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natalievoncatte · 8 months

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It took four calls before Lena answered. It crawled across her side table, vibrating angrily like some persnickety insect until she gave it the attention she wanted.

You could just turn it off.

“What do you want, Danvers?”

Alex’s voice was thick.

“We can’t find Kara.”

Lena let out a slow, long, theatrical sigh. “So now you’re accusing me of crimes over the phone. At least your ex had the courtesy to cuff me in person.”

Alex’s patience was clearly short enough, and wearing thinner.

“I’m not calling you to accuse you. I’m calling you to ask for help.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because she’s burned out her powers and we can’t find her, Luthor. Supergirl is missing and she’s powerless.”

Lena licked her lips.

“Is this some kind of weird test to see if I’ll try to kill her? An entrapment scheme or something?”

“First of all,” said Alex, “fuck you.”

“Mutual,” said Lena. “What was the second part?”

“The second part is that I know you. I know you’re pissed off at her. I also know that you don’t react the way you’ve acted because your BFF lied to you, Lena. Just like I know that buying a $875 million company isn’t what friends are fucking for.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Lena snapped.

“Right. Help us find her.”

“No,” Lena said, coolly. “Goodnight, Director.”

Lena stabbed the end call key with her finger, resolving to herself that L-Corp was going to release a smart phone that made it more satisfying to hang up on people.

Then she very pointedly did not go out looking for Kara. Instead, she boiled water for tea, and spread open a technical journal on her lap.

After ten minutes, she had not drunk the tea, and her attention was sliding off the abstract like the wrong end of two magnets jammed together. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided she’d had too long a day for even light reading, and decided to enjoy a news broadcast with her tea.

Of *course* the lead story was Supergirl. She tried putting on the Lakehawks game, but that had been preempted for Supergirl coverage.

She turned to the science channel. Oh, of course they’d decided that tonight was the night to premier some ridiculous companion documentary for the World of Krypton exhibit running downtown at the convention center, and of course Lena works tune in right as Kara appeared on screen, grinning ear to ear as she charitably gave some literal kid reporter the interview of her lifetime, fielding softball questions about her dead planet.

“What do you miss most?” the kid asked.

Lena saw it, saw it the way only someone who knew Supergirl was just Kara Danvers, the nerdy, dorky, kinda basic goof in a pompous costume, could. The flash of real pain in the hero’s eyes, the softness in her voice, like she was apologizing for the honest of her answer.

“Red sunrises,” said Kara.

Lena threw the teacup across the room, and it shattered across the screen, leaving the dregs tricking down the surface. Lena wished the TV had been knocked out, but the screen was shielded by a transparent aluminum she’d invented herself.

So she changed the channel, just in time to get a face full of The Princess Bride, just as Buttercup was shoving a then-disguised Westley down the hill as he shouted the line the revealed his identity.

“Oh fuck you all,” Lena muttered, as she scooped her keys from the kitchen counter.

Lena decided it was a night for subtlety, so she took the BMW, driving with the top down and and her phone in her jacket pocket, so she could feel it if someone called.

Lena drove for the better part of an hour, reflecting on the absurdity of simply looking for Kara in a sprawling city; National City had about two thirds the population of Metropolis, but it covered nearly four times the land area and was surrounded by sprawling suburbs that extended the entire metro area to the size of a small state.

This was hopeless, unless Lena knew where to go.

You know what you have to do. You know what you’ve always had to do.

Kara answered on the third ring.

“Hi.”

Her voice was tiny and small, and Lena felt like she was clutching some small fragile thing to her cheek.

“Hey,” she said, with all the softness she could muster with the top down. She pulled to a stop on the side of Ocean Avenue so she could soften it further. “I heard what happened.”

“I beat the monster.”

“I know,” said Lena. “You always do. Where are you, Kara?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t know who out you up to this, but you don’t have to do it, Lena. I know how you feel about me now.”

No, you fucking don’t, Lena thought, before she could silence her own frantic mind. If you knew you wouldn’t have lied to me.

“Tell me where you are.”

“I’m where I belong,” Kara sighed, the hint of slurring in her words hinting that she’d been drinking.

Then she hung up.

A wave of anger welled in Lena’s chest, and she clenched her teeth, seizing the shift lever to throw the car in drive and head home; Kara and her sister could handle their own bullshit.

She didn’t drive home.

Lena arrived at the convention center in a frantic five minutes, parking crazily in a towing zone. Finding a way in took another few minutes, and soon the flat soles of her tennis shoes were squeaking as they echoed across the polished granite floors of the lobby.

She found Kara in the exhibit, surrounded by quiet, dark displays as she stood in front of a bannered exhibit proclaiming “RAO, THE SUN OF KRYPTON”.

Kara ignored Lena as she approached, tipping back a sloshing, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to take a hearty gulp.

“Kara?” said Lena.

Kara swayed slightly on her feet. She’d gotten a raincoat somewhere and put it on over her suit, cape and all, and even from a distance she stank of whiskey. She was staring at the display in front of her, an expansive orrery surrounding a lit model of Rao. Lena had never seen her so haggard, even her lustrous hair limp sallow.

“Hi,” Kara said, taking another drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Chasing a red sunrise.”

Lena approached slowly, until they stood side by side.

She stole a quick glance. Kara had a black eye and she was swaying slightly, and Lena wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the fight. She started to take another drink.

Grasping the bottle by the neck, Lena took it from her. Kara didn’t resist as Lena tipped back a long pull on the bottle herself. It offended her palate in every possible way but one, but it was a good way to numb herself.

“Alex send you?”

“No,” said Lena. “She just had to tell me. She knew I’d send myself.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a lot more observant than you are.”

Kara studied her for a moment, then reached for the bottle back.

Lena looked at it. “How much of this have you had?”

“Not enough,” said Kara, taking another drink.”

“If you insist on destroying your liver, at least let me give you something that actually tastes good.”

“It all tastes like paint thinner,” said Kara.

Lena sighed. “Get in the car.”

Kara shrugged and followed Lena out, flopping extravagantly in the passenger’s seat. Lena drove in silence, using the excuse that the wind noise made it too hard to talk.

When they arrived at Lena’s apartment, she practically shoved Kara inside, and poured the rest of the swill down the drain.

“Hey,” Kara muttered.

“There’s still some of your clothes in the guest bedroom. Take that damned suit off and put on something else.”

Kara complied, trudging into the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, looking small and sad with her hands tucked up inside an oversized hoodie, wobbling giving Lena a glassy look.

As she sat down, Lena handed her a glass of wine and perched on the edge of the couch cushion beside her, gently pressing an ice pack to her eye. Kara leaned into it and let out a soft, unsteady sigh.

“Pain hurts,” she observed.

“It’ll do that.”

Then she went quiet, sinking into Lena’s couch with Lena’s ice pack pressed to her face. Lena stepped into the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Alex answered immediately.

“I have her.”

“Thank God. I’ll be over to get her in a few minutes.”

“No you won’t,” Lena sighed.

Alex didn’t answer her for a too-long pause.

“Yeah. Call me in the morning.”

“Will do.”

Kara had found the wine bottle when Lena came back, and was taking a drink form it. Lena sat down next to her and took it, drawing on it hard before passing it back.”

“What now?” said Kara.

“Is the ice still cold?”

“Yeah.”

Kara curled up next to Lena, bringing her legs up, her toes wiggling in empty air. Lena sighed and found her a blanket, spreading it over her too carefully.

As soon as Lena sat down, Kara spread the blanket over her, too, and Lena noticed that her absurd body heat hadn’t abated from the loss of her powers.

“You have tea on your TV,” Kara observed.

“Yeah,” said Lena.

It took her a few minutes to find something on television that wasn’t Supergirl or The Fox and the Hound.

(Fucking seriously?)

Nature documentaries were Kara’s kryptonite, to turn a phrase, and soon she was sleeping on Lena’s shoulder, the ice bag fallen into her lap. Lena stared down at the soft features of the surpassingly lovely little goddess snoozing against her and couldn’t help it anymore.

She started to weep softly, her shoulders hitching as she struggled to stop it, knowing the attempt was hopeless.

It got worse when Kara began to purr, a deep and soothing rumble in her chest that seemed to seep into Lena’s bones. After a moment she realized that Kara was crying too; she’d woken up.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lena. I can’t… I can’t breathe I’m so sorry. I lost my red sunrise. I can’t lose you too. I’ll do anything. Please let me make it up to you I promise I will, please.”

Lena shifted to a more comfortable position, known this was it for the night, that something had shifted. No, shattered. She was tired of being angry, of being afraid, if thinking of could-have-beens and come-what-mays. Yes, Kara had lied. Lena had lied. They’d kept secrets and been stupid and and they’d hurt each other, but nothing in the world, no principles or closely held rules or petty anger would justify watching her suffer like this.

She was careful as she cupped Kara’s jaw, avoiding the injury, feeling a flash of rage at whoever had done this to her. (That his ass had been throughly kicked by an angry Kryptonian was irrelevant; her vengeance would not be forestalled.)

The kiss was quiet and gentle, at once too soft and quick, more request than declaration, and Kara swiftly answered with one so fierce and honest and hopeful that Lena didn’t care that Kara’s mouth tasted like whiskey and wine.

