him. 

“Shut up,” she scowled at him. “Have you seen Maddy?”

He turned around, looking past the back window into the pool. Nancy leaned over to see around him and saw Maddy in the pool with another boy. She turned back to her twin, hesitantly grabbing his forearm to get his attention. 

“Can we just go home?” she croaked. He looked down at her, not saying anything for a moment, before slowly nodding his head.

“Come on,” he grunted, leading her out the house and to his car.

When they got home, Nate walked around the truck and opened the door for her, helping her as she stumbled out of the car.

“Can you at least look like you can fucking walk before dad sees you? Jesus,” he grumbled, helping her walk to the door.

When they got inside she pulled away, stumbling up the stairs. She whispered a goodnight to him before staggering into her room and on her bed. She groggily kicked off her shoes before pulling her comforter up. Her head was throbbing, and her eyes felt heavy as she laid on her bed, sending a quick text to Maddy letting her know she went back home.

She heard her door creak open.

“Goodnight, kiddo. You need anything?” she heard her dad whisper from across the room. She looked over at him. He was peeking his head through her door, looking at her with kind eyes. 

“Can I get some water?” she yawned. “And some Tylenol?”

She heard him chuckle, “Sure thing, kid.”

When he came back and handed her the pills she swallowed them and chugged the bottled water before plopping her head back on her pillows. She felt her father gave her a quick peck on the forehead, whispering goodnight, before sleep engulfed her.

#fezco euphoria #fezco fanfic #fezco x oc #fezco #maddy perez #kat hernandez #nate jacobs #rue bennett #euphoria #euphoria fanfic #my oc #fezco-euphoria #nate jacobs euphoria #rue bennet euphoria #maddy perez euphoria #kat hernandez euphoria

[lets-play-gwent]

Concerning Yennefer and Geralt

I would like to posit my two cents on the debate between shipping Geralt with Yennefer or with Jaskier. I’ve seen several posts talking about how they’re perfect for each other and Yen just has some flaws, but I politely disagree. (I don’t meant this to be a callout in any way-- we can all enjoy this fandom with our own opinions I just really want to be involved in The Discourse. Full respect to everyone who ships yennefer x geralt.) Rant ahead. 

I think Yennefer is demonized by some people a lot, and just generally gets a bad rap because people are intimidated by powerful women who don’t take nay shit. She’s not purely evil. She’s a complicated person with flaws, and her arc is unique and interesting to read/watch. 

However, I think she uses her power to manipulate people around her and treats Geralt like shit. I don’t think he is truly happy at many points during their relationship, but rather tolerant of her behavior because he’s infatuated and doesn’t believe he deserves or will get any other meaningful romantic affection in his life. He can’t be honest with her, walks on eggshells constantly to avoid pissing her off. “I’d rather drop dead, he thought. But he did not say it aloud. Contradicting Yennefer, as he knew, inevitably led to a fight, and a fight with Yennefer is not the safest thing” (Sapkowski, Sword of Destiny). A relationship with one person who has virtually no sense of self worth and another person who will fly off the handle and break things or hurt people if you disagree with her is not functional. She constantly invades his privacy by reading his mind; she knows he hates it, because he has told her multiple times, but she doesn’t listen and does whatever she wants. Yennefer also can give off rapey vibes, like the scene with Jaskier & Djinn in the Netflix series or all the times she uses the boner spell on Geralt when he’s tired after a hunt or distracted. Yes he wants that some or a lot of the time, but she just kind of does it without asking, which makes me feel icky. In a Shard of Ice, which is when Geralt and Istredd get in a cockfight because Yennefer can’t commit to either and strings both of them along, she tries to tell Geralt her feelings but turns it into a metaphor with an ice queen who throws shards of ice everywhere instead of saying “I care about you but I’m not in a stable enough place to be in a relationship right now” and gets angry at him for not understanding her cryptic messages.  

I absolutely agree that it is fantastic and important to portray relationships realistically, without all sunshine puppies and rainbows, because there is an ‘after’ to the happy ending that ought to be explored (I generally dislike the American version of The Office but they did a really good job of portraying Jim and Pam’s relationship realistically with ups and downs once they got together, I think). However, I also don’t want to perpetuate the narrative that you should stay with someone even if they treat you really badly, as long as you eventually have moments of bliss (especially during sex-- most of the sweet lovey dovey stuff between yen and geralt is when they’re fucking) and I think the way Sapkowski writes Yennefer x Geralt does the latter rather than the former. Don’t get me wrong, though, I do absolutely think that Geralt and Yennefer have to be together. Their destiny is tied to Ciri’s, specifically teaching her Witcher stuff and magic so she can do the child of elder blood thing. Geralt and Yennefer do not have to be in a romantic/sexual relationship in order for that to happen successfully! In fact, it would probably be better for Ciri if she could see a functional, loving relationship not based in competing power dynamics, unlike all those she had been around previously.

I’d like to reiterate that these are just my opinions and preferences-- no shade to people who ship Yennefer x Geralt! This is all super subjective, and I don’t think it is necessarily ‘toxic’ or ‘perpetuating abuse’ especially because we as fans, artists, and writers can insert consent and other functional relationship attributes into our ships. I personally would just rather give Geralt a sweet and loving boyfriend who cares about his feelings, as Jaskier/Dandelion does, in literally every single iteration of the Witcher. And I crave the gay representation. Therefore, I ship Geraskier, or maybe a nice polycule for the three of them.

#the witcher #yennefer #geralt #yennefer x geralt #cw controlling behavior #cw r*pe mention #please don't come after me I just have opinions #I'm not coming after anyone else i respect others opinions #we all know polyamory is the solution #but the film and tv industry doesn't seem to know that yet #except for letterkenny

[rosalesbeausderholle]

since when were there ftm characters with male characters on anything? there was the one on the l word a long time ago and that’s it, no? the only mtf with female characters i know of would be that show transparent and maybe one or two random movies put on lgbt film lists. what shows are you referring to honestly?

Off the top of my head, Faking It did it, so did Druck (German Skam) and Shameless. Orphan Black did an episode when they kind of played with that with the gay character but afaik it went nowhere (even as a libfem I thought that was weird) I think there's another one but I can't remember rn.

And it's not just about pairing male characters off with trans men characters (or vice versa). On principle, I'd have nothing against trans characters being in media and depicted in relationships. I'm against it when homophobic conversion therapy-like rethoric is brought into it and that rethoric on tv is what I was talking about. The specific shows I was referring to had a storyline that was about the trans men character being like "I'm a man even if I have a vagina so you have to like me" and the gay character being eventually "taught" (ie coerced) to "get over his prejudices" (yep, they have sex in all those shows, despite the gay character's initial reluctance, yes it is as fucked up as it sounds).

Of course there's also trans women characters paired off with female characters in media (other than the ones you said, Sense8, Euphoria and more) BUT the difference is that while these pairings also have homophobic connotations, esp because the female character is always implied to be a lesbian, I have not yet seen a storyline in which a trans woman "convinces" a supposedly lesbian characters to have a relationship/sleep together because "she has to see past the physical" the same way I've seen this storyline several times with trans men/male pairings. In the stories with trans woman/female character pairings I've seen, the female character is always into the trans one from the get go, there's no need to convince her to be attracted to anyone, which is the difference, despite the homphobic elements being there still. I'm sure that story has played out with "lesbian" characters and men (in the past, at least, can't imagine it'd be popular now), but I don't know of it happening with trans characters.

And I think that has to do with how people know that it'd look bad to people in general, because regardless of identity, when you have someone who looks physically male not accepting a woman's "no", it doesn't look good, even if they believe the female character is in the wrong here, there's a difference between seeing the situation abstractly in your mind and on tv. Also, ironically, trans people would call it a transphobic depiction of trans characters (I've legit seen them be like "ok we don't have to use rapey language when you talk about genital preferences there's other ways!" hint: every discussion about "genital preferences" is inherently rapey).

Maybe I'm wrong, and we just haven't seen this specific storyline in mainstream media because of other reasons? Still, it's weird that in media it's gay men that need to be "convinced" to "be attracted to trans men" when irl it's us (lesbians) who are hit with this rethoric the most (obvs many gay men get it too and their experiences are just as painful and shouldn't be dismissed).

[sandwyrm]

All righty, then. Opinions: Genn Greymane, Tyrande, Jaina.

Sweet sweet vengeance, eh? I’ll steal your keycard idea.

How I feel about this character

All the people I ship romantically with this character

My non-romantic OTP for this character

My unpopular opinion about this character

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Genn Greymane:

1. I’ve liked him ever since I ran my first worgen through the zone back in Cata. I wouldn’t say he’s in my top favorites but that’s simply because he’s not a type of character I would generally be interested in, no fault of his own. He’s one of the better and more consistently written characters of Warcraft far as I’m concerned.2. His wife, I guess?3. The surrogate father/son relationship he has with Anduin is pretty good BUT but and this is my interpretation, it is not and can never truly be an objective, independent relationship because Genn has never properly grieved or accepted the death of his son (as is evidenced by him still ignoring his daughter), so it feels more like he took Anduin under his wing while being an incomplete person himself - and sometimes the advice he gives Anduin comes from a place of anger or vengeance rather than logic and experience as Anduin hopes. It’s... something, for sure. I have enjoyed following their exchanges. I also love the idea of him and Tyrande bonding over the events in Darkshore.4. He’s an asshole for treating his daughter so indifferently and putting even Anduin over her in his hierarchy of relationships. The only reason I remember he has a daughter at all is because everyone keeps asking where the fuck she is and why he doesn’t speak with/about her. That’s abusive parenting.5. I really hope he will not be written as the bad guy for not trusting the Horde and still wanting vengeance on Sylvanas. That would be a very shitty message to send alongside all your other shitty messages, blizzard :) 

I’m just gonna.... V

Tyrande Whisperwind:

oh boy1. oh boy.[editor’s note: we have redacted around 371 pages out of this, too]I really really loved her and she was probably one of my top favorite characters from WC3 up to recently. Her hypocrisy in Legion left me a bit ??? I do mean both her apparent racism towards the Nightborne for no reason and the fact that while you help her free Malfurion in Val’sharah as a Horde, in front of Suramar she’s like “oh.... you again. I’ll only let you live because you helped me.” which was also a bit ????? As someone who loves elves I do love her but what the fuck is up with the jarring writing for Horde players.Then comes the moment I truly disliked her beyond belief, which is during goddamn War Crimes. She hates orcs and she hates Garrosh, okay, but why the hell is she here.... pinning the crimes of the entire orcish race on him for some reason... Doing her best to try and get witnesses that had NOTHING to do with Garrosh to testify against him and the orcs (which was accepted??) ... She is visibly written as being very very kind towards any Alliance witnesses while ripping so hard into the Horde ones it’s surreal but the most jarring one was Saurfang whom she kept hounding into a full PTSD flashback and lockdown because she didn’t like the fact he had nothing incriminatory to say about Garrosh... Half the narrative describes her as an angel/goddess of justice and that one just gave me “bad preteen fanfic” whiplash.... Honestly it was really really awful. But since then I’ve sort of distanced myself from it and simply decided that was 100% Christie Golden and Chris Metzen and 0% the actual character.Then I restarted loving the fuck out of her during BFA and the... literal goddess of vengeance and justice fanfic tier twist. But at least she’s out here calling things as they are and doing something against Sylvanas while everyone else is twiddling their fucking thumbs going all “golly gee, do y’all think Sylvanas really doesn’t like us?”So... It’s Complicated. I have Feelings over Tyrande, and half the time I’m not even sure what they are.

2. Ironically I think she and Illidan would’ve worked better and this is absolutely because of the thing I mentioned in passing before - Blizzard writers cannot write romance. Malfurion and Tyrande was an end goal all along and like... “a fact” in their mind, so there’s basically no lovey dovey stuff. They kick ass together occasionally and they have each other’s back but there’s no real chemistry? But I would very much rather take this over their usual romance of “let’s argue for the sake of arguments because relationships need arguments”.I know Illidan’s feelings were added in as a bullshit love triangle thing seeing how Malfurion and Tyrande were never a “maybe they won’t be, eh?” thing. Poor Illidan then ends up sounding like a whiny, demanding teenager but at least his FEELINGS are described for her, which is more than we ever get for Malfurion who just .... is. That’s the best I can describe his relationship to her. He is. 

3. Her and Genn killing Sylvanas. But this one almost sounds perverse.

4. I don’t get why she hates orcs this much. No. I really do not. It’s stubbornness, it’s writer bias, it’s something no longer supported by the characterization alone. Yes the orcs chopped down trees. Yes the orcs killed Cenarius (who wasn’t even really dead but let’s not talk about that). But eventually, you gotta forgive and forget. And seeing how she forgives and forgets others for WAY WORSE [editor’s note: a 512 bullet point list including Maiev Shadowsong redacted out], there’s really no basis here other than racism? Which.... again, says bad things about the writers rather than the character.

5. I really wish they’d write her more consistently, that’s about it. I know she’s meant to be the Bad Cop of the Alliance but she’s all over the place. She works with us as Hordies and then tells us to piss off within the same expansion. She hates all orcs but she likes thrall (thanks Metzen.....). Like I said, I can’t even hate the character for this one, this is so obviously the writers being bad it’s just .... sigh. Let’s move on.

Jaina Proudmoore:

1. I love her too. Definitely one of my favorite Warcraft characters, ever since WC3.

2. Arthas. That was an OKAY thing, started really really sweet and we’re gonna ignore the whole rapey vibes of “don’t deny me, Jaina”. Only because I was blessed with seeing the worse version of Kalec’s “why do you have FEELINGS over Theramore still, Jaina? It’s been 3 months why aren’t you OVER seeing ALL your friends die? Don’t you care about MY feelings? SMH, women”. Both romances written by the same writer. Fun, innit?

