#I know most of the people talking about this are like. 12. but for real can we PLEASE stop acting like sex is bad and sinful
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I think people who are talking about the nonhuman packer discourse, but use "packers aren't sexual" as their primary defense of and reason why nonhuman packers are okay, are actually entirely missing the point of why this discourse is a problem.
Even when people do consider packers sexual, it does not change the fact that a nonhuman packer is still just as acceptable and harmless as a human-shaped packer. Something being nonsexual does not put it on the "morally acceptable" side of the argument. A lack of sex or sexuality does not make something inherently more acceptable and morally "pure." Sex and sexuality is morally neutral. Kinks are morally neutral. A lot of people, alterhumans included, are sexual beings, and genitals are (usually) a part of that equation - yes, even when they are tentacles or have a knot.
Thinking that weird things are only acceptable if they are nonsexual is a harmful puritanical and anti-queer mindset. Just because something is not your particular cup of tea does not mean it is harmful; yes, even when sex is involved. Especially when sex is involved. This is the exact same discourse that happened in the furry fandom; which has historically been hated because of how queer the community is. Considering the altH community is overwhelmingly queer, why the hell are we okay with bending the knee to anti-sex puritans as soon as something is more involved then missionary PIV sex with the lights off?
Nonhuman packers aren't okay just because "packers are nonsexual." Nonhuman packers are okay because there is literally no harm being done, regardless of if it is sexual or not. And worrying about what strangers do with their genitals is unhinged. Analyze your own disgust reactions I promise you that you will be better off for it.
#People can reblog this but if anybody acts up on this post I am blocking and turning off reblogs#I know most of the people talking about this are like. 12. but for real can we PLEASE stop acting like sex is bad and sinful#and that when things are nonsexual they are ''morally pure/okay''#howls#alterhuman#discourse
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13 days until chain of thorns. it’s going to fix me i’m telling you. seeing cordelia is going to be so healing you don’t even understand
#thank god for the shadowhunter chronicles or i wouldn’t have anything to be obsessed with and weird about all the time constantly#well. i’m not THAT weird about it. i do think about other things it’s not like the horrors when all i ever talked about was merlin#i wonder what day of the horrors it is. when’s day 200?#my anniversary of starting the show is coming up in two months i know that much#anyway it’s nice to have a fallback obsession for when you don’t have something completely stupid to spend all your time thinking about.#well actually i am technically mid obsession with now you see me but it’s normal i’m being normal about that#i just need to rewatch danny at least once a week or i’ll die. but i’m normal#anyway. i think tsc was a good investment to make at 12. it’s served me well <3 near impossible to get into nowadays for new people tho#obviously doable with effort and time and real love for the game#most people don’t have that though so it’s hard not to gatekeep#anyway. cordelia is going to fix me. unless the book is bad and then i’ll be upset for years#i don’t think it will be bad though i think the plot will be ridiculous but getting to see all my guys happy in the end will be lovely#however i WILL have to suffer though bad plot and stupid miscommunication and love triangle BULLSHIT to get there#god this is easily cassie’s WORST love triangle. i mean seriously. james cordelia and matthew. seriously. cassandra you can do better#it’s really just so horrible like WHO wants cordelia to be with matthew.#matthew might be dead by the end of that book and personally i won’t care if he is. cassie hasn’t done shit to make ME like him since 2014#beth.txt
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This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.
e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.
I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.
This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.
And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.
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Gather around, my young friends and fellow dinosaurs, let me tell you about some BULLSHIT no one ever tells you about. I'm talking about menopause and perimenopause. Now, menopause has a very stringent medical definition. You have to not have had a period for exactly 12 months and a day to be considered in menopause. All the bullshit before that day once you start going through The Change is considered perimenopause. Here's some bullshit you might experience that people actually talk about when you're in perimenopause:
- shorter time between periods
- irregular periods
- hot flashes and/or cold flashes
- fucked up sleep
- OMG NIGHT SWEATS
- Vagina as dry as the Sahara desert
- lighter periods and/or endless bleeding like it's The Flood but it's in your pants
- lack of interest in Adult Fun Times
This time of joy can last anywhere from a couple of years to a god damn decade and there's no medical way right now to predict it.
Here's some of the REAL bullshit they don't tell you about but your dinosaur aunt is here to let you know:
- You can start perimenopause in your 30s, don't listen to idiot doctors who tell you you're "too young" because they don't know your body like you do.
- Perimenopause will make you HELLA DUMB. Seriously, I'm talking Bigly broken brain. Brain fog? Check. Short term memory? Wave goodbye to it. Ability to make words form out of thoughts? Yeah, good luck to you.
- Perimenopause can cause horrible fatigue because in addition to losing estrogen, you're also losing testosterone. Oh and that also leads to muscle wasting, cool cool.
- Things might suddenly hurt more because estrogen is known to be neuroprotective.
- If you're super lucky like I am, and like to collect rare illnesses, you might even get Burning Mouth Syndrome 💀
- And meanwhile, while you're going through this bullshit, you'll be getting gaslit by doctors who are operating based on 30 year old debunked data about how HRT causes breast cancer (not really) and that they shouldn't put you on it until you're in actual menopause. (Data shows starting HRT early can potentially prevent Alzheimer's in later years.)
- There are entire online clinics right now (I use Midi Health) focused on providing care for peri and menopausal patients and they will happily prescribe you HRT even if your regular PCP or OBGYN do not (if you meet the criteria). I've been pretty impressed with how holistically they view the patient. For full disclosure, I learned about them from my integrative health doctor and they do not accept Medicare (yet).
I'm 46 years old right now and I've been symptomatic for perimenopause for the last 8 years, although it's gotten the most dramatic in the past 2 years or so, which I hope means I'm almost done, holy hell. Yeah I was on the early side, but if it can happen to me, it can happen to you, so it's never too early to think about these things. And I hope to at least spare some of you the mind-fuckery I've been through because no one told me about most of this stuff, including my own mother who just DOESN'T REMEMBER what happened to her and now I completely understand why. And because I also have a connective tissue disease, I used to just dismiss my pain and fatigue as being caused by that illness rather than the loss of hormones.
Anyways, this is why we need Elders in our lives, so they can do Grandma Story Hour like I just did and validate you when the entire medical field tries to gaslight you. I hope you've found some or all of this educational/useful. Please share with your friends because we really do NOT talk about this stuff enough. (Ewwww Moon Blood!)
Stay well, and don't let the bastards grind you down!
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There is a nonzero chance that I have COVID.
Yayyyyyyyy.
Let's hope it's just a cold...