When it was over, Lena found herself whispering, “As you wish.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #literally made myself cry #angst #angst with a happy ending #happy angst #“hangst as it were #Kryptonians can purr #not canon compliant

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robotpussy · 2 years

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Sacheen Littlefeather (Apache/Yaqui/Ariz.), the Native American actress and activist who took to the stage at the 1973 Academy Awards to reveal that Marlon Brando would not accept his Oscar for The Godfather, has died. She was 75.

Littlefeather died at noon Sunday at her home in the Northern California city of Novato surrounded by her loved ones, according to a statement sent out by her caretaker. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, which reconciled with Littlefeather in June and hosted a celebration in her honor just two weeks ago, revealed the news on social media Sunday night.

Littlefeather disclosed in March 2018 that she had been diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer, and it had metastasized in recent years. Brando had decided to boycott the March 1973 Oscars in protest of how Native Americans were portrayed onscreen as well as to pay tribute to the ongoing occupation at Wounded Knee, in which 200 members of the American Indian Movement (AIM) faced off against thousands of U.S. marshals and other federal agents in the South Dakota town. Speaking in measured tones but off-the-cuff — Brando, who told her not to touch the trophy, had given her a typed eight-page speech, but telecast producer Howard Koch informed her she had no more than 60 seconds — she continued, “And the reasons for this being are the treatment of American Indians today by the film industry … and on television in movie reruns, and also with recent happenings at Wounded Knee.” Littlefeather’s remarks were met in the building by a smattering of boos as well as applause, but public sentiment in the immediate aftermath of her appearance was largely negative. Some media outlets questioned her Native heritage (her father was Apache and Yaqui and her mother was white) and claimed she rented her costume for the ceremony, while conservative celebrities including John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Charlton Heston — three actors who had starred in many a Western — reportedly criticized Brando and Littlefeather’s actions. As she was becoming an indelible part of Oscar lore, Wayne “was in the wings, ready to have me taken off stage,” she told the Los Angeles Times in 2016. “He had to be restrained by six security guards.”

Regardless, nearly 50 years later, the Academy issued her an apology.

“The abuse you endured because of this statement was unwarranted and unjustified,” then-AMPAS president David Rubin wrote to her in a letter dated June 18. “The emotional burden you have lived through and the cost to your own career in our industry are irreparable. For too long the courage you showed has been unacknowledged. For this, we offer both our deepest apologies and our sincere admiration.”

Although Brando’s stunt had the intended effect of renewing attention on Wounded Knee, Littlefeather said it put her life at risk and killed her acting career, claiming that she lost guild memberships and was banned from the industry. (In addition, the Academy subsequently prohibited winners from sending proxies to accept — or reject — awards on their behalf.)

“I was blacklisted — or, you could say, ‘redlisted,'” Littlefeather said in her documentary. “Johnny Carson, Dick Cavett and others didn’t want me on their shows. … The doors were closed tight, never to reopen.”

Littlefeather managed to appear in a handful of films (The Trial of Billy Jack, Johnny Firecloud and Winterhawkamong them) before she quit acting for good and earned a degree in holistic health from Antioch University with a minor in Native American medicine. Her work in wellness included writing a health column for the Kiowa tribe newspaper in Oklahoma, teaching in the traditional Indian medicine program at St. Mary’s Hospital in Tucson, Arizona, and working with Mother Teresa on behalf of AIDS patients in the Bay Area. She would go on to serve as a founding board member of the American Indian AIDS Institute of San Francisco.

Via The Hollywood Reporter

#sacheen littlefeather #rip #long post

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 4 months

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frankie is a long time friend of a friend/runs in the same circles as you, and you both have a hate boner for one another. it all comes to a head bc he's the only one in the group chat who answers your call for aid when your [insert some busted appliance/plumbing fixture] and you're going to either fight, fuck or fumble this night.

WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE.

You ask, ye shall recieve. Thank you "nonnie" ;)

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Angst, alcohol consumption, drug addiction, coke addiction, Frankie being mean/an asshole, Whiny Frankie Supremacy, weed smoking (medicinal), Ken Burns?, Country Music?, pining, angst, M!Masturbation, sub!Frankie.

Thank you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for beta-ing this real quick. Word count: 2.3k

Frankie Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

Frankie pops his first beer of the night as he starts the next episode of the Ken Burns ‘Country Music’ documentary. He started it out of sheer lack of something better to do a few nights back, but now he’s hooked. He’s ready to settle in for the night, rolling a joint as a new message in the group chat comes in.

He checks it, only to see its you.

He locks his phone and turns it over; no way is he entertaining your bullshit tonight.

~*~

You sit there for what seems like forever, not a soul answering your cry for help in the group chat. You know it’s Friday night, you know everyone is likely to have plans, but the way water has flooded your kitchen is no joke.

So much for the joys of home ownership.

You lament as you wish there was a super contractually obliged to fix this mess. But it’s a week away from your next paycheque and you cannot afford to call in an emergency plumber. You’re about to give in and get your credit card out when a message comes through.

~*~

The credits roll at the end of the documentary and Frankie hums in approval, he realises he’s barely touched his beer, and his joint is similarly untouched, long gone out. He’s ready to put the next episode on and re-light as his modest buzz settles him into the recliner. Since quitting coke he’s found weed to be a welcome mellow fix that never tempts him too far but lets him mute the cravings otherwise. It has meant he’s gained a few pounds from all the munchies, but he takes that as a win. He was getting too skinny and working out is near impossible when so under-fuelled.

Absently he checks his phone again and his stomach drops.

No-one has answered your call for help, it’s been almost two hours. He shouldn’t care, the two of you butt heads on everything, you’re the Lex Luthor to his Superman. He hates you, at least, that’s what he tells himself. You challenge him in a way the other guys don’t. You don’t take his bullshit.

He swipes the message across to reveal the “Seen” tab, and his stomach drops. Everyone in the group chat has seen it, Alyssa, Barry, Benny, Santi, Will… the list goes on. There’s a pang of guilt in his gut as he realises just how desperate you must be right now.

He grumbles as he turns off the TV and snaps his lighter shut, putting his ashtray and joint aside. He’ll be damned if he leaves you hanging like this, no matter how much he claims to hate you.

~*~

You pace your hallway, waiting for the bane of your existence to arrive. You’re trying to put on a brave face, trying to ignore the coil in your gut. You play it off as anxiety, but you know it’s more than that.

You’re nervous because as much as you try and hate Frankie, he always gets under your skin. You’re always left wondering what his scruff would feel like on your skin, grazing your jaw, your neck. You hate Francisco Morales, but only as much as you secretly find him hotter than the sun.

He’s not a bad guy, you know he’s struggled with addiction, you know he and the guys saw some shit in the military. But there’s a rudeness reserved only for you when it came to social gatherings and interactions in the group chat.

You’d initially put it down to you being a new addition to the group – by way of Santi – after you two hit it off at a quiz night last year. But in that year, he has only seemed to close you off more and more. You’re almost at the point of looking for a new group of friends, if you’re completely honest with yourself. And you resent him for it.

You’re jolted from your thoughts as a fist pounding on your front door signals his arrival.

I have a doorbell asshole.

You grumble inwardly, but you tell yourself to play nice, Frankie’s doing you a favour here.

“Coming!”

You pause at the door, not wanting to seem too eager as you feel a nervous flutter in your stomach. You take a deep breath and swing it open to reveal Frankie in all his glory. Your chest constricts as you feel the inevitable bloom of desire in your core.

He’s wearing a floral pink and white Hawaiian shirt with a dark tank underneath that stretches across his soft belly. His sinful calves are on display under his tan cargo shorts and you try not to ogle him further as you welcome him into your home.

“Hey, thanks for doing this,” you start as he steps over the threshold, eyeing up your house with a methodical gaze, “Look, I know we’re not-,”

“Don’t worry about it, just show me where the sink is.”

He cuts you off, not looking at you as he speaks, and you bristle at his tone. It’s like he’s speaking down to a child, scolding you no less.

“This way,” you snap as you lead him into the kitchen and gesture at the sink, the cabinets below open ready for him. You feel his gaze on you. It makes you squirm, but you do your best to ignore the pooling of arousal in your panties.

“You turn the water off?” Frankie asks as he notices the multiple bath towels on the floor, sodden in your failed attempt to try and dry the place out. You’re just glad the kitchen is tiled.

“Yup.”

“Good,” he says almost to himself as he strips off his shirt, throwing it onto a countertop before getting on his knees. You prop yourself against the counter and wait, trying very hard not to stare as he gets on his back. He bends his knees to brace himself as he grabs the adjustable wrench that you’d been battling the U-bend with for the last hour. You try not to imagine how he’d look similarly stretched out on your sheets upstairs.

“Ok so good news, it’s not the U-bend,” Frankie says with a huff as he pops the entire faucet unit up and out of the basin, he rolls up onto his feet. You’re a little annoyed that he was able to determine the issue in minutes after you had spent over an hour googling and trying to fix it yourself.

“Oh?”

You are genuinely curious, so you push off from the counter to see what Frankie’s doing. He holds up the underside of the faucet, showing you a broken rubber ring sat at the neck of the mechanism. His shoulder brushes yours and you feel the fizzle of heat under your skin. Your heart flutters and you think he’s going to move away at the contact, but he seems only to lean in further.