3. I love what she has with Anduin whenever we’re blessed with them interacting, he always seems to be an anchor point for her even though he’s like half her age. 

4. //takes a deep breath// The high body count at Theramore was because of her, not Garrosh. Supported by Tides of War, not pulled out of my ass. She made the wrong call of not alerting the civilians to evacuate, and of bringing in more people into Theramore, because she was too overconfident in winning that battle. She was the one to tell her apprentice to stay, and so on and so forth. She put up a good fight, but considering the fact that she had a head warning, she could have avoided all that. Garrosh wanted the humans out of immediate Horde land vicinity - it would’ve been the same to him if Jaina took everyone and left Theramore. Although yes, he was hoping Jaina would bring in more Alliance officers so that he could cripple the Alliance army in one blow.I’m not going to cockily blame Jaina that she’s dumb or anything, absolutely not. She made a wrong call. It’s human to make wrong calls. It’s brilliant writing. What further irks me is that this was brushed under the carpet and suddenly the narrative again became a one-sided “Garrosh just came nuke us out of the blue I guess, poor us” as time went on. This is again 110% on the writers and not the characters. But I would’ve loved it to be part of her arc as time went on and she needs to get over the guilt of making a wrong call there too, as she has dealt with the guilt of “allowing” her father to die (it was not her fault that he wanted to fight the orcs, it doesn’t sit right with me when people are blaming her for it, but that’s an entirely different essay and our editors are pointing at the clock).

5. There is.... way too much “blame Jaina” going on in her arc. Which makes me blaming her for the body count at Theramore both a hypocrite and a jackass, but at least that one is supported by the narrative.No, what I mean is, again... blame her for her father’s choice. Blame her for her mother’s choice in the BFA arc (I heard that one too...). Blame her for poor poor Kalec being a manchild and not being able to cope with the concept of ‘woman has feelings and thoughts I disapprove of’. Blame her for Arthas’ descent into insanity.Poor girl has got the lion’s share of bad events in the narrative and I can see how her arc has gone all over the place. The problem is... yeah, I will say it. It’s once again, written badly. Great ideas, written terribly in many places. And in such weird ways, too. She is absolved of blame of things she does do (eg her people invading Southern Barrens and razing the tauren settlements - which is what prompted Garrosh to retaliate and raze Theramore but the writers and the fanbase claim was just a sudden, random thing). And then she is blamed for things she doesn’t do and would never logically be responsible for at all, like the choices of her father or her lovers? It’s just ........ it’s.......it’s Something for fucking sure.....What’s that saying? There’s so much to unpack here, let’s just burn the suitcase and call it a day?

[authorcarolinemeade-blog]

Review: Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi

MY RATING: 3/5 stars.

GOODREADS: Check out the synopsis here!

THINGS I LOVED:

1. The world.

2. The magic.

3. The message.

THINGS I DIDN’T LOVE:

1. The character motivations.

2. Inan.

3. The pacing.

Spoilers ahead! I'll break down why I loved/didn't love each of these things. TW for mentions of violence/torture/gross sexual situations, but nothing explicit. My brief conclusion if the full review is TL;DR:

Children of Blood and Bone was a solid book. It had great elements. It had not-so-great elements. But it provided something the YA market needed and delivered a message that I hope everyone absorbs. 

IN-DEPTH:

THE WORLD: I would have a hard time believing anyone who read this book had a problem with the world. It was the most unique setting I've read in fantasy in - well, forever. How they lived and what their culture was like was sprinkled throughout the entire novel in a way that painted a super clear picture for me, but didn't overwhelm me or make me feel like I was getting info dumped on me. It was exciting to read about and was the main reason I stayed engaged with the story.

THE MAGIC: This kind of goes with the world, but I thought the magic system was really cool. It was woven so well into its surrounding setting and I liked how it tied to religion and why that made it so important to Zélie.

THE MESSAGE: This book is IMPORTANT. Nothing in the novel itself moved me as much as Tomi Adeyemi’s author note at the end of it, connecting her themes and plot to our world. Black lives matter. This book matters.

THE CHARACTER MOTIVATIONS: I felt like each character started the novel with clear outlooks and motivations, and instead of those being challenged throughout the novel in ways that would realistically lead to questioning and an eventual change of opinion, we were supposed to believe that characters would give up everything they've ever believed because of single incidents. Was I supposed to believe that someone raised by a hateful bigot who he idolizes and wants to gain the approval of is going to change his mind just because he saw how one family suffered? Am I supposed to believe that that change of mind would happen in days? Because that's what the narrative was telling me to believe, and I didn't.

I also didn't believe that Zélie would suddenly question bringing magic back to all of her people just because she saw a Burner be threatening once, and I also didn't believe that Inan would once again believe magic had to go after seeing that same Burner sacrifice himself because guards were viciously slaughtering dozens - hundreds? - of innocent people. SINGLE INCIDENTS DO NOT CHANGE PEOPLE'S MINDS. It requires repetition, questioning, introspection, and TIME.

INAN: This is more about his relationship with Zélie specifically, but, honestly, his relationship with Zélie was all that mattered in his POV. I hated the magic connection that ran under their entire relationship because it was never explained and it did nothing to convince me that anyone would put aside their ingrained, bigoted beliefs in mere days nor did it convince me that someone would not only forgive someone who was strangling them and burning down their home a week ago, but start to like them. All their alleged chemistry was told to us, not shown to us, and I didn’t buy it. At one point Inan thought about how he loved her and I wanted to throw my book out the window. It was so over the top and forced and cringey. Like them mourning their now-dead “plans” or “dreams” that they had together. I’m like, “You mean the one conversation you had at a party…?”

And the fact that they had sex immediately following Zélie enduring extreme, violent torture was so disgusting to me. Especially because Inan knew he was going to betray her, which honestly feels rapey to me because no one in their right mind would think she’d consent to have sex with him after he BETRAYED her, not to mention the fact that she was in a broken state. He took advantage of her. I don’t care if she initiated it or said she wanted it - he was lying to her and letting her make that decision when in a clearly traumatized state and it was gross as fuck.

And I don’t give a shit that he might be dead. If that was supposed to be surprising or impactful or emotional, it wasn’t. Inan was a wishy-washy, unbelievable, frankly obsessive and disgusting waste of pages, and I hope he doesn’t miraculously pull through in the next book.

THE PACING: This goes hand-in-hand with my other complaints. The first half of the book flew by for me. But as soon as we started to focus on Zélie and Inan, it slowed down significantly. This is a big book. 500+ pages is a lot for a YA novel. And because so much of what was on the page was stuff I didn’t believe and didn’t like, going through it dragged. I went from not being able to wait to read the next chapter to telling myself I wasn’t allowed to do x, y, or z until I read it just so that I’d finish the book.

And that’s all I’ve got! Let me know what you thought of the book and if you agree/disagree with any of my points.

#children of blood and bone #children of blood and bone review #tomi adeyemi #book review #review

[riotatthemovies]

Payback IOU Death (1990)

Not to be mistaken with Payback from 1991 starring Don Swayze that imdb seems to mix the pictures up on and on youtube someone says this Roger Rodd Payback is the Don Swayze one.. so anyways , don’t mix them up... even that they are both extremely cheesy mullet style action flicks. 

Payback IOU Death is something on the level of extreme cheese and near homemade action movies that borders on the line of movies like Deadly Prey or maybe Samurai Cop not only for the mullets but the obnoxious characters and low budget violence.

Produced by Joseph Merhi who would later form the infamous PM entertainment action film company. This would be PM entertainments practice run of over testosterone unrealistic action movies. (cause it definitely was not a professional production).  Payback is so bad it was not a PM entertainment film and in fact after being lost for awhile would be released by Troma.

It stars comedian and social bully Roger Rodd who is neither funny nor an action hero. Most images of the movie should the much bigger and even more mullet styled Deron Mcbee (who was American Gladiators Malibu)  who plays one of the evil henchmen in the movie and just happens to look like an actor hero then the films real star.  Roger Rodd plays mercenary for hire Joe Shepard and it was his real name that made me laugh so hard I had to watch the movie. That and I am always up for a cheese macho low budget action flick.. but wow this was a shockingly stinky one.

The basic plot of a senator is being kidnapped by terrorists and his daughter must convince a retired mercenary to come back to the job and save her father.

The mercenary is Joe Shepard played by Roger Rodd. It takes a long time to meet this character and it was because of his name on the cover that I even watched the movie. You already see several jacked guys with mullets before meeting the so called hero. In fact the opening scene shows a jacked 80s wrestler looking dude wearing the most uncomfortable looking pink mankini. Eventually we meet the hero and he is drunk at a bar. Everyone in the scene seems drunk. Either they are secretly good actors for only one scene or they in fact were all just drunk. For the rest of the film Roger Rodd (it's just funny to say his name) seems to continue being drunk so again I am going with the idea that maybe the cast was just paid in booze. 

Everyone in the film is trying to talk like an action movie but no real dialogue was written for it. So it's the worse, cheesy mumbling you have ever heard. Roger Rodd seems to say the words “Fuck it” all the time that you would joke it was his catchphrase until much later in the movie you realise it is his catchphrase and the movie expected it to catch on.  

After many scenes of Roger Rodd proving that he is neither an action hero nor a decent actor it finally turns into an action movie when the mercenary teams up with the senators bodyguard and they raid the bad guys base. So many explosions with soldier jump from mini trampolines before the explosions even go off. The only memorable scenes involve Deron Mcbee when he first shows up do to an assassination and leaves a audio tape on the dead body with a message for the victims family.  Deron looks like an giant 80s hair metal singer so at first it looked like he was giving the dead body his latest demo tape. Later Deron would face the hero in a fairly hilarious torture scene. 

Sure the movie is filled with military cover ups, rapey terrorists, secret double crossing super agents... but all so bumbling in the execution that I hope you can at least laugh at it. Cause as unbelievable as it will seem this movie was not meant to make you laugh. 

My go to bad movie watching buddy Bob and I watched the movie on knowing nothing about it and got way too much of a laugh about it.

Bad acting from actors that seem like they would be so egotistical that they were sure they were the best actors you ever saw. Poorly filmed and poorly executed. However Bob and I would keep quoting lines from the movie, that out of context make no sense to even quote now. I am sure we will keep quoting the movie and referencing the scenes we totally misunderstood, so much so that people will want to see the movie just because of us. However let this be our official statement from both Bob and I... this movie stinks.. its bad. A small set of “bad movie” memorable scenes worth mocking and thats pretty much it (but wow are they impressively stinky scenes).  Like in the beginning a blonde woman in a bikini gets into a helicopter and puts her clothes back on which made us question if the movie was maybe in reverse.  So no this movie is not actually worth it until you are drinking , eating pizza and willing to bash this movie with your buds.  It borders on Samurai cop but feels like it should know better. 

Lots of people being shot the in forehead lots of cocaine era filmmaking and over acting and a boob here and there for good luck.  Well shit , when I say that it doesn’t sound that bad....

Next we would put on Skyscraper.. no that the Rock movie but the hideous movie starring Anna Nicole Smith that is also being Die Hard with a helicopter pilot. I am not here to review Skyscraper cause that movie is infamous and you can just read the review in my book... you did buy my book right? If not you should :)   I will say though that It has a much bigger professional budget than Payback did but after being on for only a few seconds we realised it was produced by the same people and had Deron Mcbee as the main bad guys henchmen again. Bob and I looked at each other and said.... OH NO HERE WE GO AGAIN!!!  BAd movie life is rough sometimes... 

#payback #bad movies #4life. #roger rodd #deron mcbee #pm entertainment #troma #action #b movies #fart #riot

[analogscum]

DON’S PLUM (2001, d. R.D. Robb)

Why is it, my dear Scumbags, that forbidden fruit is the sweetest fruit of all? Why is it that, when we know that we can’t have something, it only makes us want it that much more? This applies to any number of life’s pleasures, but especially to movies. Just think of the number of films that are out there, just waiting to be viewed, but because they’ve either been lost to time, or the powers that be have locked them away somewhere, we may never get to experience. London After Midnight. The Day the Clown Cried. Until recently, anyway, The Other Side of the Wind. Well, tonight, thanks to the magic of illegal YouTube uploads, I’m here to tell you about some of that forbidden fruit. We’re going to talk about a film that its stars do not want you to see (if you live in America or Canada, that is), a film that to this day they continue to try and bury via any legal shenanigans they can. So get ready, because it’s time to take a big juicy bite out of Don’s Plum.

To start, we must talk about the nineties. In the nineties, two big things happened that allowed Don’s Plum to come into existence: the advent of low-budget Indies with cool kids talking in verbose, provocative lingo (see: Pulp Fiction, Clerks, Reality Bites, Kids, etc.), and the teen heartthrob coronation of Leonardo DiCaprio. As an infamous New York magazine profile from 1998 established, young Leo ran with a gang of fellow young thespians who would be immortalized as “the Pussy Posse.” The modus operandi of the Pussy Posse was…well, you can probably guess what it was. These guys were all about scoring chicks and getting loaded and not tipping waitresses, and they lived like goddamn boy kings. Leo was the leader, with his two best friends Tobey Maguire and Kevin Connolly on either side of the pussy throne. Other members of the Pussy Posse included David Blaine, Lucas Haas, and R.D. Robb, who you undoubtedly remember as the kid who played Schwartz in A Christmas Story. Anyway, around 1995, Robb had a boffo idea: if I could get my hands on a camera and some black and white film, I could shoot my friends doing what we do every night, just hanging out acting like douchebags, and somehow this will magically congeal into a smash indie hit. So Leo and Tobey, who were allegedly under the impression that this was just going to be a short film, gave Robb a bunch of money to make this thing, which he did, casting Leo, Tobey, Kevin Connolly, and a bunch of their other friends, shooting on and off for a two year period, with the young actors improvising almost all of their dialogue. And with that, let’s get into the finished film itself, shall we?