#but we know that at least one person in my cast has covid#and i hugged him last night and talked to him a lot post-show with my mask off#i mask during the show but since we were eating and drinking i didn't at that time#sooooooo we shall see we shall see. thank god backstage i'm not as much around the cast as they are with each other.#other people in the cast have colds though. but most have not tested for covid. and honestly more might have covid.#is it bad i'm putting off testing too...#i almost don't want to know if i do... or at least... i don't want to know for the next 12 hours...#if i DO have it then it'll be an easier time than last time when i started developing symptoms on my way home from hawaii#and that was like 18 hours straight of traveling and due to the time difference i arrived home almost exactly a day later.#and over the course of those 18 hours (because literally my throat started feeling itchy at the start of the first of 3 plane rides)#i felt sicker and sicker and sicker. and in the uber home i was like i wanna die. but didn't sleep#because when i got home it was like 10am so i didn't want to totally mess up my sleep schedule so i stayed up most of the day#(i think i did nap at one point) and by midnight when i went to bed i was like oh i'm definitely sick with something#and at 4am when i was woken by a stupid tornado warning i realized i had been sweating in my sleep and likely had a fever#and woke up the next day at 11-ish finding out someone from the hawaii wedding had covid so i should test too#and my brother said the moment my swab hit the activator/indicator/whatever it was a solid positive line. yayyyy.#that was about 48-ish total hours between first symptoms and testing positive.#so. IF i have covid. i might not even test positive right now since i've only felt this sickness in my chest for like 5 hours.#at this point i'd be landing from the first plane and having a layover. and convincing myself it was just the dry airplane air.#i'd still have 2 red eye flights ahead of me to be miserable on while the symptoms progressed.#so i can definitely handle sleeping tonight and running a show tomorrow morning and then see how i feel.#also this might be psychological since i didn't really start feeling sick until AFTER i found out about the sick cast member.#that's a very very real possibility since i got so paranoid when i first heard he was sick and missing the show.
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Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.
Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.
Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing.
Word count. 9.0k
A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.
Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.
With a capital h.
Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.
Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly.
The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air.
Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.
Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome.
What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.
Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?
Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real?
You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.
But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique.
“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable.
“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot.
You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks.
Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”
You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo?
In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.
God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol.
“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.
You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.
Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-”
And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.
Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine.
And then it’s all black.
To match his eyes.
---
The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact.
Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into?
Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment.
Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful.
And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that.
With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.
And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”
You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”
Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.”
You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-”
“It’s al-”
“I swear I’ve seen ankles-”
A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.”
And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about.
Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”
And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling.
As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.
You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso.
It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.
You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye.
Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve.
At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.
“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-
Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.
Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.
…
Nahhh.
Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.
Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.
And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again.
His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.
Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.
So he does have nipple piercings.
God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.
As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.
The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through.
Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.
“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.
Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,”
You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”
His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”
“Oh, it’s on now.”
“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.
Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.
---
Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.
Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him.
But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.
Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”
“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”
Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”
Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that-
A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.
Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…
Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory.
Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.
So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.
Like, right now.
Shit.
With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.
And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.
With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you.
Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.
With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock.
Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.”
Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-
He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock?
One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well.
Or maybe…
Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins.
Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”
“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him.
All for him.
It’s too much.
“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.”
Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon.
Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind.
Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand.
Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.
But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.
Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could.
“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”
“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”
You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him.
You.
And then he’s cumming.
A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-
You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.
You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.
Shit.
Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.
But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him.
Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-
…
God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow.
Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course.
Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.
…
Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved.
Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.
Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.
At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.
Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.
And you didn’t mind?
In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-
Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?
You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-
Click!
You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.
---
You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies
And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.
But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.
You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.
Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt.
Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time.
It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.
“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R.
It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.
You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?
And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right?
It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.
Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.
Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.
Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.
Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.
Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.
This was absolute torture.
“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.
His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”
You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”
Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success.
“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.
You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him.
A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm.
“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”
His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.
You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”
It was like something snapped.
Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.
Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.
He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.
Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.
You minx.
Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.
God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.
Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.
“Kiss me, you fool.”
And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.
With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing.
You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”
Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”
“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.
Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.
Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting.
“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue.
“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that.
Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-
Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.
Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.
You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire.
Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously.
And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?”
You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”
Smack!
The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.
“What was it, sweetheart?”
You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”
“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions.
God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”
And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples.
Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping.
Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.
Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing.
“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips.
He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.
Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face.
He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”
Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-
His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.
“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue.
Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”
As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.
Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water.
Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.
So you do.
Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide.
“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need.
You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you.
And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue.
“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”
Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs.
You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could.
Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life.
A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.
He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl.
Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”
“Feels perfect.”
But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.
Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.
Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.
Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-
Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.
Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips.
Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.
So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same.
Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat.
Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later.
Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face.
You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt.
“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.
And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well.
“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him.
Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more.
You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty.
And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.
The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.
“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”
A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”
Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.
Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.
You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock.
And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass.
“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them.
Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?
“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.
And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”
The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”
His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?
“Wha-”
And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.
Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.
Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him.
But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.
There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.
Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason.
“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.
“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”
You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.
And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders.
Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more.
Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him, “More? My sweetheart wants more?”
And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get.
“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.
And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.
Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”
“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.
“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”
You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”
You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”
“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.
And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.
Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”
“I know.”
“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”
“Choso, just kiss me.”
And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you.
And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut.
White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.
It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want.
As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully.
A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.
In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.
Too afraid to break you.
To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.
And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.
“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually.
“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves.
Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”
“Nope.”
Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed.
“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.”
Except maybe those.
You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.
Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.
“Well, we still have time so how about-”
A distant click!
“Honey, we’re home~!”
Shit.