He smells good. A faint hint of weed, which you know he has a prescription for, and his cologne, earthy and rich. It blends together into a smell you know by heart, something so uniquely Frankie, it makes you salivate. You hate how much you want a man who seemingly thinks so little of you.

“This happened to me last month,” he explains as he brings the offending washer into your eyeline, “Damn contractors used cheap fittings so they’re all going, Santi’s went last week.”

“So, I need a new tap? It’s that simple?” You groan in frustration, you’d been ready to spend hundreds of dollars to get this fixed, and here’s Frankie swooping in to save the day.

“Yup, but you’re not likely to get anything now,” Frankie looks at his phone, it’s way too late to be getting something decent. His eyes flick up to meet yours and you see his pupils dilate. There’s something in his deep, sinfully dark eyes that makes you wonder if you’ve been wrong about his feelings towards you all this time. But you avert your gaze, you’re probably just reading into things too heavily.

“Yeah, shit,” you sigh, “At least I’ve got bottled water, so I won’t die of thirst.”

“I can come by tomorrow to pick up and fit a new one if you want?”

The offer is out of Frankie’s mouth before he can stop it, his good nature tumbling out in an unusual display of kindness towards you. You furrow your brow, shocked by the sudden good will from him. It makes you nervous.

“Why’re you being nice to me all of a sudden?” You scoff, something about Frankie being so cold to you for the last year, only to play nice when you’re in distress makes your stomach turn. Like he’s trying to take advantage – or worse – pitying you.

“You needed help and no-one else was responding so I thought it was the right thing to do.”

He grumbles bitterly as he turns his back to you grabbing his shirt from the counter and hastily pulling it on as he turns to leave.

“You could have just left me hanging,” you snap, “What’s different today? Is it so you can lord this over me? Saving the poor little damsel in distress, another tool with which you can ridicule me with?”

“Ridicule you?” Frankie snaps, turning to face you, his face pained as if you’d struck him with a physical blow.

“Don’t play dumb,” you growl as you square up to him, “I hear the snide comments you make about me when we’re out with the others. Desperate this, lonely that.”

Frankie winces, he remembers exactly what you’re talking about now. That night months ago at a club in Orlando. You were dancing with someone you’d met at the bar, and he’d gotten jealous. He brushed it off to Will and Alyssa, going on the offensive instead of letting slip that he’d have done anything for it to be him you were grinding against. He just didn’t know you’d heard him as you went to get another drink.

“That was one time,” he growls but it’s a weak rebuttal and he knows it, “I was in a bad place.”

You know that; you know he was only a few months sober. He wasn’t in a good place when he first met you. But that’s no excuse to continue to treat you like he has ever since.

“Sure, but ever since you’ve looked at me like I don’t belong,” you hold his gaze, even as your eyes start to fill with tears, “Always dismissing my comments, rolling your eyes if I dare speak up in your presence, it gets tiring Frank- Francisco. You don’t have to like me, but they’re my friends too, don’t make me lose them just because you can’t stand me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way I swear.”

“Yeah well, save it,” you say, pointing to the door, “I don’t need you to save me Francisco, and I sure as hell don’t need your pity. Get out of my house.”

“That’s not how it is, I promise,” he pleads but you’re not looking at him now, your cheeks are hot with embarrassment and you’re trying not to say something you’ll regret.

“Please, just leave,” you snap as you feel tears welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, ok.”

Frankie sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair, he brushes past you, and you hear a soft “I’m sorry.” As the door clicks shut behind him.

You feel your body tremble with rage as you find yourself unable to process the whole interaction. You pull out your phone and message the group chat.

You: Crisis averted.

You think you should add that it was Frankie who helped, but you’re feeling petty. All he did was show you the problem, he didn’t actually fix anything.

If anything he made things so much worse.

~*~

Frankie slumps back down in his recliner but he doesn’t turn the TV back on. Instead, he sits in silence and broods. He re-reads your message to the group chat and scowls. He has no right to be mad, not really, he knows that. But he really wishes he’d dealt with the situation better.

He looks down to his tented shorts and curses himself, the moment he showed you the faucet you were so close to him. The moment your arms touched he felt the rush of desire he suppresses every time he sees you. Now he’s worried he’s fucked it up completely. He can still smell you, the scent your bodywash he’s committed to memory now clings to his skin.

He forces himself upstairs and into the shower, running it ice cold, just to try and make his erection go away. But it doesn’t help. He’s painfully hard as he tries to think of anything else.

All he can think of is the way your skin felt against his, the way you called him Francisco. It was meant to spurn him, but he loved it. The way his name rolled off your tongue with derision. It’s all he can think of as he turns on the hot water and grips his cock. He pumps himself slowly as he feels the hot burn in his gut, he’s already so fucking close.

“Fuck,” he groans under the hot stream, “I’m sorry.”

He growls as he fucks himself harder to the thought of you putting him in his place. He’s never considered himself a sub, but it’s all he can think of now. He’s whimpering as he fucks his fist faster and faster at the memory of you chewing him out. He deserved it, and that makes it all the sweeter.

He wants you to make him suffer. Atone.

He comes with a whine as his spend splatters against the tiles and slowly washes away down the drain. He pants desperately for some time before washing himself off. He heads back downstairs to re-light his joint and watch another episode of his documentary. On a need-fuelled whim he texts you.

Frankie: If you want me to fix your sink, let me know, I’m free all day.

Frankie Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

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pillowspace · 8 months

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Human Disguise AU Y/N

From a little AU set throughout winter where Sun and Moon left the pizzaplex after it burnt down, and disguised themselves in large, concealing clothes. You meet Sun, and are entirely sure he's human. Well, it's not like they can just correct you, and it is an interesting experience to be on the other side of things for once, seen and heard. It would be a real shame if Moon were to someday reveal themselves to you due to the virus acting up

Extensive info | prior art | prior art

Written text under the readmore

---

Human Disguise AU (HDAU)

Not as scary as it sounds, I promise!

Y/N

- Poor vision. Thinks Sun has jaundice and white eyeshadow. Thinks Moon's into face paint.

- Social and friendly but agoraphobic. Walked home by Sun.

- Has a little brother who went to the daycare.

- Works 2 jobs at a library and a convenience store.

- Hates to be intrusive.

- Listens to audiobooks.

- Smart. Who would ever suspect their friend to be a robot, though?

- Silly and playful.

- Loves snow.

- Rambles about documentaries, podcasts, etc.

Bonus fact: soup enjoyer

#pillowspace art #human disguise au #dca fandom #dca y/n #dca au #reader insert #y/n insert #y/n #i can write an alt later but i don't have time rn. i have to go soon

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inkdrinkerworld · 1 year

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Remus knows when you're really crying and not just crying ya know what I mean. He knows when it's a serious platonic james and sirius on the other hand fret over every tear and sob

They would so freak out the first time you cry infront of them😂

he very well would!!

sirius and james are over at yours like always, a bowl of sweets between them as you re-watch ‘inside out.’

sirius and remus should’ve known not to pick that stupid fucking football documentary last movie night- you and james are having your revenge.

you’re halfway through the movie when bing bong starts fading and remus knows your tears are inevitable.

you’re chomping slowly on your chocolate maltesers and when bing bing fades completely you sniffle and hide your face in your hands.

james and sirius turn when the sniffle turns to a hiccup.

“darlin?” sirius calls, hand rubbing your back. he’s never been quite good at comforting people in tears.

“she’s okay,” remus reassures them both but you pull your hands away and reveal your red eyes.

“he’s dead remus,” you blubber and he sighs, pulling you into him. “she won’t remember him ever again.”

james agrees with you and that makes your tears fall faster and sirius slap him upside the head.

“i reminded you before you and jamie put it on, bunny.” you nod as you lay on him.

“should’ve listened.” you whisper defeatedly and remus coos.

“yeah, but s’okay. y’can cry as much as you need.”

sirius didn’t know a person could cry that much because by the end of the movie your eyes are swollen and you’re exhausted from all the tears.

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin x crybaby!reader #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin blurb

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workwithmeman · 3 months

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Pairing - Mountain x Phantom, 1.4k words, mature/explicit

Tags: body worship, phantummy, phantom being a little shit, mountain being desperate, mountain finishing in like 9 seconds oops, first time writing smut sorry, not beta read

Mountain was going to lose his fucking mind.

He knew Phantom had always been pretty - from the moment he had tumbled out of the summoning circle, he was all pouty lips, angled face, and doe eyes. A little gangly and underfed, sure, but nothing that a little love and home cooked meals couldn’t fix. And he was sweet - Lord Below was he sweet. An adorable nativity paired with a penchant to please that drove Mountain insane with a need to fawn, dote on, and love the little ghoul.

But now that they had gotten back from tour, things had only gotten worse for Mountain. Without the constant exercise of tour and the increase in lovingly prepared rich comfort foods of winter, Phantom had started to grow a little soft around the edges. What once was all prominent bones and sharp edges became gently curvy and cherubic, with softer thighs and arms and an ass that Mountain would love to bury his face in.