Los Angeles. The mid to late nineties. Everything is in black and white and super fuckin’ suave, because, again, it’s Los Angeles in the mid to late nineties. Jeremy Sisto is driving a pickup truck with leopard print seats. He kicks a hippie chick out of the passenger seat, mumbling something about “I need…pleasure. And…I need…to know that with…BRUTE FORCE, I got you out of my life, mmkay?” So, uh, right off the bat, um, that dialogue. Yikes, right? The hippie chick, for her part, gets very angry and yells, “You were supposed to take me to Vegas!” Don’t worry, we never find out why she was going to Vegas in the first place, or who Jeremy Sisto’s character is, because he then promptly drives out of the movie. Bye, Jeremy Sisto! Beep beep!

Cut to Tobey Maguire, who looks like he just finished going through puberty roughly five minutes before Robb called “action!” He’s got a dopey look on his face, and an unfortunate bowl cut/chin scruff combo that makes him look like Shaggy from Scooby Doo. He’s sitting in a moody mid to late nineties café, drinking a comically large cappuccino, and half paying attention to the absolute worst goddamn music I have ever heard in my life. The end credits describe this band as “acid jazz,” but I think a more accurate description would be “music to try and swallow your own tongue to.” It’s like a fiendishly unlistenable combination of free jazz, ska, Tom Waits hobo wailing, and beat poetry, and it should’ve been left back in the nineties where it belongs, alongside Olestra and the Kosovo war. Tobey is trying to pick up some ladies to bring to hang out with his friends later, but oddly enough none of these women want to hang out with an arrogant sad sack who has all the charisma and sex appeal of Uncle Joey from Full House. Meanwhile, there’s like a full-on burlesque dance number happening to accompany this zoot suit cacophony, and the director only occasionally cuts to it for a few seconds at a time. I guess, who needs to see a big splashy musical number when you can watch a comic relief wet blanket who just got his first pubes strike out with every woman he talks to, right? Luckily, the café waitress takes pity on him and agrees to accompany him to meet up with his friends, and then does basically nothing else for the rest of the movie. Occasionally the scene will cut to her to remind us that she’s there, but, like, is she really there, though?

Jenny Lewis from Rilo Kiley is sitting facing a dude who is showing his bare ass to the camera, because that’s how real fuckin’ life just is, maaaaan, not everyone always wears pants, dude! They apparently just had sex, even though she’s fully clothed, and they get into a philosophical argument about nothing and everything, as if they’re in the worst deleted scene from Slacker. Even though they clearly hate each other, the dude, Brad, invites Jenny Lewis to come meet up with his friends, and she makes some overly hostile joke about how he didn’t make her cum earlier, because low-budget indie movie. Next we see Kevin Connolly driving down the street in his Jeep, when he encounters the hippie girl from the beginning of the movie, like a couple of star-crossed blabbedy blahs. Finally, FINALLY, we’re introduced to Leo, when he borrows a comically large mid to late nineties cell phone from this little hood rat kid who insists on telling him some boring story about a brawl at the Viper Room even though Leo is CLEARLY trying to use said comically large mid to late nineties cell phone to call up every fine young female he knows to meet up with him and his friends. This makes the little hood rat kid very very angry, and its supposed to be funny, I guess? Anyway, like they were all fated since time immemorial to do, all of our leads finally converge down at the titular greasy spoon eatery, Don’s Plum.

Now, have you ever been at a restaurant, and you find yourself sitting near a table of people who are so obnoxious, so vapid, so relentlessly annoying and unpleasant, that you can no longer enjoy your food, and just find yourself eavesdropping on every improbably stupid thing that these goddamn condom leaks are rattling on about, slowly being pulled further and further into their vortex of suck? You have? Well, then, congratulations, because that experience is the rest of this fuckin’ movie. Jenny Lewis and Brad are the first to arrive, and what do they do? They start playing a goddamn harmonica. Um, no. Hell no. I’m trying to enjoy my meal in relative peace and quiet, you know what I don’t need? Your shitty ass John Popper impressions, ok? Get that shit all the way outta here. Then, just to really up the insufferability factor, Jenny Lewis starts opining about Bob Dylan, but she only calls him Bob, which, you can take that one away from here right away, and then launches into the following diatribe...

“You know what I’m so sick of though? All that fucking commercial grunge crap. It all sounds alike. It’s like the record companies that are promoting sterile music. I mean, I love Nirvana, don’t get me wrong, but they weren’t the Beatles.”

WOOF. Mercifully, Brad interrupts her to tell her that he loves her, even though it’s their like, first or second date. She’s reasonably creeped out by this, and just by how earnest and dark and brooding Brad is in general, until thankfully Tobey and the waitress show up, soon followed by Kevin and the hippie hitchhiker. Leo gets his own grand entrance, checking himself out in the reflection of an aquarium while some mid to late nineties boom bap hip hop blares on the soundtrack, natch. For the next hour or so, the group basically just chain smoke countless cigarettes (remember when restaurants had smoking sections?), harasses their waitress, Flo (hey, it’s a mid to late nineties indie movie, were they supposed to NOT name the waitress Flo?) and talk shit endlessly. They also say the word “bro” a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Like, way too much. The world’s most date rapey frat dude would tell them to relax with how much they say the word “bro.”

Suddenly, in between all of the cigarettes and “bros,” a morbidly obese lady walks past the table, and Leo mocks her for daring to be morbidly obese. The hippie hitchhiker takes umbrage with this, and Leo, charming guy that he is, calls her a “squatty piece of hippie shit cunt.” This escalates to the point where the hippie hitchhiker storms off, throwing her Birkenstocks at Leo, and then smashes Kevin’s windshield with a bat that she found…somewhere? Anyway, she’s out of the movie now, and replacing her is Jenny Lewis’s friend Constance, who they just happen to run into. So more bullshitting and chain smoking unfolds. Female masturbation is discussed, because mid to late nineties indie movie. They play Never Have I Ever, and Kevin doesn’t understand the rules, which is kinda endearing. They almost get into a fight with some creep in a mechanics outfit and Buddy Holly glasses. A horrible ska cover of the “Menomena” song from The Muppet Show pops up for a minute of your life that you’ll never get back. Leo sends the group into more turmoil when he outs Brad as bisexual and gives Tobey shit for being vegan. He also gropes Jenny Lewis’s breasts countless times, but no one seems to mind. They all fight about this for awhile, but eventually apologies are offered and they’re bros once again. However, upon learning that Brad is into both girls and guys, Jenny Lewis begins freaking out about AIDS, because ugggh. Then she and Constance start making out for absolutely no reason other than mid to late nineties indie movie. At one point, the film fades out for no reason, and then fades up again on the exact same scene just in time to hear one of the ladies ask the table, “do you guys bathe every day and, like, wash yourself with soap?” Meanwhile, the film will occasionally cut to short vignettes of the characters each saying non-sequiturs into the restroom mirror. Why? Again, because mid to late nineties indie movie. DUH.

The absolute weirdest scene occurs when Kevin Connolly notices a lady producer whom he auditioned for the previous week. He calls her “Spielberg with a pussy,” because of course he does, what else would he call her? The rest of the table convinces him to go talk to her. To both our surprise and his, when he tentatively approaches her at the bar, she’s like, Oh my god, Kevin Connolly! It’s so good to see you! I’m sorry you didn’t get that part you auditioned for, but get this, I was just watching your tape again the other day, and I want to cast you in the lead in this other movie that I’m doing! Not only that, I have to admit, I find you and your Cub Scout haircut and thrift store bowling shirt to be super fucking sexy, and later on tonight I wanna fuck your brains out so hard, so take my number and call me, hot stuff.

WHAT?!?! Like, is this supposed to be a fantasy sequence? Is it? If it is, you have to tell me, movie! Shellshocked and erect, Kevin returns to the table and recounts the whole thing, including the line “bro, it was crazy, bro! She was on my dick so hard!” Leo, meanwhile, is wearing some fake redneck dentures, talking in an exaggerated Southern accent, and eating his own boogers. This is all real, you guys, I promise.

Anyway, some more shit happens, and everyone is yapping about some stupid, possibly offensive nonsense when suddenly a lady at the next table over slaps the guy that she’s with. Hard. Slaps him really hard. Our heroes get quiet for less than a second, before remarking on the slap that just took place. Holy shit bro, that bitch slapped that guy so hard bro, bro bro bro bro, etc. When things get back to normal, Leo is suddenly quiet and sullen. Kevin notices, and tries to coax it out of him the best way he knows how, which is by asking, “you fuckin’ thinkin’ about something, bro?” Leo starts giving all of these cagey, mysterious non-answers, and before long everyone at the table wants to know if he’s fuckin’ thinkin’ about something, bro. Leo takes a deep drag off of his cigarette, and tells everyone, “my dad committed suicide bro.”

WHAAAT?!?! I’ve gotta say, I honestly did not see this coming. In a mood, Leo storms off for the back bar. Jenny Lewis follows him, and tries to make him feel better by relating her OWN familial sob story: “My dad is gone. And my mom is a junkie. She sells her ass on the corner.”

WHAAAAAAT?!?! All of these sudden dollops of soap opera drama, man! Good gravy. For whatever reason, this turns Leo on, and he tries to bang her. She rebuffs his advances, and they get into an overwrought screaming match that plays out like a Level One improv exercise at the world’s shittiest acting school. Meanwhile, back at the table, Tobey gets mad at Kevin for pushing Leo to reveal the truth about his dead dad, and this escalates into a full on fist fight! BRO!

Now, holy shit, you guys, the last five minutes of this movie. Jenny Lewis runs into the bathroom, and begins lamenting into the mirror about how she let a “perfectly good fuck” get away. As she’s saying all this, she pulls some tinfoil, a straw and a lighter out of her purse and just straight up starts FREEBASING CRACK COCAINE.

WHAAAAAAAAAT?!?! Kinda makes all that AIDS talk seem kinda hollow, huh? Then, oh my god, she starts crying and launches into this fucking after school special monologue, screaming into the mirror about how “I was the one that came on to Uncle Jerry! I was the one that was curious!”

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?! Excuse me, waitress, but it seems you got drug abuse and child molestation in my mid to late nineties indie movie! What is ANY OF THAT doing in here?! And in the last five goddamn minutes of the movie, no less! So now Tobey and Kevin’s bro fight has spilled out onto the street, so Leo goes and breaks it up, he and Kevin do a very intricate secret bro handshake, everyone has a good laugh, Brad lights Kevin’s bowling shirt on fire, everyone goes prancing down the street, and the movie ends.

Now, imagine that you’re Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey Maguire. It’s late 1997, or possibly early 1998. One of you is now the biggest movie star on the planet, thanks to a movie about a big-ass boat. You’ve just seen this Don’s Plum movie that your little buddy R.D. Robb made. First of all, it’s a full-length fucking movie, not a short like you both thought it would be. Second of all, both of you are in there saying terrible things about women, doing terrible things to women, and oh shit, the majority of your fans…wait for it…are women! Bro! But worst of all, our little buddy R.D. Robb, who we thought was our friend, our fellow Pussy Posse member, our BRO, is shopping this fucking movie around to distributors? This fucking movie that could possibly end our careers if anyone ever sees it? Tell me, if you were Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey Maguire in late 1997 or early 1998, would you do everything in your power to make sure that Don’s Plum never saw the light of day?

Well, according to a lawsuit filed in 1998 by one of the film’s producers, David Stutman, that’s exactly what Leo and Tobey did. Interestingly enough, according to court documents, apparently it was Tobey who was more concerned with how his performance in the film would negatively affect his nascent stardom, and therefore enlisted his much more famous best friend to help him carry out “a fraudulent and coercive campaign to prevent the release of the film.” I mean, Leo comes off as WAY more of an asshole than Tobey, who mainly just mopes around and eventually bro fights with Kevin Connolly, but in any case, both parties eventually reached a settlement in which Stutman agreed that Don’s Plum would not be released in the U.S. or Canada. It premiered at the Berlin Film Festival on February 10, 2001, and quickly faded into Hollywood lore.

Every few years, talk of this wild, black and white, mostly improvised movie with some big celebrities before they got famous will pop up again. Most recently, back in early 2016, another of the film’s producers, Dale Wheatley, uploaded the film to Vimeo and posted it to his website, freedonsplum.com, where anyone could watch it for free. Within days, Leo and Tobey’s respective legal teams had the video removed. You would think that after more than twenty years, with Leo now a respected Oscar winner, and Tobey having brought Spider-Man to life on the big screen, they’d be willing to let bygones be bygones. But it seems that they’re still legitimately concerned that they would stand to lose their vaunted place amongst the Hollywood elite if North American audiences ever got to see Don’s Plum. They still fear it. They still think it’s dangerous. In reality, it’s just embarrassing, which isn’t the same thing.

Truth is, there are a million movies out there just like Don’s Plum. There are a million other overly earnest, needlessly vulgar, navel-gazing indie movies made by overly earnest, needlessly vulgar, navel-gazing young people about the lives of overly earnest, needlessly vulgar, navel-gazing young people out there. I mean, I went to film school, fer chrissakes, I can say with some level of authority that Don’s Plum is the sort of project that my classmates and I poured our hearts and souls Into, only to be embarrassed by its messy, guileless sincerity later. The only thing that distinguishes Don’s Plum from the horde of other cringeworthy embryonic efforts like it is, as I said before, its status as cinematic forbidden fruit. Will its two stars ever allow the audience that it was made for to have a taste? Somehow I doubt it, bro.

