#please let this reach the correct audience | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quillyfied · 1 year

Text

There being two movies now in the Benoit Blanc world, and both movies sharing some recognizable tropes and archetypes to build its flavor, there’s a specific type of character that I’m struck by, particularly as a white woman, in both Knives Out and Glass Onion:

The Sympathetic White Woman.

In KO it’s Meg. In GO it’s Whiskey. They both bond with the (WOC, very important to emphasize) protagonist by being less crappy to her than the rest of the cast, and both signal to the audience that they’re trustworthy as far as the protagonist goes. They tell the protagonist that they’re on her side. They try to be supportive. They’re sympathetic to the audience.

Then comes the moment when the Sympathetic White Woman’s security is threatened.

(Brief added interruption to just say: please dig through the notes and replies on this baby for some additional excellent thoughts from other people, including the very important distinction that Marta is a white Latina and not a woman of color (my mistake thank you for the corrections), and more thoughts on Whiskey’s actual/additional betrayal moments!)

For Meg, it’s her mom telling her she has to drop out of school if they don’t get the inheritance money. For Whiskey, it’s Duke dying. In both cases, the protagonist reaches out—Marta tells Meg she won’t let that happen, she’ll support Meg with whatever money she needs; Helen tries to soothe a hysteric Whiskey by telling her she doesn’t need Duke and he deserved what he got (not realizing Duke is dead, of course). It’s a slightly different moment in each movie, but the basic framework is the same: the woman of color protagonist reaches back to the Sympathetic White Woman, and notably, reaches DOWN, offering the support the Sympathetic White Woman offered earlier.

Only…the Sympathetic White Woman was never intending to be the one the protagonist had to reach down to. So she snaps. Meg tells her family about Marta’s mother and they use it to threaten her. Whiskey latches onto the belief that Helen killed Duke and tries to kill her with a spear gun in what she thinks is self-defense. The Sympathetic White Woman Heel-Turn.

Meg and Whiskey both also sort of try to make amends after their Heel-Turn moments, but…the trust is already broken. The protagonist knows better now. The Sympathetic White Woman is not to be trusted.

Why this sticks out to me personally is the very obvious callout that feminists of color have been making about white feminists for literal decades: that white feminism lacks any true support or compassion for non-white people, that it’s empty promises of support and when the chips are down, white feminism upholds whiteness over feminism in an act to protect itself. And whiteness…is a damn difficult thing to even see when you’re white and raised in an overwhelmingly white community, let alone begin to pick apart and unlearn. It’s reactionary, how Meg and Whiskey turn on Marta and Helen to protect themselves.

It would make Meg incredibly vulnerable to support Marta fully, the way she promised to back when she thought she had the resources for it, but Marta is that vulnerable every day just existing as a Latina woman in America. Whiskey’s Heel-Turn moment is a little more immediate trauma based, but when looking for someone to blame, she doesn’t hesitate to blame Andi (Helen), scrapping together the few pieces of information she has—Andi hates all of the Disruptors, Andi got screwed over by them, Andi fought with Duke just minutes before he died, Andi was in their shared room tearing it apart when Whiskey came in distraught. She’s looking for an outlet. There’s Helen red-handed and in view. Boom. Whiskey grabs the spear gun instead of talking it out with the person she admitted just hours ago to feeling sympathy for.

Growing up white and steeped in whiteness causes defensive reactions when that whiteness is brought up, or, god forbid, challenged. It’s a knee-jerk thing for people who haven’t begun to deconstruct it for themselves; even for people who have, to see just how far and deep in American society that reaches is troubling. Humbling. Enraging. The Sympathetic White Woman archetype is, to me, a warning to not let whiteness overrule sense and morals. To be smart about it. And, crucially, to check myself for condescension, especially when interacting with non-white folks in any capacity.

(Also why the presence of Benoit Blanc is so important. He is also sympathetic, he also offers his own support, but crucially, he just uses his whiteness to clear a path for the WOC protagonist to take her place and do what she needs to do. He doesn’t speak over her, he doesn’t turn on her, he just listens, and presents the truth for her to do with it what she will. Or, in one case, hands her highly volatile crystal hydrogen for when she’s really ready to tear the Murderer’s crap down.)

#knives out #glass onion #major spoilers for both obviously #and hoping I got this post right with what I was trying to say #listen I shotgunned both movies for the first time in a span of two days #I am VIBRATING with good brain juice

8K notes · View notes

avocad1s · 8 months

Text

Let Them Eat Cake

Arlechinno x Creator! Reader

CW: Sharing Food?, Obsessive Thoughts, Arlechinno is down bad for you in this.

The Knave never actually believed you would agree to this.

To sit before you, to bask in your divine presence. It was almost overwhelming for her. She couldn’t stop the rhythmic thumping that quickened in her chest.

Arlechinno crosses her legs, although she requested an audience with you, she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Her eyes could only take in your divinity. Words of gratitude repeating in her mind for taking the time out of your precious day to speak with her.

“Would you like more cake, Your Grace?” She finally says, her voice soft and eloquent.

The Knave’s plate of cake remained untouched. You invaded her every thought, her senses couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t related to you. If eating her cake meant she had to take her gaze of you, then she didn’t want it.

You wipe the icing off the side of your mouth as you look down at your empty plate.

“Well if you have more then I’d be delighted to have another slice.”

The Knave immediately obliges as she slides her plate over to you. If you want seconds then surely you must like the cake? She and the children put extra love and care in this treat just for you.

“I can’t take this.”

Her eyes widen, was there something wrong with it? Was the piece not up to your satisfaction visually? Please tell her, she’ll do everything in her power to correct it.

“This is your piece, I can’t just take it from you.”

Arlechinno smiles, your benevolence was always something she admired.

“Seeing you eat it is already enough for me.” She murmurs, picking her teacup up from the saucer. “Please enjoy it. For the both of us.”

“Then how about we share it?”

Arlechinno sputters feeling her face grow warm as her mind races to find her next words. As a Fatui diplomat, she should never be reduced to such a state but you were an exception. She could only watch as you stand up with the plate moving over to her side of the couch sitting next to her.

You were so close, she could reach out and hold you if she desired.

You grab two forks off the table holding one out to her, Arlechinno graciously takes it.

“I am honored that you wish to share this with me,” she breathes out, “I cannot thank you enough.”

You smile.

Gosh, all Arlechinno wants is for you to smile at her again.

Sharing this cake with you is greater than anything else she has experienced before. Obtaining a vision, becoming a harbinger, those mean nothing if she could sit here with you for a moment longer.

Note: I just finished the 4.1 Archon Quest and OMG THE KNAVE 😩 GIMME A CHANCE 🙏🙏

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #self aware genshin #sagau fatui #sagau arlechinno

1K notes · View notes

astraystayyh · 11 months

Text

seungmin taking off his mask brainrot. allusion to sex but no smut. still mdni.

honestly i struggled with tagging this, because it's not smut but also not fluff either hshshs enemies to fwb??? anyways i hope this reaches its target audience,, enjoy <33 (lowercase intended)

seungmin is an asshole.

you don't like him. he's always around, nagging you, throwing unnecessary comments your way about every little thing you do or say. if it were solely up to you, you wouldn't talk to him ever again. but he's jeongin's best friend, who also happens to be your best friend, so seeing him is inevitable.

he's there sipping on his iced americano, wispy bangs falling in front of his brown eyes, fixated on you. he's there sitting across of you in the campus garden, hitting your leg repeatedly with his foot. he's there at jeongin's dorm, who also happens to be his roommate, strolling around shirtless with no care in the world.

he's infuriating, everything about him makes you mad. from the way he smiles proudly when he sees that he's getting on your nerves, to the way he leans his face onto yours, faking interest in whatever you are saying.

seungmin is an asshole, and to your surprise, he's here to pick you up.

you know it's him, from the red converse he is wearing, and his familiar black leather jacket. you can also tell from the hands gripping the handles of the motorcycle. they aren't clad with rings, so it can't be jeongin. the friend who was actually supposed to pick you up.

you half debate staying home, cursing jeongin in your brain for forcing you to spend more time with seungmin. but you really wanted to go to that party chan is hosting. you needed the free alcohol, badly.

so you huff, as seungmin takes his sweet time parking, mentally preparing to curse him too. but the words die in your throat as soon as he removes his helmet.

he has caramel colored hair now.

he slides off the motorcycle, running an easy hand through his hair. it looks soft, and you wonder what it smells like. citrus, maybe, or pinewood. he then leans onto his engine, smirking at you slightly. you roll your eyes, taking one step forward towards him.

"i think you're obsessed with me."

"yeah? why is that?" he smiles, tilting his head to the side, his arms now crossed in front of his chest.

"you just had to pick me up right. couldn't stand being away from me that badly?"

"correct." he doesn't deny and you huff, grabbing the second helmet and putting it on.

"let's make this as short as possible."

"my pleasure," he bows slightly and you bite your lip, trying to suppress the tiniest smile from coming out. you really liked his hair, it made his honeyed eyes stand out more.

he gets on first, and you follow suit. you were used to riding with jeongin but this is your first time doing it with seungmin. you hesitate for a couple of seconds, before wrapping your arms loosely around his waist.

"hold tight," he tells you, adding a soft "please" after a few silent beats. you oblige, and then he takes off with no further warning.

the drive is short, and you can't seem to focus on anything but the warmth emanating from seungmin's body. you are hyper aware of your thighs pressing against his, and his broad back snug against your chest. it feels intimate, for some odd reason, and you almost close your eyes to fully savor it. almost.

when you arrive, you're quick to hop off, handing your helmet to seungmin. he takes it from you silently, before removing his own too.

strands of his hair stay upwards and you debate internally for a second, before reaching to smooth them down.

you were right, his hair is incredibly soft to the touch.

"you look pretty," he says. and he sounds sincere- different from how he usually speaks to you.

"thank you," you reply quietly, " i like your new hair."

"really? I'm not sure if it suits me," he admits, running a hand through it self-consciously. it felt weird, to see him anything but confident and boastful.

"it does. what shampoo do you use?"

"i don't know. something citrusy, i think."

"figured."

....

your naked chest is pressed to seungmin's, limbs so tangled you can no longer tell where your body ends and his begins.

you didn't exactly plan on ending up here tonight, you weren't even sure how this happened. you just couldn't take your eyes off seungmin's hair, and then his eyes landed on your lips and suddenly he was leading you to the nearest bedroom.

but you don't mind, not when seungmin looks this way. the light is dim and dark shadows reflect on his face. there is a sheen layer of perspiration on his upperbrow, and you imagine you must look the same. sweaty and slightly dazed, a pink hue adorning your cheeks.

seungmin traces your lips with his thumb, going over your cupid bow ever so slowly. it makes shivers run down your spine, and you huddle closer to him. as close as you physically could anyways, since you were practically glued to him.

"had i known this would happen i would've died my hair sooner," he smirks cheekily and that brings you to his hair again. you run your hand through its soft locks gently. a stark contrast to how hard you were tugging them moments ago.

"mm, it's all because of this caramel color," you smile back, its citrusy scent wafting to your nose. "i really like your shampoo."

"are you turned on by scents?" he jokes and you swat his arm, leaning a bit away from him.