But the kicker, the absolute killing blow to Mountain’s sanity, was Phantom’s fucking tummy. As he had softened, a little bit of that fat had migrated to his chest and stomach, creating the most adorable little pooch that Mountain wanted to kiss, lick, suck - anything that Phantom would allow him to.

Sweet Satan, he was screwed.

—-

Mountain’s day started like normal, with him gently untangling himself from Phantom’s death grip on his body and shuffling to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. In the kitchen he found Dewdrop, holding a scalding cup of coffee and heating up the water for Mountain. He offered Mountain a sleepy smile.

“Hey big guy. Sleep alright?”

Mountain grunted in response, holding his cup out to Dew wordlessly.

“Understood,” Dew chuckled, pouring hot water in to Mountain’s teacup. “Phantom keep you up last night?”

“You could say that. Little bug is driving me crazy.” Mountain gently blew on his tea.

“Oh? What did he do now?” Dew leaned back against the counter, sipping his coffee. “More video games? Another documentary?”

“Satan, I wish. It’s just fucking him, Dew, I’m losing my mind. I just want to hold him and never let go.”

Dew laughed again. “Wow Mount, never thought I’d see the day someone made an honest woman out of you. It’s a good look.”

“Who’s making an honest woman out of Mountain?” Phantom’s sleepy voice called from down the hall. “I want to help.”

As Phantom appeared in the doorway, Mountain’s mouth went completely dry. In his bat boxer briefs and bat wing hoodie, Phantom looked good enough to eat. Mountain wanted to mark him, claim him, fuck him, break him, and then put him back together again. He wanted to grab him and steal him back to their room and spend hours eating the poor boy out until he cried. Fuck. Mountain needed to get his shit together.

“Oh, um, hi bug. H-how did you sleep?” Mountain stammered. Phantom chuckled and walked over to him, tucking himself against Mountain’s chest and kicking up a gentle purr.

“Like a rock. Your cuddles and your tea always make me go out like a light.” Phantom nuzzled against Mountain’s neck before pulling away to the cabinet where the tea was kept.

As he stood on his tiptoes to reach his favorite box of tea, his hoodie rode up a little, revealing a sliver of dark purple belly, just sticking out a bit over his boxers. Mountain looked up from his sip of tea, only to spit it out all over Dew, coughing heavily.

“What the fuck, Mount, are you trying to infect me with your earth ghoul cooties? Fuck off with that shit,” Dew yelped. He looked down at himself, now covered with a healthy spray of earl grey. “Ah, shit. Now I have to change my fucking shirt.”

Dew walked out of the kitchen past a sheepish Mountain and a bewildered Phantom, yanking off his shirt as he went.

“You alright there, Mounty? Everything OK?” Phantoms big purple eyes stared up at him, taking his breath away.

Mountain flushed up to his horns. “U-uh yeah, bug. Just choked a little bit. Sorry if I scared you.” Phantom rolled his eyes.

“Just glad you’re not dying, you big dummy. I love you too much to watch you choke to death on leaf water.”

Mountain smiled, tugging Phantom back into his chest. “I love you too, bug. I love you too.”

——

As their day progressed, Mountain slowly became more sure that Phantom was intentionally trying to drive him insane. The way he’d slowly bend over a laundry basket in front of Mountain and turn around and smile teasingly, the way he’d lift his sweater up over his head and make sure his t-shirt was stuck to it, the way he’d brush up against Mountain when they were working side by side. Mountain was ready to grab the little quint by the scruff of his neck and drag him back to their room to not be seen for at least a few days.

It all came to a head at movie night. The ghouls were all gathered in the common room watching some movie Dew and Aether liked, something with bombs and explosions and good special effects. Something Mountain could ignore for something sweeter. Namely, his lapful of quintessence ghoul.

Phantom was lounging against the earth ghoul’s torso, sitting between his legs. Every few minutes he’d shift ever so slightly, pressing back directly into Mountain’s dick. He stretched backwards, bringing his arms around Mountain’s shoulders and allowing his shirt to ride up as he nuzzled into Mountain’s neck.

Come on Mounty, hold me. I’m so cold.

Mountain could hear Phantom’s voice echoing around his brain.

I know you’ve been staring. Come on, wrap those big arms around me. I can feel you, I can feel you’re hard. I know you want me, Mounty.

Mountain growled slightly into Phantom’s neck.

Don’t start something you can’t finish, little bug. I hope you know what you’re doing.

Phantom only chirped and ground harder back into the earth ghoul. He brought his mouth right up to Mountain’s ear.

“Please, Mounty. Take me back to our room, come on.”

Mountain growled, picking Phantom up and throwing him over his shoulder as Phantom squealed happily. As they walked out of the common room, a there were a few chuckles and groans from various members of the pack, but they mostly ignored the scene happening in front of them.

Once they reached their shared room, Mountain tossed Phantom into the nest, yanking his shirt over his head.

“You fucking tease. Whatever am I to do with you?” He crawled forwards, caging Phantom in on all sides. “Hope you don’t like this shirt too much, bug. You’re not getting it back.”

In one swift motion, Mountain slashed the center of Phantom’s shirt open, revealing his delicate, plush purple skin. Mountain immediately latched onto Phantom’s neck, kissing, sucking and licking his way down the quint’s body until he reached his tummy.

“Fucking harassing me all day, showing this cute little tummy off when you know I can’t handle it. Fucking drives me insane, bug, madness how gorgeous you are. Could stare for hours and never have enough.”

Phantom whined, squirming against the sheets. “Then why don’t yo-hah-do something more than just stare? Please Mounty, I need it. Touch me, please.”

“Oh princess, you’ve had more than enough touches for today. You always get what you want, hmm? It’s time for me to get something back.”

Mountain straddled Phantom’s calf, slowly starting to grind as he shoved his face back into his soft purple tummy.

“Fuck, bug, you’re perfect. Love how soft you are, how soft you’ve gotten. Love that you’re so strong now, so pretty. Such a pretty ghoul.” Mountain gasped, staring to hump Phantom’s leg more aggressively. He brought a hand down to Phantom’s straining cock, slowly beginning to jerk it.

“You drive me crazy, baby, your cute little ass and your fucking thighs, love, wanna cover em with my marks. Wanna make sure everyone knows you’re mine. Wanna - ah! Wanna mate you, mark you, show everyone how much I fucking love you, need you, want you, ah-!”

Mountain finishes with a cry, spilling all over Phantom’s leg. Phantom follows shortly after, enamored with the scene of the earth ghoul falling apart. They lay together, panting, for a minute until Mountain crawls up Phantom’s body to kiss him. A comfortable silence falls over the pair.

“H-hey Mounty? Did you mean what you said? Do you want to be my mate?” Phantom asked nervously, tilting his chin up to look in to the earth ghouls eyes.

“With my whole heart, body, and soul, bug. If you want, whenever you want, wherever you want, I’m yours.”

#the band ghost #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #ghost ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #aeon x mountain #phantom x mountain #nameless ghouls #estel writes #uhhh ghoul smutish ig

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david-talks-sw · 1 year

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"If it's amazing, they'll know."

When talking about "George Lucas' vision" and the original six Star Wars films, there's one thing to bear in mind and that's Lucas' style of filmmaking.

These are movies for kids, designed to emulate the Saturday matinee serial format from the '30s, à la Flash Gordon. You see this most of all in the dialog. But something else you notice is George Lucas' filmmaking style, particularly in how he films and edits.

Take Darth Vader's introduction, for example.

Look at the composition: Vader stands tall, in contrast to the - as the script puts it - "fascist white armored suits of the Imperial stormtroopers". They're all in white, he's all in black, he's bigger badder, emerging from a cloud of smoke. What an entrance.

But if you think about it, it's just a single full shot. Very basic.

Compare this to Kenobi, wherein Vader is treated like a monster out of a horror movie. First, you glimpse his shadow, people reacting...

... then ominous bits and pieces like his boots or his lightsaber...

... and finally Vader himself, in all his terrifying glory.

That's a modern way of shooting it and it admittedly makes ol' Darth seem that much more imposing and absolutely badass.

But Lucas comes from a background of editing, experimental filmmaking and used to work as a documentary cameraman.

So what he did is just put the camera down and have Vader walk in. It's a faster yet differently-efficient way to introduce the character. It's more about dynamic pacing and visuals.

And that is Lucas' style. In his words:

"The way these films were put together, they're shot very much like a documentary film and the action of stage, and then I shoot around it. I don't stage for the camera. And as a result, there are a lot of things that happen pretty much by accident. It lends an aura of authenticity to everything." - Star Wars - Episode I: Podracing Featurette, 1999

Another example: the introduction of General Grievous.

A door opens revealing his ugly mug and he walks in. Boom.

But in Star Wars Storyboards: The Prequel Trilogy, you find that - as envisioned by the storyboard artists - our introduction to Grievous would've been very different.

"We wanted to have the introduction to Grievous be a series of really close shots that would be a series of details: his creepy foot, his creepy hand...

... his scary alien eyes...

