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#and yes i'm ignoring context here
knowlesian · 2 years
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okay: i’ve done the toe scene from several thematic angles already, but i think a more granular text read is worth doing, because there are some very understandable misinterpretations of this scene floating about that rely on personal feelings and real world standards vs what the text gives us.
now, to be clear about something that feels... sort of obvious, but i will say anyway: when viewed in real life terms, the toe scene is very different. it’s bad to sneak up on people and cut off their toe in the night and make them eat said toe.
like, super really bad. for many reasons. we should not do such things, i do not endorse them. that’s legally and morally wrong and also, gross. yucky disgusting, in point of fact. 
but you have to meet fiction where it’s at to analyze it from a ‘what’s the text trying to convey, what’s going on in-world’ level. 
and in ofmd’s world, stede wasn’t super phased about ed’s face/off plan, lucius whacked jim in the head with a big branch trying to run away and then didn’t really bat an eyelash at jim stuffing him in a box and planning to murder him, etc. this is a world of outsized comical things happening, some of them violent. it’s like gonzo getting stretched on the rack in muppet treasure island— if we take that as the real world equivalent and go ‘gonzo is secretly traumatized, even if he’s grinning and yelling POOOOODLEY POODLEY POODLEY!!!’, it’s missing the specific rules the story is playing by.
we have to hold the standards of the text in place when it’s not the ‘i know this isn’t canon’s take, but this is how i want to play with the paper dolls anyway as is my right’ headcanon lane. which is not to devalue said lane— love me some of that lane, but it is a different lane.
now, all that said: within canon, we are not meant to be like ‘yay ed! good job! this is a thing we should root for and a good choice! do it more, this is actually good for anybody involved!’ it’s a choice ed makes in full possession of his faculties, and it is a bad one.
however: the toe scene doesn’t come out of nowhere, and the text does not set it up as a method of real punishment or act of singular brutality.
in e9, ed says he’s tired of “making some poor bloke eat his own toes as a laugh.” and drinking all day. and biting the heads off turtles. you know! just normal stuff. (he also says he wants to be just edward, which implies those activities are not what he considers just being himself which is sort of beside the point here, but a very deft piece of writing that i love and wanted to shout out.)
this show is very, very careful with wording in important moments, even while they allowed for an amazing amount of very cool improv to breathe in between those moments. arguing for a lack of intentionality in random areas seems to be a little bit of an odd stance— we all seem to agree they were very careful and thoughtful in general.
so ed tells us there: cutting off multiple toes and making somebody eat them was something that happened enough he brought it up alongside something as commonplace as drinking all day/turtle head mastication, and it was considered ‘a laugh’.
now, i’m with stede (and the overall narrative) when i say where’s the laugh in that? once again: i do not endorse the cutting off of toes. only you can prevent weird toe crimes, by not fucking doing them.
but e9 contextualizes this within the world of ofmd for us. when ed was hiding in plain sight under the mantle and then the legend of blackbeard, he cut off toes for a laugh. it seems like he never actually liked it that much via ‘poor bloke’, but either way the text has told us: blackbeard cut off toes and made people eat them, casual-like and often enough it’s mentioned in the same breath as going on a bender. the text reaffirms this in specific through ed in e9 and in general in e8 through jack.
so, that leads me to izzy. who has lived with and served under blackbeard for years, and who tells us he was initially attracted to that legend when he mentions becoming ed’s first mate in e4. 
izzy says he was “honored to work for the legendary blackbeard. the most brilliant sailor i had ever met.”
again, the wording is precise: izzy just told us he first met blackbeard. the legendary blackbeard, to be exact, and the most brilliant sailor izzy had ever met. 
so when they met ed was already a brilliant sailor. a legend with a name already made and established, one izzy was attracted to and wanted to work for.
izzy is not so hot at defining his subjective emotional realities or those of the people around him (or... noticing them happening at all) but we see no evidence he is incapable of recalling general timeline of empirical events— in fact, he accurately assesses the passage of literal time as a plot point but misreads the emotional room over and over as well in the same function, so the show is careful with this as they are careful with just about everything.
so izzy wanted to work for a legend. the text tells us so, and i want to be understanding about missing that subtlety in wording and wanting to create a backstory where ed and izzy built blackbeard together. in a vacuum, there’s nothing wrong with that! however, we don't live in a vacuum, we live in a society (tm), and giving izzy credit for ed’s past and his history and efforts unfortunately ends up unconsciously echoing some of the very same patterns the show is deconstructing by purposefully having izzy do that very thing.
because why would we think ed needed izzy to build blackbeard? on this show, of all shows, why would the text be implicitly arguing that ed needed a white man to help create his legend? that he was not smart and careful and talented enough to become the legendary blackbeard on his own, without izzy to guide his steps and keep him safe?
to be honest, on a less careful show, one that emulates old patterns instead of examining and then breaking them, aka ...most shows? i think that would be the story.
ofmd is much more self-aware, as far as i can tell. izzy tells us he wanted to work for a legend and a brilliant sailor; why would we not just believe the characters when they say ed became all that on his own, and izzy was drawn to the legend because ed is just that skilled despite any given limitation the world/his own mind or body puts on him?
that’s not a question i’m asking facetiously. there’s a reason ancient aliens-type shows and theories exist and those kind of people are very rarely like ‘i bet these ancient white people had no fucking idea what they were doing and needed aliens to teach them how to build their massive and technologically advanced civilizations’. sometimes they do argue that! i don't want to argue in bad faith, myself. it does happen on occasion that the accidental condescension gets spread around— but if you look at the bigger picture, there’s a clear pattern in which groups people find it hard to believe did anything impressive all on their own.
and again: i get missing the subtlety here, just like i get missing that fang’s izzy spewing out both ends anecdote is a set-up for a montezuma’s revenge/overall izzy is a metaphor colonizer stuff. i actually missed the montezuma joke myself on first watch, so i’m not out to scold anybody or to be like ‘fuck you for not knowing any of this already’; i’m just trying to point out the fly in the ointment, and hope people think deeper about this stuff before firing off a take that echoes these patterns on accident.
okay, all that said: back to the text and the toe itself.
it's very understandable to process the toe scene as a punishment. ed says threaten me again and more toes WILL BE TAKEN as he does it, which when removed from the larger context of eating toes tuesday being a regular thing in ed and thus also izzy’s old life, seems much more intense. 
not to mention that’s how any normal human would react to what the fuck happens there. i myself would be HORRIFIED, once again i do not endorse non-consensual toe cannibalism and have no comment on any consensual versions other than ‘yeah, i read that hannibal fic too, and it was weird then hate to kink shame but i do not wish to have my toe cut off so i may consume it. please stop asking me about toe cannibalism as anything but thematic meat. this is a strange place to find myself in.’
but izzy is not us, the audience. izzy is a daddy moaning little nightmare. he wants to touch fire: he is the least healthy masochist on gay god’s green earth and the deep blue sea. he is weeeeeird about this shit and has never even heard of the acronym ss&c, let alone rack. 
he is the sort of man who is like ED. BE A TOE CUTTING LEATHER DADDY. THAT IS WHAT IS COOL AND FUN FOR ALL OF US, NOBODY LOSES HERE. LOL EXCEPT ME! I LOSE A TOE, AND I MAKE IT EVEN WEIRDER WHEN I REFUSE TO BE ANYTHING BUT THRILLED ABOUT IT.
within the world ofmd created, they made sure to set up that Ye Olde Blackbearde cut off toes for a laugh. and one episode after they carefully gave us that precedent, izzy thrust a monstrous caricature of ed in his face and said: this is blackbeard. by no logical leap could izzy possibly be ignorant of the forced toe-eating, regularly done as just a fun little game to play at sea, just like drinking all day, or biting the heads off turtles. not if he’s known ed for years and was attracted to the legend of a man who did shit like that.
so izzy is saying to ed: be this guy again. the narrative made sure we know part of that is being the guy who casually cuts off toes for a laugh.
so when izzy smiles that big ridden hard and put away wet smile and proclaims hey la, hey la my boyfriend’s back? he's being sincere. he wanted ed to be the guy who cuts off toes like it’s not a thing again, and edward did that for him. he’s been reassured that the old blackbeard is himself again, and that’s why he says so. 
(and that’s why canon set it up so that we would know: this toe thing is an old, established bit, which was not done as anything but a fun little prank.)
now, if anybody wants to write fic in the real world logic applies au, i will not poop upon that party. that’s not my issue, in part because i also think there’s utility to saying yeah but counterpoint, canon: i do what i want. 
my angle is that if we talk textual analysis and actual canon, we have to meet stories and characters on their level and look at the world from their perspective. 
ed and izzy (and jack, which is a lot of his narrative utility in e8 beyond just throwing a wrench in the works and setting up the arc with the navy and thus endgame, fuuuuuck me running these writers are just ridiculously good) both reaffirm this, in their separate ways.
textually, the person who most hates the toe scene is ed. izzy said be the guy cut toes off again; ed said he doesn’t want to do that. that’s the text itself, no extrapolation.
now, having said all that: i hope and assume izzy will come to realize this shit is very weird and bad behavior, knock it off and then course correct. 
to own my personal bias, my activist fantasy is not that men like izzy— or my personal izzys, for values of people who actively hurt me in specific— suffer or that they feel exactly what they made me feel. my fantasy is they wake up one morning, look at me, and go well fuck. i’ve been kinda shitting the bed here, huh? i’m gonna fight for my natural allies now, not against them. solidarity!!!! then i am validated, they can become happier people, and there’s one more of Us and one less of Them. the better world i’m fighting for ultimately wins, in that fantasy.
i’m not saying that’s where anyone else has to be, to be clear; it’s just where i’m at.
so when i try to read the tea leaves on the potential of that being what happens with izzy, i could 100000000% be reading in what i would like to see and not what is there. that’s always a thing that could happen, on any given prediction, and to say otherwise would be silly.
however: when it comes to the toe and its precedent and context, that’s not attempting to suss out future movement. that’s reading the text with my own biases acknowledged and set to the side as much as possible, and trying to see what the characters of this world, with this world’s rules feel about what happened vs what i would feel, in my world with my rules.
because, i must reiterate to close: oh GOD, i do not endorse the nonconsensual cutting off of toes. just don’t do it.
tldr: it’s important to recognize the tropes we might be reinforcing on accident, and though the toe scene is horrifying real world terms in terms of how izzy the character in the text’s world processes it, the toe is ed coming through for him and being the blackbeard of the old days— who we were purposefully told used to regularly cut off toes and feed them to people as a laugh.
...and just. because i think i might have to, just one final time for good measure: please don’t cut off people’s toes. nothing in this piece is an endorsement of doing that in our real world. it's bad.
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avelera · 3 months
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PSA: You should question news articles that make you not want to vote
Hey Tumblr friends, but especially young Americans in this, the year of our Lord 2024.
Unfortunately, it is an election year.
Unfortunately, a US election year becomes everyone's problem, and yes everyone else, we are very very sorry that you have to deal with our nonsense.
But in all seriousness, the level of propaganda that's going to be flung around on all sides is going to reach peak levels this year for the English-speaking internet in particular. There's going to be a lot of influence operations, on all sides, and yes including on sides you agree with but they are still influence operations.
Source: I am speaking as a cybersecurity professional who also did a great deal of work in election security.
So, here's what I am going to ask you to do. What I am going to beg you to do: be careful of any article that makes you think there's no point in voting.
That's it. I'm not going to tell you who to vote for, or how to think, or that you should trust or distrust every article out there. I don't care about that. I care about whether or not it makes you think you shouldn't vote.
A lot of influence operations are about making you feel like there's no point. That both sides are just as bad as the other. The the election is falsified. That you can "protest" by not voting (false: you will simply not be counted and your voice will be ignored). All sorts of reasons not to vote.
No matter what you do, what you believe, or who you trust, you really really have to vote this year, and every year, and you need to not listen to articles that say there's no point because among those articles are in fact active foreign influence campaigns trying to promote one side or the other for their own reasons, I am deadly serious right now.
(More context, sources, and examples sources below the cut.)
In 2016, Russian influence operations were focused on tearing down Hillary in order to specifically depress voter turnout among young men of color in the belief that this would help Trump get elected.
From the article: "“Buried literally in the middle of the indictment is a paragraph that should jar every American committed to the long fight for voting rights,” Anders wrote in a statement. “The Russians allegedly masqueraded as African-American and American Muslim activists to urge minority voters to abstain from voting in the 2016 election or to vote for a third-party candidate.”
This is the flavor of influence campaign that has been proven, that does exist, and is the sort of thing that does numbers here on Tumblr.
Things like the situation in Gaza, for example, are incredibly fraught situations. Articles don't even need to lie about facts on the ground there to make people feel hopeless and angry. Again, I am not telling you who to trust or not trust when it comes to news sources. But if an article about this event, for examples, makes you think or even outright tells you, "There's no point to voting, both sides are awful, I just shouldn't bother." You need to pause and at least consider that this might be an influence operation. You need to think critically. You need to check sources. You need to think about the world you want to live in, to vote for, and who might not want that world to happen for any variety of reasons.
Protesting by failing to vote isn't a real thing.
Old politicians ignoring young voters because they famously do not bother to vote is absolutely 100% a real thing. It is why so many policies that are popular with young people are low priority for politicians: they are not afraid of losing the young vote because no one plans on having it in the first place when it's never there in big enough numbers to matter.
So please, please, read what you want. Believe what you want. Follow your heart and your brain and whatever other organ you want to think with. I'm not here to tell you who is right, wrong, trustworthy, good, or bad. I'm just here to tell you that despite all of that, whatever you read, you must vote in your elections, no matter where you are in the world and you must not listen to voices that tell you not to as a protest.
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nottheleastbrave · 2 years
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moonydustx · 1 month
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A not so funny story
requests | mastelist
Summary: With Uta controlling everyone and the marine attacking, you needed to contain an unconscious Law who was looking to join the fight. Now, you need to deal with the consequences of him finding out about this.
Pairing: Trafalgar Law x F!Reader
Warnings: blood, Law hurts Reader (not on purpose), they both love each other, but they are idiots who don't know how to talk. Law doesn't know how to express his feelings in this one. Angst, kinda fluff/happy ending.
W/C: 3.6k
A/N: I just saw the movie Red and the idea came to my mind. I need to shake off the rust and get back to writing, I thought it would be a good solution. Despite being linked to the film OP Red, there may be some things that differ from the canon.
For those who haven't seen the film, a spoiler-free context: in the film, we see a singer called Uta, who Bepo is a fan of and, together with Law, go to the show. Problems happen, she puts everyone to sleep and with her power, she manipulates these sleeping people to fight with other people who want to stop her.
italics apply to flashbacks and thoughts
Part 2 | Part 3 (NSFW)
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The cold stone beneath you contrasted with your hot, sweaty body. You could feel the wounds burning on your body and if you reached out your hand, you could find the cause of them, your captain.
In the distance, you could hear someone calling your name and it didn't take long for Penguin to appear in your field of vision.
"Are you okay?"
"He gave me a hard time, but I'm fine. And you?" You grumbled, sitting up and taking in your surroundings. Apparently everyone had gone back to sleep.
"We're tired but fine. You're bleeding, do you need any help?"
"Everything is fine." You stood, with his help. "We need to get them out of here, I doubt the marines will miss the chance to catch so many pirates gathered in one place. At the very least, this will end in a fight."
You chose to help carry Bepo back to Polar Tang. Even though he was big, sharing the weight would be much easier than carrying Law alone. As soon as you entered the submarine, you disappeared from sight, leaving all of Uta's fight behind.
"Do you guys need help? I can see some pretty bad injuries from here." Ikkaku approached, already stopping the blood on your forehead. "Are they both okay?"
"We should take them to the infirmary and keep them under observation." you warned, seeing two other crew members carry them out of sight. "Can we get away from the fight?"
"Yeah, off their radar." someone answered you in the background.
"Perfect, keep us at this depth, keep an eye on the radios, any sign of change, if Law hasn't woken up, you look for me." You leaned against one of the tables, trying to ignore some of the pain in your body.
It was supposed to be just a quick show, at least that's what Bepo had said. Unfortunately for Law, he ended up being the polar bear's requested companion.
"Sure you don't want to change places with me?" Law appeared next to you, while you finished cleaning the kitchen.
"No captain, I'll be right here, with my duties." You smiled at him and, despite being frustrated, he let out a sideways smile.
"You know that I'm the captain right? That I can give the order and you have to go and I don't."
"You wouldn't be so mean, would you?" you asked indignantly and on one of the few occasions, you heard him laugh, even if it was low tone. "Captain!"
"I'm kidding. Just keep an eye on everything, okay? Don't let Shachi and Penguin cause any trouble."
"Yes, sir. And you, enjoy the show."
You were almost regretting not accepting the proposal. Law would certainly be much better at containing you and preventing you from getting into a big fight than you would be doing the opposite. But you liked the idea of ​​him trusting you.
"Everything is alright?" Ikkaku took you out of your reverie, noticing your body slightly bent and the blood falling on your forehead.
"Try holding back a furious Trafalgar Law from wanting to get into a fight and tell me if that's okay." You laughed, even though it took some of the air out of you. "Just a few bruises, nothing major."
"Come on, I'll help you take care of this." Ikkaku gently pulled you by the hand.
"Boys, do you deal with them?" you asked and they both nodded. "If Law wakes up, don't say anything to him about our little fight."
"You mean, about the big fucking beating he gave you?" Shachi teased you, earning a push.
"Exactly. He has bigger problems to worry about than dealing with this."
You and Ikkaku headed towards the dorm you shared. Your friend made a point of supporting you at every step, even if you insisted it wasn't necessary. She sat you down on the bed and grabbed a small first aid kit hidden on one of the shelves.
"Why not tell the captain?"
"Outch" you mumbled with one of the stitches she had on your face. "I have a feeling he's not going to like that we got into this fight without his presence."
"I think he'll be more resentful that you were the one who held him back." You laughed at her silly observation, then grumbled with another needle. Damn fight. "Don't act stupid."
"What you mean?"
"I'll let you choose. Between you being the only one who can steal books from him without him complaining or about every time we disembark, you having to be on his side. Should I mention that time he freaked out because Kid wanted to take you to the crew from him?" she laughed to herself, at her own memory. "What do you need to see that he likes you too?"
"And who said I like him?"
"Okay, you still want to keep hiding your feelings for him, just hide it better." she laughed again. It was clear to her - and anyone else who saw - that there was something between the two of you. You just prefer not to feed this illusion. "Still, I agree that he won't like all this one bit. Let's try to keep out of his sight."
Law was still trying to assimilate everything that happened. Uta's show had turned into a war scene and in the end, even he had become a puppet. That idea would haunt him for a long time.
Despite recent events, Polar Tang was quiet, too quiet. He could hear some buzzing, nothing he could identify. Another thing he couldn't place was you. The last time he saw you, he had tried to bargain for your presence at the show, even though he had asked to change places with you, he didn't think the idea of ​​going with you was bad. You'd probably hate the song, but he'd enjoy your sarcastic comments about any awkward situation. A small laugh crossed his lips when he thought about what you would say to see little Bepo.
At dinner, he observed Shachi, Penguin and Bepo, talking to each other. The concerned expressions denoted the seriousness of the matter, but that could come later. Even though he slept through it all, he still felt tired.
At lunch the next day, again, nothing from you. Ikkaku was also missing. It was impossible for the two of them to have disappeared together and without any justification. He tried not to think about the worst-case scenarios, but no matter how much he denied it, he wasn't such an optimistic person.
It only took a few seconds of your three companions stalling for him to know that you and Ikkaku were up to something or had already been up to something. He left them behind, following with firm steps to your room.
"I didn't see you two at lunch or yesterday at dinner, I wanted to know..." you two found Law leaning against the door of your room. His relaxed position disappeared in seconds when he looked at where Ikkaku's hand joined your forehead. "What happened?"
"Just a few scratches, nothing major." your colleague replied before you could open your mouth. She knew - actually, you weren't that good at hiding it - about your feelings and how easily you could wrap your head around your own words.
"Yeah, they're from yesterday, some scratches." you tried to complement, the captain's serious expression made it clear that that hadn't helped at all.
"Nothing much and that's why you haven't shown up since yesterday?" he grumbled and before he could continue his lecture, he felt his body being pushed forward, with Bepo, Shachi and Penguin falling beside him. "What the fuck?"
"We just wanted to know if you already know that she was the one..." before the bear finished speaking, the other two covered his mouth.
The grey eyes trailed from you to Ikkaku, to the group lying next to him, and back to you again. The small stress that was forming inside Law turned into concern when he saw the small trickle of blood dripping from your eyebrow.
It only took a few moments away for you to appear like that and he would never tolerate that, you didn't need to know about his feelings or how he was already thinking about taking revenge on whoever had done that, he would deal with it after taking care of your wound .
"Everyone out." you made to follow Ikkaku, stopping a few meters away. "Not you, I need to see this."
The door to the small room knocked subtly behind Law, who waited for a few seconds to approach you. The two of you already had a considerable height difference, but when you felt Law's cold, tattooed fingers on your chin, you felt even smaller. He turned both sides of your face, despite the cold touch, you could feel your skin burn beneath his fingers.
"You're warm, but I don't see any trace of infection." Not this one, you thought. "Give me the name?"
"Name?"
"Which idiot did this?" he replied without much patience, his fingers leaving your face behind.
"This is going to be a funny story." you laughed, stopping immediately when you saw him look deep into your eyes, his expression serious in an almost irritating way.
"Someone decided to hurt one of my crew. I don't think it's such a funny story. Who did it?"
"Captain of the Heart Pirates, Trafalgar Law." your answer didn't seem to catch him instantly, with each word that left your mouth, you could see him getting paler and paler. "I believe you already know, but Uta managed to control everyone who was asleep to attack the pirates and the marines and with that, you and Bepo were also controlled. The boys held Bepo and I had to deal with you, but everything is fine. "
"They told me about Bepo..." he seemed lost for words, taking a certain distance from you and leaning on the small table in your room. "So you restrained me, alone?"
"You, actually Uta, didn't have access to your Devil Fruit powers, it ended up being easier. After all, our mission was just to keep you two away from the navy." you explained, leaning on the opposite side to where he was, seeing his crestfallen expression. "Like I said, it's okay captain."
"Where else did I hurt you?" the question took you by surprise, making it difficult to hide your reaction. "I know my strength, I have a feeling it wasn't just that. I could see it myself, but I trust you, so please."
With your fists clenched and your gaze following your every step, Law could see your hand go to your ribs, along with a grumble, as you bent down to pick up a small cloth and fill it with something that smelled similar to alcohol. As much as he noticed you trying hard, he could see you limping. He watched you smear the contents on one of your cheeks and your arm, revealing some bruises.
You stopped in front of him, letting him analyze. Despite the pain throughout your body, Law's proximity was almost like an anesthetic. If he stayed there, you wouldn't mind spending the day under his gaze. Law took your arm, gently sliding his fingers under the bruise, watching you flinch in discomfort. His hands practically put your arm back in place and placed themselves on the zipper of your jumpsuit.
Your hands placed themselves next to his, pulling the device and opening the entire piece. Of all the times he had dreamed of touching your skin, none had felt like this. He liked to imagine how soft it would be, to think about how your body would shiver, to feel with his own lips every piece of exposed skin, while he heard you ask for more. All the purple spots he had dreamed of leaving on your skin were nothing like the one he saw. Thoughts would need to be put aside at that moment.
His hand knocked down one side of your jumpsuit, showing the large bruise on your rib, which made him hold his breath for a few seconds.
"What else?" his voice was barely audible. He knew there was more to it, but he didn't want to be invasive.
"Just this cut." you took off the other strap of your jumpsuit and let it fall below your waist, showing the wound on your thigh. It wasn't that big, but when you both looked at the place, you understood where all the warmth in your body was coming from. "Shit. It wasn't like this last time I looked." actually it was, you just wanted to spare him the worry.
You adjusted your jumpsuit, leaving the top hanging around your waist. Your eyes searched for Law's, but he seemed to be far away, even just a few centimeters away. For some time, he didn't say anything. His eyes followed one point you had shown and others, looking for other signs. His hands prostrated in front of his body, why had he done that? Why hurt you?
"Law?"
"I...I..." the words seemed stuck somewhere inside him. His hands placed themselves next to your face, a gesture you hadn't received from him yet. "I don't know how to apologize. Forgive me, I didn't want any of this to happen."
"No need, Law, really. I was doing what any of us would do, taking care of our crew, taking care of our captain."
Again the words seemed to have escaped him. He just wished he could hold you and apologize a thousand times, hold you there and heal every little part of you and never allow anything to hurt you again. Some conscious side of him screamed in the background that this wasn't anyone's fault, but the sound seemed so far away to hear, while the picture of what he had done was so close to him.
A few seconds passed, his hands were still on your face, while you just enjoyed the awkward affection you received. He didn't know how to deal with that feeling, it was a guilt like he had never felt. Along with a fear, a need to see you well. There were too many things to deal with and at that moment, he chose to be the most rational one.
"It's infected and may have broken something." Law let his medical side take control of the situation. "Room. Shambles."
Before you even noticed the blue dome surrounding you, the two of you had already been transported to the infirmary. You remained standing in your place as you watched the captain hurriedly walk around the room, collecting some materials and before you could try to get on the stretcher, the two of you were already being taken to another place.
The table full of books, the small window of the Polar Tang showing some little orange fish passing by outside, a cozy bed, even with the sheets spread out. That definitely wasn't your room. You watched Law leave the materials on the table and reach Kikoku. You saw the blue dome again, this time, you knew that he was using his powers to confirm that you had indeed presented all your injuries to him.
"I was worried about your rib, but apparently it was just the bruise. Now about your leg, I may need to redo those stitches and medicate you. I can't let the infection spread."
You knew he was nervous, bordering on anxious, but you had known him long enough to know that stopping him from treating you would be even worse. You had chosen to hide your injuries so that Law wouldn't feel guilty, now that he knew, you didn't have much else to do.
"Law." you called out to him carefully, as he prepared the medication. "Do you mind if I bathe first?"
"Sure, I mean, no problem. Just wait a second." He walked away from the table and piled up some things, which he handed into your hand. "Here's my towel, I also left some clothes in case you want to use them, if you don't want to, that's okay. I can ask Ikkaku..."
"This is perfect, thank you Law." you hugged the small bundle of clothes close to your body.
"Room." again, in a matter of seconds, you were at the bathroom door. "I'm sorry, but your leg is really hurt, you shouldn't force it while walking."
"Okay" unlike the time he had taken you to the infirmary, now he had transported you close to each other, which made the air disappear from your lungs. "Can you wait for me? I mean, you said I wouldn't I should force my leg and..."
"I'll be outside, just call me and I'll be here." Please call me, Law's inner voice practically screamed.
Your shower was much quicker than you expected. Just knowing that he was waiting for you outside made butterflies fight in your stomach. You gently dried your body and took the clothes he had given you. Something that looked like shorts - it might have been underwear, but you didn't worry about that right now - and a black button-down shirt. As soon as you button the last button, you can pay attention to the smell of the fabric. Something soft, woody, you wondered if that was his scent.
"Law?" All it took was a small call and he soon entered the bathroom. Not as discreetly as he expected, his eyes roamed your body. "Can you help me?"
"Of course" your feet left the floor, giving you a few seconds to assimilate that he had picked you up and carried you back to the room. He hadn't done this before, but you preferred to just enjoy the sensation, locking your arms around his neck.
With a few steps inside the room, he placed you lying on the bed, pulling a rod further to the side, only then did you notice the hanging IV.
Law bent down, reaching your arm level, cleaning it with a small piece of cotton. He looked at the wound on your leg. In silence, he cleaned the area and took some bandages, placing them across the entire length of the wound. The contrast between your warm skin and his cold hands was strangely comfortable. You wished they would last a little longer there.
"I think we can leave these stitches for another day, but I need you to take this medicine. It's an antibiotic, the infection is small, but I'd rather take care of it soon." He pulled the small needle, seeing your face pale. "I'm sorry darling, but it's the best option we have."
Darling.
That word would echo in your mind for a long time. The fear of the needle that was about to come into contact with your skin eased when you saw the care he took with each gesture.
"Just don't look, okay?" He waited for you to close your eyes. "Just a few seconds and that's it. You'll feel sleepy, but that's normal. As soon as you wake up, I'll bring you something to eat."
He got up and started to adjust the pillows on the bed, the ones that were around and under you. His hands rested around your body, his body was on top of yours, even without any immediate contact. It was inevitable not to get lost in his eyes, or see him do the same with yours. You would like to engrave that in your memory, forever.
"Are you comfortable?" his face still had the same tense expression from the first moment he found you in the room.
"I am, I promise." you replied, in a burst of courage, you brought your hand to his face, touching his cheek. "Law, what worries you so much?"
He walked away, sitting at the foot of the bed. You just straightened up so you could look at him. His tattooed hands took off his hat, fingers tangling against the dark strands.
"I can't deal with the fact that I did this. I did this to you. Of all the people that could have been there, I hurt you." he grumbled, turning so he could look at you. "You do not understand."
"Actually, I understand." your answer left him stunned for a few seconds. "But don't blame yourself, you didn't choose this, captain"
"I know, but at the same time..." he huffed, trying to find the right words, which scratched his insides every time he looked at your scourged face. "You understand me, huh? I mean, I don't just see you as a crew member and something tells me you don't just see me as your captain. And knowing that of all the things that could have happened, I hurt you. I promise compensate you for everything."
"About what you said, about what we see in each other." your thought was interrupted by a long yawn. "What should we do about this?" You made to get up, but the IV attached seemed to transmit drowsiness straight to your body. Your eyes were already starting to get heavy.
"That we can deal with this later. You took care of me, now it's my duty to take care of you. For that, you need to rest." His hands reached yours, giving a slight laugh when he saw you fighting with your own eyes, wanting to leave them open. "I promise not to hurt you again or let anyone else hurt you."
Before you fall asleep for good, you can feel his lips on your hand.
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aethercores · 1 month
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✮ GREEN TINTED ;
alternatively, what are you, jealous? ft. rafayel, xavier, zayne + gn!reader/mc [non-established relationships] 1.2k+
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can you really blame him? sure, rafayel’s had all the chances in the world to come to terms with your oft-busy life, but he’d brushed those away with the practiced swipe of an easy hand. you'd promised him your attention, after all, and the sea had bore witness to your vow. he finds the finer details don't really matter, even if all his whining after you've missed a few calls might lead you to think otherwise.
it's your new profile picture, though.
rafayel's usually the first to notice any changes to your icon or any new moments, and just as quick to take on your thoughts for any changes to his own. he'd never given any thought to reciprocation, to you asking him for his opinion on which picture of yours might be cutest to post but— there's some... some guy there. and you've got your hands cupped around his face while he stares at the camera like a fish out of water.
with the light press of his teeth to the insides of his cheek, rafayel tries to brush this off. whatever 'this' is. his fingers swipe over to your chat log of their own accord. he'd been meaning to message you anyway, maybe he can just remind you there's way better pictures in that photo album that he knows you keep?
keen eyes swipe over your last exchange. 'read'. like sand grains on an oil palette, he only barely feels the grit before impulse rushes over like a tidal wave—
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playing kitty cards at home isn't quite the same as at meow's café, but xavier's found that there's a different feeling that comes from having you in his home like this. the cozy arrangement of blankets and little cushions across the living room floor. the warm tea on the table between you. the shared space. it's not quite the same, but he prefers it.
it's with a loss at the end of a few rounds that you smile, thoughts drifting from your defeat, stretching your arms above you before slumping back a little. "i might have to get going," you say lightly, checking the time. late afternoon. "i'm meeting up with zayne later."
his brows furrow, a delicate gesture as his eyes stray from your own across the low table, searching for recognition in memory. that you've named anyone clues him into the fact that this is not a new introduction, that you've mentioned them before. it is familiar but, among the friends and family he's heard of in passing or between exchanges, this one's a little different—
"your physician?" he asks, face tilting upwards as you rise to a stand, the blanket drapping softly back onto the floor. "dr. zayne?"
the smile on your face grows a little then, amusement playing in your eyes for reasons unknown, but xavier's always felt warmest with it in sight. even if he is a little confused.
"well. yes," you laugh a little, "but we've known each other since we were kids, so the 'dr. zayne' part is still taking some getting used to."
there's a lot of context missing here, that much he can tell. it seems you become aware of that gap too, your intentions divided between the hunter watch you check once more and the cooling tea in your cup. you smile at xavier once more, a little apologetic, and he wonders if your attentions are similarly divided.
there's not really any time for that, though, but he's left with the thought a little longer after you're gone. brushes his thumb over the lip of your cup. leaves it undisturbed.
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the look zayne fixes you with is placid. that is, to the untrained eye. cool eyes draw calmly from your hunter watch, propped face down upon the table, back to your own. it's subtle, but meaningful, and he knows that you know him well enough by now to know better.
"just ignore it," you say, hand waving through the air in easy dismissal, and he pretends not to see the way your grin widens as you peer up from your card hand to the complex array of kitty cups before you both, currently at an impasse.
it'd been an odd choice, he'd noted as you both sat down in the café, to separate the device from your person. after all, zayne had seldom seen you without it ever since you'd become a hunter, an essential piece in both the professional and personal capacity. he'd know.
irony answers the call to action as the watch flashes once again — the fifth occurrence in a three minute interval — and a small vibration lightly rattles one of the closest cups. a double-pointer blue proudly boosting your score by +10.
it startles you, and you send a minutely too-prolonged glare to the offending piece as though it had purposely made to sabotage your entire game.
he smiles, lightly. "would you like to swap cards?"
you're not a good bluff. though you shake your head, another flash rattles the cup before you've had the chance to verbalise your thoughts. zayne takes the cue, and considers his own hand — catalogues his assists and future turn order — before speaking, "someone's trying hard to reach you. are you certain it's not an emergency?"
you laugh a little. "no, i'd know." the bare hint of a scoff follows, and he can tell it isn't aimed at him, but it seems mostly good-natured, a little teasing. "bad timing, but i did say i had plans today."
someone vying for your time.
it's not something he's given much consideration to before, as someone with such a stringent schedule of his own. zayne decidedly ignores the light flare in his chest at the choice you'd made and doesn't linger on a hypothetical cause. pride has an interesting way of unfurling set shoulders with just the lightest of touches.
you do end up winning the game, though he doesn't entirely feel as though he's lost. you both settle outside the café as you readjust your scarf, the breeze picking up a chill.
zayne waits, patient, turned towards you. "i still have the rest of the day off," he says. it must not say much to you, this half-sentence of his, as you blink up at him. his eyes drift upwards.
a precise, but gentle hand, carefully brushes the top of your head, cool fingers lightly touching your temple before coming away with a stray leaf. he smiles, lightly, and his gaze returns to you once more, elucidating, "is there anywhere you'd like to go?"
he feels a different sort of flare in his chest as he watches as your eyes light up, your excitement suffusing through even the layers keeping you warm.
"yeah, there's—" a subtle, but sudden, flash emits. below, from where your watch has been reunited with your wrist once more. you deflate a little, then perk up a little, made indecisive and a little troubled by some sort of unforeseen circumstance. "there's this food market, but i already promised xavier we'd go later tonight... rain check?"
zayne's eyes glance between your own for a moment before he nods, calmly assenting to the offer, and bypasses the unfamiliarity of the name and the implied familiarity of those plans. there's a light press, a pull just on the edge of taut, between his shoulder blades. he lightly shifts them, a little heavier. doesn't verbalise questions that even he leaves unacknowledged.
"of course."
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principaliteas · 5 months
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someone on r/jewish said this better than me but yes while there is change rn, people are more willing to criticise and see how awful governments are and are actively participating in boycotts (usually people are so unable to boycott that they still listen to abusers like chris brown so def some change here) and that is good i have to admit it BUT.
the issue is something i saw during BLM as well (2020/that time period) is that change is happening but the reasons are wrong.
EXAMPLES: 1) people are becoming more critical of celebs: GOOD!!!! oh wait they're making lists of "good" and "bad" like fucking nazis. oh no. they're worshipping and idealising every celeb who goes "israel bad." OH NO. (there's this anti-black korean "rapper" called jay park who people are now supporting and loving cause he "supports" palestine....)
2) YES people are finally supporting palestine after ignoring them for years and years and speaking out against western media bias of only criticising hamas and not the israeli gov: GOOD!!!! oh no: people are now becoming pro hamas to battle the bias and believing stories that hamas treated the hostages like angels and that they never did anything bad 😟
3) YES people are finally battling the dehumanisation of palestinians !!!! oh no: their goal now is to dehumanise the israeli people to fight white supremacy when dehumanisation of any group works in the favour of white supremacy !!!!
4) YES people are upset about the treatment of palestinians on the land they also have a connection to!!!! oh no: they're battling this by denying any jewish connection to the land and want to remove all israeli people from the land and remove israel from existence
5) YES people are atoning for what they did to muslims after 9/11 and finally standing up for them !!!! oh no: jews are taking the spot as "inherently evil"
conclusion: i hate people saying "change is real" and acting like the world is so much more progressive than it actually is. i can appreciate and respect the few good changes but to act like everyone is being radicalised is horrifying to me. i keep seeing people push this narrative that gen z (my gen) are soooo progressive when we are not the progressive radicals they are painting us to be. everyone's falling for propaganda and bigotry wrapped as "progressive" and "radical". no one fucking reads and relies heavily on random people on tiktok and twitter to provide info that they will just accept without a thought (i'm sorry but that decolonisepalestine.carrd.co thing still annoys me because people need to be baby fed info....but at the same time i understand palestinians need to do what they can to spread info.)
this is a great dissection of a glaring issue in modern progressive circles: the widespread inability to acknowledge that more than one thing can be true & multiple important causes can be acknowledged at the same time.
i think this type of black & white thinking is human nature to some degree (it's easier to split the world into good/evil than acknowledge nuance), but further fueled by a few intrinsic elements of modern activism.
over-reliance on the internet as a primary source, which generates issues such as:
1. the prevalance of short-form content (you mentioned this, too) - you can only fit so much information into a tiktok or tweet, which is where many people get their "news" from.
2. the most emotional & outrageous posts (which tend to oversimplify topics/omit context) gaining the most traction - that's just how social media works.
3. lack of time/no motivation to take their activism offline & gather resources that aren't internet-based.
voices that should be heard are excluded due to oversimplification of the situation (effort is being made to listen to palestinians which is excellent, but people clap their hands over their ears when someone who is israeli or jewish starts talking.)
pressure to speak about an important issue results in individuals who are new to a topic talking about it before they've had chance to educate themselves, furthering the spread of bad think-pieces (this tends to be unintentional, but still deeply harmful.)
individuals are often criticised for having opinions that deviate from the majority view, even if said individual is ultimately fighting for the same cause.
thank you for sharing your thoughts, anon!
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sugurufic · 5 days
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Shopping Carts and Conversations (Geto x Reader)
Summary: You're out shopping with the twins and Geto, when an eldery couple mistakes you for a young couple and the twins as your kids, a comment you're too happy to ignore.
Word Count: 1.2k
Content Warnings: Fluff, for context it's related to Co-Parenting with Suguru, but there's no need to read that for this.
masterlist
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At the supermarket, Mimiko clings to your leg as you walk down the cleaning supplies aisle. You grab a bottle of the fabric conditioner and give it to the four year old to smell. Her little nose scrunched up, and you hand her another fragrance of the fabric conditioner. She approves that one and you throw it in your cart.
“Are you tired Mimiko?” You ask the little girl, she shakes her head in dissent but you can tell she is tired. You have been in the store for too long. “Come here,” you tell her before picking her up in your arms, and she quickly wraps her little arms and legs around you. She is very thin and light for a four year old, all thanks to those cruel villagers. 
With Mimiko at your hip, you push the cart forward and grab your favourite brand of laundry detergent and stain remover. You can't remember if Geto has extra dishwash, you quickly text him asking about it.
Geto Suguru: No Geto Suguru: Are you by the cleaning supplies? You: Yes You: Where are you? Geto Suguru: I'll be there in a moment
You're startled with a fake cough near your ear, but you smile on realising it's Geto and Nanako. The sight in front of you makes you and Mimiko giggle - Nanako is sitting on Geto's shoulder, using his bun as her makeshift support. You quickly snap pictures and show it to Mimiko, who nods in approval.