"it just smells nice. sue me."

"it's okay, you smell nice too," he chuckles, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. you appreciate it. it makes you feel less weird about how affected you are by him.

"i... i told jeongin that i wanted to pick you up," he mumbles onto your skin and you feel yourself tense slightly. "why?"

"wanted to see you first," he says quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. it makes you dizzy. you don't find him infuriating any more.

"let's talk about this later," you finally reply, pulling him away from you.

"mm. what do you want to do now?" he smiles, grazing your naked arm with the back of his hand.

you straddle his lap, swiping his bangs away from his forehead. that damned hair of his.

"you."

#seungmin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids imagine #skz drabbles #seungmin fluff

1K notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 15 days

Text

Winter's King 21

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I am very tired.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As promised, the king acquires you a full outfit to face the cold. A fur trimmed hat to replace your standard linen cap, a pair of lined hide gloves, and thick boots that go to your knees. He has bolstered you to face the elements but you are wholly unprepared to face the corridors as the glances of soldiers and servants meet you with a new glint of judgement.

You wear the king’s cloak as before. You keep your head low under the hood as he walks ahead of you. It is a farce. A poorly acted charade. How naive you’d been for so long not see through it all. You were the perfect fool for an intent audience.

You descend and come out to the west of the castle, through a door beneath a sharply peaked arch. The snow continues to heap over the land though the winds have relented. The king pauses as you emerge and reaches to take you by the wrist, as if he fears you might be lost in the powder.

He walks you across the yard towards the stables built across a flat of land nestled along a curved rock wall. The doors creaks as he pushes through and the heat of braziers and horses’ bodies greets you within. Sniffs, snorts, and knickers rise in the air as you walk between the stalls. There is one in which a single horse resides, the rest crowded in pairs and trios.

You look up at the steed’s dark snout, it’s eyes even bleaker as it snuffs out harshly. It’s nostrils flair at your approach and the king clicks his tongue at the beast. It raises its nose then shakes its head. It’s ebony iris fixates on you as its master touches its braided mane.

“Roach,” you murmur into the dry air.

“You remember,” he comments gently.

“Yes,” you watch the horse as it watches you. It bows its head, nose coming close to yours, fuming hot breath around you. It sniffs the trim of your hood.

“Let the animal see you,” the king advises.

You bring your hands up and push back the hood, letting it hang over your shoulders. You stare at the dark eyes. Roach continues to twitch his nose in your direction then further dips his head, pressing against your chest. Uncertain, you bring your hands to touch his soft ears.

“Ah,” the king sighs, “Roach is rarely partial to any but me. Even I receive a nip or too from the curmudgeon.” He chuckles and touches the horse’s thick neck. “others have nearly lost a finger and even sacrificed garment or two.”

“A creature so volatile, he makes a good war horse?”

“She,” he corrects you.

“Oh, apologies.”

“I doubt she minds,” he muses and pets her long nose as she raises her head. “She is restless. She would do good for the exercise.”

He lowers his hand and unclasps the stall door. He pulls it out as you step out of the way. The horse clomps through, kicking impatiently as it blows through its lips. The king moves parallel to you and draws you before him. Before you or Roach can react, he has you aloft, urging you onto the horse’s unsaddled back.

“Hold tight,” he girds and puts his hands to the horse’s shoulder, “come, Roach.”

The horse starts and you press your hands to her back, clamping on with your thighs. You rock with her motion to keep from slipping. You duck with the mount as she bends through the door the king holds open. The winter snows dusts down on you as you emerge.

The king drags his palm along the horse’s side and swings himself up with little effort. He sit behind you, Roach not missing a step or buckling at his ascent. He pulls you snug to him, tugging up your hood as the chill nips at your cheeks. He wraps his arms around you and clutches a swathe of the horse’s braids. He whistles and leans, guiding the horse away from the castle.

“She is obedient,” you remark at her agile response.

“I prefer mares for that reason,” he returns. You wonder if it is a quip meant for the queen or yourself. Perhaps both. “It isn’t very far, though the path is steep.”

You nod and stare at the white expanse, a few jutting rocks pocking out above the carpet of snow, leafless branches reaching out here and there. The horse carries you to a ledge, narrow and treacherous, and you lean back into the King Geralt as the edge has you dizzy. He slips his hand beneath your cloak to squeeze your hip.

“I have you, treasure, you needn’t fear,” he assures.”

“Yes, your highness, thank you,” you touch his knuckles and shiver.

“Sweet summer maid,” he purrs as he draws you snugger. “This winter is harsh but I will keep you warm.”

You shudder and hang your head. For so much comfort as he offers, you find little. It isn’t only the snow which chills you.

You ride on, the impact of hooves softened by the layers below, the air hollow and biting as it seeps beneath your hood. The sky ripples grey and seems to darken as you descend the curling path along the cliff’s edge. At once, you are plunged into thick blackness.

The world levels out and the king shifts, sliding off the mount to land on his feet. You peek over your shoulder and see the grim light through the mouth of the cave. The king touches your leg and you turn, letting him help you from the height. Roach kicks and spits.

The king frames your waist before he releases you. You listen to his steps as he moves through the dim. There’s is a scratch as he strikes flint and flame illuminates his shadow. He bends and takes something from the ground. He pauses and works with one hand, wrapping something around the thick stick. He lights the length of linen around the wood’s tip, a torch to see you along.

“She will stay, she is not keen on confinement, especially underground,” he girds and removes his own cloak, draping it over the horses back, “the air enlivens me, I shouldn’t need that much.”

He wears a leather coat, sewn of thick strips of black and studded with silver. He approaches you and bends his arm, offering it gallantly as a gentleman might with a lady. You hesitate and hook your arm through it, hugging his elbow as he leads you deeper, the torch flickering with each step.

You enter a tunnel with rocky tendrils stretching from top to bottom, encased in layers of ice and frost. The flame illuminates the frozen layers. Deeper and deeper you go, quiet as your curiosity mingles with concern. Where are you going?

Your boot slips on a slippery patch but the king keeps you upright. You thank him and bring your other arm across to steady yourself on his bicep. You feel his muscle bulging beneath. You do not doubt his promises. He will keep you safe. Down here, but you doubt what he might do without.

He raises the torch as the air thins and you the cave opens up. You look around as the walls lay beyond the breadth of the torches glow. Your eyes are drawn by the icy fingers hanging from the ceiling. There is one close to you. You reach to touch its pointed tip.

“Icicles,” the king says, “be careful of the thin ones, they might fall.”

He moves the torch to show more, all around you, light fangs the line the cave, lining the edges. The flame sparkles on their eerie translucence. Then the king lowers the light and you look down beneath your feet. You’re stand on ice!

“Your highness,” you instinctively pull yourself closer to him, your soles sliding as you try to walk further.

“It will not break,” he assures you as he urges you on, “this cave never thaws, even in the warmer months. They call it the Moth’s Den.” He leads you across the ice and your eyes catch on the icicles, thick and thin, some pointed, some reach to touch the floor. You hear an odd hum, almost a buzz, and he sweeps the torch before you.

You stop to gape at the wall before you. It looks soft and fluffy, almost like fur. Then you lean closer and see the wings. Pale silver moths, fluttering in place, clinging to the wall. Their fuzzy bodies line every morsel of the space.

“Snow moths. Harmless creatures. Unlike their summer counterparts, the detest the light,” he extends his arm and a circle along the icy wall is sudden bare as the moths move to avoid the glare. “When I was a boy, I always wanted to have one as a pet. I could never get one past the entrance before it escaped and flew back to the depths.”

You blink and lower your hand from his arm, though you stay hooked onto him, “I didn’t think this was your home.”

“As a boy it was. At least, that’s how I saw it. My father, king of the day, sent me here to train with Lord Vesemir. As much to keep me out of trouble. I am not unaware of myself. I was not the best behaved. Vesemir took me in and he bides no mischief,” King Geralt explains, “though he does not rule without compassion. He taught me many things more than discipline. He taught me,” the king peers over at you, “that my heart should be heard just as plainly as my mind. If you do not balance them, then it will all topple.”

You look back at him. Your chest aches deeply. Doesn’t he know you don’t have that privilege? Can he not see that you do not get that choice? Even for a king.

You might never had cared for Lady Rezlyn and her gossip. You think it cruel and unkind. Often you wonder if she spoke less of others, if she might gain more friends. You never engaged much in Merinda’s whispers either. But you heard them and you know what becomes of mistresses.

The other woman. That’s what you’ll become. A whore. A name to be spat. A figure to be avoided. A maid might be ignored but she neither favoured or despised. She just is. She has her purpose. A mistress only has the stain put upon her. The one who taints who my walk away, but she never will.

“The ice becomes you, treasure. The cold it... pales to your beauty,” he smiles down at you. His gold eyes are vibrant and his fine features are even more admirable in the limn of the flame.

He lifts his chin and takes steady steps away from the wall and leads you towards a jutting stone at the other end of the cavern. He bends to plant the torches base in the crevice at its foot. The torch leans but stands on its own.

He faces you, untangling from your arm, and puts his hands on your shoulders, “I want to know what you think. Tell me. Do you like my homeland? Do you like the winter?”

Your lips part and you glance up. Your eyes wander around the space and you turn your head. You raise your hands to touch the king’s leather gloves.

“I think I do,” you answer. You can’t deny the beauty even if it is deadly. “I might think differently should I meet a bear or a wolf.”

“It is why you must stay close, treasure, I would never let a beast get anywhere near,” he avows, “I refer to all beasts. Be it man or animal. You will always have me. You needn’t be afraid.”

You lower your eyes. You can’t say the truth. He knows it but he refuses it. His is a king, he might bend even the world to his whim. You let your hands trails down his forearms. He drops his hands and takes yours.

“Will you tell me more? About when you were a boy?” You ask, hoping to forget the present a little longer. You are intrigued to think of this man as just a child. It is a rather impossible concept.

“Hm, well,” he lets go of you and moves around you. He comes behind you and presses himself to your back. He rocks you as he turns you to admire the cave, “I would come to these caves and talk to myself...” he laughs rockily, “you see, if you holler loud enough, your voice bounces back at you. Lord Vesemir, he is not always in the mind for conversation and horses can be just as finicky.”

He continues to turn you with him. Even without his cloak, his warmth seeps into you.

“And I would gather bouquets of frostwart and white willowrods for they are the closest to flowers that grow here. I would put the bunches all around, as if I was too be coronated. I was told every day I would be king and I wanted to be ready, but mostly, I’d pretend I was at tourney. I would have my practice sword and I would parry with the air. The air was not so mean as Vesemir with his jabs.”

You listen, closing your eyes, trying to see it in your head. A white-haired boy with his golden eyes and flowers and swords. Now a man who’s marched through blood and dirt. How time changes more than the seasons, it transforms all.

“What of you, maid? I want to know of you. When you were a child, did you frolic with the rabbits and the squirrels?”

You go rigid. You try to pull away but he has you caught. You lean back and exhale heavily.

“The life of a maid isn’t very interesting,” your murmur.

“You were always a maid? Even when you were young?”

“Always,” you affirm. “I emptied pots, brought Lord Dustan his boots, though at times, Lady Jazlene required a playmate...”

He’s quiet at the mention of his wife. You feel the crack in your heart. Your nose is numb and tingling.

“Yet, how did you become a maid? Before that, was there nothing?” He asks.

“Please, your highness--”

“I bid you call me by my name.”

“Geralt,” you utter, “please, I beg you, I wouldn’t speak of before.”

“Did you have parents? Siblings--”

“None of it,” you hiss and elbow away from him, throwing your arms out to keep balance. You spin and shake your head, “please. My parents are dead. Long gone. And the memories I have of them are nothing more than that. They’ve only ever been dead to me.”

He is taken aback, his face pale and cheeks tight, “treasure, forgive me, I only... I want to know everything of you--”

“You know what I am. I am a maid. That is it. That is all I can ever be. I am not a lady, not a wife, not a queen,” you clap your hands together, the impact softened by your mittens, “you cannot make me anything different, king as you may be. I will only ever serve, and you will only ever command.”

His lips part and he steps towards you, “that isn’t true.”

“It’s what must be true,” you look to your feet, “might I make a request?”

“Anything,” he says.

“Take me back to the castle,” you raise your eyes.

He nods solemnly and reaches for you, “as you wish.”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king

240 notes · View notes

fans4wga · 6 months

Text

Strike's over—what now?

[ID: SAG-AFTRA picket sign with the logo of a person with a raised fist and the text, "SAG-AFTRA ON STRIKE!" The picture was taken near the Sony building and "Sony Pictures" and "Sony Music Publishing" can be seen on a sign to the right. end ID]

On November 8, SAG-AFTRA reached a tentative deal with the AMPTP to end the strike. What can we as fans & audiences do to continue supporting the unions?

DONATE TO STRIKE FUNDS!

The devastating effects of both strikes on every entertainment worker AND those not in entertainment, but affected by the work stoppages, are going to continue to be felt for months, even years, down the line. PLEASE don't let up your financial support just because the strikes are over! Please keep boosting posts about how to support the unions! Tip: schedule the posts for a week or a month down the line so they keep circulating.

Entertainment Community Fund

Green Envelope Grocery Aid

VOCALLY SUPPORT THE UNIONS MOVING FORWARD!

WGA and SAG-AFTRA have won, but you know who still needs a deal? The Animation Guild will have negotiations next year. IATSE, aka International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, which represents technicians and craftspeople, is going to enter into negotiations next year. Teamsters (unionized drivers, including the ones essential to Hollywood sets!) are going into negotiations next year. It is essential that we show up for other unions like we showed up for WGA/SAG-AFTRA. And if you haven't yet... have YOU considered joining a union?

CORRECT MISINFORMATION AND BIASED NARRATIVES!

Lots of people—both in the immediate future and a few years down the line—are going to think they've drawn correct conclusions from the strike that are absolutely false. False ideas like WGA/SAG-AFTRA were the ones that dragged out the strikes, that it was unnecessary to put such a strain on the economy, and so on.

Prove them wrong—and cite your sources! WGA/SAG-AFTRA's Twitter updates and website articles updated during the strikes are a good resource, as are eyewitness accounts from those of us who were active participants in fandoms supporting the unions. Don't let the narrative get turned around. Unions are essential, strikes work, and it was the solidarity between varied workers and their audiences that forced the AMPTP back to the table.

#sag-aftra strike #sag strike #actors strike #wga strike #writers strike #hollywood strikes #union solidarity #current events #fans4wga

404 notes · View notes

nena-la-fresa · 3 months

Text

The Dragon and The Wolf |Part 1|

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

Part 2

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f! Stark Reader

Warning: Arranged Marriage | Steamy Themes | Angst |

Word Count: 1807

A/N: Hasn't been proof read so bear with me I'll fix it later. Aemond is also aged up to the actors age cuz that’s the age he looks.

You could overhear the whispers, the pity in their voices. The young wolf being sent off to marry a dragon.

All due to the stupidity of your house. How infuriating that they accepted an audience with Rhaenyra's son. It was most definitely seen as an act of treason to the Crown. No matter how much you pleaded with your father not to accept the meeting. You had the sight, you had seen what would happen if they had sided with her. You never disliked Rhaenyra, she was absolutely beautiful, you had always admired her since you were a child. But knowing that the safety of your family was now jeopardized you could not stay silent. But your family was permitted to stay on good terms with the Crown under the condition that you marry Prince Aemond.

The whispers of how you were kissed by visions from the gods had reached Otto. He was the reason your family was given a second chance. What better way to win wars and make sure his blood stayed on the throne than to marry his grandson to a Greenseer. The wedding would take place in a month's time. Plans had been formed to begin as soon as you had left for Kings Landing.

The road was long and no amount of sleep could calm your nerves.

“Mother please not now.”

Aemond pushes the door to his chambers, unable to close it as Alicent was close behind.

“I understand you are upset. But you know it is your duty. Your brother is sick, he’s practically on his deathbed. So your grandfather thought it was best to find you a wife in preparation.”

“The Stark girl who comes from a traitor family? How is that any good?” His voice hinted with malice.

“Because she is a great asset to our family. You know how your father always spoke of Targayens and their prophecies. How they escaped Old Valyria. This could be good for us, Aemond. We wouldn’t have to lose anyone else.” She moved forward and touched his arm as he stared into the fire. “Aemond please.”

“It’s not as if I have a choice mother.” He sighed and placed his hand on hers. No matter how frustrating a situation he could never be upset with her. “When will the wedding take place?”

“Two days after she arrives.”

Much to your dismay you had arrived at King's Landing. Your wedding was in two days time, nothing could prepare you for it. You hadn’t even seen your betrothed since the moment you got there. You had met the Queen and she had asked for your forgiveness at her sons, ‘Shyness’. You expected as much. You heard rumors, the whispers of how cold Aemond was. In fact you preferred that he didn’t see you. But contrary to what people believe you were not always within the favor of the gods.

“I know what people say of my son. And I am sorry you have to hear that. But I can assure you he is at the very least a gentleman. If my son ever does you harm please do let me know and I will do my best to correct his behavior. “

“Thank you. I very much- '' You were cut off by the sounds of the doors opening loudly combined with heavy footsteps.

“Mother, Aegon has been begging for you. Please shut hi-'' He paused as he saw you sitting there. Before you turned to him could only describe you as cold looking and distant, with a hint of poise. He thought your look was very fitting for a Northerner. And had he known his mother requested an audience with you he wouldn’t have come barging in.

“Good you're here.” Alicent got up from her seat and headed towards him. “I’ll deal with your brother. But the two of you need to converse.”

Alicent closes the door behind her, “Make sure he doesn’t leave just yet.” She tells the guard on post.

You turned away from him and focused your attention on the fire as you began to fidget with your hands. Aemond takes notice of it, and he sees the same movement his mother does when she gets nervous. Then he hears you wince, and the sight of blood can be seen on your thumb.

“Stop that.” He took three steps before he was in front of you and grabbed your hands. You had looked up at him in surprise, looking at him now you couldn’t believe the rumors you heard of him looking hideous. Your eyes softened a bit at his touch and by the look of concern he gave you. He had an ethereal beauty to him, even with the eyepatch and scar.

As he looked down at you he took notice of your eyes, doe like. And that coldness he saw was gone for the moment. He then remembered the blood on your hand, not having anything to wipe away the blood he brought your hand up to his lips and sucked the blood.

You should be weirded out. But the sensation of his tongue and lips against your finger sent a shiver down your spine that made its way to your nether regions.

“Aemond.” You whispered his name. Yet it seemed as if he didn’t hear you. You cleared your throat and spoke clearly, “I think the blood has stopped now.”

He let go of your hand “Forgive me.” In a panic he turns and heads straight for the door. As he opens the door the guards stop him.

“Forgive me Prince Aemond but your mother said not to let you leave just yet.” Aemond gave the guard a look.

“You must be joking.”

“Sorry my Prince.” The guard shut the door leaving Aemond trapped.

“Unbelievable.” Aemond made his way over to sit by the fireplace. You both sat in silence for what felt like hours. You watched him as the fire casted a shadow on one side of his face and illuminated the other.

“Are you always so quick to run away?” You playfully joked.

He turned his head quickly to you and was quick to respond, “Maybe if you had not picked at your skin I would not have run away.”

You were taken aback by his response, almost getting whiplash by his change in tone. Just a minute ago he was gentle with you. “Me? Then maybe you should not have kissed my finger.”

“You dare argue with me?” He scoffed.

“Yes and what of it.” You stood up and made your way over to him. “Are you going to have me killed?”

He laughed and stood up, he towered over you. “No.” He smirked and leaned down at eye level, “I could just do it myself.”

“And risk another war?”

“Oh please, your father begged my grandsire for forgiveness. You really think they’d go to war for a daughter?”

“You must know very well considering they call you kinslayer.”

“Hold your tongue.” He hissed and grabbed your face firmly.

“You must know what love for one’s child could make anyone do. What your sister did for her son, and what your mother did for hers.”

“Do you always speak when you’re told not to?” His voice no longer hinted with any concern he had for you earlier. You felt his breathing become heavy, and his grip tightened.

“Do I upset you?” You smirked slightly, “Were you expecting someone quiet? Someone who won’t put up a fight?”

“Like how you put up a fight when I cleaned your blood?” His face moves closer to your ear as he whispers. “You don’t think I could feel you shaking? Or hear your breathing hitch?”

“What are you doing?” You try to pull away as you feel his hot breath on your neck.

“Not much of a fight you’re putting up is it.” He kissed your neck, and sucked for just a second. Just enough to make you let out a small whimper.

“Aemond stop.” You pleaded as he kept teasing you. You felt the heat rising in your body and I’m sure that he felt it too.

His lips were moving down your neck to your collarbone. He sucked a bit harder, enough to leave a mark, you winced and pushed him away. Without even thinking you slapped him.

His face turned only slightly, it was almost as if it hadn’t even hurt him. You kept looking at him and noticed the light tint of red on his cheek. Not only that but the corner of his lip began to bleed, the sight of it had distracted you from the stinging pain coming from your palm.

You hurt him, but he kept pushing. But maybe it was your fault for teasing him. But he practically defiled you before you were even married. He went too far. Yes you were to be married but, what of this mark. What will others think? Will they think you were a whore? Will they question your virtue and think another man has touched you? Will this get your family and you killed? You hadn’t seen this, in fact you hadn’t seen anything regarding Aemond in your dreams or visions. Your thoughts ran wild and you couldn’t stand to be here anymore. It was all overwhelming. What were you doing here? How could your father be so stupid. How could he do this to you? You weren’t some common whore.

“Forgive me, my Lady. I went to fa-” Before he could even finish what he wanted you were gone. His head turned to hear the doors fling open and your scurrying footsteps. He began to run after you but ran into his mother in the corridor. Alicent had looked back at you and then at her son. She could see his tinted check and the blood.

“Aemond what did you do?” She wiped the blood off his lip.

The next two days were spent with you avoiding Aemond at all cost. You had practically locked yourself in your chambers. Thankfully Alicent had permitted it, but that didn’t help much as tomorrow was the day. The day you would be binded to him forever. The whole day was nothing but making sure that your dress still fit and that you were prepped for consummating the marriage. It has plagued your mind. Not even sleep could help with this.

The sounds of the bells had brought you out of your trance. You don’t even remember how you got up here. But here you were next to Aemond hand in hand about to be trapped.

As both your hands were tied together the man spoke, “Let it be known that Y/n of House Stark and Aemond of House Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

#xreader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond smut #x reader #hotd x reader

262 notes · View notes

drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 7 months

Text

It's not Jake.

I'm going to tackle this bit now. It will forever bother me. I think it will forever be a point of argument in the fandom until the word of god (Diab) comes down and explains it all. Even then, there will always be room for argument.

So let's argue.

Marc with Dr. Harrow. I missed it the first time I watched it. (It was on a small screen with poor sound. I should have turned on the subtitles.)

He doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't know where he is but he feels terrible and he's in a situation he's been in before.

Marc knows how to play the game. He might be bad at social situations, but Marc is stubborn and despite his self destructive tendencies, he's a survivor.

From knowing how to please his mother to keep her happy to knowing how to keep the school happy to keeping his father happy.

He also knows how to keep the doctors happy.

You can see the wheels turning as he figures out what Dr. Harrow is looking for and what the right thing to say is. You see him looking around and taking everything in the room in.

Something he learned in the military and then as a mercenary. What is around him? Know the land. Know the space. Know the tools. Know the exits. Know the enemy.

It's so subtle how his eyes move and stare. Every movement of his body is absolutely still and stiff except his eyes. Don't move. Don't draw attention. Don't give yourself away.

He talks about the talking hippo. Corrects him stubbornly. Like a child correcting a parent that gets their drawing or story wrong.

He talks briefly about Steven. He really doesn't want to discuss Steven with Dr. Harrow. Even now, he's trying to protect Steven.

Honestly, Marc is probably unsettled by how Quiet Steven is being. He can't hear him. He can't feel him. He was reaching for him before in his reflection.

Has this happened before? Are the drugs messing him up? Is this even real? You can see it in his eyes as he is trying to work out what has happened. What if it's real? What if Dr. Harrow is right and all of it was in his head?

But he knows things are off. You see him look at the cane and the sandles. He KNOWS something is wrong, but he can't place it.

And then Dr. Harrow asks about the boy.

Now Marc knows this is wrong. He would never have talked about Randall. This is the last thing he'd ever willingly bring up.

You see him instantly shut down and he's made his decision.

I've seen a LOT of arguments that this is Jake. But I don't think so. We, the audience, have not been properly introduced to Jake and his face has been purposfully hidden from us each time he does flicker in. This is not Jake. Jake is still hidden. And Jake would NOT have tolerated Dr. Harrow.

Even if Dr. Harrow was a new alter (persecutor?) created after being killed, Jake would have put him in his place. As protector and possible Gate Keeper, NONE of what's going on would have been tolerated at all. Jake is organized and patient. Jake takes charge when needed and gets the job done.

This is Marc. This is the Marc Spector that you don't see.

As I mentioned in a previous post, Marc cannot mask in the Duat. Every piece of Marc you see is pure and uncensored.

You see Marc play the game but the second Roro comes up, Marc is done.

This is the Marc that is dangerous (Mercinary, special forces, Marines, skilled beyond reason in combat) and also the Marc that is desperate. He's cornered and he will chew his own leg off to get out.

He doesn't know what's out there, but he knows that Steven is being kept away and he needs him.

So why does Marc grab the sharp pointy pyramid? Why does it look like he's trying to first stab them then stab himself?

Well, up to this point, Marc has figured out that he's been shot. He's found Steven outside of his body in a very unlikely situation, and nothing feels real.

He's also jumping scenes. From being with Dr. Harrow to being with Steven.

A part of him is scared it's real. A part of him is scared it isn't.

If it isn't real, how can he get out of it? Perhaps if he takes more damage he'll go somewhere else. Perhaps he'll go back to Steven. Perhaps he thinks it's a dream and he'll wake up next to Layla.

Look at his face. Beaten up. Broken nose. Heavy bags under his eyes. One pupil even looks larger than the other. Severe bodily trauma. (From getting shot? From getting into fights? From some form of brain damage?)

Now, speaking of Jake... I wonder how much of Teenage Marc was really Teenage Jake trying to keep them safe. I can't imagine their teen years being good at all. There's a good chance that their teenage years were utter misery and things probably escalated to terrible depths.

(Anyone else notice that three times we see Baby Marc, it's his birthday? I'm willing to bet every birthday his mother came for him viciously.)

I'm willing to bet that any previous clash he had with a mental hospital deeply involved Jake. One of them started fights and one of them played the game. Marc would get into fights, but Marc also knows how to play the game thanks to his mother. Jake would have wanted them out of there. He may have fought or he may have tried to take control to keep them safe.

So in this situation, Marc has been separated away from Steven, his emotional support and protection. He has been separated away from his physical protection and stabilizer.

And Jake DOES stabilize Marc. When Marc flies off the handle in a rage. When he has flashbacks. When he gets drunk and trashes a hotel room... Who steps in to settle things down? (JAKE'S FUCKING GLOVES WERE IN THAT HOTEL ROOM ON THE NIGHT STAND AS IF THEY HAD BEEN WORN AND TOSSED ASIDE. JAKE WAS THERE.)

So without all of Marc's safe guards, Marc is sitting there in a terrifying situation and his biggest trauma is brought up by a man that he knows he can't trust.

Look at how the episode starts. The cave. The running water. The screaming boy for help. His mother blaming him. It's all right there. Right on the edge of his mind like a bad flashback.

The last thing he wants is to be back in that cave again. Is to see his brother drowning again.

He's going to fight. If he wasn't so disabled by the drugs and injuries he would have burned the whole building to the ground if he could have.

I do have to wonder, though... Marc keeps going back to Dr. Harrow when things get too stressful there. Like a sort of time out. A time for him to try to process and make sense of things. He breaks down when Steven demands to go back to the room. Total melt down. The time out forces him to deal with it. To see it.

Even Steven goes there when he becomes overwhelmed and needs a time out to see what's really going on.

Dr. Harrow was very interested in speaking to Steven. He even mentions that it had been a long time since he had seen Steven. That Steven was the one that brought them there.

It's doubtful that Jake ever made it there. Dr. Harrow (and the real Harrow) had no idea about Jake. And Marc doesn't know about Jake, as this is Marc's processing time.

But what if Jake had made it there? What if Jake had it all figured out? What if Jake had gotten locked up on purpose?

Steven and Jake, literally compartmentalized by Marc.

Perhaps a Meta for another day.

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight Meta #Marc Spector #YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE REWATCH IS DOING TO ME #Stop using this scene as an excuse to make Jake look like the unhinged violent one #It's Marc

300 notes · View notes

bountyhunter1409 · 5 months

Text

✴kissing the bad batch— headcanons✴

author's note: please enjoy these sfw kissing headcannons featuring The Bad Batch characters!

Hunter

✴Hunter kisses you like you're made of glass. His hands are always placed on your cheeks like you're going to break the moment your lips touch.

✴He always holds you close, insistent upon shielding you from whatever happens after the two of you part.

✴Hunter would always kiss you when no one else was around. Preferably at night when the Marauder was gliding silently through space.

✴ Your closeness was never hurried, but Hunter never lingered too long for comfort, either. After all, he was a gentleman... and couldn't risk getting teased by the others.

Tech

✴Every time Tech kisses you, it's like he's conducting an experiment on how to make each kiss better than the last.

✴Every kiss you share with Tech nearly knocks you off your feet - both figuratively and literally. After all, you're struggling to balance on the tips of your toes to reach him and Tech can only bend down so much to meet you halfway.

✴Prior to your lips touching, he inspects every inch of your face. He checks your eyes for permission, steadies your face with one hand to ensure the correct trajectory of his mouth to yours, and snakes his arm around your waist to tug you closer.

Crosshair

✴You can count on one hand the amount of times you've actually kissed Crosshair— considering the fact that kissing Crosshair is like kissing a ghost.

✴A sucker for a good tease, Crosshair doesn't just kiss you for free, but rather, he makes you earn his kisses. Lemme explain.

✴Kiss fakeouts are Crosshair's go-to. When the moment is right and the two of you are alone, he'll walk right up to you and plant his face in front of yours. Just as you're closing your eyes and leaning in, he leaves you hanging with a smirk resting on his mouth.

✴A playful shove to his chest, rewards you with a chuckle as he walks away, unfazed.

✴But the rare moments when he actually kisses you occur when he feels he needs to remind you that he cares. Like when you've put yourself in danger trying to keep the others safe; or when he's in a mood.

✴He'll tilt your chin upwards and bestow a silent but quick kiss to lips and then walk away like it never happened, leaving you flustered.

Wrecker

✴Expect the theatrics when it comes to kissing Wrecker.

✴I'm talking being swept off your feet and being forced to wrap your arms around his neck because he has no intentions of letting you go.

✴At the end of every kiss your foreheads are glued together and it's like he's caught in a trance, silently begging for another.

✴You have to bring him back to reality by teasingly pushing his forehead away and squirming out of his firm hold. After all, you're not one for pda in front of the Batch.

✴Reluctantly, he let's you go and chuckles nervously before placing a loving kiss on your forehead.

✴Hours later he's at it again, catching you by surprise when there isn't an audience on the ship.

Echo

✴Echo kisses you like you're his precious little secret.

✴He always caresses your cheek before your lips touch, admiring your beauty silently, at his own pace.

✴There's always a moment of hesitancy before he kisses you, though. Mainly because he fears it'll somehow be the last. Therefore, he puts a lot of pressure on himself.

✴But you rest a hand on his cheek to assure him and it's all the motivation he needs to close the gap between you.

✴The kiss is as dramatic as it sounds in the dead of night — meaningful, light, and over before you both can process it all.

✴After the two of you part, he'll take you by the hand — and as an added bonus — squeeze it gently before kissing the back of it. It's a rare, though unforgettable token of his affection that sets your heart ablaze.

348 notes · View notes

andy-wm · 8 months

Text

I have thoughts about the Tiktok JK deleted

<<I realise its a few days ago now and you might be wondering 'what tiktok?' but I've been writing in snatches when I have a few minutes so it took a while. Anyway, here it is...>>

A few posts I've read have suggested JK did the silly>sexy Tiktok challenge backwards. That he did sexy>silly instead. That he was being random and funny.

I disagree.

What he did was unexpected, a little left of centre, and for the people who can read subtext, not random at all but very very clever.

I'll tell you why, (It may not be what you think) but first I need to vent about two things:

1. Give the man some credit. He knows what he's doing.

There are some who love JK but who see him as a naive innocent. He is not. He isn't a child or a himbo.

Saying he did the challenge just because it's trending, and he reversed the order of the content for a bit of a joke, is insulting to him as an artist. It would suggest he has no forethought or understanding of himself or his (global) audience, and his decisions are made on impulse with no idea of the consequences.

He's very intelligent and has plenty of experience with digital media and creating content. Besides being involved in producing complex visual narratives as part of BTS for the last ten years, he has directed and produced seven highly polished and professional GFC videos. And don't forget the MVs for Life Goes On. For the October issue of Vogue Korea he took on the role of Creative Director. That's a pretty big deal. So we can assume he knows what he's doing.

If he produces content in a particular way, it's because it enables him to communicate what he wants to communicate.

2. You may not understand the message. That doesn't mean there's nothing to understand.

A heads up to people who can't work it out... your inability to grasp meaning doesn't equate to 'no meaning exists'. Suggesting that people who recognise what he's doing are reaching or delusional is an insult to both the audience who can read this situation, and to Jungkook, who is sharing his message.

Consider a system of writing you can't decode. Lack of comprehension doesnt mean the writing is meaningless, it means you don't understand the language.

Even if you believe you understand what's being said, please recognise that context may play a role too, that it could reveal a richer and deeper message. Don't just assume the easiest (laziest) interpretation is correct.

(You may have guessed, someone suggested I was 'behaving like the cult' when I pointed out that JK's tiktok was more than being funny ... and now I'm mad 🤣)

Vent over. Now back to he topic at hand...

💜💛

What was he was really doing? And why is it not at all random?

Let's take a step back to recall what army has been saying about this...

Almost every interpretation i read suggests he reversed the order (silly>sexy becomes sexy>silly). The reason given is that his tiktok only makes sense if the order is reversed, and this idea is backed up by the caption saying "I go the other way".

But the 'reversed order' theory is based on a hereronormative perspective of what's sexy (and a stereotypical perspective of silly.)

So consider the content of his tiktok from a queer point of view...

For a man in a relationship with another man, the idea that he's with all those women is silly.

It's silly to believe he's got a girlfriend - or several. It's silly to think the womens' names in the song are relevant to him.

He posted this tiktok at a time when he's releasing music that fits the western pop norm of boy + girl, and when rumours of him dating several women at once are rife. The timing is not a coincidence and nor is the choice of background song for this.

All these assumptions and rumours are pretty silly, JK is telling us.

Now let's talk about the second part, the sexy part. Yes it may look silly on the surface, but we have seen him and Jimin make dorky faces at one another when they're flirting. It seems to be the visual equivalent of calling Jimin 'Jiminssssi'.

It's just another way they create distance and avoid 'getting caught'.

Maybe sexy for Jungkook actually is lying on the couch in your sweatpants making corny faces at your boyfriend.

Remember that he puts out 'stereotypical sexy' on command as part of his job so maybe that doesn't feel very sexy to him. Maybe that's work.

In my view (I know this is subject to interpretation) they've been together for years now. This is not the first flush of love. When you've been with a partner for a while, sex is (hopefully) more fun and less serious. Maybe it's about having the confidence to be wholly unselfconscious.

(My partner makes a Pepé Le Pew face at me when he's goofing. No, i don't know why either... 🤣🤷)

But wait, what about that caption?

What about 난반대로 간다?

My beautiful Korean friend (who sadly has zero interest or care about jikook) confirmed the literal translation:

"I go the other way"

"I take the opposite direction".

It's not "it goes the other way" or "this goes the opposite direction". He's referring specifically to HIMSELF.

Jungkook goes the other way.

But it's more than that according to my friend.

It's a bold statement:

"I don't follow the mainstream."

It reminds me of his tattoo ...

RATHER BE DEAD THAN COOL

He doesn't do things just because everyone else is doing them.

"I don't follow the mainstream."

OK. HOLD UP.

This is where it gets interesting.

Then why would he do something as mainstream as a trending tiktok challenge? Especially something as vapid as this challenge?

And why would he tell us DURING that Tiktok challenge that he DOESN'T follow the mainstream?

And then delete it.

Creating content takes time.

And we know he's a busy man.

He's about to release an album. He's doing live performances. He's prerecording for music shows. He's overseas right now... for the fourth time in a month! Does he have time for this??

And he DELETED it...

Did he just WASTE all that time?

No, he did not.

He deliberately chose to do this.

He did it knowing ARMY studies every action, every video, and every media release.

He did it knowing ARMY would already have copied the video before he took it off his profile.

He said on Stationhead that he knows ARMY has it, and is sharing and posting it. He's FINE with that.

So he took the time to create and upload that video. He wants it out there.

He just doesn't want it on HIS page. That's an important part of the story.

So lets go back to the caption.

"I take the opposite direction"

"I go the other way"

"I don't follow the mainstream."

*Said boldly* remember. It's a loud statement, captioning an otherwise pointless very mainstream trending challenge.

So if he's not referring to tiktok itself, or to uploading challenges, what could he be referring to?

...

There's only one thing left: Himself.

I take the opposite direction

I go the other way

I don't follow the mainstream

Essentially... I swing the other way.

There's no way a queer man would make that statement and not fully recognise the message he's sending.

As for deleting the video, I'd say he knew it was too risky to leave on his profile, being a celebrity in Korea. He's managing his brand. Deleting it also gives him plausible deniability. He can say he made an error. As I said, he's very intelligent. He knows ARMY will see it and share it. He knows that those of us with a queer eye will hear the message loud and clear.

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 And we do hear it. 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

#jeon jungguk #jikook #kookmin #국민 #jungkook

240 notes · View notes

redflagshipwriter · 25 days

Text

Halfa Cass Chapter 5

“Well, she has survived,” DamiBat said blandly. He had clearly already showered and changed into casual clothes. His robin colors were neatly laid on the usual table. He had been waiting for her. Cass shut the plane door and swooped down to give him a hug.

“You worried,” Cass cooed. She ignored his struggling to get out of her arms. “Very sweet.”

Damian hissed and tried a nerve strike. She kissed the top of his head and let him escape.

“Black Bat, report,” demanded the Batdad. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat in the silly way it got inside the cowl. Worried. Fear. Nothing can happen to my baby, not my baby.

She pranced over to give him a hug as well. He needed to touch her and know that she was real.

Only when she detached did she consider answering him. “No,” Cass said thoughtfully. “Shower.”

Batdad unhappily let her go. Cass took the time to get her thoughts into order.

She did have to say something.

She changed into comfy clothes and made her way to her computer. Damian had gone upstairs in the interim, and there was no sign of RedJason or Dickiebird. She sat and turned on the screen. Then she turned a stern glare on her family.

Batdad and Timmybird looked away sheepishly, as if they hadn't meant to stare.

Cass wrote up a factual report. Arrival time, important parts of conversation with Marvel, the area they had explored and his magical commentary. Then she got to the creepy laboratory. In the corner of her eye, she saw Timmybird tense.

Cass sighed and spun her chair to face him.

His shoulders went up guiltily. He meekly reached out and tapped a key. The secret spying of her computer screen ended. “Bad,” she said, because someone had to teach him manners. “Don't look at my screen.”

Tim hunched over a little more. Sorry. Sorry. (Will do it again.)

Cass let out a heavy sigh and finished her report. She paused over her word choice a few times.

“You entered an unknown machine, it powered on, and you received an electric shock?” Bruceman Batdad summarized before she had sent him the report.

Cass threw her hands up in disgust. “Stop spying!” She told him. “Stop it!”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry honey.” He was sorry. He'd do it again, too.

Ugh.

UGH.

“Yes,” black bat confirmed tersely.

“No lingering symptoms from the shock?” Bruceman Batdad came closer. Hovered. Flap flap, worried bat. “We should do a full check.”

Cass hissed at him, fed up.

“Master Bruce is correct,” said Alfie. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at her. Little Miss, listen now. Caution is the virtue.

She waited until he wasn't looking to roll her eyes.

There was no sensible reason to escape. She sulked through the examination.

“Heart rate is normal,” Alfie narrated for their audience. Cass narrowed her eyes. See? See what you've done? Wasted her time, is what you've done.

“No pain?” Alfie poked and confirmed. Again and again. No, pain, no pain? Always no pain. “Well then,” he sounded very pleased. She blinked to full attention. “You must have done a very good job taking care of that rib, Miss Cassandra. I must admit I anticipated that there would still be soreness.”

Cass was very still. Then she nodded.

Uh.

Um.

She thought about cartwheels. She thought about vaulting down a flight of stairs.

Hm.

…Probably her rib should not be totally healed.

She weighed internally whether this was troubling to her. On the one hand, it seemed very odd. There was pain a few hours ago. Why no pain now? Pain usually left while she slept, not after flying a plane. Could healing be a side effect of magic girl transformation? Big, if true. Should probably tell her adults.

On the other hand, no pain was objectively an improvement.

Cass decided to say nothing. Maybe Captain Marvel would have a theory.

Speaking of. When she got back to her room, she sent him a text message.

🪄 🧙🏻📞?

The answer came near instantly.

Not yet! 😭 💔 She isn't answering me. Should I contact Constantine, you think?

Huh. Fast response, very good. Cass sent

😬

But

🕵🏽‍♂️ 🤙🏽 🟰 👌🏽

Lol, wrote Captain Marvel. I know what u mean.

Cass smacked her lips in the quiet of her room. He probably did. But he oughtn't. Old people had a hard time with her communication style.

Idly, she lined up a theory.

Captain Marvel had a magical girl transformation. Captain Marvel seemed too young for his body to her.

Ergo:

He was baby.

Cass, all of 17, wasn't that pressed about it. Bats and birds usually started flying and fighting as babies. Damian was still extremely baby. But. Hmm.

Birds weren't in the Justice League. That was the difference: he had to hide it from Batdad, Superguy, and Wonder.

Oh. Cass put a hand on her heart and frowned. In her dark room there was no one to see it aching in sympathy.

Baby Captain was… was a little too baby, emotionally, for the Justice League.

Well. It was decided, then. The next day at breakfast she announced, “Bruce. New rule.”

Heads swiveled to look at her.

“We are entitled to make rules for Father?” Damian asked Alfred, sotto voice. He looked intrigued. Alfie made a face that indicated his answer would depend on what rule Cass made.

Bruce lifted an eyebrow at her in prompt.

“Stop bullying my Marvel,” she commanded. “He’s-”

She hesitated and edited out the word “baby”.

“sensitive to hostility,” she settled on.

Bruce got a consternated look. “Sweetheart,” he began.

“Yes,” Alfred said to Damian, voice extremely soft. “Upon occasion.”

“Play nice,” Cass said firmly. No arguments. She took a pointed bite out of her toast. No more need for words. Eat now.

Tim giggled. When Bruce looked at him he lifted his fork in front of his face, as if the slice of pancake was enough to hide that he was laughing at the pater familias.

“If he said that I'm bullying him,” Batdad started, sounding harassed, “then there must have been some misunderstanding. I've never intended-”

“No misunderstanding,” Cass denied. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I see. I see his body get small when you use the stern Batdad bigman voice.”

Bruce grumbled into his hand and turned his face away, defeated. Resentment. Insecurity. Do I really do that?

“Yes, Father,” chimed Damian, who loved to kick the defeated. “Surely this fool quakes at the barest hint of your displeasure. But should he not?”

Alfred huffed a subtle little laugh at the manipulation. He squeezed Damian's shoulder.

Bruce, thinking that Damian approved of his coworkers fearing the Bat, looked even more constipated. Resignation. “I will be careful with my tone around him,” BatDad settled. Sullen. Embarrassed. Resigned.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Cass said cheerfully. She squeezed her eyes when she smiled at him, because she was also baby. He melted, vanilla ice cream in July.

Damian made a solemn nod of respect out of Bruce's line of sight. She winked back her thanks for the assistance.

