#Disobedient Media

[atomic-anarchist]

“if you are not angry, you are not paying attention” is true now maybe more than ever. if you are not looking at the state of the world at the moment and thinking this is bullshit, are you really looking?

[artbych3lk]

I'm not asking for money lol but once again, my ebook, "Modern Despair : Art Imitates Life", which is a collection of found poems that I created using comments on social media sites, is available for free on my page! I've said this a few times, but it feels more important now than ever to try and share my work. I'm grateful for any support! Please share/download/tell your friends, etc! 🤗✍🏼💥

From my intro 😅🙈✨:

*A note to the reader, as the 2024 election approaches: First and foremost, the majority of these poems are satire, with metaphors meant to be a comedic and artistic expression reflecting the illusory world of social media and “fake news”. Some of these poems will not be easy to read; some will make you angry; some will make you sad; some may make you laugh; and some may even make you reconsider a long-held belief (or double-down on it), but I want you to sit with the feelings that surface, and then ask yourself why you feel that way. Are you upset at the injustice, or are you upset because you feel personally attacked or offended?  If you’re reading this as a Trump supporter, I don't want to blame or shame you, and I may not even be able to change your mind, but I'm asking that you approach these poems with an open heart and mind, and be willing to consider an alternative perspective. It's not personal, and it's not an assault on your rights or beliefs. You matter as much as anyone else, and I hope you can see that I genuinely want the best for us all.  If you're reading this as Trump, sorry dude, but what can I say? Some people hate you; some people love you. Your words and actions have consequences and can speak for themselves, but they are also fodder for content for millions around the world, so here we are. What you do or say next is up to you.  If you're reading this as a billionaire/mega-multimillionaire, do better. That's really all I have to say to you.  If you're reading this as a publisher, I might be open to discussing a book deal haha (and on the off chance you're reading this as Jim Carrey, would you be interested in collaborating on illustrations? 😅🤷🏻‍♀️) And to anyone else reading, thank you, truly. Please also approach these poems with an open mind. It's not all awful, and if we work together with empathy and understanding, we can help shift the tide of fear and hatred. Despite the anger and vitriol in some of these poems, I don't want us to turn on each other even more (that's the legit opposite of what I want.) Obviously we know shit’s fucked, but what's done is done, and we can pass blame and conspiracy theories back and forth, or we can find a way to overcome our differences and work together to bring stability, safety, and peace into our communities, and accountability to those who deserve it.  Thanks again, Chelcie"

[cloudforesttreefrog]

Disobedience (2017) Feel Good (2020-2021)

[art7vandelay]

Teaching the girls how to program in AI

[reportwire]

Twitter is less safe due to Elon Musk's management style, says former top official | CNN Business

Twitter is less safe due to Elon Musk’s management style, says former top official | CNN Business

CNN Business  —  Twitter owner Elon Musk’s dictatorial management style risks driving the company headlong into unforced business blunders, content moderation disasters and the degradation of core platform features that help keep vulnerable users safe, according to a former top Twitter official who led the company’s content moderation before abruptly resigning this month. The social media…

[preposterousjams]

My opinion on the Latino Jason Todd headcanon

While I do understand ppl's criticism of the latino Jason todd headcanon and how its kind of racist to make the kid with parents with drug problems as the latino one, to me its more of a reclamation BECAUSE of DC's racism.

Read any 80s/90s batman issue that covers gang violence and drugs, most if not ALL of the criminals are poc; black people and latinos visibly make up the majority in the poorer neighbourhoods in Gotham. Aside from the caricaturist way they r drawn/speak, its not THAT weird cause its a reflection of irl big cities where immigrants and marginalised ppl are often forced to live in such situations, (like most of my dominican family lives in the bronx... it aint racist to say dominicans tend to flock there), BUT...the weird part is when the second a sympathetic character comes from that area, he's white and has a name thats "too fancy for the streets".

Obviously, Jason was created to look like the old robin, so I can't say that the whole "diamond in the rough" situation was purposely a tad bit racist, but its still a lil weird (especially with bruce's comment).

If Jason were a part of the overwhelming demographic in his area, the good-kid-in-a-bad-area trope has less connotations. DC is currently trying to fix this trope is by making crime alley whiter, which isn't bad but they could've just yk... humanised the non-white residents.

I also feel like the messed up way Jason was treated post-death is what makes him so relatable to latino readers. His tragic story of dying while trying to save his only living relative is turned into a lesson for newer vigilantes. Jason's particular disdain for abusers on a few occasions was twisted (by both writers and characters) into him always being dumb, reckless, cocky, angry and disobedient, always violent, never having been able to get over his upbringing. None of those things were true (he was a normal level of reckless and cocky like every other robin, not more), but its an easier narrative to digest compared to how it was in reality; a kid who worked so hard and loved even harder, died to save a woman who couldn't care less about his existence. He was an emotional AND smart kid who wanted so bad to help others get better but was remembered as too emotional (in a bad way).

THIS is the reality for many latino diasporas in day to day life; Theres no question that Latino culture is passionate and emotive, but people from other cultures assume that it is followed by instead of logical. both can coexist. emotion does not mean u have no logic. Emotions can be irrational but they aren't inherently that way, and I wouldn't say that the moments where Jason lashed out as a teenager were irrational (in og runs, not rewrites post red hood), they were mostly done to protect someone (going crazy on abusers, disobeying batman to save sheila, that time he got into a fight at school to defend his friend).