A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#choso x reader#choso smut#choso x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#choso#tonywrites#choso kamo
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I’m sure someone has talked about this before but one thing I absolutely love about tbosas is how Snow’s descent into villainy is never once presented as something that was inevitable
So many villain origin stories portray this idea of a person who tries incredibly hard to be a good person, who takes every opportunity to be kind and to better themselves, but are ultimately doomed to fail by the narrative. Their environment and their circumstances make it impossible for them to be a good person, and while this is effective from a storytelling point of view it’s not exactly accurate to real life
In real life there is always a point where a bad person makes the decision to do something bad, they make the decision to prioritise themselves, their own power, money or desires over someone else. That’s how real life dictators are made, they are presented with every opportunity to be good, and they purposefully choose to not take it
This makes Snow’s storyline so effective because he is given so many opportunities to do the right thing and yet, at every single turn, he chooses to serve himself instead, exactly like how real dictators are made
Snow, unlike most people we see in the capitol, is in a unique position where he could genuinely have the chance to understand and relate to the people from the districts. He, unlike his classmates, is poor and spends most nights going hungry, he witnessed firsthand the cruelty of the capitol when Clemensia was bitten by the snakes for nothing more than lying about doing her homework, when his sister was forced to sell herself on the streets in order to feed the both of them
Throughout his book, the three people he is closest to are Tigris (who dislikes the hunger games, is a rebel, and a victim of the capitol forced to turn to prostitution), Sejanus (who is originally from district 2, dislikes the capitol and knows he will never be accepted there, and also a rebel) and Lucy Gray (who is a victim of the hunger games, from district 12, and is also treated horribly by the capitol). These are all people who gave him an opportunity to realise the cruelty of the system he was in, a chance to directly confront his prejudices and see that people from the districts are just the same as him, and yet he still refuses to take the chance to change
He is given every opportunity, he’s sent away from the capitol to be a peacekeeper in the districts, he forms personal connections with people from the districts, he helps Sejanus perform funeral rites, and yet at every moral crossroads he comes to he makes the wrong decision. He didn’t have to become a villain, and yet he made the choice to do so anyway, despite every chance he was given
I think it’s a really effective portrayal of Snow as a character, and it’s a very effective villain origin story for the type of villain that Snow is. It never once excuses him from his actions because it highlights just how accountable he was for his actions
#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow#lucy gray baird#sejanus plinth#tigris snow#tbosas#thg#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark
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the many names | s.r
a/n: i could not get the idea that spencer would have little explanations for all the names he has for you so i give you this enjoy
summary: in which the many names that spencer calls you each have a special meaning
cw: mind rotting fluff
wc: 1.1k
honey:
spencer’s childhood was anything but ordinary. graduating high school at 12, with a schizophrenic mother, and an absentee father is a combo meant to mess anyone up. the one thing he felt was constant were the sitcoms his mother would watch when she had her good days. shows like i love lucy and cheers filled his ears as he watched the picture perfect families navigate through mundane and seemingly normal scenarios. the comfort he found in these televised families, something he wasn’t afforded in his own, was a nice little bandaid on the gaping hole left by the oddities of his life.
until he met you, of course. you changed everything for him, showed him what it meant to be loved and cherished, what family really was outside of the textbook definition. as a young boy he’d always envied ricky ricardo coming home to lucy at the end of every work day, bursting through the door and saying “honey, i’m home!” the phrase itself encompassed what he so dearly longed for; a home.
so when spencer calls you honey, he means it because you’re sweet and sappy and all the things normally associated with honey. but for him, specifically, when he gets to come back from harsh cases, bursting through the door of your shared apartment yelling “honey, i’m home!”, it heals that gaping hole from his childhood little by little, replacing the wound with the home you’ve built together.
sweetheart:
for someone who absolutely loves sweet things, calling you sweetheart was an obvious title in his book. the way you cared so deeply for the people in your life, the people you didn’t know, even those involved in heinous crimes were offered some of your never ending empathy. it inspired him, to know that someone who sees the true horrors of humankind on the daily can still hold hope and love for the world’s inhabitants.
when spencer calls you sweetheart, it’s in the more domestic moments of your lives. when he asks which tea you want, when he can tell it’s been a rough day and he lets you rest in the comfort of his arms saying “it’s okay, sweetheart. i’m here now.”, when he leaves you long and loving voicemails for when you’re not able to go on cases together. spencer’s sweet tooth could probably never be satiated, but if it keeps you around forever he has no problem with that.
angel:
calling you angel is still something he finds a little ironic. he’s an agnostic atheist, has no faith in the gods or whatever power that may be. he’d always say if you couldn’t find it in a textbook then it’s not a real thing. but here you were, defying literally everything he ever knew or thought he knew. spencer thinks that if angels were personified they would surely look like you.
his job has so many moments that put him in near death situations, he’s not proud of how many times he’s felt the pearly gates come for him. but every time he was close to that end, flashes of you would roll through his mind like a movie reel and it would tether him back to this realm.
add to that, you just always happened to be there when he needed you. if he was about to drop a cup of coffee you’d be there grab it, you had his back when you were on the field together, and you’d let him talk your ear off about the most obscure topic just to see him smile.
if proof existed for the theoretical, it would be you. you were his guardian angel, and he never let you forget it.
princess:
this one was rare, only invoked in the super intimate and special moments between you both. usually in the bedroom is where you hear this one used in both sides of the extreme. on one side he says it when you’re being just so needy, so pliant and willing for whatever he wants it just makes him want to give you everything in return. on the other side, when you’re being for lack of a better word, a brat, it’s used as a tease, a taunt for your slutty bad behavior. a reminder that even though you’re spoiled by him he’s still going to give you the world.
it’s also used when you both get dressed up, for an fbi event or a party at rossi’s. it always takes the wind out of him when he sees you getting ready or you come out to show your outfit to him. it makes him feel like falling in love with you again every time, like he’s been so blessed to live a fairytale where he prevails and gets the princess at the end.
baby:
calling you baby is quite literally second nature to spencer, probably the easiest thing for him to do. it slips out all the time people might think baby is your real name. he uses it when he asks what you want for dinner, when you’re upset over something he did at work that put him in danger, when he just really wants you to watch this one russian romance film he finally got his hands on and promises you’ll love it.
you also find it really funny to play songs that you know he doesn’t know that have the word baby in it, because even if he doesn’t know the words to always be my baby to mariah carey, it never stops him from giving you the biggest smile in the universe when he listens to you belt the song to him.
pretty girl:
he didn’t even come up with this one, derek did. stemming from his nickname for spencer, when derek realized that there was something between you and pretty boy, it just became so easy to get under his skin and call you pretty girl, telling him “don’t look now, your pretty girl is coming.”. before you had started dating and spencer was just pining from afar, he would get so red in the face when derek would let the name slip.
after he finally grew some balls and asked you out, spencer adopted the name for himself to use in situations he had you alone, where he could admire you in your entirety and no other prying eyes. to use when you just wake up and the sunlight hits you perfectly like a glowing halo, or when you’re both in the office and you’re explaining something relevant to the case and you just sound so smart and beautiful, and he can’t help but truly believe that the aphrodite reincarnate is his.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid imagine#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x fanfiction
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Sunflower
pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
summary: Y/N has a crush on Robin's friend Steve, but when she learns about his dating history she retreats in on herself.
word count: 3327
warnings: self depreciation, reader is only described as not skinny but by herself in comparison to other Stranger Things characters, happy ending guys I swear, also based off the song sunflower from that one movie (I don't remember I just get it stuck in my head)
12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist
"Please?"
"No!"
"Oh, come on!" Robin had been trying for the past hour to make her best friend come with her to the movie night that Steve was hosting.
"Robin," Y/N was not budging. It's not that she didn't want to hang out with Robin, but going to a strangers house full of people when you only know one was not her idea of a fun night.
"Just give me a good reason, at least." Usually Robin stopped begging by the fourth 'no,' but tonight she was very pushy for an unknown reason.
"I don't know anyone!" Y/N hadn't gone to Hawkins High, instead being put through a private all-girls school just north of Hawkins. A school Robin visited frequently, due to Y/N's roommate, and that's how the two became friends. So while 'King' Steve Harrington may have been a legend in Hawkins, he might as well have been the post man to Y/N.