#ANALOG SCUM #don's plum #2001 #1990s #leonardo dicaprio #tobey maguire #kevin connolly #jenny lewis #jeremy sisto #rd robb #black and white #indie #indie movies #indie cinema #banned movies #pussy posse #controversial movies #controversy #cultmovie #VHS #vhsisnotdead #vhsishappiness #bekindrewind #feedyourvcr #tapehead #tapeheads #unreleased movies

[crackcrocs]

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #4

4. Maggot Brain

I’m so grateful to have people around me that are willing to carry my pain as their own, I’m so out of love with myself but beginning to fill my soul with what I’ve been lacking.

it’s difficult, having undergone such a traumatic situation, spending years to convince myself this nightmare was nothing but a pigment of my imagination, but finally saying it out loud is a process I’m willing to go through. I might go as far as to say this could be about the bravest thing i could’ve done in this life. i wasn't the problem. it wasn't my fault. in no way am i responsible for my own rape.

abuse is never acceptable and i do not deserve it despite thinking I did for a majority of the short time I’ve walked the face of this earth; but neither does anyone and I mean anyone. Everyone responds differently to trauma, even worse when you’ve been gaslighted for so many years of your life that you doubt your own sanity, you blame yourself & you feel crazy- when really you’re just traumatised. I’ve been abused in every sense on multiple other occasions & now I’m scared, I’ve lived my life in fear; that’s why I speak up.

I still feel weak; it still eats away at my brain like a maggot-but I feel good about saying it, not guilty, not like my fault, just right. I would have weird triggers for years and have those triggers feel invalid or dumb. I would put all the abuse I’ve gone through into one category rather than separate the occasions because it made me feel disgusting amplified 4 times rather than just 1. My views became distorted, I became paranoid & began to watch a cycle of abusive manipulators enter my life & never stopped to question why, because I didn’t want to believe why or where this could’ve stemmed from. Until now, I didn’t want to connect the dots but I knew if I never did it might be too late, I’d lose the desire to address it & live, and the guilty would never be proved guilty. I feel really rude that i cant go back in time and save my younger self, how I let such a poison control me- but I still breathe, I still strut my feet, I keep moving. I’m still alive.

men can be bloody awful, but for once I want something that’s says, yes women can be bad too; more than just that-women can abuse men domestically too. in order to understand our present existence it all goes back to past environmental morals, principles & values. Unfortunately I can’t question or study my violators and I can’t sit and police anyone or talk about anyone else’s experiences or contributing factors as to why they are the way they are. I can only talk & direct this or let this be inspired by my experiences, I’ve been raped twice by two separate men on two separate occasions-excluding a covert narcissist I dated & my childhood abuser.

I have an element of personal pride yet sometimes I wonder if it’s an inherent part of my character that I taught myself to enjoy/ find happiness in solitude- or if it stems from feeling inescapably lonely in the first place.

-as a kid or teenager I would create alternative realities that I could go escape too because it was my coping mechanism..it sounds dumb to anyone who is has no deep escapism issues and isn’t affected by the ways of the world. i always wanted to make my own show or felt like it was up to me to write my own script because i didn’t understand what character i was assigned to be in the one on how to be a good girl and function normally in a shitty pedophilic infested rapey shan ass fuckin excuse of a society. lol i could only try maintain the front like the good girl i was. I knew from pretty young the script we were ‘supposed’ to follow was not all that, and eventually i began lusting to be as powerful as the people who overpowered me, but not in such a brutal way, still i was going to make them do what i wanted. in life i would have to slay some demonic reptiles that may come in my way (me thinking i’m a warrior) otherwise i would get eaten alive. yeah so i knew the script had a deeper meaning. real shady, conforming and sus. mines would be freeing, true and carefree.

so there’s obviously an awareness these realities aren’t real now but when you begin to look at life as a game, subconsciously even in adult hood, you take certain risks before putting the logical precautionary measures in place!! I always wish i could stay in line but i vowed to write my own script as soon as i got a pen licence in primary! sometimes i feel like its one of my personalities controlling that ‘i must control my destiny’ crap, however i literally do feel my brain split, i still ave my purpose and will achieve things, there’s just a time scale in my head which makes everything sticky. in most situations where i should be able to act with logic or just make a simple bloody decision, it’s kinda like the classic devil on ones shoulder with an angel on the other (in my head it’s more like fosters home for imaginary friends gang) we don’t always want to make the best decisions or know what is right.

anyhooOO sometimes good things come out of risky situations, sometimes you think you’ll get killed but it becomes all part of the game and you just hope you aren’t getting played and they haven’t been sent to ruin or test you. sometimes you get sent messiahs and griots, storytellers and healers. people are assigned symbols, memorable energies too will never be forgotten, be it aura colors or lucky numbers. anyways I live in my imaginatio still but apply some of that to my ‘reality’ whatever the fuck that is. I am baaaaad for ghosting but i want cuddles all the time when i’m not thinking about hitting my  head against a wall. i want to read a poetry book or some shit with someone in the grass and eat jackfruit! & not run away from my issues when things feel too intense. Although it’s never a boring time when I’m away off sites other than tumblr i do miss when i was once a good communicator, now I really do specifically enjoy the isolated factor. but then I wonder how to differentiate an ingrained love of solitude from an acquired ability to thrive off  loneliness. 

I have seriously learned from it but i don’t need to be nourished by it forever- i want intimacy and honest expression really.. ; i just don’t know to what extent being alone is simply just a form of escapism to recharge or because i have always been convinced by something inside me that i wasn’t the same as others. either way i built contentment residing on my lonesome.

i'm nowhere near recovery. but i'm opening up about it. i'm no longer terrified to talk about it with the close ones that know. i'm trying not to feel ashamed due to the effects my trauma still has today. when in doubt, i have people to go to. i plan to join one to one therapy to help me accept & overcome it after and if things ever go back to some kind of normal that my brain can adapt to. I plan to free myself from this bondage.

#LCZABIBU #deathwillonlybethebeginning

[redheadedwhat]

The Big Bad Wolf

This is my entry for @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash 3rd Negan Writing Challenge. I chose the Little Red Riding Hood prompt. Let me know what you think! 

Title: The Big Bad Wolf

Pairing: Negan x OFC

Rating: NSFW (Explicit sex, violence, and language.) 

It had been nearly three months since Tallulah had arrived at The Sanctuary, and overall she felt she was acclimating quite well. To be fair, her ‘job’ wasn’t very difficult. It mostly consisted of looking pretty and keeping Negan happy and entertained, but anyone who knew Negan knew that he wasn’t always the easiest man to please. Luckily, there were two other women who shared Tallulah’s responsibilities, so she also had quite a bit of downtime.

At first, upon her arrival and for a few weeks after, she had remained upstairs in the wives’ quarters, keeping to herself and only interacting with those that came up there. Eventually, though, she grew bored and began to wander. She would walk through the compound and see what she could do to make herself useful. She didn’t want to take a job away from anyone that needed the points. Her disabilities limited her, but there was always something to be done. Most of the time she would read or sing with the children in the day care or do something simple yet time-consuming in the kitchen. She even helped out Doctor Carson in the infirmary every so often.

Today she had a very specific task in mind. An old woman that worked in the kitchen, affectionately referred to as ‘Grandma Jo’ by most of The Sanctuary, had gotten sick overnight. Not only did she need medication and a few days off, but the doctor had recommended nebulizer treatments, which required even more medication and the use of electricity or batteries to run the machine. Needless to say, Grandma Jo did not have enough points for it all, and, at her age, leaving an illness untreated could cause permanent damage or even death.

Tallulah knew that not everyone could be saved nowadays, but she was determined to convince Negan to help out Grandma Jo. She put on the little red and white sundress that he seemed to like, packed him some lunch, and headed across the courtyard to find him. There were a few new arrivals today, and while not everyone met with Negan himself, he did like to personally interview any that had Savior potential. Tallulah figured he must be almost done by now. Even if he wasn’t, he would surely be up for a break when he saw how her boobs looked in that dress. If not that, then he would definitely stop to eat the pumpkin pie she had brought. She was pulling out all the stops. Luckily, there were only two men waiting outside for him, so he would be done soon. Tallulah smiled at the men and gave them a polite greeting as she headed for the door.

“Where are you headed to, Little Red?” asked the bigger of the two men as they both moved to block her way. “Stay and chat with us for awhile.”

They both licked their lips as they looked her body up and down.

“Bringing lunch to my husband,” she said, motioning to the basket of food in her hand. “I’m Negan’s wife.” Tallulah was not too proud to use the ‘wife’ card to get herself out of trouble.

The men just chuckled and continued to leer at her, “Sorry, not buying that one, Little Red,” the big one grinned at her as he moved closer. “We met Negan’s wife earlier. Pretty little thing called Sherry.”

Shit. Her eyes darted around the courtyard, but she didn’t see any Saviors around or anyone else that could come to her aid. She’d never thought twice before about walking around the Sanctuary on her own. From the moment she’d arrived, Negan had made damn sure to let everyone know that she was his, and therefore off-limits. Unfortunately, these men had either not been told the rules, or they didn’t care.

“Well, she’s his wife, too,” Tallulah shrugged, trying to side step around them, but was blocked by the two men.

The smaller of the two grabbed the basket she was carrying, pulling it out of her grasp and opening it up. “You got some nice stuff in here, Little Red,” he sneered menacingly, “I don’t think you’ll mind sharing now, will ya?”

“I don’t think that’s all Little Red here will be sharing,” the bigger one guffawed, looking her up and down and grabbing her arm when she tried to move away again.

“You’re going to regret this.” Tallulah warned him. She wasn’t trying to be tough. It was just a matter of fact.

The bigger man just laughed at her, pulling her closer to his body and letting his gaze drift down to her chest. Tallulah was not a particularly gifted fighter, but she was going to try her damnedest anyway. Taking advantage of his distraction, she clawed at his face with her free hand and stomped on his foot as hard as she could.

“You fucking bitch!” the bigger man roared, his hand flying up to his face in shock. “We were being nice to you, Little Red, but now you’ve unleashed the Big Bad Wolf!”

Tallulah braced herself for the hit she knew was coming, but the blow never came. At that moment, the door behind them swung open to reveal an enraged Negan, leading a pack of Saviors.

“What the fucking fuck is going on out here?” he barked.

“This bitch just went crazy on us!” the big man exclaimed while his friend nodded in agreement. “She was coming on to us real hot and heavy and then just flipped out. Little Red here is dangerous, man!”

“You know, I find that kind of fucking hard to believe, seeing as ‘Little Red’ over there is my fucking wife,” Negan gritted out. “And the scratches on your face seem to prove your story is total fucking bullshit, but since I’m such a fair guy, I will ask my dear wife if this was a consensual encounter.” Negan then turned to Tallulah and asked, “Tallulah, did you want this slimy fuck and his dumbass fucking friend pawing at you?”

“No,” she answered, giving a curt shake of her head as angry tears began brimming in her eyes.

Negan took her by the hand and led her to stand behind him, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze before turning to face the men again. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

“We didn’t really think she was your wife-“ the big one started to explain, realizing he was in deep shit with a giant, baseball bat-wielding maniac.

“It doesn’t fucking matter who you thought she was,” Negan cut him off before he could say anymore. “We don’t treat women like that here. They say ‘no,’ and you fucking fuck off. No rapey bullshit.”

“We get it, man,” the smaller man nodded frantically. “We’re sorry. Lesson learned.”

“No, lesson is most certainly not motherfucking learned,” Negan corrected him, pointing Lucille in the frightened man's face. “Since you two seem so fond of fairy tales, I’m going to clear up some fucking misconceptions that you assholes seem to have. This,” he gestured to Tallulah who was still safely ensconced behind him, “is not Little Red Riding Hood.” He turned a bit so he could see both Tallulah and her attackers while he spoke. “She’s more like Rapunzel. A princess that’s supposed to stay in her fucking tower, but always manages to escape and get into trouble.”

Tallulah frowned at that. She didn’t usually get into trouble, and it wasn’t her fault that these guys were assholes.

Negan gave her a wink to let her know that he didn’t blame her and continued on with his speech. “If she’s not Little Red, then you are most fucking certainly not the Big Bad Wolf,” he sneered. “Around here, I am the Big Bad motherfucking Wolf, and Lucille here,” he hoisted his beloved bat onto his shoulder, “is my Little Red.”

The two men nodded along to everything he said, even if they didn’t quite understand the point of what he was telling them. They were just hoping that they made it out of this with their skulls intact.

“That brings me to the problem of who the fuck the two of you are in this fucked up Grimms tale,” Negan pondered. “If you want to try being the Big Bad Wolf, I’ll oblige you, because, as I said, I’m a fair fucking guy,” he grinned at the smaller man who had paled and started shaking at receiving Negan’s full attention. “In one version of the story, the woodsman cuts open the wolf to rescue Grandma and Little Red Riding Hood.”

With a vicious gleam in his eyes, Negan unsheathed his knife with a flourish and plunged it into the smaller mans belly. Negan cut the man open from stomach to sternum, pulling his knife back before the man dropped to the ground.

“Nope, no Grandma in there!” Negan chuckled and turned his attention to the bigger man, who by now had literally pissed his pants in terror.

“Please don’t!” the man gasped. “Please, I’m sorry!”

“Oh, I’m not gonna do that to you,” Negan assured him with a wave of his hand. “You have a much more important part in this story.”

The man continued to whimper as Negan leaned in closer, pressing the sharp barbs of Lucille’s wire into the man's cheek.

“You get the honor of fixing a grave inaccuracy in my fucking story,” Negan told him with sadistic glee. “My Little Red Riding Hood is missing her most defining feature. She’s. Not. Red.”

Quick as lightning, Negan struck the big man in the head with his barbed wire wrapped bat, instantly bringing the man to his knees. With a second sickening crack the man collapsed to the ground, dead.

Negan hit him a few more times for good measure before raising his bloody bat aloft and triumphantly shouting, “Now that’s what I call a red fucking riding hood!”

With a smile still on his face, Negan turned to the rest of the men, “Let this be a fucking lesson to any of you that arrived with those two assholes. If you don’t like my rules, you can get the fuck out right now.” When no one said anything, he continued, “Great, now clean this shit up.”

Without waiting for an answer, Negan grabbed Tallulah and pulled her inside with him, taking her to the room where he conducted most of his interviews and locking the door behind them. After gently placing Lucille on a table to later be cleaned and re-barbed he turned to his wife. “You alright there, Lulu?”

Tallulah just nodded somewhat dazedly, still shaking a bit.

Negan silently removed his bloody gloves and jacket, never once taking his eyes off of her. He noticed her flinch slightly as he moved closer to her and sighed. “You afraid of me now?” he asked her in a calm, steady voice.

“No,” she shook her head and reached out for him, wrapping her arms around his middle and burying her face in his chest. She’d never seen him kill a living person before, but that wasn’t what had her shaken up. She knew what kind of man Negan was, and she had heard all about the things he’d done. She also knew that he would never hurt her. He lived by a code, and, for the most part, he followed his own rules.

“Then what’s the matter?” he asked, rubbing her back with one big hand and holding her closer with the other.

“I just forgot what that felt like,” Tallulah admitted. “I haven’t felt scared of just walking around by myself since I got here. I look outside every day to remind myself of what’s out there, but I forgot that people can be monsters too.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that shit again,” Negan insisted. “When people see what I did to those two fucks, no one will even dare to think of fucking with you.”

Tallulah didn’t bother pointing out that the same thing could happen when new, uninformed people came to the Sanctuary. The people here already knew the rules. She was alive and hadn’t been hurt, and that was all that mattered.

“There’s one part of the fairy tale that you missed,” Tallulah peeked up at him while loosening her grip around his middle and letting her hands skim over his sides. Maybe she was extremely fucked up, but something about being in danger and having Negan get so angry and vengeful while protecting her had kind of turned her on.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, his stance relaxing a bit as he took note of the change in her demeanor. “What’s that?”

“Well, after the woodsman cuts open the wolf, he fills him with stones so the wolf can’t run away,” she explained. “But since we’re mixing up our stories a little bit, maybe the Big Bad Wolf could put something as hard as stone in me instead?” She smiled up at him shyly, pushing her breasts together with her arms and cupping his dick through his jeans.

Negan grinned and backed Tallulah up a few steps until she bumped into the desk that was up against the wall. He picked her up and plopped her down onto the desktop, stepping between her legs and letting his hands push the bottom of her dress up. “Is this my reward for being your gallant fucking hero?”

“I thought the Big Bad Wolf was the villain?” Tallulah teased.

“I’m Big Bad Negan,” he rasped into her ear, kissing and nibbling at her neck while his hands moved to pull her dress completely off. “I can be both.” Negan’s eyes went wide, and he licked his lips when he noticed that she only had a tiny pair of panties on underneath her dress. “My, my grandma. What big fucking tits you have,” he laughed.

“Don’t call me that,” Tallulah wrinkled her nose and reached for his belt, “No more fairy tales. Just fuck me.”

“Are you sure?” Negan teased, allowing her to open his pants and reach for his dick while his hands were occupied with her breasts. “I wanted you to say, ‘What a big dick you have,’ so I could say, ‘the better to fuck you with, my dear.’”

“Please stop talking!” she laughed. Negan just chuckled and obliged her, pressing his lips to her own as she stroked his cock.  

Negan ripped off the tiny excuse for underwear that Tallulah had been wearing, and sank a thick finger inside of her. “Fuck, you’re wet Lulu,” he groaned and reached into a desk drawer to pull out a condom.

“Adrenaline, I guess,” Tallulah shrugged, wiggling her ass to the end of the desk. “Don’t frightening situations usually make people want to fuck?”

“Sometimes,” Negan agreed as he slid the condom over his erection. “But I think watching me go all caveman on those fuckers got you hot. You liked seeing your man fucking protect you, didn’t you?”

Tallulah didn’t answer him; she just shifted her hips a bit, trying to rub against him and get him to finally enter her.

“Uh-uh,” Negan teased, rubbing his cock against her entrance, but not going any further. “Not until you tell me the truth.”

“Negan!” she whined, pulling him closer and taking his shirt off to rub her breasts against his chest.

Negan groaned at the feeling of her hard nipples against his skin, but he didn’t stop teasing her. “You know what I want to fucking hear, Lulu.”

“Fine!” she gasped out as his thumb began playing with her clit. “It turned me on to watch you defend my honor or some shit, now will you please get on with it?!”

“Oh, baby, you say the sweetest fucking things,” he laughed, grabbing her legs to pull her to the very edge of the desk and finally slide into her.

“Yes!” she hissed, wrapping her legs around his waist and laying back on the desk, not caring that pens and papers were flying everywhere.

Negan picked up the pace and watched her breasts bounce as he slammed into her, making sure to stimulate her clit at the same time. She’d only been with him for a couple of weeks, but he already knew how to play her body like a fiddle. When he felt himself getting closer, he leaned down to lick, suck, and bite her breasts, throwing one of her legs over his shoulder so he could go even deeper.

Tallulah gasped and shut her eyes, ignoring the temporary twinge of pain that went through her back at the shift in position, in favor of concentrating on how amazing he felt so deep inside of her. She was able to let go of all the fear, anger, and humiliation she experienced just minutes earlier, and just feel.

Negan would not have been the kind of husband Tallulah would have chosen before the world ended, but residing in the fucked up world they currently did, she was glad that she had accepted his offer.

“Fuck!” Negan grunted. “I’m gonna huff and puff and blow my fucking load!”

Even if he did, quite often, ruin the moment.

Tallulah arched her back as she came with him, gripping the sides of the desk and biting her lip to keep down the noise. After a few more thrusts, Negan let her leg slide back down to the desk and half-collapsed on top of her, his sweaty chest pressed to hers as they both caught their breath. Finally, Negan gave Tallulah’s throat a kiss before pulling out of her.

“Fuck, that’s a nice way to end my fucking boring-ass interviews,” he grinned, looking her over as she laid nude and exhausted on his desk. He pulled the condom off with a snap, tied it off, and tossed it into the garbage can before putting his dick back into his pants and zipping up.

“Come on, lazy bones,” he chuckled when he saw that Tallulah had not moved from her position. “As much as I enjoy the sight of you spread out across my desk, I know you didn’t just come here for a mid-afternoon fuck.” He then grabbed her around the waist to help her to her feet. Her legs were still a bit shaky, so she held onto him for a few moments before moving to retrieve her dress.

“Negan, you ruined my underwear!” she complained, tugging the dress over her head and bending to pick up the shredded piece of fabric.

“Yes, I fucking did,” he growled as he ran his hand up her leg and onto her backside, pushing her dress up so it was visible as she bent over. “You didn’t seem to fucking mind at the moment.”

Tallulah swatted his hands away and pushed her dress back over her butt. “I can’t walk around the Sanctuary in a dress with no underwear on!”

“You can wear my coat,” he offered.

Even though being offered Negan’s precious leather jacket would probably be seen as quite an honor around The Sanctuary, Tallulah cringed slightly at the thought. “Isn’t it bloody?”

“Well, I’m not giving you my shirt,” Negan insisted, going over to put said shirt on while checking out the jacket. “I’m not gonna walk around with a leather jacket on and no t-shirt like Rico fucking Suave.”

“That would be a pretty good look,” she laughed.

“So, why did you come to fucking see me?” Negan asked, grabbing a rag to wipe the worst of the blood off of his jacket for her. Normally he wouldn’t have been so accommodating, but the girl had just been through an ordeal, and he was almost always in a damn good mood after partaking in some sex or violence.

“I was bringing you some lunch,” Tallulah told him. “But one of those assholes took it from me, and now it’s probably covered in brains.”

Negan looked up from cleaning off a blood spot and smirked at her. “So you came all the way down here in that fucking tiny dress, that you know makes my dick hard, wearing only the world's smallest fucking pair of panties underneath, just to bring me a fucking sandwich?”

“Well…” Tallulah blushed. “Perhaps I had a bit of an ulterior motive,” she admitted with a smile. “Also, it wasn’t just a sandwich. There were chips, pickles, and I even packed a slice of pumpkin pie!”

“Pumpkin pie?” Negan sighed wistfully. “Those fuckers got off too easy.” He finished cleaning up his jacket and put it around her shoulders. Luckily, it was long enough on her that it would cover her butt and she wouldn’t have to worry about flashing the world her ass. “So what do you want, Lulu?”

“Grandma Jo is sick,” she began, “She needs medication and some time off, and she doesn’t have the points. I was hoping we could work something out.”

Negan let out a heavy sigh and looked his wife in the eyes. “You can’t save everyone, Tallulah.”

“No, I can’t,” she agreed. “But I can save Grandma Jo.”

“You’re fucking lucky I’m in such a good mood,” Negan joked. “I won’t give in so easily next fucking time.”

“This was easy?” Tallulah questioned. “I got assaulted and practically traumatized! In fact, I probably deserve two favors.”

“Don’t fucking push it, Lulu,” Negan laughed. “But, maybe to ease your trauma you can stay in my room tonight,” he suggested. “We can defile some more fairy tales.”

“Deal,” she smiled, her body practically humming in joy at the prospect of a round two. “Now, can we go talk to Doctor Carson and tell him he has to save Grandma Jo?”

“Sure,” Negan agreed, unlocking the door and opening it for her to step out in front of him. If he hadn’t just killed two men in cold blood, he would’ve been worried about someone calling him weak. Using up important resources on a sick old woman just because one of his wives asked him to was almost the definition of pussy-whipped, but at that moment, he just couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. “Let’s go save Grandma Jo.”

Most of the time Negan was the Big Bad Wolf, and he fucking liked it that way, but every once and awhile there was no harm in playing the hero. Why the fuck not?

-----

A huge thank you to @lucifers-trash-stash and @ashesashleyweallfalldown for helping me out with this fic! 

Thanks for reading and please feel free to send me any comments/questions/critiques you may have. 

@negans-network

#ash's round 3 negan challenge #negan x reader #negan x oc #Negan's thirst squad #negan fanfiction #the walking dead negan #negan's network #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction

[caressofkrieger]

Title: “Shame”

Pairing: Ray Gillette/Dr. Krieger

Word count: 5,435

Rating: T 

Summary: Krieger knows that Ray is ashamed of him. Honestly, though, that’s okay. It’s not exactly hard to see why the idea of sleeping with him would be revolting, and if that’s not gross enough, the idea of dating him? Well, that’s just social suicide.  That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt his feelings, but... Krieger’s terrified to rock the boat.

“Holy shit.”

“Yep.”

“That was... Holy shit!”

“Yep yep yep.”

“Jesus, well... I’m gonna be feelin’ that in the morning.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Are you capable of saying anything besides ‘yep’ and ‘yes?’”

The scientist took a moment, brows knitting together in brief, pensive consideration. “Yes?”

“Ugh.”

“Wait! I mean... No? No, I mean yes. Yes. Final answer!”

Ray couldn’t help but smile, a small, involuntary upturn of the lips. “If you hadn't just given me the best, strongest, most mind-blowingest orgasm, I would be deeply annoyed with you right now.”

“But I did.” Krieger sat up halfway, raising his eyebrows at Ray hopefully. “Right?”

“I mean... Well, yeah.”

A bright, cheery grin instantly spread across the doctor’s face. “Excellent!” He leaned forward and kissed Ray on the forehead, then lay back down. “I, for one, have never been so satisfied by regular human sex in my life. It was nice.”

Ray opened his mouth to ask, but stopped himself before he could make that mistake. “I don’t want to know.”

“Oh, no, you most certainly do not.”

“Hang on—did you fuck some disgusting sort of robotic swine VD into me? Because if you did, I swear to God, Krieger, not only will we never do this again, but the next time your sad, sad little penis sees the light of day, it’ll be in two hundred years, getting scraped off the underside of my shoes by a bunch of archeologists!”

Krieger blinked, a small frown on his face. “I mean... If you bury a human penis, it would be entirely decomposed in less than a decade. Unless you plan to preserve it-”

“Dammit, Krieger! No! I don’t mean literally.”

“The whole thing? Or just the part about my penis?”

“Goddamn- If I’ve got radioactive venereal infections up my ass, I will figuratively obliterate your dickhole, and I will literally never sleep with you again.”

His eyebrows flew upward in understanding. “Oh! Well, then we better start testing right away!”

“What? Why?”

“Because I have an erection.”

Ray glanced down, noting the scientist’s sizeable boner, and looked back up to meet Krieger’s eyes with a deeply unimpressed expression.

Krieger coughed. “...What?”

Krieger rolled off of Ray with a satisfied sigh, humming as he ran a hand back through his hair to tame the mess into some semblance of its usual sleekness. “Heilige Scheiße.”

“Yep.”

“Das fühlte... Heilige Scheiße.”

“You could say that again, baby.”

“I mean... I’ve already said it twice-”

“Figuratively.”

“Oh.”

Ray laughed softly, shifting to rest on one side, a hand propped on his elbow so he could rest his head on his palm and just look at the man lying beside him. “So, that was the best celebratory STI-free sex I’ve ever had.”

“Me too!”

“And, uh, I think I’d like to do this again.”

“The infection screening?”

“The sex, asshole.” He gave Krieger’s shoulder a playful shove. “I wanna keep doin' this. Us. Whatever.”

Krieger’s eyes lit right up, like something switched inside him to bring him this pure joy, and suddenly the green of his irises went from warm moss to fucking Christmas lights. He took Ray by the wrist and leaned in close, making his expression as serious as he could manage while still being utterly giddy. “I. Would. Love that.”

Ray rolled his eyes, hoping to play this off as casually as possible, and said, “Well, it’s all yours, honey.”

And then Krieger fucking giggled, and if that wasn’t the cutest Goddamned thing-

Oh, Lord.

Ray was in trouble.

Krieger was a lot of things, namely: bizarre, creepy, eccentric, offensive, seriously disturbed, clinically insane, and terrifyingly genius.

But, as it happened, he was also sweet.

He came over to Ray’s place one night, an eager grin across his face as he happily anticipated a night of guinea-pigging his own personal brand of lubricant with Ray. Ray, on the other hand, was... not so in the mood.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I know I promised you we’d try out the... the whatever stuff tonight-”

“It’s a water-based apple-flavored tingly lubricant with a special aphrodisiac quality that’s absorbed through the skin-”

“Yeah, that. Look, I’d just rather not. Alright?”

He started to close the door, but Krieger stopped him. He gripped the edge of the door with a firm hand and forced it back open, and for a moment, Ray was scared. He might not have known too much about Krieger, but he knew Krieger was mentally and emotionally scrambled with bass-ackwards morals, a creepily vague past, and an extraordinarily rapey van, so yeah. There was a moment there where his heart beat faster and he reflexively reached for his guns, but then he glanced up at Krieger’s face and it was...

Soft.

It was gentle and concerned, a little frown and a furrowed brow, eyes surveying Ray’s expression carefully.

“That’s okay,” he said simply. “We could watch a movie instead.”

Ray raised an eyebrow, looking the German over suspiciously. “What’s your play?”

“We could watch a movie,” Krieger repeated. “I have a bunch of DVDs in my van-”

“Nuh-uh. No rape vans for me, thank you.” He started closing the door again, but once again Krieger held it open.

“I was planning on bringing the DVDs in here,” he explained. “Look, it’s just that I drove all this way—and there may or may not be a vat of bioengineered explosive salamanders brewing in my apartment that need several hours to stabilize before I can reenter—so I’d like to spend some time with you.”

The blond watched the brunet for a while, skeptically studying his expression. After coming up with an alarming amount of sincerity from Krieger’s end, he took a deep, wary breath and reluctantly relaxed his defensive posture. “No sex.”

The doctor nodded enthusiastically. “No sex!” he confirmed.

"Alright. So, what movies you got?”

The German started reciting a list of movies to which Ray only half-listened (okay, quarter-listened), because he was too stuck in his own head to even watch a movie, much less decide which movie to not-watch.

Honestly, he was just glad he didn't have to be alone.

At first they just sat like guy friends, dude bros, on opposite sides of the couch. Ray stared blankly at the TV screen, obviously paying no attention while Krieger was so absorbed by the narrative that he mouthed the dialogue as it happened.

His mind wandered. His legs felt heavy and unreal, and he looked down at them with a nostalgic frown; it was a strange sensation, knowing that the bones in your body weren't real bones, that you were an abomination, a sci-fi freak experiment assembled at the hands of a mad scientist-

A mad scientist.

He looked to Krieger, expecting to see the doctor still enthralled by the film, but instead he was suddenly there, watching Ray with a thoughtful expression and sitting about a foot closer than he had been before.

Ray jumped in surprise, inching further away. “Uh, hey. Can I help you?”

“I can fix them, you know.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“Your legs. If something is wrong, I can fix them.”

“What? No, honey, no, don’t worry about it. I’m just-”

Krieger reached for the remote and paused the movie. The silence bled into the room and Ray felt his chest tighten.

The scientist waited several moments for his colleague to finish the thought. When it became evident that there was no such intent, he prompted, “Look, man, you’re going to have to help me out here. I’m not... experienced, when it comes to comfort.”

“I’m just tired,” Ray said bluntly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, yeah, but you’re lying.”

“And what business is it of yours?”

Krieger frowned and glanced away; the blond sighed as guilt crept up into the back of his mind.

“Listen, it’s just... It doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel real.”

The German’s eyebrows flew up. “The skin? It’s one-hundred percent real. The majority of it was actually yours-”

“That’s not-” He sighed again. “I mean it doesn’t feel natural. Because it’s not, and I... Well, I can’t help but feel like I’m not really human anymore.”

“Oh.” Krieger blinks. “I didn’t...”

“It’s fine. It just happens every once in awhile, I get these days where I kinda wish I wasn’t a fuckin’ monster.”

He said “Oh,” again, and then they both stayed quiet for a long time.

It was heavy and thick. Ray chewed the inside of his lip, searching for something to do or say, because the conversation felt unfinished; Krieger was unusually stiff and well-postured, hands bracing his knees as he stared resolutely at the middle distance. Eventually, Ray gave up and leaned forward for the remote, but that’s when Krieger inhaled in preparation to speak.

The blond froze in place as that deep, tender voice said, “You’re not a monster, you know.”

He sat back up and looked at Krieger, lips parted slightly in surprise, and said nothing.

“You’re a human being,” he continued, “with thoughts and feelings and free will—for now, as far as you know—and even if you are a monster, I mean, I’m a clone of a fringe Mauthausen-Gusen experiment who was stolen from my home and brainwashed by Malory Archer when I was fifteen years old. Now, I live in a transitional neighborhood in an apartment crawling with irradiated insects and swine. So even if you are a monster... Well, I sort of am, too.”

Here, he turned his head to meet Ray’s eyes, a sad smile playing at the corners of his lips. Ray looked back into those deep green irises, world-weary and sincere, and took the doctor’s hand. “Krieger-”

“Besides!” he interrupted cheerfully, the weariness in his eyes switching back on into Christmas lights, enthusiastically squeezing Ray’s hand before letting go completely. “It should serve as some consolation that a solid—mmm, fifty percent?—of your body is still totally human! Pure, unadulterated, original, organic Gillette.” He patted Ray’s knee, the smile now almost contrived, then resumed the film.

As Ray looked back at the TV, he noticed that the emotion currently in the forefront of his mind was confusion. Close behind that, though, was comfort, and he found himself scooting closer to Krieger, resting a head on his shoulder, and laying a hand on his knee.

And when Krieger smiled, wrapped an arm around Ray’s waist, and started rubbing small circles into the small of his back, it didn’t feel unreal or unnatural anymore.

It felt right.

“And... selfie!”

“No! No, no, no, no, no.” He swatted the phone out of Krieger’s hand so fast the scientist actually flinched, blinking rapidly with a blank, dumbfounded expression.

“Um... Okay? I mean, what?”

“You can’t take pictures of us right after sex, you ass!”

“I take pictures of you after sex all the time.”

“Yeah, but- Wait, that only happened once.”

Krieger widened his eyes, glancing around nervously. “That’s- What are we- The number of pictures isn’t important.”

Ray sighed and rolled his eyes as he lit his post-coital cigarette. “Whatever, look—that’s different. I don’t care if you take pictures of me.”

“I, uh, don’t follow.”

“I just don’t want there to be pictures of... us. Like, both of us. Together.”

Krieger blinked again, furrowing his brow first in confusion, then in displeasure, then in simple thought, before the wrinkles on his forehead smoothed over and his expression softened into acceptance. “Oh.”

“Now, don’t get all pissy-”

“Yeah, no, I mean- I’m not!”

“It’s just—you know how everyone else is! They’ll be all like, ‘Ray, what the hell is wrong with you?’ ‘Ray, that’s disgusting.’ ‘Ray, have you gone literally insane and that’s why your judgement is so clouded that you’ve started bangin’ the human equivalent of that weird-shaped fruit they won’t sell to grocery stores?’”

Krieger just looked at Ray, lips parted and quivering slightly. A trace glimmer of betrayal shone in his eyes.

“I mean- That’s not-” Ray sighed. “I don’t feel that way! You know I don’t. I like you. I like spendin’ time with you and talkin’ to you and Lord knows I like fuckin’ you. But, I mean, you can’t honestly tell me you don’t think they’ll give us hell.”

Krieger shifted uncomfortably. “They aren’t the most... supportive bunch, are they?”

The blond chuckled, curling up on Krieger’s chest and pressing a firm kiss against it. “That they are not,” he confirmed. “So, I’d just appreciate it if no one... found out about this. Alright?”

He just ran a hand through Ray’s bedhead and tried not to think. “Yep,” he answered absently, chest hollow and dull.

“Yeah?”

“Yep yep yep.”

Krieger was in his lab one day, slaving over an M-16 that Archer had given him to customize, when—speak of the devil—in barged the man himself, laughing obnoxiously at some inevident joke. “Krieger! Kr- Ha! Krieger, come here, oh my- oh my God.”

“I’m a bit busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Modding your gun!” He held the rifle up, grinning ear-to-ear in pride of the modifications finished so far, but Archer didn't even look; he was too busy staring down at his phone—wait, no, that- that was Krieger’s phone.

“Hey- What're you doing with that?!” He put the gun down (delicately) before lunging across the table to snatch his cell back, but Archer easily avoided him.

“What are you doing with- holy shit, with pictures of Gillette on your phone?!”

“Don’t tell-” Pam. Lana. Anyone. Don’t tell anyone. Ray doesn’t want anyone to know, and-

Oh, shit. Ray didn't want anyone to know.

Not even—especially not—Archer. Because if anyone was gonna give Ray shit for fucking Krieger... oh, God. Krieger quickly figured out that this wasn’t going to be an ‘Archer, Ray and I have been sleeping together for the past two weeks but it’s a secret’ thing. This was an ‘I’ve been secretly taking pictures of Agent Gillette because I’m Krieger and I’m a pervert’ thing.

“...Ray,” he finally finished. “Don’t tell Ray.”

Like Archer would ever show that much mercy.

He took Krieger by the arm and dragged him out, cackling all the way. “Raayy!” he sang, all too pleased with himself. “We’ve got something to shooww yoouu!”

Ray wasn’t interested at all. When Krieger and Archer found him in the break room (Krieger sporting the promising beginning of a black eye from when he tried attacking Archer to get the phone back on the way up), he glanced up over the magazine he was reading and sighed, “What?”

“Krieger’s got nasty pictures of you on his phone! Like, sleeping! And- ugh, just look!” He shoved the phone into Ray’s hand, and the blond took it and flipped carefully through the pictures.

They were... sweet. In a Krieger-y way. It was still fucking creepy, yeah, but in a weirdly sweet Krieger-y way; they weren't even sex pictures, they were just sleepy pictures. Cute, sleepy pictures of Ray with eyes screwed shut, blankets drawn up around his shoulders,  head resting on his arms. Plus, the creepiness factor was definitely subdued by the fact that they’d been sleeping together for half a month.

Although, Archer didn’t know that.

Dukes.

Ray glanced up at Krieger with an almost-apologetic look before he exclaimed, “What the hell is wrong with you, man?! This is disgusting!”

“Well, sor-ry for having a knack for art.”

“This isn’t art!”

“Photography is art!”

“This is stalking! For the love of- Ugh. Archer, get out.”

“What? Why?”

“I wanna talk to Adolf Dickler in private. See how hard these robot legs can kick him in the balls.”

Krieger widened his eyes. “I made those legs!”

“Then I hope for your sake you didn’t do a good job!”

The German winced. Archer laughed and left the room, closing the door behind him. Ray waited patiently to hear his footsteps disappear down the hall, then locked the door and turned back to the doctor.

“Good acting,” he noted, gently placing a hand on the side of Krieger’s face to inspect the gently swollen, purple-pink ring around his eye. “Jesus,” he sighed. “You gotta stop provoking him.”

“He’s really a good guy,” Krieger defended.

“Oh, honey, he’s really not. Speaking of...” Ray pulled the phone out and held it up. “What the hell man?”

“He stole it! I don’t know how! And who knows how he guessed my-”

“The PIN is 2112.”

He gasped with an almost comical level of drama, taking his phone and clutching it to his chest. “How did you-”

“Oh, please, honey, everyone knows it.” He crossed his arms and cocked a hip to the side. “Just try and be more careful, alright?”

“Of course, of course.” He unlocked his phone to start flipping through the pictures. “At least he didn’t see any of the more... unseemly photographs.”

“The what now?” Ray snatched the phone back and swiped through about a dozen photos of himself after sex, face flushed and hair a chaotic mess. In some, he was cute and sleepy, a lazy smile across his face; in some, he was totally fucked out, sticky and bruised. He smiled almost imperceptibly at the memory of seeing Krieger the same way, helping him put makeup over the bite marks on his neck, speaking German with him when he was half-asleep and too out of it to remember the English word for ‘Vorhaut.’

Krieger, who had moved to peer over Ray’s shoulder at the pictures, hummed softly at a particularly intimate photograph. “These would have been... more difficult to explain.”

Ray sighed. “It’s really creepy that you took these without me knowin’ about it. You know that, right? It’s pretty effed up.”

Krieger frowned. “Do you want me to... get rid of them?”

“No, it’s... It’s sweet. It’s effed up, but it’s sweet—and honestly, I’m scared of what you’ll start masturbating to if I take away the most normal material you’ve got.”

When the brunet just blushed and coughed awkwardly in response, Ray scowled.

“You’ve got a boner right now, don’t you?”

“Only, like, half-”

He rolled his eyes and spun on his heel to exit, tossing Krieger’s phone onto the breakroom table on the way out.

“Wha- Where are you going?”

“To your lab.” He stopped, turned around, and pulled Krieger toward him by the tie. His breath ghosted heavy and warm in Krieger’s ear when he said, “And in five minutes, you’re gonna meet me down there.”

Krieger’s heart actually (literally) stopped for a solid two-and-a-half seconds. He gulped and watched Ray walk away, eyes wide.

Something was telling him he was about to take a lot more pictures.

When they became official, Krieger cried—literally. He scooped Ray up in a massive hug (“Jesus, man! Put me down!”) and giggled like a little girl. Ray pretended not to notice the little signs of wetness in the corners of the scientist’s eyes once he finally released his grip.

“Good gracious God, Krieger, y’know we basically passed the point of no return the first time we hung out without having sex.”

“But once you say it out loud, there's no turning back.”

“Don’t remind me,” Ray mumbled, but he couldn't suppress his smile when Krieger wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in close.

“I intend to. I will remind you multiple times every day, at regular intervals. As well as everyone on the planet.”

“Wait, Krieger, no. I don't want anyone knowing about us. Remember?”

“What—even now?”

“Especially now! Krieger, you said it was okay if we didn't tell anyone.”

“I, uh- It is! Of course it is, I just- Yes! Yes, it’s fine.”

“Krieger-”

“Ray.” He rested a hand on Ray’s shoulder and offered a small smile. “They don’t need to know. We’ve got each other, and that’s all we need.”

“Oh, you big cornball,” Ray scoffed, but his grin gave him away. “Now—if my boyfriend would accompany me to a shady movie theatre for popcorn and handjobs...”

Krieger’s eyes lit up like Christmas, and dammit if that wasn’t Ray’s favorite sight to see.

Krieger knew that Ray was ashamed of him. Honestly, though, that was okay. It wasn’t exactly hard to see why the idea of sleeping with Krieger would be revolting—you’d have to be blind (and deaf, and it wouldn’t hurt to lack a sense of smell) to not know that Krieger had some... unconventional tastes in the bedroom. With Ray, he took extra-special care to avoid overstepping boundaries, and not once had he initiated (or even talked about) a single thing unless Ray explicitly expressed interest first. But they wouldn't know that.

If the idea of sleeping with Krieger wasn’t disgusting enough, the idea of dating him? Well, that would have been social suicide.

That didn’t mean it didn't hurt his feelings, but... Krieger was terrified to rock the boat.

Ray was incredible. He was handsome, talented, and simultaneously normal and extraordinary in the most mind blowing way. He could move on from Krieger; he’d done this whole dating thing before and would do it again. For Krieger, though, it was the first time he’d ever had feelings—real, human feelings for a real human being—so if he decided to make this difficult, decided to be an ass and make a big deal out of it even though he knew exactly why Ray felt the way he did, Ray could just leave. And Krieger would be alone.

Ray was the best thing that ever happened to him. He wasn’t about to jeopardize that for the sake of his own ego.

That being said, Krieger was a man who was very open about his feelings. And he wasn't used to hiding them, so... he messed up sometimes.

Take that Wednesday, for example. Ray had been gone almost five days on a mission, and when Krieger came up from his lab to see that his boyfriend was back, safe and sound and all in one piece, he ran forward and threw his arms around Ray without taking note of the other people in the room.

Automated instinct made Ray hug back for a brief half-second before he froze and pushed Krieger off, scowling as if he’d just smelled something horrible. “Jesus, Krieger! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Hey, why all the PDA all of a sudden?” Cyril asked, backing up as if he was afraid he might be subjected to physical contact, as well.

“Yeah, ew!” Cheryl chimed in, narrowing her eyes at the scientist. “Ever heard of personal space, jackass?”

Pam, Lana, and Malory all threw in their two cents, as well, but Ray continued on.

“Seriously, you pervert! God, get off me—I don’t know where you’ve been!”

Maybe Ray oversold it. But he was desperate and terrified that anyone might find out, and honestly, he was a little pissed at Krieger, too; what kind of an idiot just barges in like that without realizing the room is full of people?

Krieger played along. He played along perfectly. He laughed it off, fabricated an excuse off the top of his head, and threw out a few quirky Krieger-isms to make it extra convincing.

But there was this look on his face, right before he got into character. His green eyes shone with a soft, dull light, and his eyebrows pulled together into a hurt, apologetic knot. He looked like a kicked puppy, and it tore into Ray’s heart.

There was nothing he could do, though; not in that moment. He continued to play the part, join in with the others for a few more minutes of ripping on Krieger, then the doctor receded back into his lab and all was normal again.

It was a few hours later when Ray managed to steal away into the lab, descending the steps carefully and knocking softly on the wall once he found which room his boyfriend was in. “Knock, knock,” he said softly, and Krieger looked up with one eyebrow raised.

The agent took a deep breath and stepped hesitantly forward. “Algernop...”

“Look, Ray, I’m s-”

He interrupted the German with a, “Bup!” and held up a finger to stop him. “Don’t worry about it. I, uh... I missed you. While I was gone.”

Krieger hummed fondly at that, closing the distance between himself and Ray before gently taking his hand. “Ich Habe dich auch vermisst.”

Ray smiled.

“Who is it?”

“Nobody.”

“I know you’ve been seeing somebody, Ray.”

“I have not!”

Lana crossed her arms skeptically, barely hiding the growing smirk on her face. “Honey. Come on. You’re practically glowing, you haven’t been going to Fetish Night the past few weeks, and you don’t turn into a little schoolgirl every time someone hits on you, anymore.”

“No one likes a Nosy Nellie, girl.”

“Yeah, no one likes a Secretive Sally, either.”

“Ugh—We are not having lunch together anymore.”

“Raayy! Come on, who is it? Is he cute? Did you meet him at the club? I bet he’s like, a tall Chris Hemsworth type with washboard abs and gorgeous tan skin.”

Ray snorted. “Not exactly.”

“Ha! So there is a guy!”

He let out an indignant squeak. “No! No, there’s no-”

“Come on, this is fun! Is he a circuit queen?”

“No!”

“Is he a twink?”

“I- No, Lana.”

“Is he tall?”

Ray stared at Lana for a long moment, attempting to out-will her, but of course he eventually failed and gave up, sitting back in his chair with an exaggerated eye roll. “He’s my height.”

“Ooh! Okay, okay. Is he... Oh, does he wear glasses?”

“No.”

“Does he have tattoos?”

“Nope.”

“Well, alright, how about you tell me what he does have?”

Ray ducked his head down in slight embarrassment as he calculated his answer. “He’s... sweet. He’s not really my type, but he’s sweet.”

“So he’s ugly?”

“No!” Ray laughed, pushing Lana’s arm. “No, you bitch, he’s good-looking, just... not the type I usually go for. But he’s nice. He’s smart—he’s smarter than me.”

“Holy shit.” She smiled, amused, and sat back in her seat, sipping her iced coffee like she knew something. “You really like this guy.”

“Oh, shut up. I don’t like anybody.”

“You do! You’re totally in like with him. Okay, how’d you two meet?”

“Oh, who remembers?” he deflected, taking a big bite of his chocolate croissant. “We’ve known each other for a while.”

“Oooh! Do I know him?”

“Wh- No.”

“You lying whore! Who is he? He’s not from work, is he?”

“You’re not gonna get it out of me.”

“Okay, so he’s your height, no glasses, no tattoos, and I know him.”

“Stop it, girl. Dangerous territory, here.”

She leaned in close, squinting, and looked deep into Ray’s eyes, scrutinizing and deliberately intense. The blond glanced nervously from side to side, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He could see all the thoughts running through Lana’s head, all the calculations, and dammit, this was why you never tried to keep secrets from spies. “What color is his hair?”

He closed his eyes, at this point only hoping to delay the inevitable. “Brown.”

“Eyes?”

“Green.”

“He have any hobbies?”

“God damn,” Ray sighed, reluctant to give up any more information. “He has... Projects?”

The exact moment that it hit her was ridiculously obvious to pinpoint. Her eyes went wide and her face fell, her lips parting in shock. “Holy shit.”

“Dukes.”

“Really? Him?”

He groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Dukes.”

“Ray, honey. Be careful.”

And then something switched inside of Ray. He felt a twist in his gut and he looked back up at his friend with narrow eyes. “And just what is that s’posed to mean?”

“I mean—Girl. Are you serious? It’s Krieger. He’s practically a Nazi, for one-”

“Oh, please-”

“And for two,” Lana pressed on, “he’s a fricken psychopath! Or a pervert, at the very least-”

“Watch it, honey!”

“I’m worried about you! What, did he Stockholm Syndrome you?” Her expression softened suddenly, and she placed a gentle hand over Ray’s. “Ray, honey, is he... Is he hurting you?”

“Jesus!” Ray pulled his hand back, scowling. “He’s not a goddamn monster, Lana! He’s sweet, and cute, and I’m happy! Yeah, he’s sort of a freak, but- Jesus, I like him, okay? He’s a good cook, and he has soft hands, and he does this thing where he starts drumming on his legs when he gets excited about something, and I don’t think he even notices it. He’s... really thoughtful, and weirdly sexy. And I’m not a fuckin’ idiot—I know how to take care of myself! You know if he tried anything funny I’d shoot his dick off.”

Lana blinked, watching Ray’s expression and letting several silent moments pass before saying, “Okay.” It was simple, but it was enough. She just nodded thoughtfully and accepted Ray’s defense. “Okay.”

“You’re damn right it’s okay,” he huffed, standing up and pulling out a cigarette to ignite. “He’s weird, yeah, and he’s a little crazy, but he’s a human being.”

As he lit the cigarette and breathed in a long, satisfying stream of smoke, Lana put money on the table for their meals, then finally said, “I’m glad you’re happy,” a small (but honest) attempt to ease the tension.

He just sighed. “Thanks, girl,” he mumbled, then he walked away.

Ray analysed his feelings a lot on the drive back to work.

He’d expected to be utterly humiliated if someone were to find out about him and Krieger. But instead of being ashamed of him, he just got... defensive. Because how dare Lana criticise Krieger like that? How could she pretend she knows what’s best for Ray when she never even gave Krieger a chance?

Krieger was a good kisser, a really good kisser. In the bedroom, he was careful and respectful and never did anything Ray didn’t want to do. He cuddled Ray with all his heart, and when he thought Ray might get up or leave, he hung on tighter and pretended to be asleep. He played with Ray’s hair and kissed the nape of his neck and helped him do morning sit ups.

He was weird. He was really weird, and kind of scary, but Ray didn’t give a shit. He was Krieger—Ray wasn't exactly sure when that stopped being a bad thing.

It didn’t matter.

Algernop mattered.

“Where’s Krieger?” It was one of the first things out of his mouth when he got back to the office.

“He’d dicking around in the conference room,” Pam answered. “Why?”

“I wanna talk to ‘im.”

Archer laughed, annoyingly. “Why? Is he still stalking you?”

“Krieger!” Pam shouted. “Get your Dolly-ass out here!”

The doctor strode into the room on cue, eyebrows raised almost dubiously. “You rang?”

Then, Ray kissed him. Hard, full, and deep. He walked right up to the scientist, gently took his face in his hands, and kissed him openly, willingly, in front of everybody.

Krieger first tensed, then hesitated, then followed through. His final sign of acceptance was a soft, content hum into Ray’s mouth as the blond let his hands slide into Krieger’s hair, around the back of his head to pull him closer, and Krieger’s hands landed instinctively on Ray’s hips.

“Holy shitsnacks.”

“Dude, Ray, what the- what the hell?”

“Have fun with his girly-ass hands!”

Cyril insisted on continuing to press for information. “Ray! What’s going on? Can you, like, actually stop for a second and talk to us about this? I mean, can you physically stop? Or is he... drugging you, or something?”

“Oh, please, he’s obviously a robot.”

“Ha! Right?”

“Why would Krieger make a sex robot off of Ray?”

Ray finally pulled back from the kiss with an exasperated huff and indignantly started, “You know-!”

But Krieger put a finger to his lips, his smile gentle and warm, and shushed his boyfriend softly. “To the van?”

Fond little chuckles danced on Ray’s breath as he looked back at Krieger and let himself forget about everyone else. “Alright, honey,” he smiled. “Lead the way.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yep.”

“That was... Holy shit.”

“Yep yep yep!”

“I mean... Seriously, holy shit!”

“Are you capable of saying anything other than ‘holy shit?’” Krieger teased, the smirk on his face entirely too smug.

Ray clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Oh, go to hell.”

“Fine,” the scientist conceded. “But first...” He reached over to retrieve his phone from the pocket of his slacks, haphazardly strewn over one of the seats, and held it up with a small smile, one eyebrow hopefully raised. “Selfie?”

Ray rolled his eyes at the doctor, but he posed for several photographs without protest.

And if he started keeping a few pictures of Krieger on his phone just for himself... Well, that was nobody’s goddamn business.

#archer #archer fx #fanfiction #krayger #dr krieger #ray gillette #Fiktion

[travllingbunny]

So, I’ve seen the first two episodes of Marvel’s Inhumans, which aired a few days ago - somewhat out of curiosity, somewhat out of MCU completism. And, as you’ve heard from most people, they are bad.  I went in with very low expectations, and they were met. I mean, was it absolutely, incomparably terrible? Not exactly - but that's disappointing. If it were "so bad it's good", like The Room, it would be more fun and it would be possible to get ironic enjoyment out of it. But this is just bad and uninspired - it makes Iron Fist look like Jessica Jones in terms of quality - and makes you wonder "what exactly is the point of this?"

Spoilers below.

But something I didn’t know before I went in is that the show isn’t just bad because Medusa's hair looks awful (I couldn't help thinking she looked much better once they shaved her hair - and what a convenient way to cut the budget!), because the sets and costumes look cheap, or because we don't even see any impressive display of powers, which is crucial for a show like this.  

(Which may be the reason why the show was so quickly proclaimed to be a flop: as certain popular, acclaimed and Emmy-winning shows have proven, *cough cough* terrible writing and wooden acting on the part of actors in crucial roles can easily be overlooked by fans and critics, if you throw in a big budget, good special effects, visuals and music, a lot of action and cool things people like to see, like zombies/dragons (here, substitute that for displays of superpowers). (OK, it also helps if your show is on HBO and used to be mostly good years ago.) 

It’s not even bad just because the writing is lazy, uninspired and the dialogue is cliche ridden, while the acting ranges from OK  to poor. It’s not just bad because Anson Mount looks bored or constipated most of the time (or maybe he's just wondering "why did I sign up for this? Time to fire my agent!") or because there are big plot holes and idiocies.

The main problem with this show is that it expects you to care about and root for a bunch of characters without giving you any reason why (since they have just been introduced and haven’t been developed at all), while giving you plenty of reasons not to. Unless you’re a big fan of absolute monarchy and complete stickler for the proper right of succession, but also a fan of caste systems and racism. Which I’m going to go out on a limb and say most viewers aren’t fans of... especially since it happens to be anti-human racism, which the Royal Family is displaying at every turn. Since 100% of the viewers are presumably human themselves, I’m not sure how exactly the creators of this show are imagining the viewer reaction when ‘good guy’ characters show their disgust and contempt for the ‘villain’ for... being ‘just human’. 

I’ve seen people compare Maximus, the show’s designated villain, to Ramsay Bolton from GoT. This is lazy and nonsensical, as the two characters don't have anything in common except for being played by the same actor and being positioned as antagonists. That's probably why Rheon was cast - in hope people would identify Maximus as a villain because he's played by the guy who played Ramsay.  If anything, to continue with the GoT parallel, Maximus is like this show’s Carol Lannister: we know we’re supposed to see him as villainous, but there’s very little so far far that really marks him as a villain (except I guess threatening a cute dog?*) and I have no idea why exactly we should root against him and for Black Bolt, especially when he's right about most things, and the only counterargument the other characters have been able to muster is "Black Bolt is your king and he said so" or “you disgust me, you’re just human”. I'm sure they'll eventually show that he is really just after power and all his rhetoric is just opportunism, yada yada - but does that really make him worse than Black Bolt, who already has the power?

I seriously don’t know why I should root for Black Bolt, Medusa etc. I liked Jiaying from Agents of SHIELD way better than these guys. At least she had a backstory that explained her anti-human racism, and it was clear we weren’t supposed to see her actions as justified or root for her.

It also doesn’t help that Black Bolt's plan to bring the Inhumans from Earth to Attilan is idiotic. I can only imagine all the people on Earth who have just found out they are Inhuman being overjoyed with the idea they should leave their homes, jobs, loved ones and go live on the Moon... yeah, that would go over so well.

Let’s also mention a few other idiocies that jumped at me:

In what universe did that look like a river, let alone a "beautiful river"?

Black Bolt using a sign language renders the whole "Medusa speaking for Black Bolt" thing absurd. Why don't the others simply learn the sign language so they can understand their king? Also, he could occasionally write things down. I'd think they would also find texting useful, but I guess they didn't find a way to add that feature to their comlinks.

He could have also asked for a piece of paper to write something down when he was at the police station (seeing that the Royal Family and other Inhumans from Attilan speak English), or - if he can’t write, he could have used gestures, at least to signify that he wants to communicate - if he actually cared. His behaviour the entire time on Earth suggests he is either incredibly stupid, or a huge arrogant asshole. You don’t have to be able to speak to communicate something, if nothing else then the fact that you are unable to communicate in other ways.

The police also seemed really dumb - if a person is not speaking at all or letting out any other sounds, wouldn't your first assumption be that they are mute? But no one ever thinks of that? Or if they are also not communicating in any other way, that they may have a mental disability or problem of some kind? If someone doesn't want to give statements before their lawyer arrives, they will usually say "I want a lawyer". If someone doesn't speak English, they'll probably shake their head, say "I don't understand" in broken English, or say a few words in a language they speak, to signify they can't talk to you in English and that you should find an interpreter.

But another thing that also annoys me are the cheap attempts to garner sympathy for the main characters - such as showing Black Bolt as a victim of police brutality, and, I suppose, prejudice, since the police officers are shown calling him a “freak” while beating him up... so I guess we should realize they hate him for being Inhuman, rather than, you know, the fact he just acted like a total asshole, stole from a store, caused traffic accidents, endangered and hurt a bunch of people. Guys, isn’t that scene just the right kind of “police brutality out of racism” scene we needed? No? 

And then there’s the scene with Medusa’s hair getting cut - which I didn’t see as anything else but what it is. Since her hair is her weapon, it makes sense for her enemies who have just performed a coup and imprisoned her to cut it so she would not endanger them. It’s pretty straightforward. But no! Since then, I’ve seen at least two people call it a rape metaphor and say that the scene reminded them of rape. And now that they’ve put that thought in my head, I’m sure it was intentional.

Which is another reason to hate these episodes.  I detest "rape metaphors" that fiction and fandoms are so fond of. Lazy writing 101: How do we draw sympathy for a female character (who's not otherwise incredibly sympathetic) or make the antagonist look really villainous? Let's have some rape! Or, OK, if there's no rape... let's make this completely other thing that’s not rape kind of *look* like rape! That will do the trick! It's the 'go to' plot device. I'm completely fed up with all the intentional 'rape metaphors' in fiction, and I’m also fed up with all the times when it’s the fandom that finds moments and lines that have nothing to do with rape "rapey" (usually when it’s a male character who’s villainous or hated by the fandom. Because Rape is a Special Kind of Evil. You murdered a bunch of people? We can get over that. But you said a line that kinda sounds rapey, especially when taken out of context? Well, that’s it - the Moral Event Horizon crossed). I'm sorry - cutting Medusa's hair to remove her powers is not rape. Rape is rape. Go fuck yourselves, Inhumans writers & director. And we all know they would *never* try to make it look like that if it was a male character getting his hair cut to remove his powers, nor would the fandom be reading rape metaphors into it.

#inhumans #marvel's inhumans #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel tv #medusa #black bolt #maximus #iwan rheon #ramsay bolton #rape metaphors #carol lannister #jiaying #agents of shield #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.

[oddree13]

A Wrench Can Do A Lot of Damage

Written for Nursey/Dex Week Day 5: Hurt/Comfort

Nursey/Dex Week: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7

(Read on AO3)

Dex hated Nursey patrol. He had hated it before he was Nursey’s roommate, and he hated it more now that it was usually the default assignment given to him, since Chowder was the new Taddie wrangler with Farmer.

Tonight Dex didn’t want to be in charge of Derek. They had a major win this past week, and Dex just wanted to let go and enjoy the victory. It also didn’t help that Nursey had decided to wear this perfectly fitted purple short-sleeved shirt that showed off his bicep tattoo and accentuated his muscles in all the right places. Dex definitely had not noticed that at all.

Turning to watch where Derek had wandered off to, he saw him by the tub juice stand, now being manned by Whiskey and Tango because Tango had asked Shitty enough times during his visits what went into said juice that he knew the perfect combination to turn every kegster into a veritable bacchanalia.

Watching as his defense partner took another cup of juice Dex sighed knowing he wouldn’t be able to control Derek much longer.

Figuring now was the chance to get his own bit of reprieve, he wandered to the kitchen to talk to Bitty and Ford. He realized after a good while though, Nursey hadn’t stumbled through like he usually did to scavenge for food.

Walking around the party, he searched for his partner and eventually stumbled upon him in the living room. The only problem was that Nursey wasn’t talking to Chowder, dancing on a table, or falling asleep under a box of natty ice. Rather he was leaning against a wall, another guy crowding his space, and was looked as if he was flirting.

Dex didn’t bother to stick around and confirm his assumption, and instead turned on his heel, heading back to the kitchen where he could find another drink, or three, and hang around Bitty, trying to ignore his anger.

No not anger. Jealousy.

He wanted Derek to look at him the way that he looked at that random guy, and that realization made him take two beers out of the fridge.

Leaning against the counter, he listened as Bitty and Ford continued their debate over sweet versus salty cornbread, a debate Dex didn’t know had so much depth, but found himself engrossed.

***

Dex never noticed Nursey going outside. None of the guys had. None of them knew of the new lax bro initiation ritual.

All Dex knew was that Nursey was currently sitting on the back porch with a black eye and he hadn’t been there to have his back.

“What do you mean it was a dare?” Tango was asking, very confused and very hurt.

“Apparently they gave the incoming lax bros a task list worth certain points. Dude with most points at the end of it gets some weird prize, I dunno,” Nursey mumbled, having found the list on the floor after the scuffle.

Dex was reading over it. Usual college shenanigans were peppered with some rather illegal tasks that made Dex too angry to think, as they basically amounted to sexual assault and larceny. But it was clear that a handful of the tasks involved the hockey team and used language that told Dex they were targeted because of all the ways they were different from the lax team.

Derek clearly was the victim of #15 - sucker punch one of those queers during a Kegster (doesn’t matter which one they’re all fa-

Dex stopped reading and tucked the paper away. He turned to Whiskey and pinned him down with a glare.

“I’m going to ask you one time, Connor, did you know about this?” he asked, his voice icy.

Whiskey looked at him eyes wide, partly stunned that Dex thought he would know and wouldn’t say anything, and partial stunned because Dex looked murderous.

“I didn’t know a think. Fuck those guys,” he replied, stating rule #13 of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team Haus Bylaws for the first time.

“Good,” is all Dex replied, and stalked out of the backyard, through the Haus, getting his wrench, and walking across the street.

Farmer and Chowder saw him do this and immediately began to chase after him, but Dex ignored him and walked past the door to the Lax house and straight to their backyard.

Using the wrench and his brute strength he fucked their water pipes beyond simple repair and then found the main that would short their electricity.

Soon enough, their basement began to flood, their power went out, and the sprinkler system they had installed after a fire incident two years ago went off.

As the yells erupted from the house, Dex stood on the front lawn pleased, waiting for the few that would inevitably run outside. Sure enough they did and as soon as they laid eyes on a very angry defenseman wielding a wrench they stood frozen.

“Come near the team or Derek Nurse again, I’ll short your gas line and we’ll all wake up to a rather tragic headline. Also, if you even think about calling the police, I have a copy of your rapey scavenger hunt in my pocket so seriously, try me,” he spat out, and turned around before he could see that they were all just nodding.

***

Back at the Haus no one talked to Dex, all of them a little unsettled by the way he went off.

“I thought he was going to beat them with a wrench,” Chowder confessed to Bitty over the kitchen table as the southerner busied himself making tea for everyone.

Nursey listened on and after the adrenaline and alcohol began to wear off, wandered upstairs to see where Dex has disappeared to. Unable to find Dex in their room, the reading room, or the bathroom, he walked down the steps to the basement.

Sure enough Will was beating on the punch bag that was put down there last year, his knuckles red, and his face tear streaked.

Knowing better than to interrupt him, Nursey came and just held the bag steady for him, letting Will punch it silently until he was unable to anymore.

“I’ve had worse you know,” he offered once Will’s breath had evened out again.

“I don’t care. It was my job to watch you and I let feelings get in the way,” he grunted, walking to the fridge to get water.

“Feelings?” Derek asked, a little confused.

“Yeah. I was pissed that you were flirting with some guy so I didn’t watch out for you. You were drunk, and I should have made sure you weren’t going off with anyone under the influence,” he explained, not meeting Nursey’s eyes.

Derek’s immediate thought was that Dex had ignored him because it was a guy he was flirting with, but reminded himself that Dex wasn’t the same guy from freshman year and they’d talked about his sexuality before moving in to try and clear the air. Turns out Dex just didn’t know things.

Knowing this, Derek’s second thought was that Dex was mad because he wasn’t flirting with him. That made Nurse grin.

“You know if I knew that I could flirt with you, we could have avoided you causing what I amuse is a few thousand dollars in property damage and a threat of murder.”

“First, even if you knew that wouldn’t have stopped that. Second, I shouldn’t let my feelings for you dictate how well I watch you at parties,” he countered, clearly missing the fact that Nursey was flirting.

“Fine, let me put it a different way. If I knew I could flirt with you I would have been flirting with you, Poindexter,” he grinned, and took a few steps forward, enjoying the stunned look on Dex’s face and the rising blush.

“Also, I’m not into the rescue/reward coding that society constantly feeds us, but I’m willing to let it slide this time,” he smirked and pressed a chaste kiss to Dex’s lips.

“Oh,” was all Dex managed to get out before he broke into a brighter blush and covered his face.

***

It took Dex a few minutes to recover, but soon the two boys were sitting on the bottom bunk, Dex icing Nursey’s eye between soft kisses.

(Chowder found them asleep curled around each other the next morning and snapped a photo for future use.)

#nurseydexweek #nurseydex #omgcheckplease #check please fic #william poindexter #derek nurse #myfics #myposts