A lot of euro-centric culture is OBSESSED with the idea that rationality is separate from feelings and emotions, but not crying at a funeral doesn't mean you're better than those who do. Emotions are the basis of human ethics and morals, they define the way we interact as a collective and ignoring them does not mean they are not there. Theres no winner to a contest of who can feel the less. And the way Jason's emotions are treated (pre-rh, hes definitely unhinged afterwards lol) is so in line with how white culture tends to punish those who aren't ashamed to feel.

I TOTES UNDERSTAND that some ppl who headcanon Jason as latino are doing it for the complete opposite of reasons, like "oh here some angry emotional guy with druggie parents, haha must be latino". Its weird. I dont like it. And its only brought up so he can swear in spanish in some rlly bad text post where his emotions are getting out. But to me there's so much potential for metanarrative and commentary on how latinos are treated in media that can be exemplified through the way his character is treated. Being latino would add SO MUCH DEPTH to his character and his dynamic with the others.

[chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct]

So, project 2025 has been deleting their PDFs but a few lovely people have posted the list of books they want to ban and other than the fact that the entire list is stupid, here's some that stuck out to me + the reasons listed next to them. Most of the books on the list are lgbtq+ books which one would expect to find there, so I just did ones I didn't expect.

The Holy Bible - Challenged for religious beliefs and graphic content.

A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin - Sexual violence, political intrigue.

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson - Death and religious content.

Captain Underpants series by Dav Pilkey - Toilet humor and "disobedience."

Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak - Critique of the Russian Revolution.

Deadly Deceits by Ralph McGehee - Former CIA agent's critiques of the agency.

Emma by Jane Austen - Complex gender themes, social critique.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury - Censorship and media manipulation by the government.

Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling - Accusations of promoting witchcraft.

Howl by Allen Ginsberg - Explicit sexual content, anti-establishment themes

Hop on Pop by Dr. Seuss - Concerns over violence against parents.

I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter by Erika L. Sánchez - Mental health, sexual content.

It's Perfectly Normal by Robie H. Harris - Sex education content.

It's So Amazing! by Robie H. Harris - Sex education content.

None Dare Call It Conspiracy by Gary Allen - Discusses alleged hidden global power structure.

None Dare Call It Treason by John A. Stormer - Anti-communist and conspiracy-focused.

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn - Critique of Soviet labor camps.

Operation Paperclip by Annie Jacobsen - Exposes secret U.S. program involving former Nazis.

My Brother Sam Is Dead by James Lincoln Collier - Violence, anti-war themes.

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt vonnegut- Anti-war themes.

Spycatcher by Peter Wright - Ex-MI5 agent's account of intelligence operations.

The Art of Happiness by the Dalai Lama - Criticism of religion, perceived political messages.

The Awakening by Kate Chopin - Female independence, sexuality.

The Book of Night Women by Marlon James - Slavery, graphic violence.

The Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C. Wrede - Magic, feminism.

The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein - Themes of selfishness, parenting.

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy - Examines class and caste issues in India.

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood - Critique of religious extremism and patriarchy.

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas - Examines police violence and racial injustice

The Hunger Games Series by Suzanne Collins - Depicts oppressive government and rebellion.

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster - Political subtext, wordplay.

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver - Critique of colonialism and missionary work.

The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene - Critique of religion and political oppression

The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle - Religious critique.

The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli - Seen as a critique of political ethics.

The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare - Often challenged for themes of submission of women in marriage.

Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer - Themes of violence, supernatural elements.

V for Vendetta by Alan Moore - Political rebellion, violence.

War is a Racket by Smedley D. Butler - Critique of war profiteering.

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein - Dark humor, "rebellious" themes.

Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak - Themes of rebellion, dark imagery.

Where's Waldo? by Martin Handford - Alleged inappropriate illustrations.

White Noise by Don DeLillo - Critique of consumerism and modern society.

Women Who Run with the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes - Feminist themes.

Yertle the Turtle by Dr. Seuss - Seen as political allegory.

Zorba the Greek by Nikos Kazantzakis - Critique of authority and societal norms.

[axolotlofficial]

Adultism is..

The assumption that kids being in school is inherently better than kids not being in school

Thinking it's a human rights violation when employers limit access to toilet facilities, but an overexaggerated non-issue when teachers do it

Being able to say "Children should be seen and not heard" without getting the same backlash as any other bigot

The existence of the Troubled Teen Industry

Thinking intergenerational friendships are inherently suspicious

Referring to violence against children with cutesy nicknames like "spanking"

Treating kids "talking back" to their parents as the height of disrespect

The belief that a respectful child is an obedient child

Media with realistic portrayals of child abuse being deemed inherently "less kid friendly" for it, rather than being used to educate kids in similar situations

The fact it's still not completely normal and expected for a kids show to be able to have a character get a nosebleed onscreen

Being able to forgive parents who yell at, threaten, or hit their children, but not kids who are "disobedient" or "disrespectful" to their parents

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 19

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: Have a good day.

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. 💖

The queen rises, restless as her skirts sweep around her, streaked from the hem with the filth of the road. Her insistence on finery has proven fruitless. Her once prized gown will likely never be free of stains. She has many more, you only hope they survive the journey. 

She struts back and forth, scowling as she faces the wall and drops her shoulders. 

“Why is there no mirror?” She pouts, “this place is drab. How am I supposed to keep from going blind with dullness.” She flops back onto the bed, “ugh,” she rolls over, “maid, I need wine.” 

“Your highness,” you say sheepishly. 

“Do not,” she raises her hand in a harsh point, “I don’t care about the king’s orders. I have been on the road for weeks, I am sore, I am filthy, and I am tired!” She snaps her fingers, “if I want wine I will have it.” She puts her hand over her middle, “it is for the king’s child. He is thirsty.” 

You avert your eyes. You can’t deny her. Even if the king ordered that she be deprived, you cannot look her in the face and tell her no. If they king never knows, it mightn’t matter. You turn, your disobedience nipping at your ears. 

You emerge into the corridor. The orange-haired guard remains, along with the shadow standing across from him. Bryce looms, picking his nails with a small dagger.  

“Has the queen retired so early?” He asks. 

“She requires wine,” you return, “I won’t be long, sir. Might you point me towards the kitchen?” 

“I will accompany you,” he insists as he stand straight. 

“Do not trouble, sir, I am faster alone. I only need direction.” 

You see the disappointment tick in his cheek. You’re not so mad as you were, only cautious. The king will always come first, his will shall always circumvent your own. It is a reality you knew before but now it gleams in a much different light. 

“Down to the east, on the lower floors behind the statue of the knight in black armor,” he explains, “do take care not to lose yourself.” 

“I will, sir,” you nod and glance over at the other soldier. The man with carroty hair eyes you up and down. 

You flit off, hurrying upon your quest for a bottle. You’re not certain you’ll find bounty in your mission. This is not the king’s castle and you are not a thief. 

You descend and come around the bottom of the wide stone railings. The great hall is empty and only a few lanterns remain lit to guide you. You go east and find your way, coming upon the knight in black armour that at first appears as a real sentinel in the dark. You stop to look upon the suit, admiring the ripples in its forging. 

You go into the kitchen and find the haze of the stove lighting the empty space. You peer around at the dark alcoves as the air glows amber, pulsing with the heat of the embers. You tiptoe inside, narrowing your eyes to see through the dim. 

“Are ya lost?” A growl rises from the darkness. 

You spin and face the black silhouette of a large man stood on the other side of the thick wooden table at the center of the kitchens. You gulp and sway on your feet. He must be the cook or perhaps the cellarer. He likely thought you a rat scurrying around looking for crumbs. 

“No, sir, I... would there be a bottle of wine? For the queen?” You ask, your voice catching in your throat as he looms like some great husky bear. He reminds you of the white beast in the corridor as he comes around the table, the light catching the white of his thick locks. 

His body is as thick as a barrel and his shoulders broader. The flickering hue reveals the scar above his left brow and his pocked cheeks. You wonder at the tint of his hair as you try to tell if it’s the age the lines his face or if it is the same effect as the king. 

“Wine? For the queen?” He echoes sonorously, “hmmm.” 

“Yes, sir, if there would be any to spare?”  

“Mm, suppose a bottle might go missing,” he backs up and turns. He doesn’t beckon you onward but you follow anyway. Something about him bids you without a word. 

He takes you to the far end of the kitchens and grunts as he squats and reaches to his belt, jangling a ring of iron keys. He shoves one in the thick lock in the clasp of the hatch and unhooks it. He lifts the heavy door, thick cedar bolstered with steel and throws it back to hit the floor. 

“Ah, hold,” he signals you with a palm as he stands and retreats. 

He strides across the kitchens and without a word, shuffles in a cupboard. He mutters as he takes a tallow and lights its wick from the embers, setting it into a brass holder. He offers it to you and you take it without a word, curious at the grumbly cook. 

He descends the steep stairs first and you follow, balancing the candle carefully. He takes you by the elbow to help you to the beaten floor and you raise the candle to light the expanse of the cellar. It extends well past the limits of the flame’s eye. 

He goes to a shelf and slides a bottle free of its cubby. He tuts and puts it back. He pulls out several bottles before he makes a decision. He comes closer to examine the glass by the flame. 

“Summer wine,” he says and flicks his pale eyes up to you. They remind you of the king’s though they are paler in the candlelight. “And you, serve the summer queen?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You are a summerer?” He asks. 

“Sir,” you bow your head, “you can tell?” 

“Aye, no winter’s blood wears a cloak with walls to hold them over,” he chuckles and looks around. 

You glance down at the cloak. You hadn’t thought to remove it as the cold radiates from the stone. Even without the wind, a shiver creeps through your flesh. 

He frightens you as he reaches for you, only to touch the fur collar of the cloak, rubbing a tuft between his fingertips, “it is well made.” He lets his hand trail along the front and turns out the interior of the trim. You look down your nose as he reveals a patch you didn’t notice before; a wolf’s head. 

“Yes, sir, it is warm,” you agree and he withdraws his hand. 

“Suppose a summer’s maid needs it more than a winter’s king,” he says. 

You’re quiet. You have nothing to say to that. How many others took note of you in the king’s cloak? Do they whisper about it? 

“Your queen may take the wine,” he holds out the bottle, “and the king, might have a cask of ale should he require. Only one,” he lets go of the bottle as you accept it and holds up a finger, “he does not have leave to drink this cellar dry. Crown or no crown.” 

“Yes, sir. Many thanks.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, peering down at you, “a dove like you is out of place in this nest of vultures,” he muses and gently takes the candle from your hand, “better fly back to your queen, bird.” 

“Sir,” you turn towards the stairs as the candle illuminates your shadow against the shelves. You turn to climb and peer back at the man. He watches you, his eyes flickering with the flame. 

“Gentle creatures don’t fare well in the cold,” he clucks, “best keep that cloak close.” 

You ascend and cradle the bottle at the top, keeping it close as the liquid sloshes heavily inside. You pad over the kitchen floor and into the corridor. The great hall is even colder as the shadows ripple over you. As you come up the stairs, a shiver quakes through you. 

Something about that man, about his words, clings to you. His way of speaking is ominous, like those card readers who would visit Lady Rezlyn. Or perhaps it is only that you are waiting for the inevitable. 

As you near the queen’s chambers, you hear distant footsteps from the other direction. You come in sight of the grey soldier, spinning his knife as he whistles, the redhead guard sending him an irritated glower. You slow, preparing for the guard to repel you or at least seize the bottle from your arms. 

He does not. Even as he turns his scowl on you, he only reaches for the door to let you in. Before he can push inward, a throat clears. You all pause and turn to face the new figure. The king looks between you all; from the guard, to you, to Bryce. Your nerves flutter wildly. You haven’t been this close since the night on the pass. 

“I hope that wine is meant for you, Sir Bryce,” King Geralt booms, “as my queen is not permitted to indulge. She has a vile reaction to the stuff.” 

“Your highness,” the guard swallows audibly, “I... the queen--” 

“The queen is my wife and a wife must bend to the will of her husband,” the king insists hotly. The guard’s expression draws and he mutters an apology. 

“I was unaware of the ban,” Bryce intones, “but I’ll gladly claim the bottle for my own.” 

“Gilles,” King Geralt ignores the quip and points to the redhead guard, “you will inform the queen that she needs retire for the night. In her condition, it is necessary that she rests. If she requires sustenance, she may have bread and cheese and a bit of goat’s milk.” 

“Your highness,” the guard, Gilles, nods diligently. 

“And you will fetch it yourself,” the king insists, “I trust you might find your way around a tray.” 

Gilles stares at the king then slowly pushes into the queen’s chamber. The king nears and takes the bottle from your hand. You let him and back up as Bryce steps closer. 

“Your highness,” the soldier begins, “if I’d been aware--” 

“Hardly matters now,” the king shrugs and steps close to his man. He leans in and whispers something you cannot hear, “as you were,” he slaps his shoulder then continues on. You watch after him, perplexed but relieved at his indifference. Perhaps he has rethought his intent. 

Bryce is quiet until the king’s footfalls fade off. He lowers his chin, rubbing his thick beard. He touches your cloak, a small tug on it, “this way, maid. Let us find you a place to lay your head.” 

The promise of a bed is nice and reminds you of your weariness. Your legs ache as you follow Bryce along the corridor. Your shoulders rack and the remnants of the road begin to lace through your muscles. It is only as you think of laying down that you feel the effect of those last months. 

You yawn and stifle it in your hand. Bryce glances over and lets out a willowy breath. He is certain of his path despite the twists and turns. He directs you to a door at the base of one of the castle’s towers, opening it to a spiraling staircase. 

“Would be at the top.” 

You look up at the winding ascent. The walls are mounted with lanterns over every fifth step. You frown and pull back, turning to the soldier. Your stomach churns. 

“Up there? May I not rest in the servant’s quarters?” 

“You must be closer to the queen,” his lip trembles. He raises his chin and looks away. When his eyes meet yours again, he puts his hands on your shoulders, “rest your head, mouse, you’ve come very far. You’ve earned it.” 

You look at him. You know he isn’t saying all he could. He can’t. You put your hands on his arms and squeeze.  

“I’ll try,” you affirm, “thank you, sir. I am very tired.” 

“Yes, mouse, sleep,” he pulls away. 

“Good night, sir.” 

He hesitates, “good night.” 

He turns stiffly and marches off. You step into the staircase as his shadow disappears and you pull the door shut. You look up, climbing step by step, legs shaking as you get higher and higher. You reach the top step and another door. 

You push the handle down and the lever rises on the other side. You enter the chamber to find it empty. You stand at the threshold and turn, searching for any shadow, any shimmer in the low light of the fireplace. It’s only you. 

You breathe and turn to look down the staircase. You listen. Nothing but the winds battering the walls without. You close the door and slowly wade into the warmth of the room. The windows are hung in heavy curtains and there is a tray waiting on the table. An ewer, cups, a plate heaping with delights. You aren’t hungry for any of it, you’re too uneasy. 

You unbuckle the cloak and drag it from your shoulders. You turn it over your arm and feel the patch sewn into the lining, examining the wolf’s yellow eyes. He’d marked you and you never even knew it. You fold the heavy length over a chair and back away. 

You untie your cap and unveil the short shanks of hair jutting out from your scalp. You haven’t had a chance to shear your unruly locks before they could get too long. You fold the cap and put it on the bed. You remove your apron then your dress and leave them with your cap. 

You take a pillow and a blanket from the mattress and bring them down to the bench at the end of the bed. You fit yourself onto the hardwood and watch the fire’s light pulse on the stone wall. Your eyes glimmer with tears, turning your vision to speckled hues. 

It’s all so nice, too nice for you, and knowing why you’ve come upon it, turns it sour. It is not kindness, there is expectation attached to such generosity. You should’ve known. You did. You were just too stupid to see it, just as the queen always said. 

You twit. 

You close your eyes and pull the blanket to your chin. You embrace the warmth, your one comfort left. There’s a long road that awaits you still. Not only through the Hinterlands but another, more treacherous path. One you never meant to stumble upon. 

Your body weakens, succumbing to your fatigue, overtaking your wrought mind. Your eyes roll back behind their lids and your breath peters out. Sleep enshrines you as blackness eclipses the orange haze of the chamber. 

[thebibliosphere]

In somewhat humorous news, my mother got into a quandary today involving some former coworkers.

Before Hunger Pangs broke containment, I asked my mother not to tell people back home what my author name was because I didn't want to deal with the homophobia I'd get from certain family members if they knew I was writing queer romance. I also didn't want certain people to know because I knew they'd find my social media and fucking doxx me. Not out of any maliciousness, mind you, but just sheer fucking Internet safety incompetence.

Like we're talking the type of people who'll go onto your Instagram and use your full birth name-- regardless of your preferred name -- while asking if you remembered hanging out that one time near your parent's house-- you know, the place with the [RECOGNIZABLE LANDMARK] next to the [PRACTICALLY A GPS LOCATION.]

Yeah.

Anyway, my mother was cool with that because she also, quite frankly, didn't want people to know her only daughter was writing queer filth for a living. (Does anyone else remember when she told me I should apologize to @mothman-etd's mother for writing sex in my stories? Because I sure do.) That was until Hunger Pangs broke containment, and my mother, to her own shock, decided she was proud of me.

I think it was when she logged onto Amazon, expecting to see people one-starring it and calling it degenerate filth, but instead found over 300+ 5-star reviews screaming about how much they loved it and how much it meant to them, that she realized that maybe, sometimes, sex stories are okay.

(Amazingly, she pivoted and latched onto Vlad smoking being the worst thing about it and how I should be ashamed to write about characters that smoke, lol.)

Anyway. She bumped into an old coworker today and was so excited to tell them how well I was doing she forgot that a) she doesn't like telling people what I write about and b) I'd asked her not to tell certain people that it wasn't until she'd gotten through the whole "oh yes, doing very well, living in America writing books" spiel that she realized what she'd done and clamped her mouth shut.

She didn't name me or the book title, but it was too late because said former coworker went and told everyone else she used to work with, and now my mother's been invited to tea at the local church village tea shop with an ensemble of formidable gossips, specifically to talk about my book.

So, anyway, I may or may not be about to get accidentally doxxed, but my mother is the one about to walk into the local church and tell everyone the kid they threw out 20+ years ago for being a disobedient pain in the ass with Views about Christianity is now relatively popular online for writing best-selling queer romance novels about vampires and werewolves fucking in a soft BDSM dynamic, featuring blatant magic use and a prologue which talks explicitly about imprisoning and killing God(s).

*jazz hands*

[riki-riks-chick]

like bodyguard jay 🫠🫠🫠 and he is never crossing line but keep callin you "ma'am" 🫠🫠 and fucks you rough but gentle at the same time🫠🫠🫠 i wanna die just thinking about it😶‍����️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

The Bodyguard ┃P.JS

Bodyguard!jay x reader

You're the daughter of two famous celebrities, jay is your bodyguard

cw: drunk sex (yn slighty drunk), kissing, jealousy, unprotected sex, no prep, bratty yn, slightly rough jay, gentle jay, slight dirty talk.

wdct: 1.6k

═════════════

Third Person POV~

Living as the daughter of a famous actor and actress is not fun. Especially when it always lands you in the media.

You were known for being a bit of a wild child, and you never thought it would land you with a personal bodyguard, but here you are.

Your father got quite upset after waking up to find his daughter all over the internet, kissing some boy who was known for figure skating. After that, he decided to stick you with a bodyguard who was only a couple years older than you.

He was handsome, sure, but it was hell having him follow you everywhere. It's like you never have a second alone.

And he's so formal that it fucking hurts. Always calling you "miss" or "ma'am" like you're some 60 year old woman.

You've tried teasing him, wearing revealing clothes, and even acting extra touchy when you're out drinking with your friends, but it's no use. He refuses to break.

He has never crossed a line. He's never entered your bedroom, not even with permission, and he won't look lower than your eyes when you're wearing anything even slightly revealing. He won't even touch you if it's not for safety purposes.

And now he's ticked you off completely. You were at a party, specifically to fuck around with the son of your mother's co-star. You were warned by your mother to leave him alone, but you decided to be disobedient and hang out with him anyway.

Getting away from Jay was hard enough, but once he found you in the back of a black Rolls Royce with that boy? That dopey, messy-haired, fuckboy? Oh, he was livid. He grabbed you by the arm, dragging you out and towards your own car which he'd been driving for you.

You got a rush from the way he grabbed you, tugging your skirt down and not even bothering with the fact that your shirt was partially unbuttoned.

"Jay.. Let go of me!" You yell, albeit slurred, snatching your arm from Jay's hold as he sighs. "Miss Y/n... It's not my fault your dad made me your bodyguard. Quite frankly, I never would've ended up here if you would've simply listened to your parents' orders."

This was the first time he'd ever responded in a non-professional way, and it shut you up immediately. "Listen, I know you don't like me. And I know you wish your dad would fire me, but I'm trying my hardest. I can't watch you do stupid shit like that though."

You simply drop your head, avoiding his eyes as he removes his jacket, placing it on your shoulders. "Let's just get you home.."

He helps you into the car, closing the door before getting in on the driver's side. He buckles your seatbelt before taking off.