"I'll be there!" Robin clearly did not understand Y/N's worries. "I won't leave you alone, I promise."
"Give me the reason you want me to go, and I'll consider it." Robin opened her mouth. "The real reason." Y/N raised an eyebrow at her huff.
"Steve is my best friend, and I selfishly want my two best friends to also be best friends!" Robin pouted, but it made Y/N smile slightly.
"I will go just this once." Robin whooped and punched a fist in the air as she stood from the couch. "But! But, you cant ask me again." Robin seemed to happy to care about Y/N's terms anyway.
This was going to be one hell of a night.
~
"I finally got her!" Robin screamed when she walked in, not even knocking or slowly walking in. Y/N stood out outside the door, blinking as Robin began to give out hugs.
"Who?" A male voice asked, just around the corner and out of Y/N's sight.
"Is this your friend from boarding school?" A kid with curly hair asked Robin as he came to the door.
"It wasn't boarding school!" Robin knocked the back of the kids head, and Y/N's eyes widened. She was really close with these people.
"What is your name?" A girl appeared next to Y/N, causing her to jump. Everyone was still buzzing and talking in the doorway.
"Y/N," She responded, smiling when the other girl smiled. "What's your's?"
"Eleven." Y/N tried not to show her shock at the unique name. "But everyone calls me El."
"I like that name." Y/N said, feeling nice when El smiled wider. She wanted to continue her conversation, however a loud voice cut everyone off.
"Alright!" Hands clasped, a man about Y/N's age got everyone's attention. She felt her heart begin to beat out of her chest and her eyes widen slightly at the sight of him; tall, handsome as hell with the most beautiful head of hair. She struggled to hear what he had to say next. "You can come in the house, ya know." His smirk made her smile slightly, her heart racing as she tried not to act too shy.
"I just wasn't sure," She looked over at Robin, who was talking in low tones to another girl who looked about their age as well.
"Don't worry about it." The man walked over to her as she walked into the house, the kids dispersing and beginning to chatter once more. "My house is basically everyone else's anyway." He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, shutting the door behind her. Y/N gave a small laugh and toed off her shoes, leaving them near the door before turning back to Steve.
"Your house is nice," She said, looking around and realizing her statement may have fallen a bit short. His house was immaculate upon first glance. However, when she looked closer, she realized there were no family pictures, no children's artwork or graduation pictures hanging up. Her heart sunk and she looked back at Steve, who looked a bit awkward.
"Yeah," He said, scratching his neck. "My name is Steve, by the way. I don't know if Robin told you." Y/N's eyes widened in acknowledgement.
"You're Steve!" She laughed slightly at the face he made. "No, it's just, I hear all the time about how Robin works with you. I didn't know her coworker was her best friend." She caught something flickering across Steve's face, as if there was more to the story, but then he was laughing and it was so musical that Y/N forgot all about the face. Steve's laugh seized her heart, and she tried not to blush.
I mean, how embarrassing would it be to blush at your best-friend-in-law's laugh the first time you meet them?
"Yeah, I mean, we've worked at two places together now so," Steve told her, and Y/N nodded.
"Basically married, honestly." She joked, just to make Steve laugh once more. When he did, her heart soared.
"I'm glad someone gets it." He spoke, a soft smile on his face that Y/N wanted to take a photograph of to look at forever.
God, get ahold of yourself!
"I'm Y/N." She held her hand out, and Steve took it, a small smile on his face.
"That is a lovely name." He said, and she couldn't even think about the fact that he probably has used that line a million other times because she was too busy trying to manually make the blood leave her cheeks.
"Thank you," She said, quieter now. He dropped her hand and then looked around, noticing Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan on a couch while the kids sprawled out on the floor, arguing about the movie.
"What's your favorite movie?" He asked, turning back to her.
"Uh, I guess it would be Pretty In Pink? Or actually maybe Footloose." Her eyes lit up as she ran through more movies in her head. "I really like Stand By Me too." Steve smiled.
"I have Footloose." He said simply, then turned to make his way to the living room. Y/N followed, brows furrowed in confusion. She hadn't even gotten to ask him the same question, and she wasn't sure what he was doing now.
"Alright, stop arguing." Steve walked into the middle of the kids and picked up all the movies they had taken off the shelves, not caring about the kids' protests.
"Steve, please tell Mike that no one wants to watch Ferris Bueller again!" The kid with curly hair cried out.
"We watched it like seven times in theaters already!" A kid with and dark, short hair called out, and this caused the pale kid with black hair to drop his mouth in surprise - this must be Mike.
"Because it's the best movie ever made!" Their bickering distracted them from what Steve was doing, starting to yell over each other and making the three girls in the group roll their eyes and sigh.
Y/N looked over to find a spot to sit, but she noticed Robin was deep in conversation with the same girl from earlier on the couch; she was petite and beautiful, permed hair styled perfectly and face gorgeous without makeup. Y/N was instantly jealous, no matter how much she tried to ignore it and push it down. The girl was holding the man next to her's hand.
Robin had left Y/N alone.
Her heart started to race as she stared at Robin, willing her to look over, to notice how uncomfortable she was. She didn't know where to sit now - she could sit on the love seat but then she would be sitting next to Steve, who seemed nice but she didn't know him. Her head spun ever so slightly as she tried to breathe, trying to act like she was fine. It's not a big deal. She can sit on the couch. And if it's the most awkward experience of her life, she'll blame Robin for it until the day she dies.
As she sat down, heart still racing but breathing under control, she noticed a familiar tune playing. It was the intro to one of her favorite movies.
She met Steve's eyes as he got up from the VHS player, walking over to where she was sitting.
"What the hell is this?" The kid with curly hair asked Steve, who was now seated next to Y/N, his thigh pushing into her's.
"A movie." Steve grabbed a bowl of popcorn from the small table, offering some to Y/N.
"You're such a comedian." A girl that was smaller than the rest said, eyes narrowed at Steve. He ignored her with practiced ease, taking a handful of popcorn and staring at the TV.
"You chose Footloose." Y/N whispered, heart picking up when Steve turned to look at her.
"Of course." He smirked, making her blush slightly.
"Thank you." She looked over at Robin, who was staring at the TV while shoveling popcorn into her mouth.
"I know that Robin probably told you she wouldn't leave you alone." Steve muttered, causing her to whip her head over to him.
"She didn't leave me alone." Y/N felt the need to defend her best friend, even if it was a lie.
"Y/N," The way he said her name made her heart clench. She immediately forgot what they were talking about. "I love Robin, and I know she didn't mean to, but she did leave you alone." Y/N crossed her arms.
"She just got excited." Y/N said, causing Steve to chuckle lowly.
"Believe me, I know." He scooted ever so slightly closer. "I've never seen this movie, and we've missed the first five minutes, so I'm gonna need you to explain it for me." She tried not to let her cheeks heat once more as she began to explain to Steve what was going on in the movie.