Marvel got back to her not long after. Cass took the call outside, so that Bats could not flap nearby without her noticing.

“Black Bat!’ he said, excited. “I got Constantine!”

She blinked at her phone. “...In a trap?”

“What? No,” he dismissed. “I know where he's going to be this afternoon. Can you come meet me?”

Cass looked back at the house. “...Yes,” she decided. She was off the patrol roster tonight anyway. “Where are we going?”

“Uhh….” Marvel's voice trailed off for a bit as he clearly consulted his note or phone or something. “I'll send you the address.”

#dp x dc #dc x dp #red halfa cass #billy batson #cassandra cain

97 notes · View notes

roadkillremi · 1 year

Text

Randy Meeks x Ghostface!Fem!Reader and TOXIC!Poly!Ghostface x Ghostface!Fem!Reader

Part 1. Part 2. MasterList (4 on MasterList)

Warning : Language, Mentions Killing, Mentions Death, Mentions Sex, Under Age drinking. Toxic relationship (If I missed anything let me know please!)

I do NOT support killing and toxic relationships. if you or a loved one is in one please seek help ASAP!

Summary : Being childhood friends with Billy Loomis wasn't always easy. As you got older he demanded revenge and that you helped him. (He may have manipulated you along the way). After helping kill Sydney's mother you refused to help anymore. Billy and Stu forced you to stay due to blackmail causing you to be in a toxic secret relationship.

Randy held your hand as you walked outside. Billy was standing by Stu glaring at anyone who looked at him wrong. Tatum and Sydney were still by their lockers waiting for Billy to leave.

"Hey!" Stu called out, Randy jumped back bit.

"What the hell do those two want?" Randy mumbled. You shrugged, "No fucking clue.".

Stu ran up to you two, "Hey, heard you two finally did it!". He laughed, "Didn't think Randy boy could pull it off!". You rolled your eyes, "Randy let's go..".

"Remember my place! Around 7!" Stu called out as you two walked away. Randy tossed his keys in his hand.

"Gonna go to work with me?" He asked as he unlocked the car.

"Yeah, Safer in numbers remember?" You slid into the passenger seat. You watched everyone disperse, Randy's sister walked with one of her friends. Sydney and Tatum were talking to Stu, probably about tonight. Billy disappeared, you looked at Randy as he drove out the parking space.

"What movie are we watching tonight?"

"I'm thinking.. Halloween" he smiled. You groaned, "You only watch it for the tits!".

"That's not the only reason why! Besides it's the perfect movie for tonight! With the stalker killer on the loose!"

You looked at him in disbelief, "Why not Prom night?". He took a deep breath, "because you made me watch it 100 times-"

"18 times" you corrected.

"Jamie Lee Curtis is in Halloween!" He defended.

"She's in Prom Night!"

You sunk into your chair, "But I wanna watch Prom Night.". He chuckled at you're posture, you were like a toddler having a melt down. Curled up and pouty, but you only did it cause it was his weakness. He sighed, "Fine, after the party.".

"Yes!" You sat up normally as he parked the car. You walked inside with Randy, the place was packed.

"Go make that money, honey" you kissed his cheek before looking through the movies. Randy smiled putting his name tage on. Once you found Halloween and Prom Night you went to the counter.

"this all?" Randys co-worker asked blandly.

"Yeah."

He sighed scanning them, you waited patiently glancing around the store. Billy and Stu made eye contact with you. You quickly looked away paying for the rentals walking over to Randy.

"I got the movies, can I put them in your car?" You ask putting your head on his shoulder from behind.

"Yeah, here" he reached in his pocket pulling out his keys.

"Then why'd the cops release him, Smart guy?"

"The police are always off track with this shit! If they'd watch Prom Night, they'd save time! There's a formula to it! A very simple formula! Everyone's a suspect!... But Billy.. there's something off about him." Randy started to speak lowly, you turned around starting to walk away.

"You're telling me you think it's Billy?" Stu said pretty loudly. You froze and watched the conversation.

"Well.."

"Why would he kill his girlfriend?!" Stu interrupted

"There's always some bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend. That's the beauty of it all, Simplicity! Besides if it gets to complicated you lose your target audience."

"Excuse me?"

Randy whipped around to look at you, "Not that I would kill you."

"Uh-huh. Imma go out these in the car now." You walked away hearing Stu laughing.

You placed the movies in the car quickly to not be alone to long. You noticed Stu and Randy having a heated conversation. You tried to walk over before Billy grabbed your arm.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"I'm sorry for pulling your arm earlier.." you looked at your arm. There was soft discolor but nothing serious.

"It's whatever. Billy.."

"Hm?"

"I don't wanna kill anyone.." you said softly. He looked around the store, "you won't have to, just sit there and be quiet." He gently touched your cheek before you swept it away. You went over to Randy and Stu, Billy following close behind you.

"Billy, Randy here thinks you're the killer." Stu smiled. You grabbed Randy's forearm trying to take him away. Stu gently pushed you aside, Billy stepped closer to him.

"If you were the only suspect in a senseless bloodbath - would you be in the horror section?" Randy tried to save himself.

"A lot of people like horror. Anyone could be the suspect" Billy stepped even closer.

"You're right, Billy! Anyone could be the suspect! Hell, I should be a number rone suspect!" You rolled your eyes grabbing Randy's arm pulling him away.

"Randy don't let them get in your head." He grabbed another pile of movies to restock.

"I'm not. It's just Fuckface and his guard dog."

You leaned against the shelf he was restocking, "we don't have to go.". He glanced at you, "I know you mentioned that a few hundred times."

You rolled your eyes fighting the urge to correct him. You sighed, "They're dipshits.". He stood Infront of you, "Yeah but I have something they don't."

"Yeah?" You smiled. He grabbed your hips giving you a kiss.

"You." He smiled going back to restocking shelves.

You could feel Billy and Stu's eyes piercing you. You sighed, if only that was the truth.

You and Randy arrived at Stus house a bit early. Stu greeted you both by wrapping his arms around your neck.

"Make yourselves at home! The party's gonna be wicked!" Stu went into the kitchen. Randy flopped on the couch placing the movies on the coffee table. You stood behind the couch gently messing with his hair.

"Can you get me a beer please?" Randy looked up to see you.

"Yeah, gonna start the movie?" You put your head beside his. He kissed your cheek, "Yeah.". You smiled and gave him a small kiss before heading to the garage.

Stu was restock beers in the fridge, he looked towards the door smiling at you. You headed towards the fridge, "Randy wanted a beer..". You took one, Stu lightly placed his hands in his on your hip. You stepped back, "I've missed you.." he whispered.

"I haven't missed you." You turned around to walk back upstairs. Stu grabbed your hips, "Come on..".

"No, Stu. I don't wanna kill people!" You whispered loudly. Stu held your hips tighter you struggle against him.

"Please." He sounded whiny yet demanding. You glared at him, "I want nothing to with you. I am happy with Randy.". Stus grip loosened, "Is it true?".

"What true?"

"You two finally had sex."

"Yes."

Stu raised his eyebrow, "and you enjoyed it?!". You rolled your eyes, "Yes!". Stu smiled, "Yeah right. Lemme show you how a real man does it.". A wide smile was plastered on his face as he whispered. You pushed him back, "No.".

"What are you gonna do when they're all dead and it's just the three of us? Won't have Randy around.."

"I would rather die." You pushed him back further walking up the stairs. Some other kids from school arrived, you handed Randy the bottle.

"Thanks, baby" You smiled at him sinking down on the couch next to him. Halloween already started and he was the only one invested in it. You leaned against him, he kissed your forehead before going back to watch the movie. It got louder as more people began to show up. Thankfully Randy made you watch it so much you knew the words.

"Randy?"

"Yes?"

You sat up to get a good look at him, "I'm gonna get some popcorn, save my seat?".

"Of course."

You fought your way through the kitchen, you got popcorn out of the pantry and put it in the microwave.

"Really know your place around?"

You looked behind you, it was some guy in your math class. He was what Randy called the 'Stone Head comedic relief'. You nodded, "Yeah, me and Stu known each other for a while.". The guy nodded downing his beer. You sighed getting the popcorn bowl, "How come I never see you around much?".

"Uh, I'm usually with Randy, the movie nerd.". You waited for the microwave to ding, you tapped your nail on the counter. You were hoping the guy would move on and try to talk to someone else. But he was standing there, "how about we leave this party?". The microwave finally finished you took out the bag and poured it in the bowl.

"I'm pretty sure my boyfriend won't appreciate that." You grabbed the bowl and started walked away. The living room was more crowded, Randy was chatting it up with some girl from his science class. He's mentioned her, he told you how she sometimes says things that are too bold. She gently slipped her fingers across his forehead as to wipe something. He moved back a bit at the suddenness. You marched over placing popcorn on the coffee table. Randy looked at you and shrugged signaling the girls presents. You plopped down in Randy's lap, due to not having a proper seat.

"Hey, do you need a beer? Seem tense." Randy mumbled.

"No, I'm good.." you tried to relax in his lap. His arms tightened around your waist. His head leaned against your arm to watch the movie. Stu would sometimes pass by watching you. When he did for the 5th time you grabbed the back of Randy's neck kissing him. Randy gave in melting against you softly moaning when you tugged him.

"Sorry was that too much?"

"No, it was perfect." Randy smiled giving you another kiss. Sydney and Tatum showed up, you waved at them from the couch. Billy stumbled in not too long after them, going upstairs with Sydney. Your heart dropped into your stomach. Tatum was gone and Stu was doing god knows what. Nothing seemed strange until Curfew. Some people left a couple stayed, Tatum seemed to still be gone. You worried and looked at Stu for a sign, he just smiled.

Tatum is gone.

You stood up, "Imma go to the bathroom." You gave Randy a small kiss before leaving. You locked yourself in the bathroom holding back tears but a couple leaked through.

You did this

She didn't deserve to die

She was nothing but nice to you

You took shaky breathes looking down at the sink. You wiped your tears trying to contain it all. You needed to backlash their plan.

Sydney's dad.

He's in the closet.

When Randy's too drunk and Stu pretends to kill Billy you'll let him out and send him to get help. You can call Dewey, he came in earlier.

A Weapon. You need a knife for protection, you can hide one under the couch. You took a deep breath walking back to the living room. Randy reclined on the arm rest, he smiled when he saw you. He patted his thigh signalling you to sit. You sat in-between his legs and leaned back.

"Everything okay?"

You attempted to relax in his arms, "Yeah, I'm great.".

#horror #scream #billy loomis #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #billy loomis x y/n #billy loomis x you #stu macher #sydney #sydney prescott #scream fanfic #scream fandom #scream x reader #scream x you #ghostface!reader #ghostface #randy scream #randy meeks x reader #randy meeks #poly!ghostface x reader

254 notes · View notes

awesamcozy · 8 months

Note

(please don’t block me)

dream’s narrative would not work if he was an omega. if we’re keeping gaming spaces the same, there’s no way he would’ve made it if he was an omega. it would’ve been near impossible for him to reach 10 mil at all in three years if he was, let alone 30 mil in three. now, this isn’t to say that omegas can’t be successful like that but let’s think logically: he most likely wouldn’t have made it. in a hyper-masculine, tough guy, traditionally bigoted space, alphas are going to be the most successful. it. wouldn’t. have. happened.

branching off of that, if we’re also keeping his background (which he has talked about) the same, think about how differently he would’ve turned out if he was an omega growing up in a conservative, red area house hold vs an alpha growing up in a conservative, red area household. there’s no harm in saying that in a/b/o, alphas and omegas with the same background like that would grow up differently.

personality: dream is hotheaded, can be arrogant, outspoken, and in the past, has been known to double down on things. this is not a criticism of his traits but this is relevant to this conversation. he would be none of those things as an omega, or more likely, he wouldn’t be allowed to be any of those things if he was an omega. he’s changed a lot and has gone through some serious growth but definitely in the beginning of his career, these traits were apparent. this was (for the most part) acceptable because of the patriarchy; he can be masculine and assertive and brash because it’s typical of him. the people who were actively campaigning against this behavior were correct but they weren’t the main gaming audience. because the main gaming audience would have been okay with that. if he was an alpha.

but, dream is also extremely caring, kind-hearted, loving, and very genuine. he would do anything for the people he cares about. and he loves taking care of them. he’s a natural leader. people are drawn to him because he has a safe aura and makes people feel comfortable around him. these are pack-leader traits. alphas can be all of these things and good ones are. he’s not an omega just because he’s nice or he’s soft.

why is it so meaningful that dream has makeup? why do people see it as abnormal for him to do skincare or use bathbombs? why is he made fun of for doing things that are traditionally “feminine” or make him seem “gay” (which is a whole other story)? simple: it’s not expected of a man in a (ready for it?) hyper-masculine gaming space where people are expected to shy away from anything like that. let’s be honest: if he was an omega, it wouldn’t mean shit for him to do any of this. nobody would bat an eye at an omega owning makeup or taking baths or being outwardly affectionate or not being afraid to do things that are stereotypically feminine. but it’s different if an alpha does it, because they’re showing that this stuff isn’t just for omegas. the fact that knowing dream’s past, he’s willing to be himself publicly like this shows a huge amount of growth that most likely wouldn’t have happened if he was an omega. it’s not pushing boundaries if it’s acceptable and expected.

in conclusion: there isn’t anything wrong with dream being an alpha. it doesn’t mean he’s boring, or that people who think this are boring, it just makes more sense. in the same way that the irl face reveal humanized him because it made him seem softer, the a/b/o face reveal would do the same thing. dream is an alpha because he’s a good person and a loyal friend and has an overwhelming urge to care for the people around him, not despite it. it’s revolutionary for an alpha unafraid to be themself in a male-dominated space because it’s challenging the nature of that space from the inside out.

YOU ARE SERIOUSLT FUCKING EVERYTHING TO ME ITS ALL PUT SO SUCCINCTLY BITCH YOU SLAYED!

#nobkdy take this too seriously please god its all lighthearted fun #FAV EVER

48 notes · View notes

jpitha · 11 months

Text

Some Good old-fashioned Shitposting

One of the main problems with posting to /r/hfy for me - beyond the mechanics of it being bad - was that they were very serious about sticking to story posts. Very little Meta, very little OOC, no posting about other sites, that kind of stuff. Posts like that were usually removed quickly.

I still wanted to reach my readers there and since my messages stating that I was leaving and giving the reasons why kept getting deleted I decided to... live within the rules, and posted this. It starts as JaLF 26 (the first time skip one) but from there goes off the rails...

It's been half a year, but I can't believe we're already on our third ship! High Line took two months instead of the one that Omar first promised, but that was because he and his crew were getting use to the process and how best to refurbish the ships. Then after that I made the decision to refurbish the food tugs, but those were (relatively) easy. New thrusters, some strengthening of the cargo containers and a few brand new ones and that was it. Once that was finished the food deliveries increased over 30%!

You would not believe how much cheaper, more abundant food improves one's legitimacy. As soon as that was finished and the food rolled in, almost all of the last grumblings about me coming in and "declaring" myself Empress died down.

Only a couple of weeks after the food deliveries had picked back up, I was on my Throne reading reports when Ava walked in and connected to her chair behind me on the Throne.

"Melody! You would not believe what I just heard." Ava sounded a little worried. I'm sure whatever was bothering her wouldn't be that big of a deal for us to take care of.

"I'm sure we can figure it out, Ava. I was just reading these reports about the increased food deliveries. I can't believe how easy it was to get everything straightened out; it was nice to have an easy win."

"No, this is way more important than that. Please hear me out. Let's talk in person." Now I was worried. Ava doesn't usually look this worried about things.

This was important. I disconnected, and gave Ava my full attention. "What is it Ava? How can I help?"

"The author isn't posting to Reddit anymore!" Ava was practically wailing.

"What? Why not? I thought the Author was trying to build an audience to look more attractive to potential publishers?"

Ava nods quickly. "That's just it, he was, but he's having such a hard time posting on Reddit that it's just not worth it to him. He has a much larger following on Tumblr, and would prefer that any of his readers on Reddit seek him out there." Ava raised her eyebrows. "Did you know he's finished this story over there and has started a new one?"

I gasped. A new story? "But that means that our story is done? What happens to us? Are we doing all right?"

Ava shrugged. "He just said 'no spoilers' and winked. Readers will have to go there themselves and check it out."

I sat up straighter in my seat, fully disconnected from the Throne now. This required speaking in person. "Was it the community? Did they give him a hard time?"

Ava threw up her hands in defeat. "That's just it. The community was so nice and welcoming! The rules about posting were a little Byzantine, but the Author did his best to post within them, but the poor UI and untenable bugs means that the Author spent more time correcting and copy editing posts than he did writing some of the entries. He told me he didn't have 'the spoons' to complete the story."

I sat back in my Throne, surprised. The Author was so excited about building his audience and introducing more people to his work, and through their excitement, improve his craft. "I wonder what he's going to do now?"

"I heard he's going to keep posting, but on Tumblr. He also said any of his fans are welcome to join him there. If they don't want to get an account, they can read his posts as they are public facing. I'm told that making an account and following will boost his follower count and look good to any potential publishers but it's not required."

I stood. It really was too bad, but who are we to go against the wishes of the Author. "Oh well Ava. It's sad to hear, but there isn't much we can do about it. Come on, it's almost dinner. Let's go find the others and eat."

Ava stood too and gave me a hug. "Oh Melody. Thanks. I feel better after talking it out.

"I'm glad." Together, we left the Throne, and walked out into the bustling evening on the Reach.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #writing #humans are space capybaras #scifi writing #humans and aliens #just a little further #the k’laxiverse #jpitha

60 notes · View notes

psalacanthea · 7 months

Text

this is for everyone but mostly @tadpole-apocalypse who is of the very correct opinion that Astarion's sibling Petras is in dire need of bullying. I happen to agree, so I took a small break to write something in post-game. :P (is spoilery for my current fic but not hugely)

...

Astarion couldn’t be back soon enough.

People were trying to get Zynatheri to decide things, and utilize her power and parcel out judgments, and she just didn’t want to! The way she’d explained it to Astarion was most sensible. They were making a society of vampires. The politics were going to be corrupt! Why not start the corruption from the top, where it belonged? She’d much rather be his puppet than do work.

And now Petras had showed up, knowing Astarion was gone, and demanded an audience.

She’d already been in the bath, of course, which meant she’d had to heave herself out, throw on some slippers and her robe, and storm down to the meeting room. And then on top of that inconvenience, the part of the palace they did have access to was massive! Enormous ebon corridors where every step echoed, gigantic frescoes of her horrible ancestors and their horrible spider goddess, every surface slick and shiny obsidian. Even the smallest light penetrated far here.

Echoes, too, which she rather thought was the point– every single sound carried.

Dwarfed by the architecture, a clammy bite to the air making her skin prickle, Zyn passed through the hall and into a freshly emptied chamber. The last of the crumbled stone had been moved, the bowed-in stone wall on the left side propped up and tidied up as best as they could. It still looked…rough, but they had seven– six now– thousand vampires to look after. Cosmetics were still a far distant concern.

Before they could try to hire stonemasons or wizards, they had to ensure said professionals wouldn’t be eaten the moment they stepped into the city.

It was rather touch and go.

Passing by a low torch, Zyn clutched at her robe, annoyance turning into frustration and amusement as she mulled over the irritating arrival. Of course. The instant he found out Astarion had left on an expedition to scout further into the city, Petras came to poke at her. After all, she was a surefire way to draw Astarion’s attention.

And Petras very much did want Astarion’s attention, like any annoying little brother.

Not that she knew much about siblings.

In the antechamber outside of the meeting room, a huge vaulted space of ebon columns and recessed ornate sconces of blackened iron, Zyn paused. She tucked her fingers into the component pouch at her belt, searching within until she found her sending wire. Untangling it from the mess, she lifted it to her lips and hummed softly into it until it vibrated in her palm.

Closing her eyes, she sent her voice to her beloved. “Petras has come to try something. Little schemer. I’m going to offend him terribly, so please be prepared. I love you, dearest, so be careful.”

While she waited for a response, she tucked her wire back away.

Astarion’s voice reached her mind within a few moments. “And I love you. If he dies, he dies, but do try to keep him alive? We need him to do the work we won’t.”

He’d managed to just hit twenty five that time! Oh, excellently done. His rhythm and pitch might be horrid at best, but her darling could handle a bit of wordplay.

Steeling herself with that slightest snatch of Astarion’s voice to comfort her, Zynatheri began to do something she had to do so rarely now. She was going to play a part. Glad she hadn’t gotten dressed, she loosened the neck of her dark green, velvet-trimmed robe, letting it slide off of her shoulder, lazy and careless. She tugged out the comb in her hair, letting it untwist, uncoil down to her ankles. The delicate golden comb went behind her ear, contrasting the silver of her swaying hair.

Lazy, idle, uncaring- decorative.

An easy enough ruse.

With the embroidered silk of her robe sliding up her arms, she reached up and pushed open the doors. Normally they were left open because they were so bloody big. Petras must have closed them behind himself, for some petty purpo–

“Forgive me, sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

The doors were pulled away from her hands, her weight shifting dangerously, and although she knew it would likely aid in making a complete ass of Petras, she still couldn’t bring herself to fall into his arms. Yuck. Avoiding his hands, she caught herself and stepped back, staring at him through the now-open doors.

Gods.

She looked at him critically for just a moment– hair unfortunately similar to Astarion’s again, despite the fact that he didn’t have the curls for it. He was wearing his nicer set of clothes, which should have been respectful, but wasn’t. All it meant to her was that he really was trying something.

“Yes, that’s clear,” she said sardonically. His strength was severely lacking in areas other than physical. A complete lack of charm, for one.

And he wanted to be Astarion?

The very idea was laughable.

Petras stepped back politely from the doors. “I’m sorry, I should have reassured you. There was no reason to hurry.”

Why was he being nice?

Ew.

“I didn’t,” she replied, swanning past him and heading for the far end of the table, where her and Astarion’s seats overlooked the rest.

“So you intended to meet me in…wearing that?”

Hells, she wanted to put a hole in him. Or some lightning. “I wear what I like in my home. Please leave your notions of ‘society’ behind. That world rejected you.” She turned at the head of the table with a flare of her robe, hair annoyingly clinging and twisting.

Gods, right, this was why she kept her hair up or shorter. Ugh. It was so heavy. “I would rather speak of a new world. One that we create.” She sank into her chair, gesturing for him to take his.

Much further down the table.

But instead, in some sort of power play, he walked up the line of chairs, running his doughy hand along each one. Zynatheri tried not to be judgemental, but she was a bit of a snob when it came to hands. His fingers were short, and not tapered elegantly. They were repulsive in a way she hadn’t known she’d felt until they were attached to the man himself.

Now every time she saw someone with similar digits she would have no choice but to be disgusted.

“You cut your hair again. I thought you’d been so determined to grow your hair out, now that you’re a ‘full vampire’ at last,” Zyn said, refusing to be cowed when he leaned on top of Dal’s chair and stared down at her. Sometimes it was difficult being the lone mortal.

“You can’t still be holding a grudge over that,” he said, annoyance touching his face. He even leaned back a little, his body language betraying his attempt to manipulate her by seeming friendly. Well, more than friendly. "I didn't mean to kill them."

"But you did."

Here she’d thought he was coming to whine and threaten, but instead he was attempting seduction. As much as these siblings of her lover infuriated her, she felt a deep and profound sympathy for them all. They had all been harmed in the same ways, and had some of the same behaviors, and she could not help but give them grace. Which was Astarion’s fault. He was the one who had softened her heart to his past suffering, after all.

Was it any wonder that concern now extended to his siblings?

It was a strange sensation, the simultaneous desire to protect and care for them, mixed with the constant desire to cause them harm– bully them– both mentally and physically. Was that what they called…siblings? If so, a great many things she had read and witnessed in her life suddenly made much more sense.

All of that to say, she was worried that if Petras was trying to seduce her, there was something very wrong with him. That was dangerous. The family, co-ruler, victim and tormenter both dynamic they all had was precarious, volatile. If it collapsed, so would their delicate, tenuous grasp on the spawn in the city.

That might mean death for them all.

“Whatever you need, if it’s reasonable, I won’t block you– in fact, I’ll help you. There’s no need for this,” Zyn said firmly, hoping that was all it was. Maneuvering, and not…lust or a desire for her blood. If it was bloodlust she could just smack him silly and not feel guilty. "I have no desire to pretend we're friendly."

A well-placed bit of vicious mockery and she’d have him sobbing.

In response, he leaned towards her, Zyn holding her ground with annoyance as he came closer. When his hand darted out, grabbing her by the neck, she only felt relief. Oh, good. He’d come to do something stupid.

Petras glared down his nose at her. “Listen here, cattle. You’re going to watch your tone and do what I say, or I’ll snap this pretty neck of yours.”

Coming from Astarion that would have been attractive and threatening; Petras just managed sullen and bossy. Hardly impressive. Plus, the cattle thing, which was stunningly unattractive. She stared at him flatly, eyes half-lidded, lips pursing into a line. His hand tightened, fingers pressing into the sides of her neck.

Ugh, no, if she didn’t retaliate he’d ruin choking for her with those shapeless, ugly hands of his.

Rather than say something snide, she gathered her rising anger and breath while she still could, and screamed directly in his face. The thuderwave hit him full-force, and Petras went arse over teakettle, hand ripped from her throat as he slammed into the heavy stone chair and then went tumbling to the black tile, landing heavily on his back and skidding.

“That’s it?!” she demanded, voice fighting with the echoes of her scream. Zynatheri shot to her feet and stomped after him, eyes blazing with fury. “All of this just to do your best Cazador impression and attack me? You pissing malcontent! You whey-blooded simpleton! Astarion isn’t stupid and your plan isn’t clever. He’d uncover what you've done, and then you'll be dead!”

Petras pulled himself up to his elbows abruptly, hair just cut back into his old mimicry of Astarion’s falling into his face, making him look all the more stupid. “I am fully capable of hiding a body!” he retorted, vibrating with pure offense.

Her own fury rose in tandem. How dare he think for even a moment he’d be capable of killing her?! “Even if you failed your way into success, he would never stop until he found out what had happened to me,” Zynatheri retorted, stepping in and kicking him back down to the floor, her hands balled up in her robe. He started to struggle back up but she stepped in, planting her foot and shifting all her weight onto it.

She ground her heel into his chest.

“You will listen to me. Astarion’s survival is all that matters to me, and you being content enough not to do anything foolish is important to me because of that.”

His scarlet eyes blazed, lips pulled into a sour, furious grimace.

“All of us are better off because you are alive, so stop trying to die,” she said, dragging her foot across his chest as she pulled back, heel pressing the whole way. Dropping her robe, she smoothed her hands down her soft hips, glaring down at Petras. “But never forget– you are beneath me.” She smiled, slow and mocking, their eyes holding with a vibrant intensity. “So stay beneath me, or I might notice you when I’m feeling less…altruistic. Your oafish presence offends me.”

His fingers clenched into fists. “How dare you. Let go of me!”

“Let go of you? You are entirely free to go,” she said, gesturing with one hand. “Have you forgotten where the door is, I wonder? What a very poor memory you have, Petras. You attacked me. Don’t play the victim.”

Why the Hells was he still lying on the floor? She wasn’t even that strong, she couldn’t have kicked him hard enough to do any damage. What a dramatic little twit.

Well, if he wasn’t going to leave first–

It was petty to step on his shoulder on her way past him, but she did it anyway. A test, perhaps, to see if he would retaliate, but that was just an excuse. The little arse had annoyed her.

He made a small sound in the back of her throat as she ground her weight into his shoulder, but that was all she heard apart from the soft echo of her own footsteps. When she glanced back at the exit to the meeting room, he had pulled up to sit and was staring at her, rage barely contained. She smiled, sweetly.

“Next time your humiliation will be public.”

Oddly, he didn’t snap back immediately, but the intensity of his stare grew all the more intense and venomous. Perhaps he was learning some self-control. When he spoke at last, it was mocking. “I can wait. Sooner or later, Astarion will tire of playing with his food and you’ll be just as dead.”

Was he trying to get her to smack him around more? Ugh. As if she was going to rise to such poorly crafted bait.

“See yourself out, little brother!” she sang mockingly, spinning dramatically and swanning through the doors.

It was an excellent exit despite the insults he was shouting after her, which she was quite smug about. Zynatheri shuffled through the antechamber, yanking her hair over her shoulder so it would stop twisting around her ankles. Very good, very dramatic, hair like this, but she’d forgotten what a nuisance it was. Well, Zyn might as well go chop it off.

Part of her did regret not teaching the brat more of a lesson, but– wait.

Had he been trying to get her to slap him around a bit more? Was that all on purpose? If so, that meant…oh dear.

Malice and misfortune, of course it was.

Zynatheri knew it was a waste of what power her poor body could handle channeling in a day, but Astarion was gone and she needed someone to share this with. Without him, what was the point in anything? If she couldn’t speak with him, why speak at all?

In her haste, mirth bubbling like a spring, mixed with the delight of sheer horror, Zyn Sent to her beloved without counting the words. “Darling, oh my beloved viper! My sanguine heart. Come home, I’m suffering. I may have just accidentally fed one of your brother’s fetishes. Sorry–”

Her fingers clutched around the tangle of wire in annoyance as she was cut off, lips pursing.

“Well,” Astarion responded in her mind, highly amused, “I suppose curiosity killed my little fox, didn’t it? Poor darling. I’ll be home before you know it.”

Pouting to herself, she went skulking back to her bath to scrub the feel of his hand from her skin. All she could do was hope she was wrong, and hope it never happened again. Zynatheri had a small, sneaking suspicion that this was far from over, however. Gods and archdevils, she wanted to kick the little pissant around some more.

But if he liked it...

Ugh, having siblings was complicated.

#bg3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #Astarion x Tav #Tav: Zynatheri Rivati #Pale Petras

28 notes · View notes

vs120shound · 2 months

Text

Artificial Intelligence perhaps! She looks so real . . . and so hot! Would love to meet her! In the end, your interpretation of her authenticity is what will matter. Either way, this is a delightful image of a smoker!

PHOTO OF THE DAY FOR MARCH 27, 2024

★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ | Four-and-a-Half "Stars"

From lostlighter23 archives | ★★★★★ (B)

Dual-Media Solo-Post, 11-Pack Megapost!

IS SHE FOR REAL OR A CONJURED- UP IMAGE FROM ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE (AI)?

Lovely gal if, in fact, she is a Gal or . . . a Broad, a Dame, Babe, Bimbo, Biddy, Chick, Dish, Doll, Dolly, Filly, Floozie, Girlie, Kitten, Knockout, Looker, Mama, Number, Skirt or Tomato! She is real flesh and blood, or she's someone's computer-generated image concoction. Hard to tell. Photo/image reached all 13 of us who run the show at the ole VS120s Hound SF-Content Shop. By 8-5 we said it was a depicition or rendering, the work of Artificial Intelligence. Entering the vote, SF Deity said it'd have to be unanimous against her being real for us as a group to put the kibash on this candidacy of the picture for The Photo of The Day. If we were unsure, we'd go with it. Had to have been 13-0 against! And it wasn't.

… well, for as far as the 20 terms/nicknames/slugs for women back in the 1930s what we just whipped out, we recognized that some of you as part of our audience would be offended by their inclusion. Those were all colloquial slang terms used to describe women 90 some odd years ago. Not going to lie about it or try to sugar coat it but some of what we used above do have negative connotations ⏤ such as floozie and bimbo for obvious reasons ⏤ and we could have gone to any time period, all of which would have had pejorative terms associated with those times. And, although, acknowledging the use of those terms is not culturally sensitive or politically correct, would it matter one sliver of a kernel of negative energy if our image is a fraud, fake or whimsical or phoney! Maybe one day we'll learn ⏤ real or fraudulent! We found this image/photo on Instagram@ smoking_perfection that was downloaded on March 1. Samples of what can be found there are included below.

So, now for our standard plea for when we choose unknowns for POTD: If anyone knows anything about our unnamed BHYSW and would like to let us know, please contact lostlighter23 or vs120shound. Reach us be re-blog note, using tumblr Chat (it's a super function that we each have access to) or by voice-mail at 1-800-HOT-SMKR."

Publication/posting date: March 27, 2024 (032724). Hope you enjoy this daily feature on lostlighter23. We are getting much pleasure and pride in furnishing the POTD to you on a daily basis as we approach the end of our first full year of the feature. Hope you enjoy. This is the 365th installment of the series, which debuted on March 28, 2023. NOTE: Some of these photographs in The Photo of The Day feature might have appeared elsewhere within our brand

Photograph Posts on Instagram@smoking_perfection!

Video Post on Instagram@smoking_perfection!

From March 1, 2024 (Spanish fashion model Carol Stedss, with a POTD credit to her name!) . . .

#SF #Smoking #Smoking cigarettes #Hot women who love smoking cigarettes #The Photo of The Day!#Unnamed and unknown and unidentified BHYSWs (Beautiful Hot Young Smoking Women) for The Photo of The Day series!#Instagram@smoking_perfection!#Carol Stedss (Previous POTD Smoking Honey)!

11 notes · View notes