... but George brought up an interesting point. He didn't want the film to concentrate on one design detail or one element— but rather let the world be there and let the viewer find those things without necessarily having it shoved in their face." - Derek Thompson, SW Storyboards: The Prequel Trilogy, 2013

"George nixed the idea, saying: 'I don't want something to be special because of how it's filmed, but because of what it is. Just put the camera on it and let it play out in front of the audience. If it's amazing, they'll know.'" - Iain McCaig, SW Storyboards: The Prequel Trilogy, 2013

That's it in a nutshell. "If it's amazing, they'll know."

The above storyboards look awesome and seeing Grievous be introduced that way would be great... but it wouldn't be Lucas' Star Wars. It would be some other director taking a crack at it.

And this way of shooting can be weird, even boring, at times. I mean compare Mace leading his troops into battle...

... to Aragorn leading his, in Return of the King.

The latter is so much more emotionally impactful. For a number of reasons (eg: Aragorn is a deuteragonist, Mace is a secondary character with less development), but one of them is that the moment is just shot in a way that's more interesting.

First we have an angle on Aragorn as he smiles and charges. Then the rest of the other characters as they react and follow suit, then the troops do the same.

With Mace it's, uh, *checks notes* he flourishes his saber and charges, the clones follow. Hell, for half a second we're looking at just an empty screen.

But y'know what the shot does look like?

It looks like something out of a WW1 documentary.

It's that authenticity he was mentioning further up.

At the end of the day, you can call it campy or bad... it's Lucas' style. It's cinema. There's a logic to it.

"To me, the script is just a sketchbook, just a list of notes, and, sometimes, I prefer the documentary feel of free flow, so I let my instincts tell me where to go. I like to create cinematically; I don't like to have a plan. I like to have a rough idea of what I'm going to do-certain themes, certain issues I'm going to deal with-and then I try to do so." - The Making of Revenge of The Sith, page 116, 2005

He doesn't try to make a character look particularly badass with camera angles or make the shot too choreographed, he just goes with the flow, and makes the deliberate choice to shoot it that way, because for better or for worse... it's his movie.

So yeah, just a tidbit I thought would be interesting.

Edit:

@schilkeman added this very interesting point in the replies:

"He doesn’t stage for the camera, but he does compose for the camera. The documentary style, while somewhat detached, requires the filling of the screen with motion and light. The way things move through frame seem very important to him. These are things his films excel at."

#george lucas #lucas quotes #cinema

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ajjordanphoto · 2 months

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Bosco performing at her documentary premiere afterparty, June 2023

#bosco #s14 #face reveal documentary #the arlo williamsburg #june 2023 #2023 #brooklyn

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jmdbjk · 4 months

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They take up a lot of space in my head sometimes...

I didn't want to dwell on this in the documentary posts but I know you guys will indulge me as I ramble a little bit.

I want to elaborate on some thoughts I had while watching the second half of Episode 7 when Jungkook went over to Jimin's.

I watched it several times. I made sure to watch it once with a very critical and skeptical eye to keep myself from straying too far...nothing serious but possibly delulu...

This part of the documentary inside Jimin's apartment was filmed on March 13, 2022 following the last PTD Seoul concert.

This was BEFORE PTD Las Vegas where Jimin has told us he talked to the members about his troubles and that's when he embarked on writing the songs that would end up on his album FACE which was released A YEAR after this interview.

It seems Jimin answers his phone in the car after the concert. Tells whoever to get ready and come over and asks what kind of chicken to order. The documentary camera person is already in the car with Jimin... who is he speaking to on the phone? When we eventually see Jungkook coming over later on in this episode, it's natural to assume he was speaking to Jungkook on the phone, who was probably in another car on his way home to his own apartment after the concert, or perhaps already home since his apartment is much closer to Jamsil Olympic Stadium where PTD Seoul was held.

Inside Jimin's residence, he talks about what he does there, basically not a whole lot: eats, sleeps, drinks, has friends over, plays on the computer, and from what we've seen since, he's not much of a decorator.

He wonders if he's revealed too much. I think this was a legitimate question for him, since idols typically do not divulge this sort of thing to the fans. It's plausible to me that Jimin has to unlearn all these preconceived ideas he's had about being an idol in order to forge ahead.

Delivery fried chicken arrives and he runs to get it and runs back to the dining table. Literally runs. The door chimes as it closes. I do love watching him eat. He surely loves his food. A man after my heart.

He talks about how it naturally came about that they needed to have their own spaces. They were maturing young men, they needed their own places even though they'd lived together for so many years. He said their place in Gangnam was so small they put up temporary walls. I believe he was speaking about the house that is now a cafe, Hyuga? He says it was scary living on his own, it was so quiet.

When Jungkook arrives, the door chime sound we hear was different from what it sounded like when Jimin went to the door to get the delivery chicken.

From this footage, we can't know if Jungkook punched in the code and let himself in. Maybe he did, but this footage does not show that. Unless someone is familiar with how that particular door chime sounds when it is unlocked, when it is locked, when it opens and when it closes, we can't know what that chime meant.

We see Jungkook after he's already inside the apartment. He was followed by a camera person. I am certain the camera-person does not have Jimin's apartment's door code. Make of that what you will...perhaps Jungkook came alone and they re-enacted him entering once he got there because it'd be weird if he was just there all of a sudden... we can't know.

Incidentally (fun fact) this is the same jacket Jungkook wore in the video of receiving the President's Award during his university graduation earlier that month (Mar. 2, 2022)... yes, Jeon Jungkook is a university graduate too. He wore a jacket with "QUIT YOUR JOB" across the back of it, to accept a graduation award.... 💀

Anyway back to my delulu...

Jimin and Jungkook are chatting at the table while eating and drinking and get on the topic of their sleeping habits when Jungkook says normally he would take a bath, drink a couple beers and go to sleep and even adds now he goes to sleep earlier. Such a grown up.

Jimin says he falls asleep at 1 a.m. so he must be getting old but it doesn't matter if he falls asleep at 1 a.m. or 6-7 a.m., he sleeps until 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

Jungkook says he decided not to live like that anymore... this the man who in early 2023 was staying up all night to do live broadcasts with us from his living room and waking up his neighbors belting out Unholy, etc... such a grown up.

And then Jungkook says 'oops, I sounded like Yoongi just then, never mind, live how what you want' and whoever that is off-camera wheezing... HAHAHAHAHAHA. Anyway. That whole exchange was... what is it with them? They ride the edge of smart-assy sarcasm and inside jokery with each other constantly. And this time at the expense of Yoongi! HAHAHAHA.

Jimin and Tae sometimes act similarly with each other but it is more role play and nothing like the long-running inside joke Jimin and Jungkook do all the time.

The vibe between them was identical to the one when they were sitting at the dining table that first night of In The Soop 2.

As episode 7 goes on, they show Jimin and Jungkook again, Jungkook is chopping mushrooms and Jimin says "You are doing so well on your own" and "Be careful" and the translation says Jungkook said "okay" but it sounds more to me like a "ayyy stop nagging" sound he made.

Jimin runs behind Jungkook again. Why does Jimin run so much? He's like a nervous, excited little mouse.

They're terrible Youtubers:

The ship wars and solo wars and stupid-things-you-could-ask-during-a-live wars over whether or not Jimin ever ate Jungkook's ramen... FINALLY, after posting all those recipes last year and Jimin saying he wants Jungkook to cook that for him, we see JUNGKOOK HAS COOKED RAMEN FOR JIMIN! Cooked it for him way before any of these wars began too... what a waste of energy.

No, Jimin didn't go over to Jungkook's to eat it, Jungkook came to Jimin and cooked it for him.

Ok, but this is the part that made me need to pause and rewind and write this long-ass post:

Jimin tells us that a friend of his helped him realize he needed to explore the possibility he was depressed.

He recounts the story as they were at Jimin's apartment drinking and they had a small argument. The next morning Jimin wakes up, has totally forgotten the argument and goes over to the friend's to help begin moving. They apologized to each other and the friend came over again that night and the friend said "I think you are severely depressed. You act like you aren't, but you've been acting strange. If you're having a hard time, tell me." Jimin said he didn't think he was having a hard time and the friend told Jimin to take some time to think about it. Jimin says a lot changed after that.

This moment when Jimin is retelling this story, "yet you act like you aren't, but you've been acting strange. If you're having a hard time, tell me." Jimin reaches over and actually touches Jungkook. Look at the way they are looking at each other?

The way Jungkook sat there, looking straight at Jimin while Jimin recounted that conversation/day/moment, chewing on his bottom lip as is his habit, Jungkook nodding during certain points that Jimin was retelling... very very brief moments where body language reveals a lot.

Maybe the "friend" Jimin was supposed to help move, the one who told Jimin he seemed severely depressed... was Jungkook?

You can call me delulu if you want. I see what I see and I hear what I hear.

They have not shown this type of closeness amongst the other members in this entire documentary. And here is Jungkook sitting in Jimin's home, while Jimin tells us this very intimate detail about himself.

If Jungkook was the one... it's plausible, the one who came over to drink, just like they were doing this evening... the one who was moving and Jimin was going to help him. The one who he can look in the eyes and recount this story and his friend can look him straight back in the eye and nod in agreement.

Why retell this story with Jungkook sitting next to him? There were other moments when we know Jungkook is there, he could have been off camera while Jimin told the staff about this intimate moment with his friend. No. He said it while they sat next to each other looking at each other.

It's possible. If not, it seems possible that Jungkook has already heard this story.

Jimin shares more than we've ever heard from him: that he falls into a labyrinth the moment he starts to ponder about what happiness is. He says of course their work and many other things require attention to detail but it's ok if there is vagueness (or imperfection) too. If you get too caught up in the meaning of things (in the importance of things), you feel like you have to risk it all to accomplish them and its ok to let some of it go, enjoy the simplicity of things and not get emotional over everything ... this sounds like Jimin has matured and has tried to push away perfectionism.

He believes he is in a very healthy place mentally right now (at the time of that interview, March 13, 2022) but can't say the same about his body, but he wants to stay healthy as he grows older together with the fans. And Jungkook is still there, but off camera.

This interview was almost two years ago. And now their first solo career endeavors have been accomplished and these two are doing their military obligation together. They've come a long way. We will see them again next year. It won't be as long as it feels.

Anyway, going back to my delulu cave now. Carry on.

#i cried my eyes out #jimin and jungkook #jikook #kookmin #the more i think about the 'friend' the more dots connect #i could also be totally wrong #jungkook does know though #nothing will change the fact they are tight tight

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jordanrosenburg · 2 months

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After watching the “Quiet On Set” documentary, I can’t help but feel like there are literally no good people in the entertainment industry. Even the “good” ones aren’t good. It solidifies that we don’t actually know anything about them. We only know who they present as to the media.

I think like most people around my age, we grew up watching Nickelodeon during its golden age. I always looked forward to watching “All That” not only because it was funny, but because it was something I could watch with my older siblings. It was something the four of us could laugh together about. My sister and I still laugh over the bit from “Keenan and Kel” where Kel admits to dropping the screw in the tuna. So many iconic characters and television shows were created at the hands of Dan Schneider.

What else was created at the hands of Dan Schneider were countless acts of abuse, harassment, manipulation, and much more. His sets were homes to child sexual abusers. Adults who are around children each and every day, taking advantage of their trust and innocence, grooming them and harming them physically and mentally.

It’s not easy for victims of abuse to speak up. Many aren’t believed. Reliving trauma is a horrific experience, so I commend each and every person who shared their story for this docuseries. There were previous cast members who aren’t as well known who got to share their truths, there were crew members sharing stories about Dan’s harassment and sexism on set. There were many crew members that felt uncomfortable about the scenes they were shooting, but no one spoke up. Dan had so much power at Nickelodeon because he kept churning out hit after hit after hit. The parents weren’t much better, but I’ll come back to that.

The docuseries revealed three adult men who were caught for child pornography, and for sexually abusing children. One man’s name is Brian Peck. He groomed Drake Bell for years. Joe Bell, Drake’s father, did everything he could to keep Brian away from Drake because he knew something just wasn’t right with how Brian acted around his son. Brian eventually convinced Drake to fire his father as his manager, and let his mother take over. This gave Brian the room to drive Drake to and from auditions, take him to Disneyland with him and his friends, and more. Drake Bell revealed in the documentary that Brian Peck sexually assaulted and abused him for years. Since Drake was a minor when it started, his identity was kept secret.

During the trial, many people wrote letters for Brian Peck, attesting to his character: James Marden, Taran Killam, Alan Thicke, Thomas DeSano, Ron Melendez, Rider Strong, and Will Friedle. Some of these names are extremely surprising, and others aren't at all.

Joanna Kerns saying, "there must have been some extreme situation or temptation exerted on him to influence is actions" at the time, and is now saying "I have now learned that my letter of support was based on complete misinformation.

Knowing what I know now, I never would have written the letter". For me, it's not even about her writing the letter, it's about her blaming Drake Bell, the victim, and child in the situation, as if Brian Peck wasn't a grown man who should have known better.

Kimmy Robertson also wrote victim blaming language in her letter of support for Brian Peck.

Rich Correll wrote, "it would be my pleasure to work with him again". And then he did! Brian was allowed to work on The Suite Life! Correll later said, they had no input or involvement in the casting". He also went on to say that, "Mr. Peck simply replied that 'the problem had been solved'".

The series went on from there, explaining how Dan’s behaviors just got worse and worse, and he “flew too close to the sun”. The inappropriate sexual innuendo bits on his shows happened more and more frequently. This included constant closeups on actors’ feet, many of the young female actresses being forced to be squirted in the face with various liquids to represent “money shots”. Ariana Grande probably had it the worst in that she had to film videos that went directly to YouTube, many of which included her biting her own toenails, squeezing a potato until juice squirted out of it, etc. Just absolutely disgusting things that do not make sense for a CHILDREN’S television show. These weren’t jokes for kids. This was Dan Schneider abusing his power, and seeing how much he could get away with.

It wasn’t until Jeanette McCurdy’s mother died that Nickelodeon finally launched an investigation into Dan Schneider. Jeanette talks about this in her book, “I’m Glad My Mom Died”, which was a heart wrenching read, but well worth it. Jeanette returned to work a WEEK after her mother died from a long battle with cancer. Because of the backlash she got for that, Nickelodeon realized that it was the culture Dan created that probably made Jeanette feel like she had to come back, that she couldn’t take more time off.

All Nickelodeon did was remove Dan from his sets, and made it so he could only watch from his office and give notes from there. Even though he wasn’t physically on set, the toxic and hostile environment was still alive and well because he was still watching everyone’s every move.

Thanks to #MeToo, more and more women started speaking up about their experiences on set with Dan Schneider. And then in 2018 Nickelodeon finally kicked Dan Schneider to the curb after launching another investigation based off the new claims. The investigation didn't reveal proof of sexual abuse, but it revealed more cases of harassment of his actors and his crews.

Child stars are often made fun of and exploited by the media as they transition into adulthood. We watch their mental health decline until they’re caught having a breakdown. People point and laugh, and say it’s just another child star who couldn’t handle life as a grown up. But what I think a lot of people don’t understand is that many child stars are forced into the entertainment business. Parents put their financial burdens on their children, tell them they need to work to support the family. That’s a lot of pressure to put on a child. So, if something bad is happening on a set, a kid is going to be too afraid to speak up because they could be fired, and if they’re fired, then they’re not making money for their families. The parents are supposed to be on set and with the kids at all times. But so many turn the other cheek and don’t speak up because they don’t want to risk their kids getting fired.

It just feels like no adults, not even the ones you’re meant to trust, are safe to be around. In some way, shape, or form these kids get abused. Whether it’s sexual abuse, racism, inflicted eating disorders, or other types of mental abuse, they’re not safe. No one is looking out for them. Everyone is more concerned with making money.

The entertainment industry squeezes the youth dry and tosses them aside when they can’t legally control them anymore. And we wonder why so many of them have a tough time later on in life. The lucky ones are helped through therapy, and the not so lucky ones either turn up dead, broke, abused, or end up abusing others as they were abused.

I am feeling very sad and heartbroken. And I’m not sure where to go from here. So many of these shows have brought me comfort and laughs over the years. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to enjoy them again. Is it okay to sit and watch reruns or should we be boycotting everything? I want to help in the ways that I can, but I also know that the world will stop caring about this in a week or so when the next big truth bomb about something else is dropped.

People who have no moral conscious, people who are okay letting children be hurt for the sake of their own wallets shouldn’t have any power. And I hope everyone involved in hurting these kids, past and present, is forced to answer for what they did. I hope they’re shamed and cancelled and doxxed and everything else bad that can happen to people like them. I hope they go broke and become ruined. And at this point, I hope Nickelodeon just crashes and burns. They don’t deserve any salvation.

#dan schneider #quiet on set #drake bell #drake and josh #icarly #jeanette mccurdy #ariana grande #hbo max #all that #victorious #zoey 101 #nickelodeon #the dark side of kids tv #brian peck #opinion piece

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fredwkong · 4 months

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Alphaworld File 1: Oral History

The universe is multifarious, constantly diverging as new choices are made. Spinning away through time, these alternate realities become locked away from our own, so we can never know exactly what would have happened if a single choice was made differently.

Except, sometimes, two of those worlds, careening through the upper dimensions, happen to converge. As they slide past each other, they may line up just so, each leaving behind fragments as they continue their journey into their divergent futures. You’ve never heard of this, because the remnants, mostly data, are swiftly collected by various government agencies and collected into reports on the intercepted reality.

This report collects various scientific articles, personal journals, news reels, and even a documentary series from one such reality, codenamed Alphaworld. In this world, gay men have not only become the norm, but have seemingly replaced all other people. In this world, society is stratified into an apparently biological hierarchy of homosexual castes, based on men’s physical characteristics and psychologies. Upon finishing the following fragment from a peer-reviewed article that was a trace recovered from Alphaworld, please select the next fragment you would like to consume.

An Oral History of the Creation and Initial Spread of the Alpha Phenomenon, by Alpha Dr. Jose Martinez

Until recently, it was not known what sparked the spread of the Alpha Phenomenon which has wholly remade the world in recent years. This was until Alpha Joshua Dearfoot, who resides with his Betas in rural ex-Ontario, stated during a livestream on OnlyFans that he is the original Alpha.

Alpha Dearfoot does not interact with Betas from outside his harem unless they renounce their current Alpha. As this research team contains no unbonded Betas—Alpha Dr. Martinez says we can’t spend too much time with non-harem Betas—we investigated among those close to Alpha Dearfoot, conducting interviews and surveying in the local area to discover as much as we could.

Joshua, as he was known before the emergence of the Alpha Phenomenon, was a PhD candidate in nanotechnology, with a secondary focus in physiology. Photographs kept by his father (Beta to Alpha Sean Barehill) reveal that through his youth and young adulthood Joshua was physically unimpressive, with a physique not even reaching the base level expected of a Beta.

According to a classmate of Joshua’s from university (Beta to Alpha Liam Oliver), Joshua was studious but insecure: “I mean, I used to push him around all the time for being a fa— gay kid. Gay and a nerd? In the Old World, that was, like, the worst thing.” When asked about whether he has properly apologised, the Beta said, in a rapturous voice, “Oh, yeah, Alpha Dearfoot was my first. He disciplined me so well I could barely walk, I came like four times. Then he told me to come join Alpha Liam’s harem. I mean, he wasn’t Alpha Liam then, I was one of the first guys to go full Beta on campus.”

It appears that Alpha Dearfoot had a difficult youth, growing up unable to meet certain Old World expectations of manhood. The masculine stereotypes of Native Americans also seem to have weighed on him, as he was entirely unable to meet them. As his father told us, “Joshua was a sweet kid, but he got bullied for being too short and scrawny, not matching the image of an “Indian” in all these bigoted kids’ heads. He was obsessed with growing bigger, which is why he went into physio.” Remember, in some communities it is normal for a Beta father to continue to refer to his Alpha son by his first name.

According to Sigma Harrison White, a former lab partner of Dearfoot’s who fucked us on his lawn in exchange for this interview, Joshua was obsessed with creating some way to become more manly. “He spent some really long evenings in the lab,” said Harrison while one of us squealed in the grass beneath him. “One morning he came out with this manic grin on his face, said that he’d finally done it, and ran off. Two weeks later, he came back a full Alpha.” At this point, Harrison’s pace slowed down as he became contemplative. “It was only after he started hooking up with all the queer guys on campus that we started becoming Alphas and Sigmas and stuff, too.”

Did Alpha Dearfoot intend for the Alpha Phenomenon to be infectious? A Beta from his harem claims not. “He got home from school one morning all excited about some project he’d finished,” the Beta told us—it seems that he and Alpha Dearfoot were childhood friends. “The next day, he seemed a little different, a little more muscular, more assertive. He seemed really satisfied for about a week, then he got scared. He just kept getting bigger. The day he got taller than me and nearly broke a bar at the gym doing deadlifts, I started feeling the Beta change.

“I went to him and started telling him about my muscle gains and all the weird thoughts and sensations I was experiencing, and he got really scared,” the Beta continued, his eyes distant. “I started to comfort him, and that was when we felt the bond form. It felt so right for him to be my first, to finger me open and fill me with his still-growing dick.”

While we pressed for more details about what may have been the first Alpha/Beta bond in history, the Beta refused to disclose more information, claiming that it was private to him and his Alpha. For the reader’s imagination, see Figure A to find a picture of Alpha Dearfoot from his Instagram profile.

Alpha Dearfoot appears to have intended to create a nanomachine-based masculinity booster, and the transmissibility of the Alpha Phenomenon, as well as the behavioural and sexual changes it induces, were unintended side effects, perhaps introduced in the particles’ replication process. The effects of the Alpha Phenomenon on aging and physical fitness may also be unexpected consequences of Alpha Dearfoot's programming efforts.

According to Alpha Young Baek Hyeon, who lives in the former New York area with a mixed harem, he and Alpha Dearfoot attempted to “date,” an outmoded practice common in the Old World, during the early weeks of the Alpha Phenomenon’s spread. “Alpha DeWayne and I work well together,” Alpha Young told us by video call, “but we’re both pretty chill even since we changed. Alpha Dearfoot and I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room once I had transformed. He’s one of the most territorial Alphas I’ve ever met, he can barely stand to have another Alpha within a mile of him.” As Alpha Young spoke, we watched a well-trained Beta enter the room with a plate of apple slices and present them to his Alpha.

“He was really torn up about it, too. Even though we couldn’t stop yelling at each other in person or over the phone, he left me a ton of really sweet voice messages about how much he’d liked me before we became Alphas.” Alpha Young took a bite of apple and ruffled his Beta’s hair, causing all of us to shudder with phantom pleasure at the affection. With a contemplative expression, Alpha Young said, “No, I don’t think he meant for any of this to happen.”

While this study has yielded plenty of useful biographical information about the man apparently responsible for the Alpha Phenomenon that changed the world, we appear no closer to understanding the precise mechanism of that change. With better access to the programming of the nanomachines, perhaps it would be possible to reduce the natural aggressiveness of the Alphas, allowing Alphas like Dearfoot to return to their studies or jobs if they so wish. In the following section, we will propose potential opportunities for further research in the effort to isolate the Alpha Phenomenon.

Or vote on Strawpoll here: https://strawpoll.com/wby5A0vw8yA

This series is my way of celebrating reaching 2000 followers! I hope you enjoy this glimpse into Alphaworld and vote on what file you would like to see next. There is no strict update schedule, so you good boys better be on the lookout for a new chapter you can vote on ;)

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #male tf #reality change #alphaworld #all fwkong

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traveler-at-heart · 5 months

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Finding Home - Part 2

Summary: This is a series imagining what it was life for Natasha after joining S.H.I.E.L.D. Warnings: Mentions of violence, PTSD, nightmares. Read Part 1 here. It was still dark. A quick glance at the clock on your nightstand told you it was indeed 2:30 am.

With a groan, you stood up from bed, walking into the living room, the penthouse pitch black.

“Jesus, Natasha!” you jumped as the lights revealed her sitting on the couch. Staring at the door. The redhead didn’t even flinch when you shouted. “Hey, is everything ok? Did you hear something?”

Now you felt bad for snapping at her like that. Surely, she had a good reason to be up.

“I don’t understand why they’re not here”

“Who?” you kneeled next to her, so you were eye level. With a pang of guilt, you noticed the bags under her eyes.

How long had this been going on?

“The KGB and Dreykov’s people. It’s only a matter of time. And when they come, I don’t… they can’t hurt you. I wouldn’t forgive myself”

“Nat” you said, squeezing her hand until she finally looked at you. Your hair was a mess, and your eyes struggled to focus on her face, but still, you pushed the words out.

“We are protecting you. SHIELD has eyes and ears everywhere. They won’t come for you, they won’t hurt you. Clint won’t let it happen, Fury won’t let it happen. And I certainly won’t let it happen”

There was a beat of silence, and then Natasha shook her head no.

“I’m not worth the risk”

“Yes you are. Clint thought so when he didn’t shoot that arrow. And I think so too. You’re worth it, and that’s not up for debate”

With a resigned sigh, you sat on the loveseat next to the couch and stared at the door.

“What are you doing?” Natasha asked.

“Well, if we’re taking turns watching the door, I’m next”

“Don’t be ridiculous, go to sleep”

The commanding tone made you smile. Slowly, but surely, Natasha had become more open and more herself in the way she interacted with others.

She wasn’t afraid to show she knew better than all of you.

“You go to sleep, Romanoff”

The redhead rolled her eyes, annnoyed at how amused you looked and then turned on the tv, browsing through channels, until she settled on a documentary about chimpanzees.

Fifteen minutes later, she was sleeping, gently snoring.

—

Back at the headquarters, Natasha was showing Maria and Fury some of the technical details of the widow bites she used.

You took the opportunity to pay a visit to Doctor Taylor.

“Agent” she greeted. “You know the rules, you gotta make an appointment”

“It won’t take long, Doc. It’s about Natasha” you scratched the back of your neck, feeling like you were snitching on her. “She’s not sleeping well. Keeps thinking the KGB is showing up any minute now to take her back”

“I would be surprised if she was able to sleep at all. I can prescribe something…”

“Yeah, she’s not gonna take it. Don’t ask me how, I just know it” you shrugged your shoulders. “This is more of a visit to ask for sugggestions. Is there any activity that might distract her?”

“Well, has she even been outside the Penthouse?” the woman asked, glancing at her notes, obviously aware of the answer to the question.

“No, unless we count this lovely government building” you looked down, feeling ashamed. Idiot. Keeping Natasha locked up, of course she’d feel agitated.

Doctor Taylor said your name, your attention snapping back to her.

“Natasha doesn’t know who she is; she dind’t have a childhood or a life. You could… give her choices. Help her figure out what she likes”

“Like her favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Sure, that’s simple. Start there”

“Alright” you straightened your stance, thinking about the day ahead. “Thanks, Doc”

“For what is worth” she said as you turned to open the door. “Natasha’s making progress. Slow but steady. And that’s thanks to you as well”

You nodded, smiling before leaving her office.

—

“It’s this way” Natasha pointed at a street, and you kept driving. “You missed the next exit”

“So now you know how to drive in New York City?” you said, ignoring her comments.

“Yes. I can drive motorcycles, cars, all kinds of helicopters…”

“Cool, congrats. You’re still not driving this car”

“Ass” she mumbled and you chuckled.

The drive was silent and as you found a place to park, Natasha looked around trying to find your destination.

“Ta-da” you sang and she turned back to you.

“Holey cream?” she read the sign above the door, in a very unamused tone.

“Build-your-own donut ice cream sandwich. Doesn’t that sound fun? There are tons of choices. Come on” you looped her arm with yours and practically dragged her inside.

You ordered first, hoping it would give Natasha enough time to decide what she wanted. However, as you got your donut, she was still staring at the ice cream flavors and toppings.

“Have you decided yet?” as she shook her head no, you offered your own donut. “Come on, try it. It’s homemade chocolate peanut better”

Rolling her eyes, she finally agreed and took a bite, modestly covering her mouth as she chewed.

“Too sweet. I think I’ll have the Java Guatemala”

“Holy holey” you muttered, thinking about the amount of caffeine she’d eat. “Strong flavor for a strong woman, am I right?”

“Is the sugar making you hyper?”

“Maybe” you opened the door for her, walking side by side as you took bites of your donuts.

You kept walking, glancing at the restaurants and shops littered on both sides of the street. As you read the menu of an Indian place, Natasha looked at the window of a clothing store.

“Oh, that leather jacket is beautiful” you admired, following her eyes. “Wanna go inside and try it on?”

“No”

“Come on” you ignored, pushing her.

The store clerk greeted you, while Natasha stood awkardly next to the jacket.

“Try it on” she rolled her eyes, but did as she was told. It looked perfect on her, but then again, Natasha managed to look stunning even on training clothes. “It suits you. Do you like it?”

“It’s fine” she shrugged her shoulders, the same way she did when you cooked something that she didn’t really like. As if what she thought wasn’t important.

“Natasha” you said and the woman looked at you. You raised your eyebrows and smiled, encouraging her to say what she really wanted.

“Yes, I like it a lot. But I don’t have any mo…”

“Miss? We’re taking this jacket”

Busy with paying the woman, you missed the way Natasha pulled the jacket close to her body, smiling as she saw her reflection in the mirror.

—

“Article 212, subsection B” Natasha asked.

It was a lovely day, so you were enyoing the sun on Central Park. She insisted on studying for her test, which was honestly overdoing it. Natasha memorized Shields rules in a week.

She was siting, the manual on her lap, while you were laying, your head close to her knees.

“Uh… something, something, paperwork” you answered, getting lost in the warm sun and the blanket where you and Natasha rested. “Are we still catching that movie later today?”

“Yes. And don’t change the subject” she gave you a small tap on the forehead and you frowned.

“Natasha, you memorized it weeks ago. And I already passed my test so…”

“I like it when I can hear you say it” Natasha interrupted you, her voice getting smaller. “I know all the words, yes. But hearing you say it makes it make sense. And I can also learn more about pronunciation. I still have my stupid accent”

“Ok” you nodded, sitting up to face her. You shook the leaves that got stuck in your hair and answered the question.

Natasha nodded when she was satisfied, flipping through the pages to continue.

“And for the record, your accent is not stupid. It’s cute” you said.

You were too busy looking away to hide your blush, so you missed how Natasha’s cheeks were red as well.

—

After that day in the park, you saved a time after dinner to read to Natasha. It was a way for her to improve what you already thought was a perfect English.

“A Scandal in Bohemia. Your very first Sherlock Holmes. Aren’t you excited?”

“Why that one?” she looked up at you. As usual, you were sitting at the end of the couch while she laid her head close to your lap, but never touching your knees.

“Because, you’re just like Irene Adler”

“Who?”

“Well, let me read and you’ll find out”

With every story about mystery, Natasha always commented on how the detectives approcahed the case. But this time, she remained quiet as you read the tale of Holmes and the only woman who outsmarted him.

Once you finished, you looked down to find Natasha sleeping, her usual frown replaced by a soft expression. The image of her head resting under her clasped hands brought you back to the words on the Red Room report.

The girls slept handcuffed to their beds so they wouldn’t escape.

If Dreykov wasn’t already dead, you’d gladly kill him yourself.

On impulse, your hand reached out to touch her own, while the other moved a strand of red hair out of her forehead.

What happened next was completely unexpected.

Natasha woke up instantly, throwing you from the couch and you landed on your front, out of air from the force of her movements. The woman climbed to your back and placed your neck in a headlock.

“Fuck, fuck, Nat, it’s ok. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I’m sorry. It’s me. You’re safe” you said, trying to control your breathing and keeping your voice even.

You could feel Natasha’s heart beating wildly, her breath ragged against your ear.

It wasn’t her and she wasn’t trying to hurt you, that’s all you could think about as she kept you in place, with just enough pressure to make sure you didn’t move.

Little by little, she began to calm down and all of the sudden, let you go.

You coughed and moved forward, allowing yourself to breathe and feel a tiny bit of panic at what could have happened.

Not to you, but to Natasha.

“I’m…” she looked at her shaking hands, tears welling up. Natasha got up and walked to her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Nat. It’s ok. Natasha” you knocked several times, to no avail.

She stayed in her room for the rest of the night.

—

The following days were hell.

You went back to training alone. Natasha barely ate, let alone look at you whenever you had to go to SHIELD.

How could you have been so reckless? Of course she’d react that way, living her life in a perpetual state of fight or flight.

The silence took a toll on you. And worse, one day it made you snap.

During the drive to SHIELD, you asked Natasha if she was up for watching a movie at the cinema.

There was no answer, which was to be expected.

The hurt came after, when you caught her chatting with Clint as if everything was ok. Feeling as if someone had punched you in the gut, you looked away.

Maybe everything would be better if you left Natasha alone.

You walked up to them and dropped the keys to the car on the table.

“Here. Take the car”

“But, I thought…”

“I’m walking” was all you answered, turning around to leave the building.

You felt a combination of guilt and anger. You hated how you snapped at her, how your response to her trauma was to be vindictive and unreasonable.

But you also felt tired and way over your head. It wasn’t like you’d been an agent for that long.

Maybe someone more experienced would do better, like Barton.

You found a bar and stayed there for a couple of hours, drinking on an empty stomach. You came back when it was too cold to wander around the city.

The alcohol had hit you harder than you thought, because when you opened your eyes it was noon.

Natasha was long gone by then.

The sight of pancakes on the stove and a note with your name made you want to cry.

You didn’t even know what you were doing at SHIELD headquarters that morning, but still stepped out of the cab and into the building.

“Agent Y/N” Fury said as you walked down the hallway.

It was the last voice you wanted to hear, sporting a massive hangover and a guilt ridden heart.

“Director Fury” you turned around, trying to sound composed.

“There’s a mission”

Missions were at the bottom of your list right now.

“Ask Maria” you snapped.

You fucked up.

“I’m not asking”

“I can’t leave Natasha now”

“She’s joining the mission”

“I don’t think she’s ready” you panicked, imagining her getting hurt over your mistakes.

“It’s been three months. I have to know if she’s at least worth the groceries we’re buying for you in that fancy penthouse in the Upper East Side, Agent” the door behind your back opened. Fury looked at you one last time and then nodded. “That would be all”

As you turned around, Natasha’s eyes met yours.

“I didn’t know if I should wake you…”

“It’s ok. I’m sorry, I slept in. Thanks for the pancakes. I’ll go back to the penthouse… I don’t know why I came here today”

“Ok. I have to stay and go over some stuff” she explained and you nodded.

“See you later”

Back home (it wasn’t really home, was it?), you headed straight for the gym. Correction, bathroom, to throw up, still hungover and then to the gym.

Natasha joined you an hour later, waiting for you to finish punching out your frustrations against a boxing bag.

“I’m sorry” she said, after a particularly hard punch that made you grunt. “I understand if you asked Fury to leave”

“Leave… what?” you turned to her, confused. “And why are you saying you’re sorry?”

“You know why” she said, looking down.

“That wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault, Natasha. I should have known better. I should have protected you. You should feel safe and I’m failing”

“You didn’t fail” she insisted. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I have. All my life, I’ve hurt and killed. But you know all that, you know it and you’re still not mad. Why aren’t you mad? Why don’t you think I’m a monster?” she said, looking anywhere but you.

“Did you have a choice?” you asked softly. She didn’t reply. “All I know is, the first time someone gave you a choice, you did the right thing”

“And I still hurt people”

“Yeah, our line of work isn’t really black and white, Natasha” you felt relieved when she finally looked at you, though her eyes were reddened. “If you had a choice now, what would you say? ”

“I think… I’d like to help people”

You smiled, not surprised by her answer. Of course she’d want to help. How you wished Natasha could see herself in the way you saw her.

“Good. Because Fury is eager to send us on a mission. Maybe this is a chance. You can save lives, do what’s right”

“I’d like that”

“You have a choice, know that. If you don’t feel ready, I will fight tooth and nail against Fury. Rip that eye patch if I have to”

Natasha smiled at that, and you could float with how relieved you felt. Maybe things could be better after all.

“I’ll start working on dinner” she offered after a beat of silence and you nodded.

Quietly, she exited the gym. The room felt empty again. And as much as you wanted to reach out to her, hold her hand or be closer, like you were before, you’d let her be.

Maybe one day, she’d meet you halfway

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n

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