~
After going to movie night a couple more times and actually becoming friends with some of Robin's friends, she hatches her plan.
She couldn't tell Robin that she was practically in love with Steve already. Not because she didn't trust her best friend, but because she felt weird about it. She had only just met him, and they hadn't even talked all that much. She had to bring it up but make it seem like it was Robin's idea.
"I need you to help me!" Y/N cried, dramatically falling backwards on Robin's bed.
"Oh my God," Robin didn't even look up from her painting she was working on.
"I to go on a date!" She yelled. This was a common complaint, one that would cause Robin to roll her eyes most of the time.
"How am I supposed to do that?" Robin still hadn't put down her paint brush, but she was a little less focused.
"You know so many people!" Y/N tried, hoping this wasn't a little too forward.
"You're right, but not that many are - oh my God." Robin dropped her pain brush, the color splattering on her desk, just before hitting her canvas.
"What?" Y/N rolled over, almost falling off the bed.
"I'm a genius." Robin spun in her chair, grinning at Y/N.
"What?" She repeated, hoping Robin was about to be the best wingwoman ever.
"I know the perfect boyfriend for you!" The girls stared at each other for a couple moments, Robin blinking as if it was obvious. "Steve!"
"Oh." She couldn't sound too excited, but on the inside she was dancing. If she had Robin on her side, it'd be easier to get to know Steve. "I mean, I barely even know him,." Robin was so excited she didn't even bring up the fact that Y/N wouldn't have known anyone Robin brought up.
"Yeah, I could tell you everything." Robin shrugged, making Y/N's eyes go wide. "Like, he crawled backwards as a baby. Weird, right?" Robin laughed, painting forgotten.
"Okay, maybe we should skip ahead to dating history?" That was really what she wanted to know; Steve gave her the vibes of a player. She needed to be proven wrong. She was sure she was wrong.
"Right, well, he used to date Nancy." Y/N's heart sinks at Robin's words. It feels like someone just stabbed her. She regrets asking anything, regrets telling Robin she'd go to movie night. "They dated for like, a year, probably. I don't know, but they had a little thing a while ago."
"Oh," Y/N doesn't know what to say, but she clearly didn't convince Robin of anything. All Y/N can think is that she looks nothing like Nancy. Nancy who's skinny. Nancy who's hair is always perfect with her curled perm. Nancy who's eyes are the most beautiful blue. Nancy who's makeup is never too much, is always complementing her, is so beautiful. Nancy who had Steve's heart.
Fuck.
"They're like, two different people, though. Want different things. He's totally over her. It was practically forever ago." Robin continues, and Y/N tries not to show the hurt that is running through her.
"Right." Y/N nods, grabbing her book and picking it back up again.
"I'll wingwoman you." Robin turns back to her painting. "My two best friends!" She squeals, and Y/N closes her eyes, trying not to show Robin that she's disappointed.
~
Y/N doesn't go back to movie night for two weeks, despite Robin's whines and moans of protest. She wasn't going to break, either, because even though she hadn't seen him in two weeks she thought about him every day.
It was unhealthy.
It was even more unhealthy the way she studied herself in the mirror, comparing herself to Nancy. She knew she shouldn't, that there was no point, that Steve probably didn't even remember her name.
It was fine.
She was a normal human. She was a normal person. She could go to a movie with Steve. They probably wouldn't even talk.
So she agreed, making Robin the most excited she'd ever been. She could hardly wait a week for the next hang out, which was not a movie. It was a pool party.
She could do it.
"I can't do this." She whispered as she parked outside of Steve's house, Robin already getting out of her car.
"Come on!" Robin cried out, and Y/N blinked quickly before shutting her brain off and getting out of the car.
It wouldn't be that bad.
"Y/N!" Steve yells as soon as he opens the door. Her eyes widen, and Steve pushes Robin aside to put his arms around her.
"Alright," Robin says with a scoff, walking inside.
"Hi," Y/N says quietly, because she's still a little confused.
"We missed you!" He says as he pulls back. "I missed you." This was quieter, and Y/N tried her hardest not to blush.
"I missed you too." She said, watching him smile before walking with him into the house. She tries to convince herself that today will be okay.
But then the conversation shifts to Steve and his love life somehow, and one of the kids brings it up.
"Remember when you had a crush on Robin!" Dustin announces as he dissolves into laughter. Y/N's mind goes blank.
Of course Steve has a type. Of course it's the opposite of her. Robin and Nancy are gorgeous. They're both so kind, so smart, so pretty. They're both skinny.
All she can think about is the way her body looks against Nancy and Robin's. Her thigh, which is touching Steve's on the small couch that he had decided the two of them would sit on. Her face is a different shape. Robin and Nancy look like models that Y/N sees on the cover of her mother's magazines. She might as well have not come back, because there was no way Steve would ever see her like that.
And she couldn't even tell anyone; not that she had many people to tell anyway. But Robin wouldn't get it. She'd tell Y/N how beautiful and smart she was that if a man didn't want her for such a stupid reason she didn't want the man anyway. And while it was nice to hear, it wasn't what she wanted or needed now. She didn't need reminders that she was beautiful, because it wouldn't change how Steve saw her.
What had she been thinking? Of course Steve was a player - she had clocked that quickly.
"I need more popcorn!" Robin announces in the middle of the movie. "And Y/N needs to come with me." The way she said it made Y/N realize that she knew something was wrong, and now her best friend was not letting her out of this.
"What?" Y/N asked quietly when they got to the kitchen.
"Seriously?" Robin almost exploded.
"What?" Y/N furrowed her brows, and Ron scoffed as she rolled her eyes.
"You've been acting weird." Robin explains, and Y/N shakes her head dramatically. "No I haven't." She says, grabbing the popcorn and putting it on the pan they've been keeping on the stove.
"Yes, you have. What's going on?" Robin asks, walking to the stove to stand next to Y/N. "You can tell me." This is softer, just as the popcorn begins to pop.
"It's nothing, Rob." Y/N sighs.
"Are you sure? Because I don't want to make you uncomfortable when you come here but I just want you to hang out. And I thought you wanted me to try and set you up with Steve, but you haven't even looked at him all night despite the fact that you're sitting right next to each other." Robin talks it out, and she's getting closer to the truth. The popcorn is done, so Y/N takes it off the hot stove and puts it on a pot holder, but neither of them leave.
"Steve liked Nancy." Y/N says, not able to face Robin. She can only look at the back tile above the stove. "And he liked you. So he clearly has a type." She looks to the side that Robin isn't on, trying to keep the tears at bay.
"Y/N," Robin puts a hand on her shoulder.
"He likes roses. He likes the skinny, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect face. And that is not me. I am not a rose." She takes a deep breath, wiping her face and preparing to leave.
"I hate roses." Steve says from behind her, and Y/N jumps. She turns, and he's standing there with wide eyes that pull at her heart.
"Steve," She didn't want him to hear any of that, but he clearly heart at least the last part.
"When you first showed up here, I called Robin that night to ask if I had a chance with you." Steve admits, and Y/N parts her lips in surprise. She turns to her friend.
"You never told me that." She whispers, and Robin has a sly smile on her face.
"I knew you guys would find your way to each other." She grabs the popcorn and leaves Y/N and Steve to their conversation.
"I'm not the same guy I was in high school. And I know the rumors that went around, and some of them were true. But I'm more mature now, and I really like you." He admits, making Y/N's cheeks heat up. "I've been waiting for you to come to movie night again so I could ask you out. Robin wouldn't give me any of your information because she said I had to do it on my own." Steve steps closer, and Y/N has to take a shuddering breath.
"Sorry," Y/N says, and Steve shakes his head as he moves some hair out of her eyes.
"Don't apologize." He whispers, then grabs her hand. "So, would you like to go on a date with me?" He asks, and she smiles.
"Yes." She whispers, nodding slowly. He smiled.
"And by the way," He says as they walk back into the room. "I find you very, very attractive." She can feel the heat all the way down her chest, but she lets him lead her into the living room and to the couch. She even lets him cuddle her through the movie, even while his friends tease him.
She's never felt more beautiful.
//
tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @sadbitchfangirl @gloryekaterina @oblivion-void @alexshaff2002 @m-rae23 @icequeen1371 @mcueveryday @parkershoco @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @peculiarwren @kenzi-woycehoski @multifandom-boss-bitch @freezaz123 @mads-weasley @johnricharddeacy @sweetdreamsshifter @param8re @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @wish-upon-a-star-1310 @fangisms
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The Imperfect Couple - 7
Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader
Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.
Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.
Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻
Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️
Bucky’s gut had been gnawing at him for weeks, a familiar, nagging feeling whenever Ian was around. Something about the man didn’t sit right, and Bucky couldn’t shake the sense that he’d seen this behavior before. His instincts kicked in, and he ordered someone to dig deeper into Ian’s past.
The brown envelope arrived the next day. Bucky sat at his desk, his eyes narrowing as he tore it open. Inside were the results of the investigation—pages that painted a much darker picture than he’d anticipated. As he skimmed the documents, his jaw clenched, and a low curse escaped his lips, “Shit.”
🌸🌸🌸🌸
The next day, you and Bucky arrived at a shelter for single mothers, a stop on the campaign trail. The women inside had experienced hardships most people couldn’t imagine, fleeing from abusive partners and trying to rebuild their lives. Their stories of survival hung in the air, unspoken but palpable in their tired eyes and wary smiles.
You moved through the room, serving food and making small talk with the women, trying your best to offer some comfort. As you handed a plate to one woman, you said softly, “I understand what kind of psychological torment you’ve been through. I hope you stay strong.”
The moment the words left your mouth, what you’d meant as a word of encouragement didn’t land the way you’d hoped.
Later that night, a video of the conversation went viral. It was clear someone had recorded the interaction and released it online. Bucky knew this had to be the work of his opponents, seizing the opportunity to discredit you—and by extension, him.
You watched the video, feeling a pit form in your stomach as the comments poured in:
"Stay strong? She doesn’t seem like someone who’s ever been through what we have."
"She wouldn’t understand. She lives in a happy home. How could she possibly know what it’s like to run from someone who’s supposed to love you?"
Their words cut deep, slicing through your carefully constructed image. They didn’t know the truth—that your marriage to Bucky was its own kind of prison. Pretending to be the perfect wife had taken a toll on you, but no one saw behind the curtain.
You froze, feeling exposed, as if they’d somehow sensed the cracks in your façade. You had become so good at lying, at convincing the world that you and Bucky were happy, that now, faced with these women who had lived through real pain, you felt like a fraud.
Furthermore, you wanted to tell them that you understood, that you too had felt trapped and powerless. But the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you smiled for the cameras, playing your part, knowing that your life was being documented as an example of “happiness.”
Then your eyes landed on a comment that sent you reeling:
"If they’re so happy, wouldn’t they have a kid by now?"
The question hung in the air, mocking you. They didn’t know the truth—how could they? And yet, their words seemed to pierce through the mask you’d been wearing for so long.
🌸🌸🌸🌸
The silence between you and Bucky was heavy, almost suffocating. You hadn’t said much since the shelter incident, and Bucky could sense your stress in the way you barely touched your food or drank any water. You sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the untouched plate in front of you.
Bucky watched you for a moment before stepping closer, his brow furrowing with concern. He gently touched your forehead, his fingers warm against your skin.
“You have a fever,” he said, his voice low with worry.
You immediately pulled away from his hand, your body instinctively recoiling. Your stress had a way of manifesting physically, and whenever you were overwhelmed, your body shut down. This was no different.
“Don’t touch me,” you muttered, your voice hollow.
Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He knew this would happen, knew how your body responded when you were pushed too far. Without a word, he slipped his arm around you, supporting you as he guided you toward your room. You didn’t resist, too tired to fight.
“Just leave,” you said once you reached your room, your voice barely above a whisper.
But Bucky ignored your words. He sat you down on the edge of the bed, gently lifting your feet into his lap. You stiffened in surprise as his hands began to massage your aching feet. The familiarity of the gesture caught you off guard—he used to do this all the time when you were together, especially on nights when you came home exhausted, too tired to even think.
Your face grew warmer, though not just because of the fever. The tension between the two of you was palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and unspoken words hanging in the air. Bucky’s touch, once comforting, now felt like it held the weight of all the things left unsaid.
“I’ll bring the medicine,” he said after a few moments, his voice softer now.
You didn’t respond, too lost in the swirl of emotions flooding your mind. The way his hands moved, the care in his touch—it was all too familiar. It made your chest tighten with memories of when things weren’t this complicated.
As Bucky stood to leave, you finally spoke, your voice quiet and raw. “Why are you doing this?”
He paused, turning back to face you. “Because I care. I always do” His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it was as if the walls you’d built between you both cracked, if only just a little.
You didn’t respond, not knowing what to say. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy as the exhaustion of the day and the fever pulled at you. Bucky noticed, his eyes softening. Without another word, he pulled the blanket over you and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
You lay there, your mind racing despite your body’s exhaustion. His touch, his words, they lingered long after he’d gone. You hated that he still had this effect on you. And yet, deep down, there was a part of you that wanted to believe him, wanted to let your guard down. But after everything, how could you?
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
You woke up, feeling the weight of exhaustion still clinging to your limbs, but something was different. The fever that had clouded your mind the night before was gone, leaving you with a sense of relief. Slowly, you sat up, glancing around the room. Bucky wasn’t here. It was the first time you’d been alone in the apartment since arriving.
The quietness felt strange, almost eerie. For a moment, you simply sat there, trying to shake the grogginess from your mind. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to explore the space. The apartment was large, meticulously designed, but there was a personal touch to it that reflected both of you. You wandered through the rooms until you stopped at his office.
The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open. His office was a mess—papers and law books were scattered across the desk and shelves, as if he’d been too busy to organize anything. But something caught your eye, an area that was surprisingly tidy amidst the chaos: his vinyl collection. It was neatly arranged, displayed with care, each record in perfect order.
Bucky loved collecting vinyls. You remembered that about him. As you approached the collection, your eyes scanned the spines of the records. Most of them were from artists both of you used to listen to. Your fingers grazed over the albums, a nostalgic pang in your chest.
Then, something unusual caught your attention. Tucked between the vinyl sleeves was a piece of paper, slightly worn. Frowning, you pulled it out and realized it wasn’t just any paper—it was a letter.
You stared at the handwriting, your heart skipping a beat. It was Bucky’s handwriting. Slowly, your eyes widened as recognition dawned on you. It was a letter he never sent. A letter to you.
Your pulse quickened as a rush of emotions hit you. Should you open it? Guilt twisted in your stomach, but then that familiar voice—the devil on your shoulder—spoke louder. He wrote this for you. He never sent it, but it’s yours.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you quickly hid the letter under your shirt, glancing around the office as if someone might walk in at any moment. Your heart raced as you hurried back to your room, the letter burning against your skin like a secret you weren’t supposed to know.
Once in the safety of your room, you sat on the bed, staring at the letter in your hands. The room felt smaller, your breaths shallow. Was this right? Should you be reading this? But you couldn’t stop yourself.
With trembling fingers, you opened the first letter.
It was short, written in Bucky’s familiar scrawl.
"I’m sorry. I know everything we went through must have been painful for you, more than I ever realized at the time. We were close, but we never truly communicated. I knew you were hurting, and I did nothing to stop it. That’s my fault. I’m the one to blame.
One day, if we ever meet again, I hope you’ll give me another chance. You deserve happiness, and I wish you the best of luck in finding it, even if it’s not with me."
You blinked, feeling a lump form in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. An apology. Words you thought you’d never hear—or read—from him. Your hands shook as you carefully unfolded another letter.
"I read your article. It’s really good. I always knew you’d make a great writer. You’ve always had a way with words. I’m proud of you. I hope you have a safe journey."
The words blurred for a moment as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You never knew he was following your work, that he cared enough to read what you wrote. It felt like a secret window into a part of him you thought had closed off to you long ago.
With a deep breath, you opened the final letter, bracing yourself.
"I’m worried about you. Going to a war zone as a journalist—it’s dangerous, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Please be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. I pray every day that you’re safe."
Your chest tightened as you finished reading, the rawness of his words washing over you. Bucky had been worried about you all this time. His concern, his pride—it was all there, hidden in these letters you were never supposed to find. And yet, here you were, holding the pieces of his heart in your hands.
It was overwhelming. You didn’t know how to feel—angry, confused, touched. All you knew was that the walls you had built to protect yourself were starting to crack, and you weren’t sure if you could put them back together.
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
You and Bucky met Greg again to prepare before heading to the TV station for the debate. Greg, always thinking ahead, was pacing as he went over the final details. His sharp gaze darted between you and Bucky, trying to ensure everything would go smoothly.
As the minutes ticked by, Greg suddenly paused, his face lighting up with an idea. "Perhaps," he suggested, "before Bucky heads out for the debate, you could give him a peck on the cheek. You know, for the cameras. A little show of affection can go a long way."
You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, your expression neutral. "Okay," you agreed simply. The decision seemed easy enough—just a small gesture for the public eye. However, from the corner of your eye, you noticed Bucky’s brow arch slightly, a glint of surprise crossing his features.
Bucky glanced at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "How about a kiss on the lips instead?"
You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your exasperation. "Shut up," you muttered, though the warmth of the moment lingered between you. Bucky chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the brief banter as Greg scribbled down notes, already planning how to work this into the media strategy.
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
The day of the debate finally arrived. The room buzzed with tension as cameras were positioned, reporters whispered amongst themselves, and the stage was set. You stood backstage with Bucky, watching as the other candidates made their entrances. Edgar, running for president, was calm and composed, the very image of a seasoned politician.
Then there was Brock, another candidate for vice president—and Bucky’s long-time rival. The two had been at odds for years, their competition fierce and personal. The air between them crackled with animosity as they took their places.
As the debate began, the moderators threw sharp, pointed questions at the candidates, each probing their policies and character. Bucky was in his element, answering each question with practiced ease. His words were clear, his tone confident, and his delivery flawless. Every question thrown at him was met with a precise, well-thought-out response.
Moderator: "Mr. Barnes, what would be your first priority in office?"
Bucky: "My first priority is to address healthcare. Ensuring affordable and accessible healthcare is the cornerstone of a strong nation. We must invest in preventive care and make it easier for families to access the support they need."
The audience nodded in agreement, and even the other candidates seemed to respect his answer. Brock, however, was struggling. Every time he tried to match Bucky’s eloquence, he stumbled, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to make a point.
Moderator: "Mr. Rumlow, what is your stance on education reform?"
Brock: "Well, uh, we need to… to invest in schools, yes, but we can’t just throw money at the problem. We need accountability, and we need… um, better results."
His answer lacked the conviction and clarity that Bucky’s did, and you could see the frustration in Brock’s face as the debate went on.
The tension between the two men simmered, especially as Bucky continued to outshine him with every answer. But just when it seemed like Bucky had the upper hand, Brock saw an opening—and took it.
At the height of the debate, Brock's voice cut through the air, sharp and malicious. "You talk a lot about honesty and integrity, Barnes. But what about your brother? Didn’t he hit someone and never face any punishment?"
The room fell silent, a heavy, uncomfortable stillness filling the space. From your spot backstage, you could feel the tension roll off Bucky in waves. His muscles tensed beside you, his jaw clenched tight. This was his darkest family secret, one he’d hoped to keep buried. But now, here it was, dragged into the spotlight in front of a national audience.
Bucky’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his eyes narrowing as he shot Brock a cold, hard glare. For a moment, it looked like Bucky might lose his composure. The silence stretched on, the entire room holding its breath, waiting for his response.
But then, with a deep breath, Bucky straightened, his voice steady but laced with restrained anger. "My brother's actions were reprehensible, and there is no excuse for them. But unlike my opponent, I believe in accountability—and my family has taken steps to address that privately. This debate is about the future of this country, not digging up personal attacks to avoid talking about real issues."
The room shifted as Bucky’s calm yet pointed response cut through the tension. Brock, visibly thrown by how easily Bucky had deflected his attack, fumbled for his next words, but the damage had been done. Bucky had taken control once again, leaving Brock at a loss.
Backstage, you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of relief and pride swelling within you. Bucky had handled the moment with grace.
But you knew you couldn’t rest. With Shawn’s dark secret now exposed, it meant that your marriage to Bucky could be the next scandal to surface.
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Yes. You are racist. (Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one)
So approximately half a year since the premier of the Disney+ Percy Jackson show, and almost two years since the announcement of the Trio's casting, I would like to take this moment to look back at the insane, racist and anti-black backlash that was launched at Leah Sava Jeffries and a few other cast members from the PJO fandom.
I'm not concerned with the trolls who are openly racist, who resorted to racist slurs and outright threats, everyone agrees that they "took it too far". I want to talk about the rest of you, the "I'm not racist, but.." people, the "What's wrong with wanting book accuracy?" people. Just to let you know, for the unasked question... yes, yes you are.
I've noticed the Percy Jackson fandom has been lording some weird superiority complex over a certain *unnamed* fandom that has fallen out of grace due to their recently outed bigot of an author. But honestly, y'all are not much different. The amount of vitriol and anti-blackness I have seen from this fandom (beyond just bullying a 12 year old girl), y'all don't have a leg to stand on.
Below is a breakdown of the most common arguments I have seen used to justify y'alls absolutely insane bigotry. I am going to explain why none of these justify the amount of anger and vitriol y'all have sent towards Leah, Rick or any of the cast.
I am not here to argue, and this is not a democracy. I am giving you a chance for some self-reflection and to understand that this pattern of violence directed towards POC actors (mostly black women) has never been justified in the name of "book accuracy"/"comic book accuracy"/"ending forced diversity" or whatever other excuses y'all try to make up.
If you still try to justify or argue further for any of these points, I will just block you. I am not coddling you through your racism. If anyone has seen any other dumb arguments floating around that I might've missed, feel free to sound off in the comments.
She's not book accurate:
Neither is Percy, Luke, Grover, Dionysus, Poseidon, and just about every other named character.
Rick already made it clear that physical features were not the priority with casting, rather it was actors that embodied the role. So why are the biggest complaints about Annabeth and Zeus? 🤔
What? You're gonna say everyone else got backlash too? I see you trying to obscure the main issue by playing dumb 😉
See my friend, yes, there were one or two comments about how Percy's hair should be black or how Luke is supposed to be blonde, but as soon as Leah was cast, none of those actors got any significant backlash. In fact, Walker and Charlie literally have an army of fan girls at their beck and call, calling them the perfect Percy and Luke, despite neither being "Book accurate". But then again, have we not observed the pattern of White boy of the month vs WOC to hate for the year? (Yes, I know Charlie isn't white. Further adds to the irony, doesn't it).
Why include character descriptions if you won't stay true to them, you cry? Well, my dear sweet moron, see, books and TV are two different mediums. Because in literature, you can't *Literally* SEE the characters, the author has to add descriptions to paint a picture in your mind, in TV... that's not an issue. So unless the character's appearance is necessary to the plot (like Luke's scar, or Nico being Italian) the show runners can actually focus on more important things.. Like ACTING and PERSONALITY.
2. It's just not how I imagined her:
News flash, babe! ANNABETH ISN'T REAL. None of these character are. They are concepts that originated from the brain of Mr. Rick Riordan. It doesn't matter how YOU imagined her. There are millions of people who read these books that imagined her several different ways. When the creator of the character watched Leah's audition and said, 'Yes! She embodies the character I created!", your imagined version of Annabeth ceased to matter. And guess what? The books still exist... they have not been burned. Your version of Annabeth has not disappeared. Go read the books.
3. Zeus can't be black/Gods have to be Greek/*Insert Character* can't be black:
Y'all did not read the books, I swear. You have to be fake fans looking to troll atp.
The gods move based off the center of western civilization. They change their forms/environment to reflect the culture they are occupying (they did it with Rome, now they're doing it with America). The gods change forms all the time. How we see them is not their true form as a mortal would disintegrate if they were to see their true form.
America is a cultural melting pot (specifically NY where Mount Olympus is now based). If the god's choose forms that reflect the current society they inhabit, they could literally be any race (keep in mind NYC is only 33% white).
All of this is literally SPELLED OUT in the Lightning Thief.
Furthermore, if you're going to push the ethnically Greek thing... Poseidon is British with a British accent and Hermes is Latino. The only ethnically Greek actor is Dionysus (who still doesn't look book accurate). Y'all are sounding like some white supremacists because do you forget that race is a social construct?
Before the advent of the transatlantic slave trade, I can promise you that the Greeks and the Anglo-Saxons did NOT view themselves as the same people. Why are y'all not taking issue with Poseidon's actor then?
Also, Percy Jackson has canonically had a slew of explicitly black demigods since the second book (including Harriet Tubman, which I have mixed feelings about 😭), so I genuinely have no idea where some of y'all are going with this point.
4. She was our smart blonde representation:
Don't pmo. I swear to God!
White, blonde women have NEVER been excluded from Hollywood. Representation is not something you lacked. The dumb blonde stereotype was a simple branch off of a larger misogynistic "dumb woman" stereotype. It has not truly been relevant since the mid 2000s outside of childish jokes.
This iteration of Percy Jackson will probably not go beyond the first 5 books, based off pacing and the age of the actors. So here's a fun game: 5 bucks to the first person who can find me a quote in the first 5 Percy Jackson books, where Annabeth laments her insecurities about being blonde (hint: there aren't any).
Also, her blonde hair does not hold her back at Camp because she is head of the Athena Cabin who are highly respected (and guess what?), ARE ALL BLONDE!
Her insecurities about her hair color are two or three lines at most in the later books, not this fundamental, core part of her character y'all all of a sudden wanna pretend it was. And guess what, as a non-blonde black girl, I was able to read those scenes of Annabeth feeling undervalued because of her looks and relate to her even if she didn't look like me at the time.
Why all of a sudden can y'all not do that with a black Annabeth? By every metric black girls are undervalued for their intelligence in academia more than white girls are, regardless of hair color. So your little representation of a woman undervalued by her looks would still hold. Do y'all dehumanize black women so much, that you are incapable of empathizing with show!Annabeth's plight in the way I could with Book!Annabeth simply because she doesn't look exactly like you?
Your issue isn't that she isn't blonde, it's that she is NOT WHITE.
Furthermore, Becky Riordan had tweeted previously (before the show was even cast) that Annabeth never needed to be blonde (probably recalling the BS y'all put Alexandra Daddario through), so even if they cast a white Annabeth, the blonde hair was never a guarantee. the author and producers all agree that it was not a significant part of her character. It's been a non-issue since day one.
Also, stop acting like smart blondes are rare in media... If you don't go watch some Legally blonde, