#white It girls industrial complex

[murderessdominatrix]

more and more often, I find myself falling in love with media for the potential it has to be good, not for what it actually is. That desire for something to be better leads me to create new details, new concepts and imagery to tie everything together into an actual theme, a real story.

I think that is ultimately the premise of fandom, taking something that is OK or even great and modifying it so its almost perfect. Rarely do you see media that is almost perfect develop a huge fandom, because there is so little to improve.

I love creating, I love seeing what others create, but also, there is something to say about watching a film or a TV series or reading a book that is so close to perfection that makes you want to sit in silence and reflect for a while. Something about experiencing a story that moves you in a way that makes words meaningless. Something that is beyond description, something that needs to be experienced to be understood.

I wish there was more of this. More stories that were created for the sake of telling a story and moving the audience, instead of created for the sake of making a profit. I wish we could fall in love with more stories for what they are, instead of what they could be.

#musings #thoughts #anyways here is a short list of media that fucked me up #undertale (it was better when nobody knew the twists but now everyone knows and memed it to death but it still holds up i swear) #everything everywhere all at once (talk about complex parent-child relationships in immigrant families! underappreciated i swear) #nope (a movie that critiques but also pays homage to hollywood in a way only a minority who admires an industry #that they have historically been excluded from could) #get out (exploration of neo-liberal racism) #knives out (exploration of how racism and classism isnt about individuals being nice or mean its about a group of people maintaining power) #the good place (we are all trying our best goddamn it also people and the finality of life are what gives us meaning) #Fahrenheit 451 (fascism and how censorship is bad actually) #animal farm (fascism again but also a little bit of how controling the youth is critical for a regime to succeed) #fight club (the book haven't seen the movie. iykyk and if you dont know then read the book using critical thinking skills) #jennifers body (the complicated relationship white girls have with each other and womanhood and their place in a patriarchal society) #no se aceptan devoluciones (a beautiful father-daughter relationship)

[americascomic]

I talked to a trans femme teen yesterday who told me to not use slurs (faggot, tranny) and I think people like to blame social media for these kids being so tenderqueer-y, but this kid also told me that of the 1,400 kids in her art school, there is lots of out gay, trans masc and non-binary AFAB kids but only 10 t-femmes, and I saw in her and this other trans femme teen I know this harsh assimilationist streak (they want to go stealth, strive for conventional beauty standards, jealous of the cis het white blonde girls) because they barely have a community and so it becomes a place to survive.

The internet is this boogieman that distorts what is the consensus. It has a selection bias of hyper isolated, neurodivergent, and anxious people who are just looking to survive

I look at queer kids with annoying conservative opinions I don't see the solution being "internet stop sucking" - the assimilationist woodworking "Cross Dressing Quarterly" trannies of the 90's didn't need TikTok to get this way, it was the violence of the closet.

I see the problem being them being scared kids - what bell hooks calls "the most oppressed class" and I see the solution being a more porous, safe community between kids and adults (outside of the nonprofit industrial complex that uses queer youth spaces to condescend, infantalize, and give resources in a nondemocratic way)

We always say "protect trans kids" and it's worth queer adults of all types toughing through bigotry and accusatory stares to find these kids, build relationships, give resources and love them. All we have is each other. We protect us. Us tranny faggots

#slur discourse #protect trans kids #trans #trans femme #tenderqueer #no kink at pride

[zot3-flopped]

Sylvia Plath did not stick her head in an oven for this! When Taylor Swift took the Grammys stage last month to claim her award for Best Pop Vocal Album for Midnights, she saw that spotlight as an opportunity to announce her 11th studio album: The Tortured Poets Department. The follow-up cut to audience members—Swift’s music industry peers, mind you—told us all that we would ever need to know, and the collective disinterest across the crowd echoed through our TVs.

Folks from all walks of life took to social media to express a multitude of reactions. Swifties clamored to their beloved monarch’s forthcoming era, while others lambasted the terminally cringe title and artwork and ridiculed Swift for making a night recognizing musical achievements across an entire industry about herself—knowing perfectly well that it would send her fanbase into a surge that would, no doubt, overpower the excitement around the ceremony itself.

Quite a few people questioned whether or not that moment suggested that a critical—definitely not commercial—tide would turn against the world’s most-famous pop star. And, perhaps it has—but, to most, it will look like nothing more than a single ripple in Swift’s ocean of successes.

Swift remained relatively hush-hush about The Tortured Poets Department up until its release, leaving her fans, admirers and haters alike with nothing but an album title to ponder about. And it’s a bad title.

If you have never been in Swift’s corner, her taking the route of labeling her next “era” as “tortured” was likely catnip for your disinterest. If you are a fan—not necessarily a Swiftie, but even just a casual lover of her best and brightest work—you might be beside yourself about the first Swift album title longer than one word in 14 years.

In terms of popularity—certainly not always in terms of quality—no musician has been bigger this century than Swift, which makes it impossible to really buy into the “torture” of it all.

This is not to say that Swift being the most famous person in the world makes her immune to having multi-dimensional feelings of heartbreak, mental illness or what-have-you.

But, she has made the choice—as a 34-year-old adult—to take those complex, universal familiars and monetize them into a wardrobe she can wear for whatever portion of her Eras Tour setlist she opts to dedicate to the material.

Torture is fashion to Taylor Swift, and she wears her milieu dully. This album will surely get comparisons to Rupi Kaur’s poetry, either for its simplicity, empty language, commodification or all of the above.

And, sure, there are parallels there, especially in how The Tortured Poets Department, too, is going to set the art of poetry back another decade—as Swift’s naive call-to-arms of her own milky-white sorrow rings in like some quintessential “I am going to take pictures of a typewriter on my desk and have a Pinterest mood-board of Courier New font” iPhone fodder. 2013 called and it wants it capricious, suburban girl-who-is-taking-a-gap-year wig back!

Soaking our book reports in coffee or having our moms burn the edges with a kitchen lighter cannot come back into fashion; the cyclical notions of culture cannot make the space for such retreads.

There is nothing poetic about a billionaire—who, mind you, threatens legal action against a Twitter account for tracking her destructive private jet paths—telling stadiums of thousands of people every night that she sees and adores them.

Tavi Gevinson says it well in her Fan Fiction zine: “When 80,000 people are also crying, you become less special, too.” If Swift can return to one of her dozen beach houses across the world, kick up her feet and say “I’m a poet of struggle,” then who is to say that millions—maybe billions—of people with access to a notes app and a social media account won’t dream that dream, too?

Maybe that looks like a net-positive, but it’s inherently damning and destructive to take an art form that has long stood on the shoulders of resistance, of love and of opposition to power, systematic injustice and climate warfare and boil it down to the new defining era of your own 10-digit revenue empire. “My culture is not your costume,” yada, etc.

The Tortured Poets Department does begin with a shred of hope that, just maybe, Swift knows what she’s talking about—as she sneaks in a cheeky “all of this to say,” textbook transitional phrasing for poets, on opening track “Fortnight.”

But “Fortnight” unmasks itself quickly as a heady vat of pop nothingness, though it isn’t all Swift’s fault. “I was a functioning alcoholic, ‘til nobody noticed my new aesthetic,” she muses, attempting to bridge the gap between a behind-the-scenes life and on-stage performance—only for it to occur while propped up against the most dog-water, uninspired synth arrangement you could possibly imagine.

Between producer Jack Antonoff’s atrocious backing instrumental and the Y2K-era, teen dramedy echo chamber of a vocal harmony provided by out-of-place guest performer Post Malone, “Fortnight” chokes on the vomit of its own opaqueness.

“I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary,” Swift muses, and it sounds like satire. This is your songwriter of the century? Open the schools.

The Tortured Poets Department title-track features some of Swift’s worst lyricism to-date, including the irredeemable, relentlessly cringe “You smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate, we declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist / I scratch your head, you fall asleep like a tattooed golden retriever” lines glazed atop some synthesizers and drums that just ring in as hollow, unfascinating costuming.

Aside from the Puth nod, which I can only discern as a joke (given the fact that he is one of the 150-most streamed artists in the world and is one of the blandest pop practitioners alive—I don’t care if he can figure out the pitch of any sound you throw at him), I think Antonoff should stick to guitar-playing. Get that man away from a keyboard, I’m begging you.

Synths can be, if you use them correctly, one of the most emotional and provocative instruments in any musician’s tool-box. There’s a reason why keyboards defined the 1980s; they rebelled against the very oppressive nature existing outside of the cultural company they kept. There’s resistance in electronic music that, while they brandish an aesthetic that, to a layman’s ears, seems like technicolor hues for any infectious pop track, it’s a genre that aches to tell its own story. That is simply not the case here, and that electronica hangs Swift out to dry when she drags us through the lukewarm “I laughed in your face and said, ‘You’re not Dylan Thomas, I’m not Patti Smith’ / This ain’t the Chelsea Hotel, we’re modern idiots” lines, only to hit us with a softly sung F-bomb that sounds like a billionaire’s rendition of that one Miranda Cosgrove podcast clip.

I used to rag pretty heavily on Reputation—mostly because I thought (and still do, mostly) that it sounded like Swift had given up on making interesting, progressive pop music; that, in the wake of her (arguably) best album, 1989, it seemed like she’d lost the plot on where to go next. But as she’s put out Midnights and The Tortured Poets Department back-to-back, I find myself clamoring for the Reputation-era more than ever—at least seven years ago, Swift wrote songs like she had something to prove and even more to lose.

That was the always-obvious charm of Reputation, even despite the downsides—that she took a big swing from the echelons of her own musical immortality, that the comforts of winning every award and selling out the biggest venues in the world were no longer pillowing her aspirations. Even though that swing didn’t land, she still made it in the first place—and Swift is at her best either when she is clawing upwards (Reputation) or faced with nowhere to go but into the studio and noodle with the bare-bones of her own sensibilities (folklore).

You get something like The Tortured Poets Department when the artist making it no longer feels challenged, where she strikes out looking.

The mid-ness of The Tortured Poets Department will not be a net-loss for Swift. She will sell out arenas and get her streams until she elects to quit this business (a phrase decidedly not in her vocabulary, surely).

She will sell more merch bundles than vinyl plants have the capacity to make, and rows of variant LP copies will haunt the record aisles of Target stores just as long as Midnights has—if not longer.

Perhaps, in five or six years’ time, we will speak of this record just as we now do of Reputation. But right now, it is obvious that Swift no longer feels challenged to be good. The Tortured Poets Department is the mark of an artist now interested in seeing how much their empire can atone for the sins of mediocrity.

Can Swift win another Album of the Year Grammy simply because she released a record during the eligibility period? The Tortured Poets Department reeks of “because I can,” not “because I should.”

On “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can),” Swift tries stepping into the shoes of the country renegades who came before her—the Tammy Wynettes and Loretta Lynns of the world. But her self-aggrandizing inflation of importance, glinting through via a seismically-bland bridge, is backed by a minimal set dressing of guitar, drum machine and keys.

“Good boy, that’s right, come close,” she sings. “I’ll show you Heaven if you’ll be an angel—all mine. Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man. No, really, I can.” On “Florida!!!,” Swift calls upon Florence + the Machine to help her sing the worst chorus of 2024: “Florida is one hell of a drug / Florida, can I use you up?”

Even Welch, who is a fantastic pop singer-songwriter in her own right, delivers a grossly watery verse: “The hurricane with my name, when it came I got drunk and I dared it to wash me away.”

Not even the typos on the Spotify promotional materials for this album could have foretold such offenses. I won’t even get into the sonics, because Antonoff just rewrites the same soulless patterns every time.

What separates The Tortured Poets Department from something like Reputation is that, on the latter, Swift made it known what was at stake and who she was making that album for—herself, in the aftermath of her greatest long-standing criticisms (“Look What You Made Me Do” triumphs exactly because of this).

On The Tortured Poets Department, there is a striking level of moral nothingness. The stakes are practically non-existent, and the album sounds like it was made by someone who believes that they had no other choice but to finish it, as if Swift fundamentally believes that her creative measures are firmly embedded in the massive monopoly her name and brand currently hold on popular music. That’s how you get meandering pop songs about hookups, wine moms, Stevie Nicks comparisons, Jehovah’s Witness suit mentions, hollowed-out, tone-deaf nods to white-collar crime in lieu of empowerment and, topically, Barbie dolls.

(Don’t even get me started on the Anthology lyrics, which feature these absolute barn-burners: “Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto” and “My friends used to play a game where / We would pick a decade / We wished we could live in instead of this / I’d say the 1830s, but without all the racists / And getting married off for the highest bid.”) This album and its hackneyed grasps at relevance exist as “Did I just hear that?” personified, but in the most derogatory sense of the notion.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” features another low-point in Swift’s lyrical oeuvre, as she sings “I felt more when we played pretend than with all the Kens, ‘cause he took me out of my box”—perhaps a measure of her capitalizing on the Barbenheimer mania that none of us could escape, not even the musician who spent most of 2023 flying across the world from one country to another.

But you, us, the listener—we want to believe that Swift makes these records because she has the artistic will, drive and interest to continue giving us parts of her story in such ways that they exist as an archival of her life.

But the problem is that, on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift is packaging her life into a form that is easily consumable for the 17 or 18 years olds who pour over her music. Just because her Eras Tour film is on Disney+ doesn’t mean she has to strip her songwriting (which we know can be, and has been, phenomenal) down for the sake of it being digestible by a wide spectrum of ages.

And, sure, maybe that makes the work accessible. But on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift makes Zoomer jargon her bag—titling a song after one of the most popular video games in the world and conjuring flickers of “down bad” and “I can fix him”—and it feels like she’s cosplaying because the Fountain of Youth was out of order.

Now that Swift is in her 30s, it sounds like she is infantilizing her own audience more than ever before—that singing to them at a level that could force them to reckon with something more akin with adulthood would be some kind of kink in the coil or her consumeristic threshold, that writing lyrics that sound like they were penned by a 30-year-old would, somehow, deter the interests of the billions of people who adore her.

If making one, continuous coming-of-age album is what Swift has been doing for 15 years, folklore and evermore were hiccups in the timeline—existing as the most fully-formed renderings of Swift’s own insecurities and concerns. They mirrored our platitudes towards an uncertain future with sweet, stirring remarks about isolation and heartbreak and the unavoidable, hard-worn truth about getting older. On those records, her larger-than-life living seemed, for once, to truly feel as close to the ground as ours.

Now, though, Taylor Swift is at the top of the mountain. Far better artists have made far worse records than The Tortured Poets Department, but you can’t read between the lines of this project. There is nothing to decipher from a place of quality.

Sure, Swift’s fan base will pour over these lyrics for the rest of their lives—insisting they know, for certain, which song is about who. But you cannot place a bad album on the shoulders of lore and expect it to be rectified.

We are now left at a crossroads. Women can’t critique Swift because they’ll run the risk of being labeled a “gender traitor” for doing so. Men can’t critique her because they’ll be touted as “sexist.”

And, sure, Swift is probably too easy a punching bag in this case—and most of the time, I would argue she is undeserving of being a victim of such barbs. But, you cannot write about someone being a “tattooed golden retriever” and get away with it and still retain your title as the best songwriter of your generation. You just cannot.

Sisyphus should be glad he never got the boulder to the top of the mountain—because Taylor Swift is showing us that such immortality and success ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. And, when you’re standing on the peak alone, who else is there left to hit?

In a recent interview with The Standard, Courtney Love said that Swift is “not interesting as an artist,” and I think The Tortured Poets Department proves as much. She has nothing to fight for, no doubters left to drown.

So where does she turn? Well, to boredoms of celebrity thinly veiled as sorrow everyone and their mother can latch onto—because we’ve all had to “ditch the clowns, get the crown” at some point in our lives, right?

The billionaire is having an identity crisis, but there are no social media apps for her to buy up. So she sings like Lana Del Rey and writes meta-self-referential songs about looking like Stevie Nicks.

What’s hollow about The Tortured Poets Department is that the real torture is just how unlivable these songs really are. No one can resonate with “So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street, crash the party like a record, scratch as I scream ‘Who’s afraid of little old me?’ You should be.” And normally, that wouldn’t be an end-all-be-all for a pop record—but when your brand is built on copious levels of “I’m just like you!” as the demigod saying it to their fans does so from a multi-million-dollar production set, it’s hard to not feel nauseated by the overlording, overbearing sense of heavy-handed detritus we’re tasked with sifting through on The Tortured Poets Department.

Love’s words to Lana, her advice to “take seven years off,” should be applied to Swift. Now, that doesn’t mean that, to make a good album, you must sit on material for years and labor extensively through the sketching, shaping and recording in order for it to be transcendentally landmark. But it’s obvious now that not even Taylor Swift wants to be the head of an empire—that she, too, can’t outrun the damning fate of being plum out of ideas by hopping in her jet and skirting off to God knows where.

See you at the Grammys.

****

#this review is everything #anti taylor swift #taylor swift #travis kelce #3.6 !!! #hope Pitchfork comes for her too #jack antonoff #taylor swift reviews #the department of tortured poets

[hajihiko]

I think since we often hear about how much you love your favorites, I'd be interested to hear things you like about some of your least favorite characters. I think it'd be a nice change of pace.

Hey there's something fun. Ok warning for me talking about characters I dont like, I mean I'm being nice, but I know how it feels

Hiyoko: love the character palette, one of my fave ones. I'm glad that there's girl characters who are Straigh Up Mean (genuine, we have so many asshole shithead male characters). Her backstory is like teetering on complex, so it gives you a lot of fodder to how she'd develop into a person and react to things. Best case scenario where she can be mean to people (in jest) but will Vicious Mockery anyone who dares to mess her people is endearing.

Teruteru: I love mama's boys (gender neutral). Good motivation, I think the "hides his accent and general background to make it further in the industry " is interesting, like that's a real thing! You can always get wholesome with the narrative of feeding your friends.

that's it for sdr2 lol

DR1: listen it's been years I might be super outdated ok

Celestia: love the aesthetic, the little finger accessory honestly says so much. Accent was pleasant. Motivation seemed silly at the time but honestly if I re-shape it into "I want to live my fantasy life" fuck yeah girl me too.

Byakuya: super fun to dunk on. I have heard he has an Arc I dont remember but I'll believe it. Voice actor does great stuff. I am now... going. To bark at you. Woof woof bark bark woof woof woof-

DRv3:

Kokichi. Is a jester and liar, I like that. I like his black and white theme, really sticks out. Good VA. Definitely memorable.

Tenko: wlw always wins SOME points for me. Oh she gets to actually make dumb and stupid faces, I love that, more girls making ugly faces! Her last moment was kind of sweet I liked it.

I'm sorry but I will never say anything good about the monokubs I hate them too much

#This is old but I'm posting it now! #Talky talky #It is actually coincidence these are all boy-girl duos

[dizzymoods]

When i started youtube i did a survey of video essays to make sure like what i wanted to do wasn’t already being done.

And i looked at a bunch of black and queer video essayists in particular to see the field.

i did watch james somerton’s knock off Celluloid Closet video and i clocked it immediately like girl that’s everybody’s first intro to queer cinema. the doc was put up in 10 min chunks on youtube since 2006. they put the whole thing up on youtube the same year it lifted the 10min limit back in 2010. you not slick!

but every other queer film person on youtube does it too. they’d be nothing without Vito Russo. And they take from b ruby rich’s new queer cinema reader. that’s the scope of their understanding of queer film. And in the NQC reader there’s an essay on Queer Third Cinema which is just queer cinema of the Third World….which is a complete misunderstanding of Third Cinema. the NQC reader had its share of critics at the time of its publication. but they don’t know that.

And the black film people are hopelessly trying to reinvent Donald Bogle. every black video essayist has their own proprietary trope that is a manifestation of a tom, coon, mulatto, mammy, etc. There’s a reason bogle was, in a sense, generic because how these tropes continue to live change with the times but the core remains the same.

I’ve seen videos about the LA Rebellion as a movement from UCLA. I can’t remember if she said it in spirits of the rebellion or w/e but Julie has a line that goes something like “we weren’t a movement just a bunch of black kids at the same film school” and everybody hated UCLA. The LA Rebellion happened in spite of UCLA. Elyseo Taylor, who headed the program that we attribute to the LA rebellion —the ethnocommunications program— was fired after a year and the program shut down at the same time because the white failsons of producers weren’t getting the special funds the “blacks” were. And the LA Rebellion existed outside of UCLA too. The major actors of the movement studied or worked at The Performing Arts Society of LA (PASLA); Larry Clark taught cinematography there as well.

i know the hbomberguy video is about plagiarism but the other major issue with the youtube video essay industrial complex is that it’s giving “hey guys i’m taking media studies 101 and i just learned something that’s gonna blow your mind! It’s called the male gaze”

#lemme not speak too loudly bc i haven’t put anything out in like half a year

[haechaninmyheart]

an alpha’s desire

the image does not belong to me. credits to the original owner.

summary - gathering more information on the soon-to-be owner of seoul’s leading tech companies, should be an easy job, especially for someone like you but when you get your heat at the most unexpected time, things don’t exactly go in your favour. well, almost.

pairing - ceo! alpha!haechan x omega! f!reader.

genre - smut, non-idol!au, a/b/o au.

word count - 6k.

warnings - use of she/her pronouns, protected sex, fingering, oral sex (receiving), knife (pressed against your throat and used to cut off a piece of your clothing), ice play, reader gets a concussion, lip injury, tiniest description of his lip bleeding from biting it too much, wrists are tied to the bed, finger sucking, multiple orgasms, knotting, spitting, slapping.

author’s note - repost of an alpha’s desire. happy reading 💖

18+ content ahead, so minors don’t interact!!!

. . .

Lee Donghyuck, or more well known as Lee Haechan, is the only son of the owner of Seoul’s leading tech companies and is due to take over his father’s role soon. However, as of recently, he has also been suspected of leading a series of crimes, mainly cyber, including accessing unauthorised systems of rival firms and organisations within the same market but some others too. There is a risk that he might take it a step further with his cyber crimes if he lands his father’s position and that’s when the consequences don’t affect just his competitors’ problem but other organisations outside the technology industry. That’s only if he’s part of them. 

Another thing to note about Haechan is that he loves to party and tends to host one after each company event or every other weekend at his villa, not too far away from the city. Tonight, the company is celebrating 50 years since the founding of the well-known organisation at its main office building, which means Haechan will be there along with his parents and some of the top business people in Seoul. 

This also means that his apartment is empty and tonight, that’s where you find yourself. With a tap of the 6 digit code, you’re in. Sneaking in is easy for you. Most of those who live on the top floors of these apartment complexes are attending his party and this just makes it even more easier, but you are sure to keep your guard up. When things are going too well, there’s usually something about to go bad soon after.

Instantly, you are met with the strong musky scent as you push the door open with your gloved hand and step into the apartment. It’s overpowering, fills up your lungs and makes your body feel hot and shaky. Even with half your face covered with a mask, you can smell the intense scent and with a trembling exhale of a breath you step further inside his home to inspect your surroundings. The door you quietly close behind yourself and now find yourself standing in his hallway as you glance out one of the many large windows in his living room, and at the many buildings Seoul has.

There’s something rather calming about staring at the dark landscape from a very high floor; at the small white dots that resemble the windows of other apartments and at the small moving lights on the ground, cars rushing to get where they need to be this evening but right now the night scenery of Seoul city can be admired some other time. You’ve got a job to do.

Within the large apartment of his, you need to locate his laptop and any other evidence so you continue your little exploration of his apartment. Eyes carefully tracing over his kitchen counter, you’re still standing in the hallway area being mindful not to step on his beige rug with your boots so as not to leave noticeably marks. 

Haechan has plenty of people over at his apartment, lots of girls, that’s no secret. The neighbouring apartment has previously complained about banging noises through the walls late at night   and well… everyone already knows why. Though you still make an effort not to leave too much evidence. It’s a simple mistake and you aren’t a rookie in your industry anymore. 

His living room and kitchen have nothing important, that is obvious with a quick scan, so you assign yourself the task to find his bedroom, which you find is located at the end of the hallway. If the scent you considered was strong when you stepped into the apartment, it had your head spinning when you stepped into his room. 

As you hold the door handle tightly, letting out something in between a harsh breath and a high whine, you’re nearly double over. There’s no way you could get your heat. No. Not right now. You’re in the middle of a mission, at some stranger’s place. Well, Haechan was a stranger to you. You’d never met him in person, only seen pictures of him online when reading the news and when Taeyong presented you his file whilst you were discussing the surge in recent crimes, and how he was linked to them. 

The scent, Haechan’s scent, you pinpoint, it’s strong enough to have you surrendered but the man himself is nowhere to be seen. Mostly, you are grateful for that fact. You can carry out your job in peace (that is if you can even take a step into his bedroom) and you wouldn’t be on the verge of passing out or holding onto your own decent morals by the thread as you try to surpass the desire to be used as a cock sleeve by another Alpha. 

You squeeze your thighs together to soothe the growing ache in between your legs as you close your eyes. It gives you some level of relief, but not enough. You want an Alpha’s knot. No, you need it. 

You give yourself a minute, at most to gather yourself as you internally curse at yourself for being born as an omega, you hated it. Absolutely despised being born at the bottom with a sole purpose to reproduce. Why couldn’t have you been born as a Beta? You didn’t need to be claimed by another Alpha as his and bred, and nor did you want that life either. Though heats were rather difficult to bear without an Alpha blowing out your back whenever your heat symptoms become too much. 

Your body shakes at the thought. The thought of being claimed. Maybe you could change your mind now, right? Plenty of omegas still abide by traditionals rules, have their pack arrange a suitable Alpha mate for them and then be set for life. 

But the thing is you don’t have your own pack to do that. You don’t know where they are or if they know your whereabouts. Like a small percentage of the population you’d managed to successfully run away at a young age and had been taken in by the safety of a Beta who was kind enough to look after you. That Beta, who went by the name of Taeyong and was now your work colleague. 

“Oh, god.” You cry out, trying to straighten yourself up to the best of your ability. The slick, you can feel it leak and it’s soaking through your black jeans as you stand still. Standing where you are right now, isn’t helping either. Your target will definitely know that someone was in his city home without his permission, you’re leaving your scent all over his apartment and Haechan will have his suspicions too so right now, standing at the door seems safe. Even if there is no Alpha to pick up your scent now, he will later when he’s laying in his bed. 

You glance around his room from your hunched over position at the door, using his bedroom door to support yourself as the ache in between your legs only grows stronger. The dark walls make the room seem smaller than it truly is, the wall opposite the large window looks like a wardrobe made of dark wood. His bed moved slightly away from the wall has a rug underneath it, also of dark grey colour like his bedsheets, by the window is his desk and that’s where you spot the slim, easy to carry device. It's his laptop. 

Even with the pain between your legs, even more painful breaths you have to take and your skin feeling scorching hot, the corners of your mouth manage to curl up. The only reason you’ve dragged yourself all the way here this evening and you sure as hell won’t be leaving empty handed. 

You stumble towards the desk near the opposite side of the room, ignoring the symptoms of your heat as you focus on the object settled on the desk, your hands going to the pockets of your jeans to bring out a device to save a copy of all his files on. As you slide the laptop towards yourself and open it, you’re met by another barrier. It’s requesting a password. You type the same pincode you used to get into the apartment but it’s incorrect, you do the same for his date of birth and get the same response yet again. Perhaps it’s his date of birth backwards- 

“What’s a cute Omega like you doing in my apartment alone, huh?” You feel something cold and sharp pressed against your neck before the scent, his scent hits you. It’s Haechan. You aren’t sure how he had gotten inside the apartment, surely with your heightened senses now you’d be able to scent him out before he got to his room?

Haechan has got himself pressed against you, as you stand sandwiched between his desk and his body with his hand holding a pocket knife held to your throat whilst his other hand is held over your mouth. He makes no effort to stop you from breathing, just covers it enough for you to breathe in his scent.

You can’t even form a reply instead, too busy wondering how he was able to walk in and catch you with your nose not picking up his scent. He smells fucking amazing now by the way, you can taste him through your own mask and it’s making your mouth water. He couldn’t have been quick, there was still a short distance from the entrance of this apartment to his bedroom and you would’ve heard his footsteps in the hallway too.  

“And she’s in her heat?” He tuts, disapprovingly. “Little Omega should know better than to wander into an Alpha’s house in this state...especially when he’s near his own rut too.” He groans the last part of the sentence into your ear, burying his face into your neck as he takes in your delicious scent, greedily. He controls himself from wanting to dart out his tongue to taste your sweet skin, your delightful scent present on his tongue is enough for him to want his face in between your legs for a whole week.

You tense up at his movement. An omega near her heat and an alpha near his rut… that doesn’t sound too good. You don’t personally know Haechan to let his scent be present all over you like this but oh god, do you want that. 

Your eyes travel back to the laptop sitting open and waiting for the correct password to be typed in. The main reason why you are here. To collect information, perhaps against the alpha who’s got a good grip on you or in his favour. Quick thinking helps you in making a mental plan on how to escape his grip and grab the laptop before you make a run for it. It’s not the best, but the longer you stand against him, breathing in his scent, the lower your chances are of getting out that door without being further questioned or witnessing how exactly alphas deal with their ruts near an omega first hand. Though, first you need to distract him.

“Alpha.” You whine into his hand, your cheeks feeling flushed as you speak. It’s the first time you’ve addressed someone else in a tone as obscene as that. 

Haechan moves his face back up towards your ear, smirking against your skin. “Yes, sweetheart?” His hold loosens on the weapon in his hands as he gives you all his attention, waiting for you to continue. But you have nothing to say, not anything pleasant anyways and Haechan is met with a hit to his lip and nose area, making him instantly let go of your face, groaning aloud as he takes a step back. He squeezes his nose bridge and there’s a metallic-like taste present in his mouth. 

This gives you enough time to grab the laptop and make a dash for the bedroom door, though you don't get very far. Haechan is equally as quick as he grabs the back of your t-shirt preventing you from taking another step, his actions fuelled by his overwhelming rage. He can’t believe he’s just been hit in the face by an omega who’s broken into his apartment and is now trying to make a run for it with his personal laptop. 

“Just where do you think you are going with that?” He yanks you back, nearly ripping your top as he snatches the laptop from your grip. He tosses the device onto the bed, your eyes follow as it lands upside down and he immediately slams you into the wall. His free hand wrapping itself around your neck as he glares at you. His bottom lip is bleeding and you can feel the anger radiate off his heated body. “What do you plan on doing with my laptop?” 

You stay quiet, glancing at the name item behind him. You were so close. So fucking close. 

“Tell me.” He speaks through gritted teeth, squeezing at your throat and when you begin to struggle, your hands clawing at his around your neck until he lets go. You drop to the floor, pulling down your mask as you gasp for air as he stares at you. You don’t care if you're breathing in his powerful scent but the one thing you do care about is not leaving empty handed, that you are certain of. 

Haechan realises that too so he awaits your next move and when you come charging at him, he is quick to grab you, twisting your body to the side. Though he forgets to take into account how close he’s been standing to his desk and when your head hits the edge of the table, making a noise loud enough to wake the next door neighbours (if they were still home), Haechan is sure that he’s given you a concussion.  

---

When you open your eyes, there’s a throbbing sensation present in your head and you instinctively let out a groan. The burning ache between your legs has only grown and when you try to roll to your side, you feel a tug at your wrists. Glancing up you realise that they’ve been tied to the bed, you aren’t exactly sure where the fabric leads to but the dark fabric around your wrists prevents you from lifting your hands up more than a few inches. 

“Awake?” 

You snap your head towards the voice towards the end of the bed. 

“Don’t try to kick me, or I will tie down your legs if needs be.” Haechan takes a seat by your legs with a glass of whiskey in his hands. His lip, the one you hit your head with and made bleed, looks better now. “Now...tell me, why are you in my apartment and why do you need my laptop?” He speaks with a raised brow, looking down at you. 

You thickly swallow, your eyes fixed on his figure. Your skin feels like it's on fire and you can’t focus. At least not with an Alpha sitting so near you.

Haechan comes even closer, to place the glass on his bedside table and it makes your heat symptoms flare up. With knitted eyebrows you let out a whine, rubbing your thighs together. Haechan takes notice of this, a smirk spreading across his face. 

Your face mask has been removed, so his scent is even more powerful and intense than before, filling up your nostrils and lungs as you continue to take laboured breaths. Your chest is rising and falling at a rather quick pace. 

“So?” Haechan comes even closer, all up in your personal space and his scent has your insides screaming. At this rate he might as well be kissing you soon. 

You let out the most dumbfounded noise as you make eye contact with him.

“Can’t speak? Your heat that bad?” 

“What- No!” You protest.

“Little omega can speak after all...”

You helplessly tug at the restraints around your wrists before trying to pull yourself up. 

However Haechan is quick to react, pulling you down by your waist and then pinning you down by your hips. “Don’t you dare.”

This action of his sends a wave of arousal in between your thighs. You’re definitely sure you’ve soaked through your panties and jeans, you can feel it. And Haechan can smell it. The delightful scent present in the air and coming from you, he just wants to bury his face in between your legs. 

He moves his hands off your hips, opting to place one on your lower abdomen as he smirks down at you and his fingers trace the edge of your jeans waistband. Your face burns under his gaze. 

“What’s wrong, little omega?”

Replying with only a whimper at the choice of words he’s been addressing you tonight, Haechan settles his hand in the middle of your lower torso. You feel your eyes prickle with tears, you feel like you’re going to explode if he doesn’t stop his teasing, you feel too hot and you want him to do something more than just move his hands around your jeans like that. 

“Want me to go lower?” He groans.

A desperate moan erupts from your mouth and you feel his hand move lower. ‘Finally.’ You think to yourself as your body shamelessly reacts, your hips buckling up into his hand and allowing him to apply a light level of pressure to your core. 

“Needy?” He grins.

You don’t say anything. Mainly because you know this is wrong, you aren’t supposed to be feeling like this towards some alpha but you can’t help it and he isn’t just some alpha. It’s Lee fucking Haechan. The next owner of Seoul’s largest and well known technology company. You wonder how many other omegas desire to be in your position but you remember to him, you’re just another omega. You’re sure he doesn't even know your name. 

Haechan leans in, voice low enough to send shivers down your spine. “I asked you something, little omega.”

Your body is betraying your mind and under his gaze you feel submissive. A part of you, the submissive side of you as an omega wants this alpha to do what alphas do when they're in a rut; you want him to breed you but-

Work. 

Work would never allow this, Taeyong would never encourage you to make decisions like this in your heat and you never wanted to be claimed by an alpha. But he doesn’t need to claim you to please you, right? 

Right. 

You could just be another omega he’s fucked and Taeyong doesn’t need to know of this, nor does work. 

“Pl-please.”

“Of course, omega.” Haechan speaks in the softest of tones as if he hadn’t knocked you mere minutes ago with the edge of his desk. He moves onto the bed, settling himself in between your legs on his knees, pushing your t-shirt up, off your head and leaving it around your arms. 

Then goes your bra, his hand reaching around under your and skillfully unclasps it with minimum effort. Haechan smirks. He’s a fucking pro at this shit, he’s fucked enough girls to do this blindfolded. His hands are quick to go under the item of clothing, squeezing and palms rubbing over your sensitive tips. 

He pushes your bra up too, but when it doesn’t go further than your shoulder, Haechan decides he might as well cut it off. And he does. With the same knife he’d pressed your throat when he saw your figure by his desk and after he’s sliced through both straps, he tosses the item off his bed. 

He curses looking down at your bare upper half. ‘You’re gorgeous.’ He thinks to himself, admires the way you lay in his bed under him but all this staring is making you nervous. 

You’re not used to being looked at the way he’s looking at you, hungrily and you’ve never been topless in front of an alpha, or another person as a matter of fact. 

“Haechan.” You moan. You’re growing impatient. You’re the only one half naked, Haechan is still fully clothed. He’s navy blue blazer jacket isn’t on him anymore, just his white shirt that’s been rolled up at the sleeves and navy trousers but before he undresses himself, your jeans have got to go. You watch him fiddle with your jean zipper before pulling them off and throwing them on the floor.  

“Patience, little omega.” He cages you in his arms, leaning down to place a string of wet kisses from the back of your ear to a sensitive spot on your neck. One of his thighs slide right against your core, giving you something to grind against and you feel a burst of euphoria as you pathetically begin to rub yourself against his thigh, letting out little noises.

Haechan doesn’t know how he hasn’t lost control yet. The noises you’re making, the sweet scent you’re giving off, you’re driving him crazy and he thinks he’s holding onto his morals by a thread. He puts pressure on your core with his thigh, listening to your cries of pleasure. He’s nowhere near making you feel as good as he can though the human side of him wants him to go easy on you, show some element of mercy but his instincts are screaming at him to flip you over, push you ass up and fucking your little omega cunt full of his cum until your shaking from the intense pleasure.

A harsh suck has you crying out the alpha’s name once again and Haechan smirks against your skin as he continues the rough treatment with his mouth. When satisfied with himself, Haechan moves back from your neck and his fingers hook themselves around the waistband of your underwear. He’s feeling impatient to get a taste of you.

You watch his figure through half closed eyes as he removes the last piece of clothing on you, assisting him by lifting your legs closer to your chest as he slides your panties off. However, instead of throwing it onto the floor of his bedroom like the rest of your clothes, he scrunches it up into a ball and leans over you again, holding the item close to your mouth. 

“Open.” His voice is authoritative and you can’t help but do as he says. If it were possibly, your cheeks burn even more as he stuffs the soft fabric into your mouth. You can taste yourself but that’s not what’s on your mind at the current moment. 

Haechan dips his head in between your legs, tongue racing out to get a taste of you and as he licks a firm strip from your entrance to your clit, making you moan out. His hands are on your outer thigh, thumb stroking your skin as he nods his face against your heat. His nose brushes against your clit, making it tingle with pleasure. His licks are rapid, careless and harsh, he’s mean when he sucks on your clit, making your thighs tremble in his hold. You can understand why he’s shoved your panties inside your mouth in the first place. 

Haechan squeezes the flesh of your thighs when you struggle to keep them open and on the third time this happens, he moves his hands to your inner thighs before pinning them down. Spitting your cunt before mixing it in with your leaking slick. 

You groan out in embarrassment, you’ve never felt so dirty but you want him to do it again. However, the alpha has other plans, he pushes two fingers in, memorised by the way you just suck his fingers in. “You know,” Haechan starts off, scissoring both his digits inside of you. “Omegas are capable of taking an alpha’s knot during their own heat with little to no foreplay. Shall we test it out?” 

You clench around him, your thighs still as you maintain your eyes on his figure. 

“I think my little omega likes that.” Haechan chuckles with a grin on his face. You don’t know why he’s referring you as his, you aren’t. He hasn’t claimed you and nor do you want him to. 

Haechan connects his mouth back to your clit, using his tongue to stimulate the sensitive bud as he draws his fingers in and out of you. 

Instead of the aching pain in your core, you feel something build up and it feels great. 

The noises coming out of your pussy as he moves his fingers, curling them inside your, making out with your clit, all of this contributes to the ball of fire deep inside of you and it builds and it builds. 

You begin to shake again, raising your hips to meet Haechan’s face and he has to press you down with his free hand. It keeps building and building. You gasp with the ball of fabric in your mouth, damp from both your saliva and your slick as Haechan’s digits brush against something that makes your whole body shudder with excitement. 

Haechan continues to stroke that area inside of you making the pleasure grow and grow, and your jaw goes slack, your eyes roll back, your legs stiffen, your toes curl, until finally-

An electrifying pleasure washes over your entire body, like fireworks being set off and you hold your breath for a few seconds, convulsing around the two digits inside of you that are determined to draw out this climax for as long as possible. You aren’t able to make much noise with something in your mouth but the way your eyebrows crease and your heels dig into the mattress, the alpha knows he’s making you feel amazing.

Haechan’s warm breath fans against your heat after he removes his lips from your clit, his fingers stay inside of you for a moment longer, giving your g-spot a few gentle strokes before he slides them out. He replaces the fabric in your mouth with his fingers, the same ones he used to touch you. 

“Suck.” 

And you do. 

Tongue swirling around his digits as you moan. You’re a mess as you lick your own juices off and when Haechan removes his hand away from you, he lets you know with a repeat of your new nickname: his messy little omega.

“Now, how about we test…” 

You watch the alpha tentatively as he gets up from his bed. He removes his shirt and he’s impatient whilst doing so, rushing with the top buttons before yanking it upwards and then he reaches down to his bedside table, opening the first drawer. From a box, Haechan pulls out a golden square, holding the corner of it in his mouth as he kicks the drawer shut and begins to unbuckle his belt which places on his table next to the glass of whiskey he was sipping on earlier. 

You have a slight feeling he’s planning on doing something with that belt but all you can do is nervously gulp as you watch him. His trousers drop to the floor with a soft sound then his boxers, his cock springing out from the confinements of his pants and you audibly gasped at his size. 

Haechan laughs at your reaction, flaunting the size of his dick in his hand as he strokes himself in front of you, his tip oozing with pre-cum. He takes the thing in between his mouth, the condom of which the branded packaging you recognise and it’s a large size too. That you are sure of. He’s rather quick at sliding it down his length, as if he’s done it a hundred times already but then again, it’s Haechan, he probably has. 

The edge of the condom rests around his growing knot. Your eyes are fixed on his cock as he crawls back onto the bed and over you, both his hands planted on the mattress either side of you. 

“How well can you take my knot?”

Haechan really meant he wanted to test that whole ‘an omega is able to take an alpha’s knot during their own heat without much foreplay’ because he lines himself up before slamming himself inside of you, knocking all the air out of your lungs. 

You gasp out, your whole body moving upwards at his action. It doesn’t hurt though, it actually feels quite the opposite, your slick makes it all the easier for Haechan to thrust his cock inside of you and you tug at the restraints around your wrist. Your thighs squeeze themselves around him and you wish you could wrap your arms around his neck. 

Haechan’s got his face buried in your neck, grunting as he takes in your scent and with each thrust he’s pushing you up the bed. His knot teases your entrance, he’s not given you his full length yet. When he cums, he’ll think about it then. His teeth graze against your skin and you whine in your dishevelled and hot state.

Is he going to bite you?

Instead he licks over the skin he’s just teased with his teeth, pushing down the urge to claim you as he does with every other omega. Though, you aren’t just any other omega, you’d been in his apartment without being brought home by him and granted that you’d broken in but, same difference and you came to his home near the time of your heat as he was about to go into his own rut too. This couldn’t be a coincidence. 

The moans you let out each time Haechan fills you to the brim with his length are obscene and loud. You can feel your second orgasm build up. Your head is millimetres away from the headboard with the shirt around your arms in between that and the top of your head. Haechan’s powerful thrusts have managed to push you up and you use your hands, in attempts to push yourself back down.

Haechan helps you, dragging you down by the hips as far as you would come and he pushes your legs against your chest, folding you in half almost as he pounds into you. His eyes flash with anger, you aren’t sure why and his jaw is clenched. Haechan’s own heavy breathing is fanning against your neck, accompanying your moans with each slam he delivers into you. 

Your second orgasm is just as intense as your first. A wave of moans, groans and curses spill from your lips as you reach it, pulling excessively at the restraint around your wrists and you’re surprised you haven’t broken them with all this tugging as pulling. 

Haechan empties himself inside of the condom, groaning swear words and biting his wounded lip. The way your insides are milking him feels too good and he just wants to stay inside of you. He manages to draw out a little blood from his lips and hopes it’ll heal by tomorrow morning but if it doesn’t, he’ll be spending the whole week in the comfort of his apartment so he doesn’t worry over it too much. 

As he moves back, dropping your legs and letting you take a moment to enjoy the post orgasmic bliss, Haechan’s eyes wander over to the glass of whiskey on his bedside table when he discards the condom, it gives him an idea. Picking it up, he chugs down the remaining golden liquid and leaves the three ice cubes in his glass before scooping one out.

He places it onto your chest, watching you gasp and squirm at the coldness. He brings it across your chest in an ‘M’ formation before moving it down the middle of your chest and then over one of your nipples. His lips attached over your other one and you’re breathing heavily from the way his mouth feels. He swirls his tongue around the bud, presses it flat against it and any other tongue movement that comes to mind. When the ice cube melts, he takes another from the glass and switches sides, giving the same treatment to your other nipple. “Feels good, doesn’t it, little omega?” 

You’re letting out the most whiniest cries and moans in response, too busy writhing under his body from the pleasure. You still haven’t fully recovered from your second orgasm and you can feel your third one build up as Haechan touches you.  

When the second ice cube melts on your chest, Haechan moves lower with the whiskey glass from the bedside table and takes the last ice cube, tracing it across your lower abdomen. Then lower, drawing various shapes on your inner thigh. Your chest is rising and falling at a quick rate, and you can’t keep your legs still. 

“Alpha.” You whine again, shaking your head. This is the second time this night you’re whining that but this time it’s different. He isn’t holding a knife against your throat but instead, he’s settled in between your legs with an ice cube in his hand and is rubbing it over the sensitive areas on your thigh. “It’s cold.” 

“It’s gonna be cold, it's ice.” He responds to your whine instantly, dropping the tiny cube of ice back in his glass and then setting it to one side. “Silly, little omega.” He says in a teasing tone as he towers over you once again and his hands come up to yours, intertwining with yours. “My silly, little omega.” He fiddles with the straps of the fabric around your wrists, removing them before pushing off your top and instructing you to turn over so that you are on all fours. 

You’re surprised by his animalistic stamina and you think about how many rounds he could go for before he can’t, as he lines you up. 

“You want more, little omega?” He groans, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your lips. Alpha’s in a rut could cum an awful lot, Haechan knows that. His instincts want him to breed an omega but the use of a condom prevents that. He isn’t ready for that.

You moan, of course you do. That’s what omegas are supposed to do after all. 

“Yes?” He’s still teasing your entrance. 

Stupid alpha. He said he was going to give you his knot but still hadn’t. What alpha does that?

He lands a slap on your ass, making you yelp in surprise at the sudden action. 

“Yea-yeah.” 

“Good girl.” Haechan grabs the back of your neck, pushing it down into the bed as he slides himself in with ease. He’s rough with his thrusts, after all you could take it and he’d prepared you enough already. Now you were ready to take his knot. His other hand, not around your neck, comes around to draw circles on your clit and he enjoys the way you suddenly begin to clench around his dick. 

Your hands are buried into his bedsheets, tugging as he rams into you at a quick speed. Your mouth hangs open, drooling onto his sheets and you let out various moans, whines, gasps as he hits all the right places. Your nipples brush against the fabric of his sheets too and it feels good. You squeeze your eyes closed as you feel a familiar hot feeling build up inside of you. 

Haechan can tell how you’re getting closer to your third orgasm as you grip his bedsheets, your knuckles bulging out as you pull the fabric. Soon, you aren’t able to hold yourself up, going limp against the mattress as you repeat the alpha’s name and Haechan follows your body, not showing any hint of mercy as you cry out. 

His knot feels huge and you understand why he hadn’t given it to you earlier. You're convulsing around him, breathing hard, there’s tears in your eyes because it just feels that good, your thighs are trembling uncontrollably and Haechan is enjoying every single bit of it. 

He stays inside you for a moment after the both of you have come, trying to catch your breaths as you lay against one another. He has a hand resting on your hip and it feels warm, the good kind of warmth. It is usual for alphas to do that, to make sure their omega doesn’t let any cum fall out or perhaps out of affection but you aren’t his omega. Though, you don’t complain.

originally posted on ‘jaesspresso’ but i no longer have access to that blog.

© haechaninmyheart — all rights reserved. reposting or modifying of any work posted on this blog is not allowed (including translations).

#haechan #haechan smut #nct haechan smut #nct hard hours #nct 127 smut #nct u smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream hard hours #nct u hard hours #lee donghyuck

[cathode-raygirl]

Salvation for a Broken Bot (Chapter 1)

An amateur repair girl finds a severely damaged android abandoned in a junkyard.

This first chapter is sfw but subsequent chapters will be 18+ only. Content warning for a description of a character in a state of disrepair with implied eye trauma.

If you have any questions or feedback feel free to comment or send me an ask!

Rose had visited the abandoned junkyard several times before, but this was the first time she'd come with the intention of stealing.

Half a mile away from anywhere of note, the only sign of civilisation was the distant hum of cars driving down the A22 in the distance. The sound felt relaxing to her, like the waves of the ocean.

She approached the chain link fence surrounding the complex. Someone had repaired the hole she used to enter last time, but she had come prepared. She rummaged around in her backpack and retrieved a pair of bolt cutters. Expertly praying apart rusty segments of fence with her tools, she breached the defences and found herself in a sea of discarded garbage.

From handheld items like phones and radios, to larger appliances like televisions and fridges, the junkyard had it all. But there was one particular prize she was looking for: A robot. It was rare but not unheard of for companies like Ashdown to dump their decommissioned workers in facilities like these, and she was planning on...

Hmm.

She wasn't really sure what she was planning on doing to be honest. Selling one for parts? Repairing it as a passion project? She told herself she'd figure it out later. There wasn't even a guarantee that there *was* anything here anyway. Better to not get her hopes up too early.

She gripped the scanner in her left hand. She'd spent the past week building it, the perfect device for combing for artificial life. The android designs that Ashdown Logistics pioneered had distinctive battery designs to accommodate for their intense workload, and it quickly became the industry standard. If she was able to locate a power supply with the scanner, she *should* be able to locate a bot. In theory. The scanner wasn't picking anything up yet though.

She turned on her torch and began walking deeper into the facility. The scanner's range wasn't particularly good due to the sensor she'd opted to use so-

Her eyes lit up in excitement. A figure! In the distance! Unmoving!

She crept up towards it, her eyes filled instantly with recognition: The body of a robot, slumped backwards over a pile of broken televisions, a steel rod driven perfectly through its left eye, pinning it in place. Most of its pure white hair had been torn away, the few remaining patches blowing gently in the wind.

Its chest had caved in as well, and the silicone plates that covered its rusted internals were covered with dirt and mould.

Rose wondered what had happened to it, how it could have gotten this damaged. It was hard to make it out in the state it was in but it seemed to be some kind of worker bot? Definitely not anything that would normally have combat experience, that's for sure. If any robot rights groups found out about this they'd be having a field day. But more than that... She wondered how her scanner never picked it up.

She ripped the steel rod out of its head and flipped it over. Its charging port was missing, a large cavity in its place. By the looks of it, someone had forcefully removed the battery and several other key components by the looks of it. What *happened* here?

A mystery like this was irresistible to her. If she could somehow repair it, she could interrogate it, and then she potentially had a story she could give to the press, or even one of the robot rights groups. They'd been springing up a lot recently and she was sure at least one of them would take interest. 

She dragged the bot through the muddy ground, through the hole in the fence, and loaded it into her car.

Rose sat on a chair in her workshop, staring at the android in front of her in contemplation. The first thing she needed to do was assess the damages and figure out if it was possible to salvage the bot. A more talented maintenance girl would probably know by now, but Rose was just a hobbyist, so she *really* needed to know what model it was. 

The sticker with this valuable information on had long since been washed away by rain, so she had no choice but to begin disassembling its head in the hopes of finding a motherboard. 

After half an hour's work, the bot's head laid sprawled out in pieces on her desk. She admired the beauty of the intricate mechanisms in front of her, how so many tiny parts could come together to form a believable imitation of a human face. At least, they would if they were in good condition. She could already tell that most of them had either rusted beyond repair or been badly damaged by the blunt force of the steel rod, so they'd have to be replaced. Still, the process should be simple enough once she got the model number.

Inspecting the motherboard, she noticed a peculiar chip with a pink heart on it. She'd never seen something like that before. She took a photo of it and made a mental note to reverse image search it later. Turning the board over, she was met with an unfortunate sight: The Ashdown Logistics logo, and the model number 4MB-3R. 

Ashdown's androids were known for being made with parts that were as closed source and proprietery as physically possible. They refused to release any data sheets or schematics, and the parts that *could* be bought were insanely expensive. No one, not even the smartest engineers of their rival companies had been able to figure out how to create even an imitation of their personality chips, so they held a complete monopoly over the robotics industry. 

Not only that, but the 4MBs were several generations ago. In fact, Rose was almost certain that they had been discontinued in 2002. By now, they were onto the 8MB range, which were mechanically unrecognisable from their 34 year old counterparts. 

Rose slumped backwards into her chair. There was absolutely no way in hell she would be able to buy any replacement parts for this, and she doubted that she'd be able to find any more 4MB units, let alone a 4MB-3R. She had no idea what the difference between the sub units even was, but she was certain it would be significant enough to hinder her progress.

She sighed. It looked like she'd need to take matters into her own hands. There *was* a crude accessory that was compatible with most androids she'd encountered before: A modified cathode ray tube screen could be used to visualise a robot's thoughts. With some training, she was sure that the 4MB-3R could teach itself how to use one as a face. It wouldn't be a great solution by any means but it'd definitely be better than having a caved in, unmoving face. And it wasn’t like the bot would be stuck with it forever, just until she found something better to use.

As for the rest of the body? She could replace the charger port with an external charging system she had lying around, and she was sure she had some spare torso pieces buried *somewhere* in her workshop. There were obviously a lot more parts missing but it'd probably be best to get the basic functionality working first. After all, she wouldn't want to put effort into building a body for an android that might not even be capable of turning on anymore. 

She gazed out her window wistfully, watching the cars pass by below her. In a way, Brighton looked like a giant circuit board, the roads forming tracks between the various buildings, which resembled cathodes, diodes and chips. Or perhaps it was the other way around, and circuit boards looked like cities. 

Despite living in a bustling city, she could never shake away the loneliness she felt in apartment. She was a single, lonely electron in a vast uncaring circuit board, but perhaps she'd be able to find a companion in the form of this bot. And if not, it'd certainly give her something to take her mind off things for a while.

[ Chapter 2: Reconstruction ]

#my writing #ashdown logistics #robot girl #robogirl #robot maintenance

[omgthatdress]

I really wish Caroline was around when I was growing up. Mostly because even though I took AP US History I don’t remember what the war of 1812 was about. You bet your ass I’d still know if I’d had Caroline!

All that being said, Caroline is growing up on the shores of Lake Ontario in a town called Sackett’s Harbor. Her father (the DILF) used to be a sea captain and owns a shipyard. While it may seem kind of surprising and niche for an American Girl doll, it’s actually a great representation of the Antebellum North and how its economy was based on industry, naval travel, and small family farms. Good going, AG.

Looking at the copy in the catalogue, you can definitely see that it’s no longer the mini history lesson like it used to be. However, given that this is after online shopping made catalogues obsolete, it kind of makes sense that they wouldn’t be paying as much attention to the copy.

First off fashion-wise, I need to say that I absolutely love that adorable little bonnet. Not only is it accurate, it’s just fucking cute! I love it!

Her reticule would have been hand-knit, another way for skilled ladies to show off their needlework. The toy version looks like it’s just made out of printed fabric, but given that reticules could be really complex, it makes sense that they’d cut that corner.

As far as the dress goes.... it shoulda been white. The pink isn’t inaccurate, but.... yeah, it shoulda been white. The invention of bleach meant that not only was white fabric now suddenly super cheap and easy to make, it was often the easiest to clean. That, on top of the whole neo-classical Grecian statue aesthetic that the whole Regency era was aping, meant that white was the predominant color of dresses in the era. It’s kind of outrageous that Caroline doesn’t have a single white dress. I mean, how pretty would Caroline have looked in a Meet dress like this?

(Historic Deerfield Museum)

#American Girl #Caroline #1810s

[squarebracket-trickster]

Sorry guys, rant incoming. I considered deleting this but I put too much effort in.

"girlboss" "girl dinner" "girl math" "boy math" "gen z are making fun of us for wearing x" "here's how to dress like gen z:" "girlies" "girl's night" "boy's night" "me and the boys" "90s kid"

"I don't feel like an adult" "I'm 34 and I can tell you, I still don't feel like an adult either." "My parents seemed like real adults when they were my age." "I still feel like a teenager."

Maybe you'd feel more like an adult if you started calling yourself one. Maybe you'd feel more like an adult if you stopped trying to dress like a teenager. Maybe you should move your bed out from the wall and get a wallet. Maybe find a calendar app that works for you.

You are an adult. Even if you live with your parents. Even if you do part-time shift work at minimum wage. Even if you haven't graduated college. Even if you are single. These are adult things to do. Because you are doing them. And you are an adult. Start treating yourself like an adult. Fake it 'till you make it if you have to.

In other, writing-related, news:

That trend on TikTok of 20-40 something women authors (and writers yet to be published) promoting their books like,

"Omg! I can't believe I've sold X number of copies!! I never thought I would!" "Ahhhh imagine publishing your book and all your dreams come true and now you get to meet famous authors and work with big names in the industry!!" "Would you read a book where [proceeds to list a bunch of oversaturated tropes that tell me nothing about the actual plot]?"

It reeks of infantilization. If you didn't believe anyone would want to read your book, why should I? You made it on the NYT bestseller list! Stop acting like a mega-fan who got to meet a celebrity. You are their peer! "Would you read a book--" What if I wouldn't? Why does it matter to you what I think of your book? And for the love of god stop hiding behind tropes you know are already popular. "Here is my book: This is what it is about." Have some goddamn confidence.

It is fine to mention in passing "this idea was really far-fetched so I didn't know if it would appeal" or "I was struggling with self-esteem when I wrote this". It's fine to fan a little bit. It's fine to discuss the tropes in your book. But why are you building your brand as an author off of your inferiority complex? You are using your poor self-esteem as a marketing tactic to seem "humble" and "relatable" but it's coming across as unprofessional and desperate for reassurance. You are an adult. You are competent. The more you act like it the more you will believe it.

And of course, I haven't seen a man promote his book this way...

On another note, do any of the 20-40 something women writers who do "write with me" videos on TikTok actually enjoy writing or are they just doing it for the aesthetic?

They all have gorgeous minimalism writing spaces full of white and pink and a macbook beneath a window. Their makeup is done and they are conventionally pretty to start with. But their entire video is just them talking about how little progress they made, how many pages they deleted, how often they got distracted, how frustrated they are. And like, yeah. We all have those days. But what about the good lines you can't wait to share? The days when the words just flow? The cool stuff you learned while researching? Why don't you ever make videos about that?

Is this some other attempt to seem "relatable" by only talking about the "bad" side of writing? Because again, it's coming across as lacking confidence at best and, at worst, that you don't actually know how to write. And that is not the brand you want as an author.

Again, its always women. Why must women market their self-esteem issues in order to sell their art? Why must we be perpetually awestruck children (girlies, book girls) in over our heads?

#also why do I get the sense these women are selling a lifestyle more than they are actually promoting their own books? #I feel like someone more qualified than me could link this to modelling good christian gender roles #and cultural conformity or something #it isn't lost on me how much of this is about trying to seem humble #and how much validation is tied to protestant success and hard work ideas #is this where the indoctrination starts? #give us 'role models' as influencers #also Alex Aster of Lightlark fame is the WORST for this #her content makes me physically sick to watch #and again interesting that it is pretty widely agreed on at this point that she is an industry plant #interesting that the industry plant is leaning so heavy on the humility and infantilization of women tactics #as though appealing to protestant christians is a major concern of the industry #what's that about? is it just sales? or is it related to those evangelical groups trying get books banned? #how much influence does conservative christian america have within the trad pub industry? #maybe I am really reaching here idk #I don't have any sources #it's just speculation I am open to be proven wrong

[read-alert]

Another crosspost from my Instagram! This time for the Trans Day of Visibility!

Full titles under the cut

Poetry

Bluff by Danez Smith

Even This Page is White by Vivek Shraya

[Insert Boy] by Danez Smith

Maiden, Mother, Crone: Fantastical Trans Femmes ed by Gwen Benaway

Giving Birth to Yourself: Poems for Combat by Kai Cheng Thom

Falling Back in Love with Being Human: Letters to Lost Souls by Kai Cheng Thom

Fantasy

Lead Me Astray by Sondi Warner

She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

Out of the Blue by Jason June

Celestial Monsters by Aiden Thomas

Historical

Self-Made Boys: A Great Gatsby Remix by AM McLemore

Most Ardently: A Pride and Prejudice Remix by Gabe Cole Novoa

The Companion by EE Ottoman

The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White

Horror

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

Romance

I Think of You Often by Sienna Eggler

Their Troublesome Crush by Xan West

Drag Me Up by RM Virtues

Nonfiction

Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity by Julia Serano

Self Organizing Men: Conscious Masculinities in Time and Space by Eli Clare and Jay Sennet

A History of My Brief Body by Billy-Ray Belcourt

Miss Major Speaks: The Life and Times of a Black Trans Revolution by Miss Major Griffin-Gracy and Toshio Meronek

Indigiqueerness: A Conversation About Storytelling by Joshua Whitehead and Angie Abdou

The Appendix by Liam Konemann

Captive Gender: Trans Embodiment and the Prison Industrial Complex by Nat Smith, Eric A Stanley, and CeCe McDonald

Making Love With the Land by Joshua Whitehead

Graphic novels

Cheer Up: Love and Pompoms by Crystal Frasier

Across a Field of Starlight by Blue Delliquanti

Lumberjanes: Up All Night by ND Stevenson, Grace Ellis, and Shannon Watters

Trans authors but (to my knowledge) no trans characters

Sorrowland by Rivers Solomon

All the Dead Things by Bear Lee

Bitter by Akwaeke Emezi

Miscellaneous

The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester by Maya MacGregor

Catnip by Vyria Durav

#queer books #trans books #queer reads #trans reads #queer lit #trans lit #bookblr

[gretagerwigsmuse]

sneak peek: and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay

Summary: in which lieutenant bradshaw has a thing for smart girls - and maybe ones who hate his guts on principle. a lie by omission is still a lie after all and bradley never exactly told you what he did for work...

OR you take on the us military industrial complex one hinge date at a time...well sort of

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader

Eventual Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, and slight dom/sub and praise and rank kink elements), idk basically she’s a bit of a brat? and he likes it?

“So, what’s with the bar?” you asked, looking around, a teasing smile on your face. Bradley cocked his head. “I mean, is it just me or is like every naval officer within a forty mile radius here?”

Maybe he had misjudged picking the Hard Deck. It wasn’t exactly the finest establishment in San Diego County, but the drinks were good and you had mentioned Coronado a couple times over text, so Bradley had thought it would be convenient. 

In fact, to offset the location, he had even worn a pale blue oxford, unbuttoned but with a plain white t-shirt underneath, instead of his usual Hawaiian shirt. You looked like the kind of girl who would have appreciated the effort. At least that’s what he had gleaned from your Hinge profile and text messages over the last two weeks.

He shrugged in response. “My friends and I like it. It’s right near the base and we normally come after training. It’s not too fussy, I guess, so I thought it would be good for a first date. Low key and all that?”

“Oh.” That wasn’t a good ‘oh.’ “You’re in the military?”

Bradley chose his next words carefully, mindful that there definitely seemed to be a wrong answer here and he was about to give it. 

“Yeah, a naval aviator,” he nodded, trying to sound casual, “is that going to be a problem?”

You shrugged and took a sip of your margarita before licking some of the salt off the rim. Bradley watched, captivated, despite the fact that you had just insulted him indirectly. 

“I mean, I understand that we need a military - to a certain extent, at least. But I’m kind of against the whole US Military Industrial Complex thing? Like the US alone spends more on defense than the next nine countries combined. And the cost of one of those planes you fly could feed the entire New York City public school system’s worth of kids three meals a day for at least - well, I’m pretty shit at math, but I’d say at least five years -” 

Holy shit. You were - oh, fuck. Before he really thought it through, Bradley went to interrupt you. “- I mean, when you put it -”

“- Plus, the whole imperialism, white man’s burden, manifest destiny bullshit you all like to spout out like Uncle Sam’s got your dick in his mouth.”

Bradley scoffed. He couldn’t help it. In all his years of being in the Navy, he’d never once had this sort of reaction. It was - oddly stirring, actually - finding out the woman he had envisioned every night before he’d fallen asleep for the last two weeks apparently now hated his guts.

“I get what you’re saying - to an extent,” he reiterated once he saw your pleased smile, “but the military still does a lot of good outside of combat zones-”

You laughed, but it lacked any humor. “Sure, taking advantage of and recruiting impressionable kids with the promise of free college - that they probably won’t actually take advantage of because going back to school when you’re older than ninety-nine percent of your classmates isn’t daunting at all - is a great business model?”

He ignored you and nodded towards your margarita. “Want another drink?”

“Only if you put it on Uncle Sam’s dime.”

Oh. Fuck. Him. 

[Full Work]

A/N: hmu to be on the taglist, i’ll be posting the entire fic soon (hopefully, maybe, probably)

#this is uhhhh yeah this a commentary of sorts #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster imagine #top gun imagine #top gun smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #s/o to sol for going back and forth with me over this...y'all are in for a ride with these two #pls don't exile me from the community this was so fun to write #writing

[vintagepresley]

imma be honest the priscilla movie didn’t help at all with the hate for elvis. (i think) priscilla’s intention was to clear things up, but idk about sofia. it seemed like she had an agenda and that was successful lol. but anyways…. the way social media has become a pile on elvis and call him a “monster” “groomer” “pedo” whatever breaks my heart. if he was such a monster, why were him and priscilla practically best friends after the divorce? if she was his victim, why does she defend his name and call him the love of her life? he was by no means perfect but he was such a good person that was just complex (like all of us) and it makes me mad seeing how his impact in the music industry isn’t rlly the focus, but the women that were in his life are. it makes me mad knowing that he was such a private person yet all his “dirty laundry” was exposed by those close to him and now it’s used against him. even his like for white panties is used to make him seem gross when there’s definitely “weirder” bedroom/sexual preferences…. also like why did we even need to know that? lol … he felt like he couldn’t rest while he was alive and now he’s constantly shitted on even though he’s been dead for over 40 years . it’s not fair.

I agree. The Priscilla movie didn’t help at all with the way the haters see Elvis because it obviously just fueled their hate for him. I like to think and have an open mind that she did have good intentions with wanting to clear things up and wanting to put out another movie because she didn’t like the other one from the 80’s. But as you said Sofia had clear intentions of what she wanted to do with that film and it was obvious from interviews with her and Priscilla and how different they described the movie and how they saw it. To the point that I’m like is this the same movie? It was clearer with who she even casted to play Elvis. This super talk guy who’s known for playing an asshole with this super tiny girl making her look even more like a child just to cater to the haters. It’s annoying.

I agree if he as such a monster to her as people claim or that she’s been groomed or whatever else they say why were they holding hands while getting divorced? Why were they still so close? It’s one thing to make things work for your child and you can do so without being as close as they still were to the point that he’s having late night conversations with her. Atp no matter what she says to stop people from hating him they will still be like “she’s been groomed so she can’t see he’s a monster” lol

I also agree that people tend to focus more on his relationships with women who’ve been in his life than they do him and his career and the incredible impact he’s made. Like yes these relationships may be a little important but they aren’t everything. He was more than just the women he dated or had flings with. It is messed up that almost every person in his life has shared such imitate or private details about his life that I’m sure he wouldn’t want anyone to know. Underwear thing definitely is not that weird and idk why people are acting like there aren’t weirder things out there lol

But yeah, it’s wild that no matter what people are just going to hate him and make fun of him and call him racist and a pedophile because they don’t want to do the actual research themselves about things.

Cause I swear the next person I hear call him a racist or he stole music IM READY TO SLAP. It’s called cover songs people. It’s still a thing today. He just did it better, lol. 😭

[ngardgni]

...So, we've been reading a few posts about how "Warrior Nun" is the best because it isn't like all the other queer shows, where apparently the queer couples have sex right away or non-queer shows that queer bait viewers, etc.

Let's just get something straight:

The original L-Word came out in 2004. That show was criticized for being too white, too narrow, too limiting in its depiction of gay women. In fact, it was mostly lesbians, and one bi woman (Tina) and most were femmes. Over the years, the show tried to course correct with the addition of other characters, most notably Max (Daniela Sea) and even that was fraught with controversy. At the time, Daniela Sea was interviewed about this and she had said (and we're paraphrasing here, that was a long time ago), that L-Word doesn't claim to represent all gay women, and she had hoped that there would be more representation of gay women, more movies, more tv shows to show the diversity, the variety, the spectrum of the gay experience.

At the time, pre-L-Word, there were only a handful of les/bi movies, mostly indie, some of questionable quality (there were a lot, we're not going to name names), some good (our favorite being "When Night is Falling" and "Incredibly True Adventures of Two Girls in Love"). On TV, we had "Ellen" which was groundbreaking and promptly cancelled, and there was "Carol the Lesbian" on "Friends", who was treated more as a joke, along with Chandler's trans-mom.

Cut to now - where we have so much more to choose from: we have period dramas with A-List directors and actors ("Carol", "Tell it to the Bees", "Portrait of a Lady on Fire"), we have shows on TV networks and online streaming platforms (tho the line between those are blurring). So we can watch Cyrano de Bergerac style movies ("The Half of It") or Asian American ones ("Saving Face") or pretty straightforward ones, really ("Imagine Me and You"), and though some, if not half or most series/shows have been cancelled ("Teenage Bounty Hunters", "I Am Not Okay with This", etc.), we still have more shows/series now that tell our queer stories than ever before ("Buffy the Vampire Slayer", "The 100", "Glee", etc.) and we still think that's better than the time the only thing we had was stories with only subtext to keep us company ("Fried Green Tomatoes", "Thelma and Louise", "A League of their Own").

So, whenever we feel like it's getting bad, let's also remember the time when queer stories weren't even mainstream, when directors and actors wouldn't even touch or go near our stories, when we didn't have as many allies in the industry willing to put our stories out there. A lot of our queer stories from before, though far from perfect, paved the way for stories like "Warrior Nun"to see the light of day. And we love that yeah, "Warrior Nun" is about a friends-to-lovers queer story, but that isn't just the one queer story that can be told. The diversity and complexity of the queer experience can hardly be encompassed by just one series and it's not fair to ignore or put the others down just because they don't fit what you like. We like that we have the more adult, they-had-a-one-night-stand-right-away-and-fell-in-love story of Kacy on NCIS Hawai'i, the sex-positive one of Leighton on "The Sex Lives of College Girls", the stranded-on-an-island one of "The Wilds", the vampire-and-vampire-slayer-falling-in-love narrative of "First Kill", etc.

So, let's keep celebrating the diversity and complexity of the queer female experience onscreen but still honor the stories that came before them. They may not have been perfect, hell, they were even problematic, but, again, at least we got these stories and our lives are better for it.

And let's keep pushing for "Warrior Nun"and other stories to keep getting made and renewed.

Like and reblog if you agree.

Drop your favorite queer women story (movie, series, show) below.

#alba baptista #ava silva #avatrice #kristina tonteri young #warrior nun season 2 #warrior nun #buffy the vampire slayer #lword(original) #the half of it #imagine me and you #saving face #when night is falling #incredibly true adventure of 2 girls in love #portrait of a lady on fire

[dekusleftsock]

There’s so much evidence for an ochako uraraka rising, it’s painful that I didn’t realize this before.

Maybe this is looking into it too much, but 285 and 375… idk.

Anyway, Tsu pushing Uraraka through the portal after Katsuki’s kidnapping parallel, after Deku being pulled through the portal for a confession.

GIRLS GONNA CONFESS! OR AT LEAST EXPRESS HER LOVE! IM SO EXCITED!

Anyway, more unorganized rambles of my thoughts.

Maybe the reason that danger sense doesn’t go off is because Toga genuinely doesn’t want to hurt Izuku, and her love isn’t inherently violent. Like

Constantly, throughout these chapters, not once, not ONCE does Ochako think that her love is dangerous here. Not a single time. And Izuku is constantly judging her, making conclusions about her true “nature”. BUT THIS IS JUDGING OCHAKO TOO! THIS IS HOW OCHAKO ALSO “EXPERIENCES” LOVE! And I think they’re going to talk about this! (This isn't izuku slander, I'm just being honest, he's great and very loving but only Ochako is saving this girl)

Because not once does Ochako actually want to become toga, they do the same thing that bkdk do. They subconsciously mimic each other.

From literally gaining her eye bags when thinking about her

To putting her hair up in a similar hairdo to toga.

Or even mimicking the way she floats mid air, like these panels

It’s subconscious mimicking of the person you love, not trying to become them.

Let’s look at the difference between Toga’s confession to Izuku vs her confession to Ochako. Because, let me tell you, there are definitely some differences.

Instead of “I wanna BECOME you”, it is “I wanna be LIKE you”.

Ntm the uncanny valley feeling that horikoshi drew with the panel of toga confessing to Izuku. It’s a little eerie in Ochako’s, but not nearly as much as Izuku’s.

And this, this is the biggest thing that stands out to me in their respective confessions.

(Idk why it's being weird, sorry)

With her confession to Ochako, it’s personable. “What would you like to do with me?” Whereas her confession to Izuku refers to him as “hero” first before “you”. It’s softer, more genuine.

It’s her true vulnerability with Ochako, and an escape with Izuku. Instead of saying her confession head on, she disappears into the waves.

Ntm this panel. Has no one noticed what this sounds like? Scratch that, who this sounds like?

Shigaraki has only ever thought of aizawa as “cool”. Why would horikoshi do this? What’s the point? Why in the hell have aizawa and shigaraki had this weird back and forth?

And why the hell would you draw a direct parallel to Toga’s view of Izuku?

Simple: Izuku is the idealized hero in stains eyes. Not only did he directly say that Izuku is a “true hero” but his entire character surrounds the fact that he hates “fake heroes”, aka heroes that are only in the industry for fame or savior complexes, feeling good about yourself. Shigaraki views Aizawa the same.

And Izuku is CONSTANTLY referred to in reference to Allmight. Allmight is an idea, a figure, but he is not a person.

The point of Toga calling Izuku “cool” like Shigaraki refers to Aizawa or how Izuku refers to Allmight, is because idolization causes dehumanization. Humanity is flawed, therefore a person who is perfect is not human.

Toga never sees Uraraka as “cool”, not once. She sees her as a person. And it’s these two contrasting ideas of dehumanization, idolization vs villainizing. Idolization of Izuku through Toga and Ochako, idolization of endeavor through hawks, idolization of Allmight through Izuku, the cycle continues. It’s not love, it’s an idea.

There is not an idolization between Izuku and Katsuki, or Ochako and Toga. It’s an understanding of the people you love and their flaws. You mimic the good and bad. Like how Ochako mimics Toga's fury and acceptance, or how Toga mimics Ochako's determination and exclusion/black and white thinking. Its subconscious, actual love. It is not something born from trauma or another person's pressure. Just as Izuku is learning how to control his heart, Toga is too.

"You got that, hero?"

This image ring any bells?

How about I show this?

Toga too needs to control her heart, so a confession is on the rise for Izuku. If Toga not controlling her heart elicited the same reaction Izuku had, then how are his feelings not the same? This feels like I'm contradicting, because Toga doesn't "really love Izuku" as I've said before. I guess I don't think she loves Izuku in a truly healthy way, she cares about him and rejection hurts no matter what. Especially in the way that Izuku rejected hurt. (Oh the irony to have him discover Katsuki was dead after saying that he would never want the people he loves to be hurt) But their main difference is that, Toga knows Ochako, not Izuku. Just as Izuku knows Katsuki, not Toga, or even Ochako.

But I think that Ochako does or is developing a sort of care for Toga. No, I do not think they would get together at any time near during the current timeline. She will however spill her feelings and guts out for Toga, like Katsuki, on the battlefield. (Praying for that Ochako Uraraka Rising because I don't think that she would let Toga die, especially before talking to her first) I will say, the only way for the heroes to win right now might be turning Toga to the side of the heroes, especially since the clones are entirely spread out now. If a miracle were to happen, I think it will entirely depend on two girl's shoulder's.

This is gonna be fun.

#togaraka #bnha toga #togaocha #togachako #bkdk #still haunting that tag with my madness #I will slowly indoctrinate all of my fellow bkdk shippers to see their appeal #PLEASE IM BEGGING PLEASE PLEASE HEAR ME OUT #bakudeku #dkbk #toga himiko #uraraka ochako #ochako uraraka #himiko toga #togachako brainrot #I created that tag and will use it until everyone else does okay #bkdk brainrot #midoriya izuku #mha deku #bnha deku #bakugou katsuki #mha analysis #deku midoriya #mha bakugou #mha #bnha #mha manga spoilers

[jewishbarbies]

I’m studying in a conservatoire and even with a few years of music lessons it’s SO fucking obvious that Taylor Swift is literally not particularly talented in any way

like ik that with technology nowadays in the music industry(auto tune etc) it’s hard to judge one’s talents but even by that criteria she’s nowhere special. Her music doesn’t involve any particularly complex melody or rhythm in fact they’re just so simple that one of my teachers did tell us they were what she thought to her 10 YEAR OLD in guitar

Her voice is not bad that’s a fact but she doesn’t hit high notes or does anything impressive with it. Correct me if I’m wrong here I’m not an obsessive hater and have better things than to go through all her songs but in none of them we actually hear her do something worth noting(is it just me or actually her rerecords are getting worse)

And I’m not even going to talk abt the lyrics bc 💀💀 “karma is a cat purring on my lap cause it loves me” that’s not it bro. that’s not it. My 15 y/o sister comes up with better shit on her fanfics

Any obvi I’m not saying u can’t enjoy her bc of that she’s meh in every way but so is most singers nowadays I just can’t believe anyone can actually call her a genius for any of these when she’s so obviously mid

and ik I might’ve been rude but it fucking angers me how poc (& especially woc) have to rip their asses off to even get recognition(that is generally either sexualization or ppl making fun of them) when a white girl can earn millions with just this and still claim to be oppressed

#Asks #anonymoose #anti taylor swift #swifties dni

[everydayarsonist]

Hey yknow Glitch Productions? I’m gonna rank their villains.

Waluigi- 6/10. A funny interpretation of the “Everyone is Here!” Meme.

Bob- 8/10. The Rapper Bob Arc might be low stakes, but I really like how it twists a side character into a main antagonist. Bob slowly revealing just how twisted he’d become is amazing, and I’m glad they don’t forgive him right away.

Francis- 7/10. He’s the worst dude ever. Y’all remember when the Anime Arc was the darkest? Yeah me neither. In any case, Francis is also terrifying because if you’ve been on the internet for long enough, you’ve probably met someone like him.

SMG3- 8/10. Making a recurring villain the main villain of an arc was a solid choice, and it’s certainly menacing watching him replace the entire cast. I don’t have much else to say.

SMG0 (Or Eldritch Zero if you’re @itsgemystic)-6/10. He doesn’t really get much development other than his verses in the rap battle. He of course has to possess Axol because of course he does. We need some of that artificial drama and angst.

Niles- 8/10. The building tension in the arc of “Who is this guy? Why is he helping Melony? Why is his name Niles?” The slow realization of “Oh shit is this Zero?” has a looming presence. He doesn’t do much in the finale though.

Lawyer Kong- 4/10. He is essentially the representation of the existential dread that Nintendo has on the channel. But he’s not really utilized well. Small tangent, but the rap battle just feels so overconfident and exaggerated on the part of the SMG4 crew. I do adore his vocals just being drawn from the OG DK rap’s vocals. He sounds great, especially during the rap battle.

Wren- 9/10. He has some buildup as this greatly skilled champion during prior episodes and some allusions to him being looked down upon in recent years. Him being a villain isn’t too surprising, as the simulation itself builds him up as a dangerous outlaw. He immediately makes an impact on Meggy and the audience from just a few scenes. Overall, he’s a great execution of the “Pure Evil” trope. He doesn’t need to be redeemed. You understand his actions and know that he was influenced by someone else, but he’s still a terrible person.

Derek Lucks- 8/10. He’s a prideful businessman who won’t let morality get in the way of making money and advancing the industry.

James Sheridan- 8/10. He’s a scientist who spent years in the shadows, never getting recognized for his accomplishments. So now he’s going to show the world what he can do. He could’ve used more buildup, but he’s still a menacing villain whose presence is felt through the whole season.

Evelyn Claythorne- 9/10. She’s a spoiled rich white girl. That’s about it. She has some nuance, but it’s really not much. It’s incredible watching her getting slapped in the final episode imo.

Benedict- 7/10. He’s an evil genius crime boss who wants to be immortal. He’s not too complex or too threatening, but he’s definitely dangerous and immoral. Why does Meggy always have to fight the irredeemable ones?

EDIT: Okay so a few episodes of Murders Drones later and I have to rank…

The Absolute Solver- 8/10. Comedic and scary, but mostly exists to get the plot moving. Definitely menacing as of now, but I might update this once episode 7 is out, and definitely once episode 8 is out.

#Smg4 #meta runner #glitch productions #Sunset paradise #smg3 #smg0 #smg4 niles #one shot wren #Meta runner sheridan #Meta runner evelyn #Murder drones #murder drones absolute solver #absolver #absolute solver #the solver of the absolute fabric