When he gets back to your house, he thanks his lucky star that your parents aren't home to see you like this.

He makes it a mission to help you upstairs and then leave, but once he's in your room, you make it your goal to keep him from leaving.

"I should probably go, miss.." He avoids making contact with your cleavage as he pushes you away at the chest, giving himself room to breathe.

"Jay.. Aren't you supposed to do whatever I say?.." You ask as he nods, visibly straightening his posture. "Yes, ma'am.." He swallows hard, scared of his own thoughts in the moment as he takes in your sloppy appearance. His eyes trail the sway of your hips as you saunter over to him.

"Then fuck me..." You say, straightforward and outright. It catches Jay completely off guard. "What?! No!" He immediately rejects, earning a sideways glance from you.

"You interrupted me when I was about to get laid. So you're gonna fuck me instead.." You're clearly serious, but Jay is confused. He's always harboured something less than appropriate for you, but he'd never act on it out of fear of losing his job, and you with it.

"Miss Y/n.. I think it's just the alcohol talking.. Please." You push him against the wall, cutting him off as you press your palm straight against his crotch, palming his very obvious erection.

"Maybe it's your dick talking?..." You question cockily, bringing your left hand up to his nape to tug him closer. His lips ghosted hesitantly over yours. "If you want me... I'm yours for the taking. Stop being so formal."

He's completely sure that his next course of action is led by his dick, but he doesn't care. He cups your jaw gently, closing the small gap between you as he kisses you with a long-hidden passion.

It's feels as if he'd been waiting and yearning for this to happen. His lips press feverishly against yours as he leads you backwards and towards your bed, pulling away only momentarily to let you climb onto the bed.

Once he's back on top of you, hes unbuttoning your shirt, kissing down your torso in the process as he sucks on the available skin that your bra can't cover.

Once he reaches your waist band, he glances up at you, his eyes dark and filled with a burning desire. "Tell me, lovely miss... Did he touch you here..?" He asks, his finger trailing over your cunt through the barrier of your underwear.

"No.. You didn't give him the chance." You reply in a smart-mouthed tone, making him chuckle. "Good, because I would've killed him."

Then he's removing your skirt, tossing it aside carelessly as he tugs you closer by your hips. Your legs are on either side of him, and you have the perfect view as he unbuttons his shirt, slowly revealing his toned torso inch by inch.

As soon as his shirt is off, he's unbuckling his belt, undoing his pants just enough to free his erection. You take a second to marvel at his length, stroking it slowly as his lips part to let out a heavy sigh.

After letting you feel him up, he moves your hand, sliding your panties off as he tosses them across the bed. "Can I put it in..?" He asks, his tone filled with desperation. You nod, not wanting to wait much longer and risk your parents coming home.

The second he presses his tip against your hole, sliding in just slightly, you gasp, biting your lip to supress your moan as he bottoms out, stilling his hips to let you adjust.

"How do you feel?" He asks, rubbing your thigh softly as he watches your chest rise and fall with each breath. You take a second to respond, trying to filter out the slight pain you feel with how deep he is.

"Fuck it, just move." You let out a sigh, gripping his hand as he kisses the back of your hand before moving his hips slowly.

Each slow and deep drag pulls a moan from your throat. The way he's focusing so hard, on every movement, makes it feel so much better altogether.

"Are you okay, miss..?" He asks, using his free hand to cup your cheek as you nod. "I'm fine. And please stop it with all the miss and ma'am bullshit. Just call me Y/n."

At your bratty response, he thrusts particularly hard, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he quickens his pace. "Such harsh words coming from such a pretty mouth. Be nice..."

"Be nice, my ass.." You argue, tilting your head back as he moves his hips faster against yours, his thumb rubbing your clit in circular motions. The feeling is absolute torture, but you'd be lying of you said it didn't make you feel incredible.

"I wanna see the pretty little face you make when you cum... I wanna hear how good I make you feel."

"Jay... Fuck.." You moan, gripping his wrist as he smiles. "Your moans are so pretty.. I could listen to them forever.." He's already tailing his own orgasm, the feeling of you tightening around him edging him closer and closer.

"I'm gonna cum..." You whimper, gripping his forearm as he thrusts deeper, aiming for that one spot that made you see stars. "Cum for me, angel..." He encourages, his thrusts getting sloppy as his own climax builds up in the pit of his stomach.

"Fuck... Do you want me to pull out?.." He asks, unsure of how much longer he'll last. "Don't pull out." You command, making his heart flutter. "Yes ma'am..."

You groan at the choice of words, biting your lip to supress your moans as he tightened his hold on your hip, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Shit... Jay.." Your words come off as more of a whisper as your orgasm washes over you. You tighten around Jay, tilting your head back against the pillows as he lets out a deep moan, his hips stuttering.

He comes undone, filling you with his seed as he leans down to kiss you, his hips moving slowly against yours. "You feel so good.."

"I'm gonna make my dad fire you..." You mumble, finally managing to say something. Jay's eyebrow raises at your words, tracing soft patterns on your skin. "Why would you want that?"

"So I can keep you to myself like this.. So you don't hold back with me.." You explain as he smiles, leaning down to capture your lips softly with his own. "Angel, you don't have to get me fired for me to love you.. I promise you, I'm done holding back..."

═════════════

tysm for the req hope it was okay

[dizzymoods]

During the Troubles, Civil Rights Leaders went to Ireland to learn about the plight of the Irish people and to support their fight against colonialism.

Standing on the success of their nonviolent principles which led to civil liberties here (to whatever degree the CRM was successful) and in their ignorance of the history of Ireland, they tried to get the IRA to adopt nonviolent, peaceful civil disobedience.

At the end of their tour of Belfast, where they learned the history and politics of Irish resistance, all of them come to the conclusion that here violence is necessary. The Irish have exhausted all other means including nonviolent ones. Even if some of the CRM leaders maintained nonviolence as paramount, they understood that certain exceptions must be made because — regardless of if they approve of violence or not — their job is to support colonized people and follow their lead.

There is a lesson here that we should apply to the Palestinian struggle.

I’ve seen people pearl clutch over seeing so many dead Palestinians as part of the colonial violence of the camera. This misses the point of why those images are being shared.

Last decade many Black americans, myself included, talked about the commodification of Black death. videos of state murder plastered on every news channel 24/7, going viral across social media platforms connected to the legacy of lynching postcards and gator bait. We demonstrated that those videos rarely got an indictment and only once a conviction. Many of the families of these victims of police murder made it clear they don’t want the image of their loved one to be of death. The reason why we share Michael Brown’s graduation photo instead of the photo of his corpse is because Lesley McSpadden demanded it. With all this in mind, we understand that in most cases the sharing of those images are antiblack.

The Palestinians do not have that history. The Nakba never happened, despite israelis calling this the second Nakba. genocide joe said 40 israeli babies were beheaded after it was found out that the story was some wingnut footsoldier’s lie, not even official israeli hasbara. It was like 2 weeks ago that genocide joe said the number of murdered Palestinians (at the time around 5,000 Palestinians were martyred — the number is now over 10,000) was a Hamas lie.

Linguistically there is no murdered Palestinian. All the headlines read “x amount of israelis killed and some palestinians died”. visually there is no dead Palestinian. official israeli hasbara is trying to flood social media with videos of patient-actors getting into place in Indonesian medical training programs to “debunk” the countless videos of martyred Palestinians.

The denial of the scale of israel’s genocide of the Palestinians is so bad that reporters in Gaza are holding dead children in front of press cameras because Palestinians do not die and are not murdered.

The profit motive of these images is actually in their absence. not their over saturation like with Black americans. The west needs israel as a destabilizing force in the middle east. The strategy of the western media then is to bury these images, to not give them a second of attention. So logically the Palestinian strategy is to proliferate these images to show just how horrifying israel’s crimes are.

Two things can be true at the same time; what works for you doesn’t necessarily work for me etc.

The other thing i’m seeing are liberal frameworks to understand genocide. Of particular ire is desirability politics. *jujubee voice* just say white supremacy.

Desirability is tertiary at best. israel is genociding Palestinians because they want control over Gaza and the West Bank (and Lebanon too). They are not genociding Palestinians because Palestinians are “undesirable.” They make Palestinians undesirable to justify taking their land. Talking about this psychoanalytic bullshit distracts from the primary reason for the displacement and mass murder of Palestinians: the taking of their land.

~*desirability*~ is just one way that israel tries to justify its crimes. Desirability is a circular logic that can only make sense once you manufacture its premise irl. It means nothing without the material conditions it claims are true. Its super easy to call someone an animal after you put them in a cage. It’s super easy to call a people dirty savages after you restrict their access to water. It’s super easy to call someone violent after you sequester them in small, barely livable spaces and stress them with bombings and check points.

It’s also — there’s a way in which opposition to something reifies the very thing that you oppose. Toni Morrison continues to beat everybody’s ass. What does it do when you see a baby with half a skull and say “this happened because she is undesirable”? Undesirable to whom? Not me.

Palestinians are not so passive as to oppose white supremacy and desirability. The Palestinian people are a proactive people. Palestine is the issue. Palestine has a people. Palestine has an ecology. Palestine has life. Palestine is life. Palestinians fight for life. life can neither exist nor blossom under white supremacy.

Any analysis that does not begin with this is a distraction. And distractions only benefit the colonizers.

[themainspoon]

I keep seeing polls made for people unfamiliar with a piece of media to ask them to try and identify the thing that does not happen in said media, and I always thought those looked like a lot of fun! So, I decided to make one, and I already knew the perfect franchise for one: The World of Darkness (WoD) TTRPG franchise. The WoD is a franchise containing several different TTRPG’s about playing as monsters, and it has some of the most unhinged lore I have ever come across.

Almost everything above is heavily simplified for the sake of fitting into the poll boxes btw. Also, I promise that this is not a trick. Ten of the Eleven options presented above actually are a part of this franchises seemingly infinite Metaplot. I’ll schedule a reblog containing the answer and some much needed context for everything above.

[beenbaanbuun]

hi! i wanted to ask something about yeosang

since he's a werewolf, would he change in full moon? would he have ruts? how would the family take care of it?

now, yeosang may not transform when the full moon hits, but he certainly acts more primal. even after he’s grown used to being around the family and coddled by darling, he can’t help himself when it comes to that time of the month.

the day before, he’s always a little grumpier. seonghwa can’t ruffle his hair without yeosang snarling at him, hongjoong can’t make a snarky comment without getting a snooty remark in return, and darling can’t irritate him as much as she usually does without him pinning her to the floor like a disobedient pup. not that she particularly minds being pinned; it only adds to her fun when he’s leaning above her, anger racing through his expression as he reprimands her.

but the day of the full moon is when the three of non-werewolf residents really need to watch out. if his mood is bad leading up to it, it’s absolutely foul when it actually hits. yeosang will go back to his old biting habits, baring his teeth if anyone does anything even vaguely in his vicinity. if seonghwa accidentally steps on that creeky floorboard whilst walking to his favourite spot on the chez, yeosang will snap his jaws. if hongjoong puts a chess piece down a little too loudly, yeosang will snarl. if darling dares to touch him, we’ll, let’s be real, he won’t do much more than pin her and bare his teeth, but it’ll still be much meaner than usual. the scolding will actually feel real for once, even more so than those empty threats he chucked her way during the first few weeks he was there. safe to say even she tries to avoid him when it’s that time of the month.

as for ruts, yeosang does experience them but it’s nowhere near as painful and violent as media makes it out to be. sure, it’s unpleasant to have a permanently hard dick for a week, three times a year, but he’s not bed bound or anything. he can still get up and move around and interact with the rest of the family without jumping darling’s bones. he’s just a little more… desperate… in a way that makes him completely and utterly submissive. like sure, he wants to breed but he’ll beg for it first. and yes, he wants darling to be in his arms 24/7, but if that means he needs to act as her personal teddy bear for a week then goddammit he will. he hates his ruts for this specific reason; he can hardly pretend to be the big bad wolf when every bone in his body is telling him to do whatever it takes to have his precious pup curled up nice and safely in his arms.

and hongjoong and seonghwa let him have what he wants, if it suits them. during the day when they’re both busy, he has to be good; keep his dick in his pants and stick solely to cuddling her by the fire. of course, yeosang will obey. in the state he’s in, he’s so desperate to keep darling with him that he’ll listen to whatever it is seonghwa and hongjoong tell him.

but as soon as one or both of them are free to monitor that he doesn’t go too far, and providing darling is okay with it, yeosang has free reign. the poor thing is so desperate that he barely lasts long, but it doesn’t really matter because it’s just as much about getting his partner off as it is himself. he explained it as ‘proving himself’ when hongjoong had asked why he was so desperate to make darling cum too. the man supposes that’s as good of a reason as any…

[usergif]

"Had I understood the message, then I think I would have thought about it, reflected on what it means, what the team wants me to do, to leave Mark [Webber] in first place and me finishing second. And I think I would have thought about it and probably done the same thing because Mark doesn't deserve [the victory]," [Sebastian Vettel] said. Pressed by Reuters on why he felt Webber, who had obeyed instructions to turn down the engine and look after the tyres, had not deserved to win, Vettel replied bluntly: "I don't like to talk ill of other people. It's not my style. I think I said enough. The bottom line is that I was racing, I was faster, I passed him, I won." The tone of the encounter was set from the first question enquiring of Vettel how he felt to be the 'bad guy' after previously being the 'good guy'. "I don't consider myself the bad guy," replied the 25-year-old, who said on Wednesday that he had apologised to the team after the race for his act of disobedience but not for winning. "I don't think I did something that was particularly bad."

multi 21 - watercolour and mixed media

[rockwgooglyeyes]

I babbled about it in the server earlier today but I might as well post something and attempt(?) to make it a little more articulate.

@bluemoonscape said that Till's cover of All-In is much more angsty than Hyuna's, and I'll admit, I went into listening with that in mind but it did prove to be true. Nonetheless, with the two of them being narrative foils, they are incredibly similar but set apart by certain fundamental differences and I think that might be shown pretty starkly in this cover. Of course, that's not necessarily true- Mizi and Ivan are foils and yet their covers only juxtaposed the circumstances of their love, both tragic in their own way, an effort in futility, ultimately pointless (as one of them was always going to die and Ivan believed wholeheartedly that Till would never love him).

To simplify it, Till's is far more anguished than Hyuna's, which is meant to be a celebration, something triumphant.

In and of itself, it feels like Till's version is more about ALNST than it is about anything else. "There's no point in fighting back, this is the march of the fools, endless cheers and applause" is reminiscent of their walk to the stadium at the very beginning, where Till flipped off the media. Not only that but the fact that now, Till is the only one left alive (that he knows of) they would truly be a march of the fools, cheered on as they walked into the gaping maw of death (some knowingly, some not). With Till's self deprecating nature and bravado, it doesn't feel too presumptuous to say that he is including himself in that "fools" because, despite how much he is going to fight to win, he may still believe that he's going to lose his round against Luka. After all, that's been the seygein's plan all along.

"Change the game with a single action, trust me and I'll show you" could be reframed to be about Till's round 2 where he smashes Freddie and barely gives Acorn a chance to sing or it could be about Ivan's sacrifice, in equal turn. "We only get one life so I'm living mine for me" is Till's resistance against oppression, his disobedience that ends with him locked up in a change but he still keeps doing it because he doesn't have any other option, not really. also the "I'll create a fantasy in this crazy world" very much feels like an echo of the fact that Till's rebellion becomes his persona as much as it is truly coming from the heart. He's creating a fantasy of the fight, of the resistance, and people like that- they like his anger, his fire, his fight, I mean, they wouldn't put it in the advertising otherwise, right?

Basically, almost all of the peppy, cheerful "hurrahs" in Hyuna's version of All-In, with Till seem self-deprecating or bitter/aggrieved. He is trying to prove a point, that he won't stop fighting, that despite the odds he'll stand up there on that stage and go all-in (but internally, he still believes that this is reckless, that this won't work, that there's no point).