“What's so funny to you?” Geto asks. “Nanako here was helping me search. You rushed away so quickly.”
“We did not rush away, I told you I'm gonna get some detergent. You're out of it back home.” You counter. “Right, Mimiko?”
Mimiko nods in support and adds, “And you said ‘hmm’, Geto Sama,”
Geto blushes for a moment, embarrassed. “Well, all that matters is that we've found you now.”
“Sure,” you tease, giggling. “What did you get?”
“We have to get rice, lentils and vegetables.” Geto says, holding Nanako’s knees on either side of his head. He brings her to his arms and sits her down on the baby carrier in your cart and pushes it out the cleaning supplies aisle after you throw the dishwash in it.
“We’re out of carrots and cucumbers,” you note. “We have enough tomatoes to last the week. Oh, potatoes - stock up on them. That seems about right.” You turn to the child on your hip and then to the one in the cart. “What do you guys think of apples and bananas?”
“Nooo…” they both whine in unison.
“But you have to eat it, or you won’t get big or strong like Geto-kun,” You tease. The girls think hard at that, always admiring Geto as their father figure. “All of us can have fruits together, then ice cream after?”
The twins look like they want to say no, but they’re big fans of ice cream like most children, so they don’t protest much. You and Geto sneaked in some more fruits to the cart and different vegetables that most kids were known to not like. You wait for your cart to be unloaded into bags by the entrance with Mimiko, while Nanako continues to cling to Geto. You reach out for her when Geto is at the exit to get the bill scanned, holding the two of them on either side. Once free of the guard, he quickly snaps a picture and holds the bags in one hand and Mimiko with the other.
“What lovely kids you have got,” An elderly woman entering the store comments. She is with her husband and presumably their grandchild. Your face heats up, but you don’t bother correcting her, and neither does Geto. “Such a lovely young couple with a family,”
“Thank you,” Geto says, smiling at the old couple. “Is that your grandchild? He looks adorable.”
“He is spending the weekend with us,” The old man says with a nod. “May the gods be kind to you,”
“Thank you,” You say this time. “We hope the same for you,”
Your face burns as you sit Nanako and Mimiko down in the back of the car as Geto loads the bags into the trunk. Your girls have little smiles on their face, and you ask them what they’re smiling about.
“You didn’t say anything when they called us a family,” Nanako says.
“And you thanked them for the prayers,” Mimiko adds.
“Well, that’s because we are a family, aren’t we?” You say, caressing both their baby cheeks with either hand. “It’s nice to be polite to polite people.”
On the way back, you’re both quiet, enjoying listening to the twins talk among themselves. Their delight at your silent acceptance has your heart soaring, and you cannot keep that stupid smile off your face. You are barely holding back your giggles, not wanting Geto to think that you have gone crazy. 
“What’s got you so smiley?” Geto quietly asks you, his hand settling on your knee after changing gears.
“They’re so happy to be considered our family,” you admit, unable to keep the giddiness out of your voice. “I love them so much,”
Geto glances at you from the mirror, admiring the way you glow with joy. He half hopes you’ll remark on that comment of the old lady of you being a lovely couple, but you don’t - too happy to be considered the girls’ mother. He supposes it’s fine, wondering if he will ever gather the courage to ask you out.
“You know, you’ve been helping me out so much, why don’t you start calling me Suguru?” He says instead. “It’s a little strange to hear our girls see you as a mother figure but you still calling me Geto,”
You giggle once again, admiring his pretty face from the side. His eyes flicker to the mirror, but he is mostly focused on the road. It’s nice to hear him ask this so casually, and somehow you hope he’ll say something else, something more - but you’ll happily take what he offers. “Okay, Suguru,” you test, loving the way his name rolls off your tongue. He looks positively delighted too. “You should start addressing me by my first name too, then.”
“Of course,” he says, the sound of your name sounding angelic in his soft voice. You get why he has always been popular among the girls, his pretty face and voice and gentle manners are easy to impress almost anyone. Your face only brightens when he hums out your name, a chuckle escaping you.
Geto cannot stop thinking about the elderly couple addressing you and his girls as a lovely young couple with a family - he hasn’t felt that delighted in a long while, praying to the gods who listen to give him courage, courage to finally ask you out for a date. You’re so kind, helping him with the girls and reassuring him that he is doing a great job with the girls, spending your time with him and your girls, acting like the unassigned-assigned head of the household. 
In his rose coloured dream, he can freely hold you and kiss your pretty face as he pleases, the girls call him papa and call you mama - it’s a fantasy so close to reality that he can almost taste it, but like Tantalus’ fruit, it’s just a bit too far away.
A/N: Can you tell that i'm in love with this dynamic?
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matan4il · 2 months
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Feel like I'm going insane every time I see anti-Israeli propaganda. Just saw a post claiming the war in Gaza is one of the deadliest "in history." Gaza isn't even the deadliest war of 2023. Ukraine, Sudan, Myanmar and others would like to have a word.
Is there a reason people feel the need to lie to care about Palestinians? Like do they feel that if they told the truth, they'd be hypocrites for not caring about other conflicts?
Hi Nonnie,
I'm with you, the dumb, ignorant shit that gets posted so carelessly, showing a complete disregard for the lives of the 20.3 million people who are threatened by Hamas (the people who need to be free of this genocidal, antisemitic, dictatorial terrorist organization) is truly breaking world records. Beyond the fact that Hamas (the so-called "Gaza health ministry") has been caught lying about the number of fatalities, such as in the al-Ahli hospital parking lot explosion, even if we accept its numbers, you're absolutely right. The bloodiest conflict in human history was WWII, with between 70 and 85 million fatalities. The war in Gaza is nowhere near that scale. Even if you take all Israelis and Palestinians together, we're not going to reach such numbers, so what are these people even on about!? And yes, here's a good reminder IMO of current on going conflicts that are also bloodier than the war in Gaza, but don't get anywhere near as much attention. I guess if it doesn't involve vilifying the Jews, those other wars are just not as worthy of being talked about...
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People involved in this are not all the same. I assume some are just uninformed, and they repeat the lies they've heard from others, which they accepted as truth. Others know they're lying, and I assume they lie, because they know that otherwise, the anti-Israel narrative just doesn't hold water. You can only justify violence against Jews in Israel (or Jewish Israel supporters in the diaspora), if the Jews somehow committed a grave enough sin to merit such violence turned against them, right? Therefore everything has to be exaggerated and twisted in such a way, that Jews appear as the great villains ever, deserving of the greatest violence in retribution.
That's why the conflict has to be the bloodiest one ever, if though it isn't. That's why Israel has to be accused of intentionally depriving Gaza of food and water, even though there are hundreds of aid trucks that Israel allows into Gaza daily (surpassing the number the UN said in Oct Gaza needs daily, 100 trucks), and even though there are 2 out of 3 water pipelines operating from Israel into Gaza despite the war (in addition to water supply from Egypt, and Gazan self supply). That's why every Israei quote has to be taken out of context, and be presented as if said about fighting the Palestinians, rather than Hamas. And that's why the fact that Jews are native to Israel, and that Jews tried to live peacefully alongside all Arabs in the region, has to be erased. Otherwise, the violence against the Jews isn't justified, and then what's the point?
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
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apas-95 · 7 months
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like. okay yeah I have my own criticisms of bourgeois academia as an instrument of class rule, but some of this is a bit silly. a lot of people are acting as though academia refers solely to like, literature degrees.
like at a fundamental level, yes, the purpose of a degree is as a barrier to access - but that is not in and of itself always a negative thing! the proletariat also requires the ability to produce, assess, and verify intellectuals. all the 'why the fuck should I care if the student across from me cheated on their tests, never attended class, etc' talk falls apart when the question being answered by their possession of a degree is 'should this person be permitted to design and construct buildings'! fundamentally, yes, someone cheating on their exams devalues a degree, because the confidence in qualification granted by that degree is lessened - not to mention the inherent danger of a fraudulent qualification! (strangely, this argument hasn't been extended to driving license exams yet, though I'm sure the inevitable libertarian convergence isn't far away.)
in all the discussion of burning down the local polytechnical, i have seen vague mention to academia existing as a barrier to access, some scant reference to discrimination against poor and minority students, but zero mention of the actual role of bourgeois academia and the intelligentsia in upholding bourgeois rule! it's all simply coming from the point of view of the restrictiveness being bad because it prevents people from getting high-paying jobs or the like, and the vague notion of elitism. again, with all abolition discourse here, given the lack of any real class analysis, the question is - are we talking solely within the context of capitalism, of existing bourgeois institutions? if so, why? why limit our positions to capitalist realism, to an essentially liberal discourse? if not - then how have we not reconciled the real, practical value of these technologies (mass education, examination, qualification) with their specific characteristics under capitalism?
everything has both positive and negative aspects. bourgeois class rule itself, even, was once a truly progressive thing. we can acknowledge the negative side of bourgeois academia without ignoring its positive side - and still take it on the whole that it, along with all bourgeois institutions, should be torn down and replaced by proletarian ones. that, stripped of their capitalist character, these are useful barriers.
Fundamentally, the point is this: why is our focus on attacking the barriers keeping us from class mobility, from high-paying jobs, themselves; instead of on attacking the existence of the high-paying, middle-class jobs that themselves characterise a fundamentally useful, practical system like examination as an instrument of class rule?
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whatdudtheysay · 8 months
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Annoying Roommate Gojo - PT.2
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Cw - 3sum (m,m,f), teasing, degradation n praise, oral n handjobs (male receiving),
Context - To get back at Gojo's acts, you decided to get help from a little friend of his...
A/n - thank you all so so much for the love I've received on my recent posts!! I appreciate it so muchh, hope you enjoy this! And so sorry if this is a bit shortt → part 1 , part 3
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Gojo had almost forgotten about last week's events. I mean, you didn't mention it and acted surprisingly kind to him the following days so he figured you weren't pissed.
So, when he came back from a late night out with some friends, he was more than shocked to find you on his best friend's lap,a skimpy skirt bunched at your hips and your shirt pulled over your tits, his cock nestled deep inside you.
"Oh. Speak of the devil," getou acknowledged, his arms wrapping around your waist to still your movements momentarily.
"The fuck is going on here?" Gojo questioned, trying to ignore the blood rushing to his dick as he stared at you and Getou.
"Well, since you couldn't make me cum.." you huffed, moving your hips to gain friction to which getou squeezed the fat of your ass. "I decided to go to someone I knew that could."
Gojo narrowed his eyes at you, obviously knowing the game you were playing. But he couldn't deny the weird sense of jealousy as he watched Getou's hands grope your rear, moving your hips again.
He couldn't lie and say he wasn't aroused by the sight. You leaning back slightly, your hands on his knees to balance you as you bounced on his cock, your eyes closed whilst your mouth let out those same moans he'd been the cause of prior.
Getou locked eyes with Gojo and a smirk tugged against his lips, his hand moving to the nape of your neck, pulling you close. Gojo watched closely as Getou's thumb pushed against your bottom lip, opening your mouth for him to spit into, another explicit moan spreading throughout the room.
He was broken from his trance once he heard Getou's voice.
"Satoru. You're looking kinda lonely over there. Want a closer look?"
Gojo almost mentally slapped himself once he felt his leg twitch, his cock now pushing against its confinements.
"I'm sure y/n wouldn't mind, hm?" Getou teased, looking back at you before thrusting his hips deeply into your heat.
You shook your head, needily pushing against getou, your orgasm on the edge of falling over. Gojo once again mentally slapped himself once he found him walking towards the both of you, palming his erection.
You didn't bother hiding your smug smirk as you continued to ride Getou like your life depended on it, only taking a few glances to see Gojo's flushed face as he sat on the nearby armrest chair, his hand tugging at his clothes cock.
"Shit," getou sighed, enjoying the way your walls clamped onto you. "pussy's hugging me so good.."
Gojo watched as you wrapped your arms around Getou's neck, kissing him sloppily before moving to bite his neck, your hands venturing into his dark locs.
"Fuck," Gojo whispered, palming himself more as he watched you.
You lightly let your head tip back, your eyes lidded. "Getou, gonna cum-"
"Fuck, yes, baby. Give it to me," Getou urged, thrusting up into you faster to assist with your high.
Gojo watched as your eyes clamped shut, Getou easily bringing you to your peak. You moaned his name loudly, your hips still moving to milk and ride out your orgasm before you tiredly rested against Getou's chest, his hips still moving at a fast pace in an attempt to chase his own high.
"Shit, such a good girl for me," getou praised, rolling his hips up against you, his hand moving to grab your chin, pulling you into another kiss.
Gojo audibly groaned, his self control already running thin, wanting to show you he could make you feel better.
Getou roughly pushed his hips into you, drawing a strained whimper from you as he finally came inside you, making you shiver slightly.
You both calmed down from your eyes and finally, you looked at Gojo and he swore he almost came in his pants from your fucked out expression. Getou helped you stand, his seed leaking out of you.
"Aw, Gojo," you teased, pulling your skirt back up before readjusting your shirt, noticing the light trembling in your legs. "Sad to find out your one night stands faked their orgasms?"
Gojo swallowed thickly as he watched getou push his cock back into his jeans, getting up along with you so you could lead him to the entry way, annoyance swirling in his stomach as he watched you give getou a quick kiss before he left.
However, part of him wasn't worried since he knew he'd have you underneath him soon enough...
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Tags - @hana-patata @pandoraium • thanks so much for the love on the last post ★ now I just wanna write another fic of them both sharing the reader 😫
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Note
Am I the asshole in this situation??
First of all I'm so sorry for bringing t/b discourse here but this has been so gd annoying I need help. And all this is is on twitter-retro etc.
I'm 100% here for switch please keep in mind. Idc what anyone else likes it's food I'll eat all of it. But this fandom. Oh this fandom. So here's the context, it's a anime show with a really popular almost canon mlm ship, one of them is crazy beautiful and the other one is a big muscular man. Naturally the fandom like the pretty man as bottom and the muscular man as top. Let's call this DC. Not all people tho and it's the problem.
See, there are some creators who hate the above dynamics so much they make the muscular man a woman, sometimes trans which is fine but they always babygirl him, call him wifey, use she/her pronouns, go all out to make the pretty man over the top masculine so he can be top while making the canon masculine man demure little wife. Note that they're both really tall but D has long hair so they always make him wear accessories to feminize him. I made friends with some authors who used to like switch, they wrote DC back then and they were so good. They were all into switch too. Over the years they became really hateful of DC dynamics and started to exclusively write CD, talk about CD only, rt CD art exclusively.
This is still fine, they're like 10 people out of thousands who don't care, and most people don't care. Until one day recently when I said it was better to ship switch. Those people started clowning me, saying it's their right to exclusively like whatever, write whatever, started ignoring how the show portrays them. They wrote literal threads detailing how to how use tags as if no one knows, shaded people who said they didn't care and would use whatever tags they liked. It got to a point I had to ask them to stop, they started saying I was harassing them and accused the fandom of harassing them on anon and ao3. When I said it Doesn't Matter they said it was racist to suggest that, telling me to block if I didn't like their posts. I could not make them understand how fetishistic it was, just because Japanese fans do this doesn't mean it's good or we have to follow? They somehow figured out who I was and blocked me, kicked me out of a server we were in together, so I lost mutuals and some followers too.
Then they started answering my asks unseriously like "I write CD to piss YOU off" "can't project on the twink like yall" and started insulting switch fans calling us hypocrits. There isn't much CD content to begin with how can I share more of those? Whatever is available they make it heteronormative like that. One of them deadass called me an asshole for "harassing" them just because I said it's rude to block people over t/b dynamics when no one is bothering anyone, because these people are always blocking anyone posting DC and making a bubble of CD only fans. This is bound to make them lose track of canon but who cares anymore. They keep complaining about being harassed for liking CD and yes some fans probably send anon hate but that doesn't mean any critic of CD is harassment?
Tell me how I'm the asshole here for suggesting they stop obsessing over t/b this much? How am I the asshole when I'm the one they all blocked and apparently I'm a bad guy because I followed some popular accounts who post DC and said some weird things about D which I didn't even know about.
What are these acronyms?
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frosts-intuition · 9 months
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Pairings: Al Haitham x GN!Reader
W.C: >700
Context: Reader is a researcher for the Akademyia, slight jealous Al Haitham
A/N: I'm still on break, but here's an Al Haitham fic that I wrote last year.
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There was a stir of anger swelling in the pits of your stomach that made it hard to keep down. You couldn't help yourself except to spring up from your seat, slamming your hands on the table in a fit, before glaring heavily at the individual in front of you.
“You’re a danger to society!” You shout, ignoring the amount of the people that stopped what they were doing in a fright and looking into the two individuals' direction.
Across from the table, unfazed from the anger burst was of course the Scribe for the Akademiya, Al Haitham, who had casually said something about a research that you were doing. He was still sitting in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, whereas one hand was holding your research paper. 
Not even looking up, and instead just jotted down more notes onto your paper, he spoke. “Society is a danger to itself, even without my presence.”
“You're making it even more of a danger than it already is then.” You stand straight up and move around to Al Haitham’s side. “I’ll just take my paper back and ask someone-'' When you reached for the paper, Al Haitham moved it slightly out of your reach with no change of facial expression.
“I thought you wanted my help?” He asks. The other scholars that had stopped to check what the commotion was continued on with what they were previously doing since it was just Al Haitham pissing someone off. It wasn’t the first time such emotional bursts ran through the Akademiya because of him and it will never be the last.
You scoffed, placing your hands on your hips. “I wanted someone to review my paper, not straight-up criticize it when I explicitly said it was fictional.”
Al Haitham looks up at you. “Why in the world would you want to work on something that is fictional and then hand me it?” He questions with a hint of interest, it seems.
“I needed a second opinion. And you are the only tolerable person in the Akademiya that I can go to besides General Mahamatra Cyno, however he’s not here right now.” You stated, as if it was the most obvious thing. Too bad Cyno is on a mission currently, so he won’t be back for awhile.
Al Haitham’s gaze narrows a bit. “You go to Cyno for your papers?” Not completely ignoring the ‘only tolerable’ title, but his mind couldn’t help but shift to any mention of Cyno.
“Yes, yet it’s obvious now that I should’ve just waited for him to come back. I’ll take back my paper, if you don’t mind.” As you say that, you reach for your paper and again, Al Haitham moves it out of your reach a bit.
You look down at the scribe to scold him, however you finally notice the slight change in his expressions. His eyes were narrowed and you could see that his jaw was clenched. There were some red on his cheeks, in contrast you were only able to notice them because of how close you were to him. You paused in that moment, taking in the change of body language, silently thanking your past self for taking a class in body languages until Al Haitham finally spoke up.
“Let me continue reviewing the paper. You did go out of your way to find me after all. Even when I was the second option.” Al Haitham stated before moving the paper back in front of him and reading it again.
You moved your hand back to your side and sighed with your eyes closed. “Fine,” You say, walking back to your seat and sitting down. You scoot your chair back to the table while grabbing the book you were previously reading. “I’ll be reading this if you have any questions.” 
Al Haitham didn’t verbally respond, his eyes focused back on the paper, but he did nod in return, silently hoping for the blush on his face to go away soon.
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s3thwrit3sstuff · 7 months
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❝ just wanna be one of your toys, tonight❞
creepypasta x incubus!reader | drabble, how you meet, general dating headcanons | graphic descriptions of violence, descriptions of nsfw/smut | not proofread
warnings: yandere tendencies, unhealthy relationship habits but it's okay because everyone in this fic is unhinged, cannibalism with a sexual context, piquerism/knife kink, tentacles, teratophilia, pheromones used by r!, canon violence, LJ's section alludes to r! mutilating a p*de,Slenderman controls r!s food intake (?), guys this is kind of messed up pls
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Eyeless Jack | Jeff The Killer | Laughing Jack | Slenderman | Toby Rogers
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req: OMG. creepypasta fics. i love them. can you uhmmm. can you write headcanons for an incubus reader. with like eyeless jack, toby, masky and hoodie? ignore this if you dont do that sorta stuff im just jumping on a request train rn ghnjgjkejnjngf
authors note: unfortunately, I'm not super informed about the Marble Hornet boys so I did not include them ;'3 Also I did want to do the typical sexy incubi reader but then I didn't so enjoy demonic, somewhat feral, reader and his equally as fucked up lovers
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Eyeless Jack —
There was silence when you first laid your eyes on him. As you're both demons who preyed on humans, it was akin to throwing two hungry wolves into a fighting ring.
Your prey, emphasis on yours, had been yours for damn near a week. You've been sneaking into their dreams, draining them of slivers of their essence by bringing them to climax in their wildest dreams. They would grin brightly the first few times but as the week progressed, they began realizing how exhausted they felt and those sexy wet dreams suddenly felt more morbid than exciting.
So your lips curl as you hunch over their head and bare your mouth full of fangs. Your hiss sounds like nails on a chalkboard and your jaw unhinging more than humanely possible as your forked tongue drips with viscous liquid. Jack steps back, his scalpel glinting in the moonlight as he returns the hiss with a gravelly snarl.
Oh, people think of "Sex on Legs" of a man when they imagine an incubus. That's the aim of your pheromones and magic after all. Everyone's ideal of a masculine body is what you morph into. Muscular, fat, hairy, clean-shaven, short or tall; whatever their genitals desire is what you distort their brain into seeing.
Your true form was a whole other story. You were a demon. It didn't matter if you were once human or if you were born in Hell itself. You were different now.
"They are mine," Your lips twitch and curl with every syllable. Fingers digging deeper into the skull of your prey. You don't know this demon's name and you're unsure of how strong he truly is but you dig your heels into the ground.
Jack pauses. His growling ceases as he loosens and tightens his grip on his scalpel.
He's had his run-ins with others "like" him. Eldritch beings, proxies of eldritch beings, and such others. However, incubi was new for him. He half-expected a stout creature with leathery wings and horns like those illustrations in the yellow pages of demonology books.
"...What do you need from them?" He wants to bargain. He doesn't have to but he does anyway. Partly from curiosity and partly from his own hunger...for you.
He wonders what you taste like. Jack wouldn't admit it then but he licked his needle-sharp fangs at the thought of your flesh in his mouth and your blood flowing down his throat like the most decadent wine.
"Soul," you answer as a sickening crunch resounds through the room just as your index finger burrows deeper, "Their brain, need".
"Good, I don't need that." Jack points the sharp end of his scalpel to his stomach. "Here, everything I need is here," he then aims his weapon at you with a loose grip; "Share, yes?"
Your lips hide your fangs and you tilt your head, swaying your head as you try to weigh the options. Other demons could be rather tricky. Sharing wasn't in most of their vocabulary. However, this one was...different.
"Share, yes".
That is how the two of you met. His masked visage and the tar-like substance that escapes from his humanoid eye sockets intrigue you. You had watched him cut open your prey with medical precision so he could carefully remove the organ he craved.
"Name is...?" Jack's pointed ears twitch from beneath his hoodie. He turns his head towards yours and if he were human he might have flinched from the way your nose brushes the bump of his mask. But he isn't, so he doesn't.
"Jack. My name is Jack," he brings one leathery hand to rest upon your cheek. It stains your skin and Jack's thumb rests precariously close to your lower lash line. The silence is a prompt for you to continue and you whisper your name, chewing on your lower lip after which makes Jack scoff in mild amusement.
Your relationship initially begins due to Jack's desire. He craves you in such a visceral way he doesn't know what to do with it anymore. It pains him that he doesn't sleep because he is certain that the number of times he's unravelled at the thought of you should already beckon you into his brain. But Jack isn't a human.
He's a demon. So, he decides to use victims to lure you. He wasn't sure how to go on about it at first but after tilting his head down at the moaning woman writhing in her bed, whispering your name, he takes her to his home.
When you visit your prey's dreams it's plagued with images of the eyeless demon and once you manifest into thin air he wastes no time pinning you to the wall with his inhuman strength.
"Jack!" you snarl in alarm and he releases you, smiling. His blue mask was placed elsewhere, instead, he hid his eyes behind tattered bandages. His teeth were so sharp you felt yourself tense.
You become something akin to a pet. Jack learns how to keep you captive in his home, locked behind bars and ancient runes written in blood. Despite the lack of freedom, you couldn't say he doesn't spoil you.
He brings you his victims. Dazed from whatever supernatural effect he has and sore from his impromptu surgery. They always scramble in alarm, panicked and disorientated before they spot you.
Then, Jack relishes in your vicious lunges. Watches from the outside as you crush their skulls open to fill your stomach.
When he eventually makes you trust him enough (Stockholm Syndrome is one beautiful side effect) he brings you to hunts with him. You're the shadow that hangs upside down from the ceiling when his victims wake up and shake, paralyzed as Jack digs through their layers of skin, muscles and fat. Your grin is hauntingly ethereal and inhuman as you lean down to kiss their trembling lips.
Jack wonders if you smell his desire. You do. But it's normal. Your pheromones were meant to attract sexual partners after all but your gaze does linger on Jack the more the scent of charred earth burns whenever you're pressed to his back.
"Teasing me?" He would mutter. Silence would be his reply and all he'd feel is your supple skin brushing on his ashen grey skin, nosing insistently to his neck. "I know you can talk (Y/N)" his needle and thread continue threading through the patchwork of skin.
"Why won't you touch me?" that makes him freeze. Jack had thought about it. Every time he saw you kiss your victims, or rip them to shreds. You were fire dancing in the wind and Jack can't justify his need to own you but he doesn't care.
"Because if I touch you, I won't be able to stop"
"Who said I'd want you to stop?"
Jack tugs on the blood-soaked thread. It glints in the harsh lighting of his desk lamp, briefly looking like a sliver of light.
"I'll sink my teeth into you, tear you apart and consume you".
His head turns as you grab his chin. His bandages tugged away and you chuckled as you saw the ugly gored-out holes. He hasn't told you the whole story but you know what scars he did have were all human-made.
"You can take my flesh if you want, Jack".
The thread snaps.
Jack belatedly realises that since you were not human either, your resistance to pain was just as crazy as your regenerative abilities. He takes you in a way that feels genuinely primal. Two animals going at it, blood smeared along the floors and walls while claws and fangs puncture into flesh.
You two give sex a whole new meaning. Jack finishes inside of you as he laps up at the gash on your neck, groaning as his dexterous tongues (yes, tongues) feel your pulsing veins dancing on them. You encourage his ferocity with saccharine sweet calls of his name.
Sometimes, as silly as it sounds, you make him feel human again. He swears the shrivelled thing in his dusty ribcage beats thunderously whenever you dig your fingers into the back of his thighs.
You were a never-ending feast. A banquet he will never tire from. The cell he kept you in wasn't in use anymore but he swears if you ever even think of going away from his side he would keep you in there until the sun exploded.
There'll eventually be a balance in your relationship. Once you gain his trust, you might as well carve out his insides to nestle between his blackened bones and allow his tar-like blood to keep you warm. He'll do whatever it takes to ensure no one, human or non-human, will keep you apart.
He thinks it is absolutely healthy if you return the sentiment.
Jack doesn't stray from you. He is devoted. The type of person to ensure you're always full, from his essence or from others, he will provide whatever you need.
Close-promixity. He doesn't have to be touching you, just wants you near.
Will bite you. Hard. Not in a cute nibbling way. Legitimately bites you to sustain himself and thinks it's romantic that you're inside of him.
He is more human than you at times. He enjoys human comforts. The internet, a bed, a shower. He doesn't need it, you're both demons after all. But they're a luxury that he treasures.
If "others" wander into your territory, Jack's growls turn spine-chilling. A chittering, gravelly, snarl that heightens in volume as he curls his lips. He'll unmask, scalpel forgotten as veins bulge into the back of his hands and his footsteps suddenly get heavier. The one time someone had stumbled on you while you were feeding, you swore you saw wisps of black smoke smoulder from Jack's skin and the faint sound of fire crackling.
Miiight be the most protective one of the bunch.
You having sex with your prey does not bother Jack. Your sex with him is much more solidifying, oath-binding and skin-scarring. Besides, he knows you need actual souls to be sustained.
Jack's not sure how long he will be "alive" but if he's dying you're coming with him, (Y/N). He would burn the world down for you but death won't keep you apart.
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Jeffery Woods, Jeff the Killer —
"What. The. Fuck?" Jeff's damaged facial muscles could barely twitch or tug on his cheeks due to his insane self-mutilation, however, he manages to furrow his brows hard enough that he feels his cheekbones spasm as they attempt to frown.
The married couple he had been stalking laid dead on their mahogany bed and there was some sort of freak over them.
Your eyes were almost as wide as his as you slip three of your fingers into your bloody mouth, sucking them clean with an obscene sigh of satisfaction.
"Too...late," Jeff's "nose" burns as he surges forward. His boots track mud and water across the bedroom and your grin is maniacal as he unsheathes his hunting knife from his hip.
"You fucking bitch!"
Truth be told, you spotted Jeff during one of your nightly visits to the husband's dreams. His white outfit contrasts so sharply in the dark it almost seems haughty. A little "look at me"-sy if you could put it into words.
Jeff brandishes his hunting knife and you twist out of the way to instead latch onto the ceiling. His bloodshot eyes earn a pleasant shiver that spreads warmth to the thing between your crotch.
He was goddamn grotesque. Skin leathery, eyes so painfully dry and irritated it rimmed red and that cut-up smile? His yellow teeth and red gums are splashes of colour since they're no longer hidden by his cheeks. His jet-black hair whips furiously against his face as one hand reaches up to grab your ankle.
Your yell is more of a screech and Jeff wrestles you on the body of the wife. Her bones and nipple piercings dig into your back as Jeff digs his knife into your shoulder.
"They were fucking mine! You goddamn cunt! Stupid little bitch!" he's more robust than a regular human. Then again, a regular human would've died from his "cosmetic" surgeries a while ago.
You can still his heartbeat in his chest though. Slow but there.
He pulls the knife out and you exclaim once he stabs you once again. The toothy edge of the blade was meant to inflict pain every time he pulled out and Jeff's cheeks lifted into a gleeful expression as he watched you writhe in pain.
But then.
"Mom?" Jeff locks up. You turn your head to the shadow under the door but Jeff puts the knife to your eye and your snarling lowers into a hissing.
Jeff does not hurt kids. The way he stares down at you with stormy grey blues shows that though he has no idea how to slaughter you he will try to if you even think of laying a hand on her. Much to his relief, you close your eyes and go lax.
You don't hurt kids either.
"Momma?" The doorknob shakes and Jeff knows the kid probably smells iron but the two of you are as rigid as the corpses on the bed.
"Did you need something, Kavi?" The voice that comes out your lips isn't yours, it's the father's and Jeff only loosens his grip from surprise. Kavi's feet shuffle nervously and whatever stuffy she's holding squeaks lightly in pressure. "I heard noises...screaming" She hears the smile in your voice as you tell her to go back to bed.
"But-"
"Go to sleep, Kavi" This time it's a command and Kavi's shadow straightens up before her footsteps fade away.
Jeff's breathing had slowed throughout the interaction. He's good at being quiet when he needs to be. Not so flashy when the situation calls for it. A soft spot for children. How noble.
He presses on your chest with the heel of his palm but then gets up and sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. You turn onto your stomach, pushing the husband onto the floor as you watch Jeff glare at you with contempt as he paces.
"I've been watching them", Your eye roll makes him grunt. "I know, I saw. But, he's mine" He huffs at the sight of the twitching body on the floor. "Could've left me the wife, asshole" Jeff follows the trail of blood down your chest and stomach before ripping his eyes away as you pluck her eyes out to pop into your mouth.
Jeff swears he's never been harder.
"I was hungry".
Your grin like the cat that got the cream when Jeff rushes towards you and grabs the column of your neck to push you down.
For a guy who hasn't gotten laid, ever, he sure knew what to do. You helped, obviously. When Jeff's fingers tremble and hover you would goad him to do better, huff that you're getting bored and he needs to fuck your hole/s with more passion. That'd get that freak going.
He sure was in love with his knives too. Obsessed with the way you shiver and shudder every time the blade cuts into your skin or when he digs the tip of it in and you arch into the edge.
Jeff thinks his first time suits him. His life is fucked up in all sorts of ways so of course, his first time was with a demon. He remembers you bouncing on his lap, eyes glowing as you squeeze his dick and moan his name before he saw white.
When he wakes up, he shoots up straight and throws the rag away from his face. The bodies are stiff now and Kavi's older sister is pulling into the driveway. He wears his clothes and isn't quiet about it as he hears Kavi crying about nightmares while she rushes out.
Jeff's DNA being all-over the crime scene is something he does not give a shit about. What are the police going to do? Arrest a dead man? Hah! They'd need to catch him first and he's been dodging them since he was 13 years old and he's 24 now. They're shit at their job.
That one night spirals into Jeff fucking into his fists for a week straight. Unable to properly think without your whispers breezing past his ears in the wind. He's already insane but you've turned the broken notch higher.
Thankfully for him, you're just as hopeless. He isn't quite sure how long you've been stalking him but when he finally senses eyes on him he's excited because he knows it's you.
Your relationship is physical at first. Love isn't quite in either of your vocabulary but this relationship turns something close to it. He whispers your name in the wind and then he feels your weight on his back as your arms materialize from thin air and squeeze him.
"What do you need, executioner?" Jeff snorts at the title, shrugging you away as he unbuckles his belt and pushes the hanging body as he passes it. Jeff sits on the desk and pats his thighs.
"The fuck kind of name is that?" You cage him between your arms and lean in to lick the scratches near his eye.
"You don't like it?"
"I ain't no one's fucking executioner"
You roll your eyes and he clicks his tongue at it. "The fuck's that for?" You're still not sure what the fuck Jeff is, for all intents and purposes he's just something in limbo. Dead but not quite. Alive but not quite. But his ego is still that of a man and you're in your own purgatory as you decide if you enjoy it or not.
When Jeff realises he does care for you, it's a strange time for him. He won't ask if you've eaten or if you're hurt because suddenly he knows just from a glance. It's frightening to him. He doesn't call for you for a long time and he grits his teeth as you don't come for him either.
Stuck in-between again. He's relieved but he's angry. He's furious but sad. Are you alright? Do you hate him? Do you not care for him? How dare you!? But, also, great! He doesn't have time to be anything more! But how dare you? Do you not realise how much he cares about you!?
When Jeff finds out it's because some idiots in a cult managed to trap you?
He feels numb as he prepares to absolutely destroy them. With a one-track mind, he kicks open the doors of their stupid, dilapidated doors and lays waste on whoever isn't you. He burns their church down. His senses only rush back towards him when he has you in his arms.
That night, he's tender and sweet. It disturbs you a bit but you preen under his hands as he watches you heal your wounds in your own demonic ways.
"You came for me"
"...I'm your executioner, aren't I?"
Don't expect labels from Jeff but he does expect commitment to an extent. He won't be angry if you fuck around but he will fuck you harder if you mention that flesh bag being good.
He's bad at talking but once you manage to pry his mouth open he can be insightful about certain things. He's an observant man just so fucking egotistical.
You are his and he's yours but don't mention it too many times, he can get spooked. Did you expect stability from Jeff? Good, because you aren't getting it.
He wants you to participate in his kills. It's a great bonding activity! He is glad he has you as his buddy/lover. At least one person in this hell-forsaken world cares for him.
This does mean he can get a bit clingy at times, maybe even bordering on obsessed, but he doesn't give a shit. Even if you are a demon from hell, Jeff will find a way to find you.
Carved his name into you. No questions about it.
It will take years before he even says anything close to an "I love you" but he says in his own ways. He's tightlipped about you when his enemies catch up to him and if he feels that you're even a bit threatened he will fight tooth and nail until you're safe.
Jeff knows he's the last person that deserves a wish to be granted but he squeezes you tighter in his arms when he thinks of growing older. He's scared of dying, always has been, but the thought of leaving you alone/being without you? It terrifies him.
When his hair starts getting more salt and peppery he gets quite grumpy every time you mention it. He does soften when he notices you "ageing" as well - he knows you aren't and it's just your shapeshifting but he swears he'll do anything to stay by your side for as long as he can.
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Laughing Jack —
Oh, he was familiar with your kind. Laughing Jack mainly targets families but he's been terrorizing the world since the 1800's, he knows the vices of men. He shoos them away (which is a nice way of saying he disembowels them if they get territorial over their prey).
What he didn't expect was to see you panting raggedly with your chin dripping with blood and pieces of what once was a man under your claws.
Laughing Jack's eyes shoot towards the child he had been "befriending". He knew he was suffering and Laughing Jack truly did not care — he wanted to have fun mutilating the entirety of his family and was only here because he wanted to visit his "friend".
The hair on the back of your neck pricks and your jaw unhinges as your eyes land on the lanky being.
You know of him too. This entity that was once brought to earth to help a lonely child turned into a demonic entity that relished in the pain of humans.
You're also aware he has an affinity to target children to bring back to his circus of horrors under the guise of "saving them" and even though you're a creature of hell, you stand in front of the cowering boy with your teeth on display.
"This is new", Laughing Jack giggles out. His claws curled in front of his mouth as he stalked forward. Oh, he knows why little Carl wanted to run away from home. His mother did a shit job at protecting him from his drunk stepfather and Jack was going to do just that.
He was going to let Carl run away. Never said Carl would be alive when he did. But Carl never asked.
"Usually you whores are busy with the adults, not the kids". The very implications of what he said have you snapping your teeth. He raises his hands in faux surrender with a mocking grin.
"Gone soft? Who were you here for?"
Your lips twitch and Jack pauses just as he's about to step out of the shadows. Carl's weeping and sniffling echoed in the room. Jack's plastered smile turns sour as seconds tick by.
You know better than to anger him. So you will yourself to speak: "His mother". Jack bounces back like nothing had happened and gleefully strides over into the light.
"J-Jack? Jack!" "Carl!" Your hand shoots out to grab at the boy but he rushes into Jack's claws and sobs freely into his chest as Jack shushes and cradles him. Jack gingerly plucks the stretched-out shirt back over Carl's shoulder and rubs his back.
"Then you can go!" Jack cheers as he cradles Carl. "Go, go! Go and get that bitch of a woman!" You march up to him and grow taller tower over him. Jack's neck cranes to meet your eyes and he swears his neck creaks. He's never had to look up at anyone before.
"The boy isn't yours!" Jack's claws envelope Carl's head as the boy covers his ears. "Protective? Your kind usually has a one-track mind, never known demons to have sympathy", Jack's eyes squish into crescent moons.
"Have you gone soft, demon?"
Carl isn't sure what happens next. He just knows that when he wakes up the next day, he isn't scared and his mom isn't there. Instead, there's you. He isn't scared of you, he trusts you and he knows that you're his older brother.
He goes to school with you by his side and when he comes back, you've made food for him. Carl doesn't know where all the money comes from or why there are foggy memories of horror when he stares into space but your voice always snaps him back to reality.
Carl doesn't know where you go off to at night but he knows he isn't scared because Laughing Jack always pops up in the house.
Carl doesn't know how lucky he is, not really, but as he grows old he does feel gratitude. He doesn't know nor care why you're not his brother on papers or that his mom isn't in the picture. He knows he loves you though.
And he likes Laughing Jack too. Even if he's scary sometimes.
"Honey! You're home!" You glare at Jack as you step into the kitchen, wiping blood from your chin as you shed your jacket and your human skin. Jack looks comically out of place. He waits for you to shed before he gathers you in his arms.
This arrangement was odd. Out of place. But you learned not to hate it. Maybe Laughing Jack was right, maybe you were getting soft but you were glad that Carl was safe. Even if you had to pretend to be his older brother and then deal with Laughing Jack at night.
He sways with you in the kitchen, humming an old tune and you groan as your shape settles. He grins as he runs his claws down your back then holds you firmly.
Jack wasn't interested in sex and you were okay with that. He just wants to hold you like this, an affection growing within him as he inhales your scent.
"Carl's at a sleepover, must be having fun", Jack twirls you and you allow it with a ghost of a smile. "If he was at my circus, the streamers would be intestines and the snacks! Oh, the snacks, (Y/N) Darling!" Your lips cover his and his brow raises as he returns the kiss.
"Carl's fine with regular streamers, Jack. He's human, let him remain as one", Jack's smile almost seems sincere as he looks up at you. "Speaking of humans, (Y/N) Dearest", Jack thwacks a roll of newspaper on your chest.
"Humans are getting scared of you, rabid incubus, and Carl's mysterious older brother isn't holding up! You need to scram", You sigh deeply as you pull away. Jack chases to cling to your back.
"He'll miss his friends"
"I'll bring them to my circus! He'll always see them whenever he wants!"
"You're not saying no", Jack purrs and cackles after you close your eyes and nod. He didn't really need permission but you appreciate him asking either way. Besides, he had a point! Carl could play with them whenever he wishes to so he won't be too sad.
Your relationship with Laughing Jack might be the most curious one out of everyone else. Carl made you more human than you'd like to admit and you made Laughing Jack more colourful (on the inside) than he'd ever tell.
He doesn't love Carl. Cares for, sure. He doesn't love you. But he wants your affections, that much he knows.
He brings you gifts, some of your real food, toys and all sorts. Even some for Carl because he knows you like it when he does it. Jack becomes a sort of family guardian. Anyone who tries to harm Carl doesn't just have you to worry about, Laughing Jack's looming over your shoulder too.
You share kisses, hugs and hand holdings if he's being annoying about it but both of you know Laughing Jack prefers not to go below the belt. He prefers that you seek physical pleasure elsewhere. He claps with glee every time you toss him the body, turning the corpse into a new throne or cake or whatever he wishes.
When Carl grows old and moves out, he knows that the porch light will always be on for him. He knows his "older brother" isn't human but he doesn't care. He also knows Laughing Jack isn't just his imagination but he doesn't care. Carl knows you're family and that's all that matters.
You tend to the house at times but after Carl moves out, Jack all but whisks you away into his circus. The spirits of dead children crowd around you, sharing an affection towards you due to Laughing Jack's own emotions. You tolerate them enough but spend most of your time with your Jack.
Laughing Jack doesn't know if he'd die for you, he doesn't even know if he's able to die really, but he would slaughter millions if it meant that you'd be content.
"Do you love me, (Y/N) Darling?" Laughing Jack tickles your side, giggling as you swat his hands away. You turn to face him and he relaxes in your hold, minutely but you still feel the way his muscles unbind.
"Do you love me, Jack Dearest?" His eyes soften and you swear you see the way baby blue bleeds into the monotone grey.
"I do, I love you more than I'd like to admit".
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Slenderman —
Your head tilted at the shape in the trees. The person beneath you twitched and rattled out a groan as they clung to the little bits of life they still had. A quick snatch and grab of more of their brains puts an end to it rather quickly.
Swivelling your head you gaze at the drawings on their walls. Among the illustrations of the forest views that they drew and the maps, you note the odd scribbles.
This prey had odd dreams at times. Some nights, you find yourself fighting against a force just to invade their thoughts but you think of it as nothing but their own will. Some humans had quite a resistance to your kind.
You squint at the marker drawings, getting up from the bed to walk closer. Plucking the note that peeked from under the map only to gasp as the map fell onto your feet. It revealed more deranged scribblings and your stomach twisted into knots as you realised what entity your prey had been hunted by.
Your breath shudders and you take a step back only to stiffen as a cold wind whispers up your spine.
"Forgive me!" You kneel, bowing your head as you stare at the wooden floors in fear. This being - it was the very thing that crawled out of Hell. It was older than most if not everything that roamed this earth and you had taken its prey.
The crackling of trees makes tears brim your eyes. It sounds thunderous and it only grows louder. You force your eyes shut as the branches drag along the glass windows and you plead under your breath as you feel Him getting closer and closer.
When he speaks, your brain feels as though it's being pulled apart. Was this punishment from your past victims? You're struggling to understand what he says but his voice soothes into something tangible.
"Wha...What?" You lift your head and turn to face the empty, open, window.
"Come".
Slenderman was intimidating even for an incubus like yourself. As he towers over you, you feel your prey climb up out of your throat. But then, then, his spindly fingers stroke the side of your face.
"Please me, incubus", his tendrils sway in the wind and they lower and slither through the dead leaves to curl around your ankles and thighs.
His "suit" pulses and throbs, particularly between his legs and you see the slit glistening with wetness, white cockheads poking out.
Oh.
Well. Who were you to say no?
Slenderman doesn't speak in a language familiar to humans, it brings some semblance of comfort to you; his words and expressions are more archaic but it's undoubtedly the language of hellish creatures like yourselves.
His cocks are just as inhuman and long as everything else about him and those tendrils that sprout from his back? Oh, they make the best restraints. The barely there scales on them shudder every time he's close to an orgasm and since they're so close to you, the rattling of it makes you whimper in pleasure.
Slenderman allows you to go but he keeps his eyes on you.
The way you kill and tear into humans, the pleasure you take in it - you're nothing but an incubus but Slenderman wants you.
And like his other "toys" he is merciless in making you just his.
You're not allowed to hunt anyone other than the ones he tells you to. Not allowed to even think of craving anyone. You're his incubus and his alone.
Who are you to say no?
It wasn't all that bad. Sometimes, he would push the limits of your hunger if he wanted to "test" the prey but you were obedient to his whims.
Sometimes, he'd crawl into your mind to truly see if you were all his and though painful and vomit-inducing the rewards after were enough to make it worth it.
After all, compared to the rest of his toys, you were the most pampered.
"Master", a purring noise is all around you but with your sight taken from you (a feat that only a few beings could do). The only thing you can do to locate Slenderman is through touch. But the thing is, he's touching you every-fucking-where.
You were suspended in the air, legs spread with tendrils and arms bound to your back as your cloudy eyes stared aimlessly at the night sky.
"Patience, incubus"
Love is hard to pinpoint in this relationship. It's more of an endearment. His feelings for you were the same feeling as someone would feel towards a dog. If you disobeyed and bit him, he'd put you down no question - that much you knew.
He doesn't mind when you kill other incubus or succubi though. Not that he seeks them with the same intent he had with you, he is a bit addicted to you, he seeks them with the intent to make you jealous.
He knows you had feelings for him. Depends on him. His word was law.
He likes seeing his dog get jealous. He doesn't assist in your fights with the other demon, you have to be the strongest to be his and so he merely watches and rewards you once you win.
The one time you lost though? Oh, he was so disappointed, (Y/N). The incubus stood over you, clutching the stump of an arm as he hisses at you. You know he is about to rip your throat and you kick your legs as he kneels over you.
He grabs your chin and forces your head to be tilted up, exposing your neck. You were going to die, you were going to die!
"You're pathetic, pet", the incubus over you chokes, blood spurting out from the hole in his chest before he all but crumbles into dust. One of your eyes is swollen shut, bruised and bleeding all over and Slenderman cradles you in his arms as he helps you stand.
"I'm sorry, Master" Your tears are wiped away. His tendrils lift you into the air and close to his chest as you weep.
"You'd be dead without me, pet. Completely useless".
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Toby Erin Rogers —
"...Get out of the fucking way" Toby had the coldest eyes you've ever seen. He had been tasked to kill the man whose skull was being split open by your hands.
He must think Toby was here to save him because he swipes a hand towards him, groaning desperately as his eyes shake. Toby's nose scrunches up in distaste. The man looked like a goddamn pug. His eyes bulged out and gaping his mouth like a dead fish.
"He's my kill". You furrow your brows as you stubbornly dig your thumbs deeper into the crack of his skull.
"Oops".
Toby throws a hatchet and it slices through your shoulder, pinning you to the wall from the strength he used. You claw at the handle, kicking your feet to try and push yourself from the wall but Toby simply ignores you to slash the man's throat with with his other hatchet.
"You asshole! He's mine!" Your thrashing makes him grunt as he slams his hand on your other shoulder. He grabs the hilt of his weapon and squints his eyes at you.
"S-Shut the fuck up, cunt. You can still eat the bitch, shithead", Toby isn't nice about tugging his weapon out. His brows furrowed at the sight of your torn flesh.
Toby has seen it all. After meeting a monochrome clown and a burned woman with a mask hunting for a guy named Jeff, among other creatures, Toby is unphased at the sight of a demon.
This means the already cold, unfeeling, man was not at all impressed. His eyes wander to your chest and your legs but scoffs as he cleans the edge of his hatchet on his sleeves.
"You asshole!" Toby waves his hand nonchalantly as he retreats. His plan is foiled as you latch onto his back, teeth sinking through his clothes and into the protective pads. Reaching back, his gloved hands grasp onto you to throw you across the room. The desk lamp shatters onto the floor as you lay out on the surface.
Toby rolls both his shoulders, sniffing in annoyance as he picks at the deep marks on the plastic of his protective wear. "Shit, your teeth suh-suh-sunk...through" his eyes glower as you peel yourself from the office table.
"Now, you're just ask, asking for it".
After that rough night, you stayed away from ever-crossing paths with Slenderman and his stupid proxies. Even with your supernatural regenerative healing, he slashed so deep at one point you're certain he had his hatchets go through you.
Your body ached for days. Not in a sexy way.
Toby, however, found it hard to get you out of his head. He knows an incubus' pheromones linger when they experience intense emotions and subsequently, so do its effects. But after 2 months of aching for you, he has had enough.
He takes a while to track you down. He's only human at the end of the day but when he finds your prey he reenacts the first time you met.
"You," venom was dripping from your words as you hissed at him but Toby simply raised from the armchair in the corner. The office of the poor psychotherapist you hunted reminded him of his childhood so he gladly focuses on your figure to focus.
He pays close attention to the way you get into the defensive, climbing the desk to put distance as you show him your fangs.
"I've got a pro, proposition for you" Toby walks towards the closet and to your surprise, your prey is tied up like a goddamn turkey. He falls flat on his face, breaking his nose, and squirms as muffled pleas come from him.
"You don't have to waste days making your prey succumb to you. I'll wrap them up...luh-like a fuuucking present and...you can munch on 'em"
"...In exchange?" You can't tell if he's smiling. But you hear it in his voice as he says:
"Fuck me".
For Toby, you provide relief and comfort. The beginning of the relationship was tough waters to navigate through, mainly for you. Despite providing you with food when he craves some physical intimacy, Toby is one scary motherfucker to be bare of clothes with.
It's a feat considering who was the demon in the relationship here.
Toby keeps his mouthguard on. For a whole 2 years, he never once took it off. By the time he does though? His eyes are closed and he's muttering for something to leave him alone. His anxiety crept up on him as he stared at the popcorn ceiling of the motel he had chosen for that night.
"Toby" his hand trembles and not because you're deep inside of him. His scarred chest falls and raises in rapid motions and you're aware that he needs to breathe. So, despite his heart-clenching whimpers you tear his hands away from his face to pull his mouthguard off.
"No!" Toby tries to cover the scar on his cheek. You shush him and pull out, carefully arranging your limbs so he can wrap his arms around you.
That night ended sourly. He shoves you away and dresses in a rush.
When he reaches out for you again, you don't pry. You've grown soft for the man but know he isn't exactly the touchy-feely type. Toby wonders if you're thinking of his face as he plows into you and his thoughts are so loud he has the audacity to grow flaccid.
As an incubus? That was a first for you.
"...Ugly mug, huh?" You eye him as you suckle on his cockhead. Now? He was going to talk about that night, now? Okay. Sure.
"No, I like your face" Toby grunts, clearly not believing you. "Just sayin' that 'cuz my dicks in your face". Well, at least he is aware of the timing too.
He exclaims as you push him down on the bed and straddle him.
"I like your stupid face, Toby. I like your stupid fucking voice, your body, your sarcasm and your shitty personality. Is that so hard to believe?"
This relationship turns warmer after this night. He throws extra snacks your way and he appreciates it when you help him with stitching himself up from his "assignments".
When his paranoia and anxiety get the best of him, he finds it...nice...that he doesn't have to ice out his emotions anymore. He feels so human.
Toby is aware you're fully capable of handling your own affairs and so, he doesn't interfere. He's terrified of the Slenderman and even growing slightly curious about you too. It's a tough balance for Toby - it's not like Slenderman cares about work-life-balance.
So, don't expect to spend cosy days spent together somewhere sweet. Your version of date nights will be following him along on his missions or him watching you hunt and then spending hours together in the victim's home.
It brings Toby comfort. You're not human but the way you move through the house with him, it reminds him of simpler times; a past he no longer remembers but knows he cherishes. He thinks about the two of them being a domestic couple a lot.
"Remembering?" Toby says nothing as he kisses the nape of your neck. The two of you had washed up in the shower and the victims were neatly displayed in the living room with symbols all over the room. You two had all night to just...be.
"Never got muh-my memories back then, not...gonna get 'em now" He pulls away to grab the bottle of wine from you. When he settles on the office couch, you drop onto his lap with a plate of sandwiches.
He groans as you teasingly try to feed him but soon relents. He feels a bit ashamed as he struggles to eat "normally" with the open gash on his cheek but as he peeks at your expression he sees nothing but love.
So, Toby squeezes you closer and you say nothing as he allows you to care for him.
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ae-neon · 10 months
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Nesta Vs ACOSF, a rambling rant
TW: mentions of sexual assault and abuse
Besides the "love" story that read like a quiet descent into domestic horror, ACOSF has one element that keeps me from being able to pick it up even just to sift through for Nesta gems: sex.
Here me out, I'm not a prude and I think we could have gotten a smutty romance but...
At her core, Nesta has always been a proud and modest person.
To be clear, with pride, I mean that her sense of self - her famous steel spine - has kept her together and unbroken even during harrowing circumstances. It's vital to her. It's so ingrained in her that - given we have no other explanation - we can assume it's what shields her mind from literal magic. However, like any trait, her pride can also be a thing that comes off as negative in the wrong situations.
With modesty, she was raised to keep a certain ideology that based her value on sex, beauty, marriage etc but it's important to understand that Nesta applied those standards inwards, at herself. (Eg In acotar, she brings up Feyre and Isaac in defence of her and Tomas, in acomaf, she is mostly upset about not hearing from Feyre or being notified that Feyre has switched courts - not about Feyre sleeping with Tamlin and then Rhys)
Now, I don't think Nesta's modesty makes her better than Feyre, in fact I was happy to get the representation of two different types of views on sex
But what I didn't consider at the time was that SJM was painting this out to be a negative trait.
In retrospect it seems obvious even though Nesta has defied her narrative destiny and become a sort of icon, at the end of the day she was still supposed to be written in a negative contrast to Feyre.
It seems funny but imagine you consumed the book the way Sarah intended, the way so many in the fandom have. The old Sarah Says rule, for my long time mutuals.
For example:
The dinner in acomaf - it's obvious Nesta is upset that she hasn't heard from Feyre only to have her come through not only as a whole Fae but bringing others and endangering their entire family.
But imagine it as a one dimensional reading and suddenly the "I fuck" dialogue is a girlboss moment of feminism giving a fuck you to the strict patriarchy of the "mortal lands" let's ignore how the Fae are actually more patriarchal and the Illyrians even more so than that
So understand that Nesta's modesty is being directly contrasted with Feyre's sexual freedom. The reader - at least from sjm's perspective - is supposed to agree with Feyre and disagree with Nesta in a sort of win/lose, yes/no, black/white dichotomy.
And because sjm is consistent and boring and a self-inset author, this dynamic doesn't change even when the protagonist does.
Only now sjm and her feminism has changed from fuck-whoever-I-want girlboss to kinky-but-only-with-my-husband tradwife
So Nesta can't be prudish and cut off because 1) it's not as conducive to the breakdown of self and buildup of a dependent and abusive relationship and 2) it's not in direct contrast with Feyre's current monogamous, traditional family values character.
So Nesta starts drinking and sleeping around and it's not because we're going to explore the unraveling of the pride and modesty at the core of the character as part of her transformation or as a result of her trauma
But because it's supposed to be a bad look, degrading, it shows she's failed, it makes her a loser
All of that is already insane. And even more so when taken with the context of her assault by Tomas and the sex centred relationship she has with Cassian
Now add to that the fact that in the book, Nesta is an object of desire for 2 villains and undergoes assault and drowning AGAIN
Sjm literally gives less than 2 fucks about SA, that much is obvious even from the way she inflicts and then disregards the experience of both Feyre and Rhysand respectively. It's a tool for her, a quirky story element
But to have Nesta experience such a similar thing - especially when the experience of being Made can be read as a sort of rape allegory on its own - and all for the sake of "romance" fantasy??
Even Nesta's reading habits are sexualised, to be clear I don't think there's anything wrong with reading smut, but the scope of her intellect and reading is narrowed down when we're suddenly made to believe most of the books she reads are smut.
This is someone who likely taught herself economics and investment within months in order to not just pay off the debt, upgrade her whole family's way of life but also rebuild the family fortune. Someone who, having stopped schooling at around 14/15, did the math needed to calculate the feasibility of the evacuation of a small country.
Someone who's verbally stated life goal was to see what a woman could make of herself in the world.
Even her love of reading is used as a stepping stone for how horny she is, instead of it being a result of her deeply ingrained need for escapism
She reads smut because the only thing she has in common with Cassian and the IC is sex. Because sjm thought one of the core elements of a friendship between 2 SA survivors and a disabled woman from a culture that mutilated her for being born a woman would be their desire to fantasise about men.
All the while the male love interest treats her like garbage.
We could have had a smutty book filled with sex where each scene could have been the growth of Nesta's trust and love of Cassian through intimacy. It could have been a sexual relationship that involved and explored kink - which explored vulnerability and the negative impact of how Nesta's pride became a source of stress and strain.
It could have been an exploration about the complicated relationship with desire and oppressors that many survivors have. But it isn't.
It's hahaha horny, so RELATABLE
Even when it comes to the abusive situation Nesta grew up in, it's just hung up like decoration on the character. Not explored, let alone healed. I don't wanna hear that sjm explained or explored Nesta's abuse when we don't even get her mother or her grandmother's names
We don't get
The complexity of being a trapped and abused woman who came from a trapped and abused woman who came from a trapped and abused woman
Or the complexity of a dysfunctional family
Or even the journey of recovery from addiction and self-harming behaviour
Now, not every aspect of Nesta or any survivors lives have to boil down to how it relates to their experiences but SJM is praised for her "recovery" and so much of this book is about sex and abuse but has no depth
It could have been a less-deep, fun experience of sex and desire and kink. But no
Nesta has sex with many faceless men because sjm is condemning her as a failure. Sex is her punishment, it makes her dirty and unworthy and cheap.
Then, through her "healing", she becomes a sex doll for the right guy. Sex is her reward, it makes her hot and useful and appealing.
Sjm writes not just like a man but like a particularly talented misogynist so it's the way sex is used that really puts me off
Edit: ultimately I think the sex and romance should have interacted with and evolved her pride, modesty and past experiences, rather than those things being demolished to turn her into a sex doll
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reasonsforhope · 2 months
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hey i get what youre trying to say with the taylor swift post but as of a few days ago shes trying to sue a college student who posts her (publicly available) flight logs. she very much does not give a shit about her carbon emissions and she shouldn’t be celebrated for her mediocre attempts to seem climate-conscious
I get what you're saying, definitely. I also did actually know about the thing with the college student when I posted that, so I wanted to give some context about why I made that post:
First, I personally didn't view it as celebrating her so much as celebrating progress. I think that if we never acknowledge wins, we'll end up dispirited very quickly
Second, recognizing when people decide to be less shitty is, at least I think, an important carrot in the carrot-and-stick dynamic of using public opinion to influence public figures
Lastly - and this may well be an unpopular opinion - but I don't actually hold her actions re: the college student against her
Why?
Well, for one, it was a cease and desist letter, not an attempted lawsuit. A cease and desist letter isn't legally binding, nor is it the start of a lawsuit - it's more like she's Putting Him On Notice. A cease and desist order can be followed by a lawsuit, if it's ignored, but it doesn't initiate one. Likely Taylor Swift will try several other steps of resolution before actually telling her lawyers to sue this guy, if only because the headlines would Not look good (x, x)
But more than that, I don't hold it against her because when Taylor Swift says that it's a matter of life and death for her, I believe that's very true.
Like, don't get me wrong, I'm not mad about her flight data being up either. And I'm not particularly a fan of Taylor Swift
But I also think that if I had to read through the rape and death threats she gets on an almost-certainly-daily basis, I'd want to vomit.
And I think that was true before Trump and his minions got obsessed with the idea that she's the keystone in the next Biden-election-stealing Pentagon psyops plot. Now - especially in the days right before the Superbowl, when this alleged conspiracy is supposed to happen - I don't even want to think about the brutality of the threats she's receiving
(For anyone going "Uh, wtf?" about the MAGA Superbowl Taylor Swift conspiracy thing, yes, I hate to inform you that it's A Whole Thing. More info here: x, x, x, x, x, x)
Taylor Swift does have stalkers, and now she has a bunch of MAGA paramilitary conspiracy theorists absolutely furious with her. If I were her, I'd want to do every single thing I could to keep information on my movements and in-the-moment location off the internet, too
tl;dr: I don't necessarily think she cares about the environment, but I'm not mad at her for sending a cease and desist letter because I think without her extensive security, she would be in real danger now, including possibly danger of being killed by armed MAGA conspiracy theorists
You're allowed to be mad at her and dislike her (obviously!), you're allowed to totally disagree with my attitude toward the cease and desist. I just wanted to share my rationale for including the post (and it is something I went back and forth on tbh)
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thezombieprostitute · 2 months
Text
Dream Come True - Part 3
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Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.
Warnings: Violence mentioned and referenced, not written. Insecure reader. Bullying with an emphasis on fat shaming. Please let me know if I miss any!
Part 2 -- Part 4
Series Masterlist
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Ransom was not having a good day. Truth be told, he hadn't had a good day since Steve punched his stomach over a week ago. The writer's block had hit harder than usual. Many applicants for the Assistant position were garbage, completely upsetting his idea that you just needed to google the right answers.
He was starting to realize that Fatso, as he had taken to calling her in his head, was able to help him through his writing blocks because she had the context of the other questions, some rough draft information, and she'd include ways to use her research into the story. Maybe he just needed to actually hire someone from the "competent" file and try from there?
Problem was, time was an issue. His writer's block had kicked in hard and his publisher was getting more impatient about updates. He spent so much time just staring at his computer.
He was startled out of his contemplation by a phone call. If it was his publisher he'd just ignore it but the Caller ID showed "Steve Rogers".
Ransom answered, "Rogers! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Where the hell are you Drysdale?" Steve was quiet growling into the phone. Indicating he was around others.
"What do you mean?"
"The damned Stark party? Raising funds for Rhodes's campaign?!" Ransom could swear he heard Steve's teeth grinding. "You're supposed to be here chatting with Mrs. Devereaux. Buttering her up to at least not donate to Wilford?!"
"Shit," Ransom jumped up and ran towards his closet. "Tell her I'll be there in 20 minutes. If she needs an excuse, I was writing up a storm. I'll make it up to her by naming a character after her or something."
"Just. Get. Here." Steve hung up.
Yeah, Ransom was not having a good day.
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Your life was returning to some sense of normalcy. The crutches were a pain but, thankfully, you didn't have a lot of places to go. You wanted to get back to working as quickly as you could, if only to feel like you were actually earning some of the money you'd been given.
But you'd kept your promise to be safe, and allow yourself to heal. You did your best to keep within the movement restrictions you were given. Part of you was still waiting for that hospital bill. Yes, Curtis, Dr. Beck, even Jake and Jefferson all said it was taken care of but part of you still waited for that dreaded notice of nonpayment.
Thankfully the cybercafe wasn't too far and you were able to convince the J's (as they told you to call them) that it was the perfect distance for your needed exercise and movement and you'd sit at the cafe long enough to rest for the return trip. You were happy to get back to tutoring the girls in the afternoons. Your mornings were spent applying for other jobs.
One morning your applications were interrupted by Jake.
"Hey, Y/N, this is Hal," Jake gestured to the handsome, shirt-haired man, wearing a too small shirt, next to him. "He's here to work with you towards getting his GED.”
"Oh, yes," you perk up. "Curtis mentioned another possible student." You reach out your hand and Hal, grinning even wider, shakes it.
"It's mighty kind of you to agree to this," he began. "I've been meaning to fill in that gap on my resume for some time.”
"Well I'm happy to help you with that. Please, have a seat so we can get started?”
Hal pulls out the nearest chair and turns it so that he sits on it backwards, his muscly arms resting on the back of the chair.
"So, is this a time that works for you," you ask. "I've got a pretty open schedule so your time preferences are get priority.”
"Well," he hesitates, "my schedule is pretty all-over-the-place. Is there any chance we could take it a week at a time?”
"Sure," you affirm. "As long as you give me notice so I'm not sitting here doing nothing.”
"Yes, ma'am," Hal nods. "I'm not in the habit of leaving pretty girls wanting." He gives a wink but you drop your eyes and sigh.
"Hal," you scold. "I'm going to guess you're the type to hit on anything that breathes?”
Clearly taken aback by your tone Hal straightens in his seat. "No," he denies. "Maybe. I swear I was just trying to compliment you.”
You pause your comeback and take a deep breath instead. "I suppose there is a difference," you concede. “Just please be careful with both of those around me. I am not a "pretty girl" and I do not appreciate being addressed as such.”
Hal's eyebrows furrow in confusion so you continue, "let's just keep the compliments related to our work? Please? I'd always prefer being smart or nice to being pretty." You give him a small smile and he visibly relaxes.
"Sure thing, Teach," he says. "So, where should we start?”
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Curtis was cleaning up the interrogation room after Barnes and Fowler's latest “message” to Rumlow’s crew. They had already taken the body to drop it off on Rumlow's front door, Curtis would make sure all evidence was removed from the room. It was ugly work but maybe, just maybe, Rumlow would stop trying to push his drugs and thugs in their territory.
He was finishing up when he got a text from Jefferson saying Hal’s first session went well. He normally doesn't need these kinds of updates from the legitimate side of things but he found himself rather invested in your progress. You were unusual. A puzzle he wanted to figure out.
Or so he kept telling himself to explain why he was thinking about you so much. You’d shown yourself to be sweet and patient with others but he remembers the fire with which you spoke to him. He almost felt like a moth drawn to your light but he had to keep himself in check. For now it was enough to know you were doing well and helping his family.
At least until he got the follow up text from Jefferson saying, “Ran is looking for Teach. Ok to share info?”
Curtis felt his jaw tighten. The pompous ass had fired someone for taking a bullet. He didn't want him anywhere near you. He was sure you wouldn't want to see Ransom, either. Jake had told him you'd blocked your former boss’s number and his emails would go straight to spam. He texted back a simple “no.” Let the asshole suffer.
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Part 2 -- Part 4
Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.
@dontbescaredtosingalong
@icefrozendeadlyqueen
@texmexdarling
@veltana
@winter-soldier-101
Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.
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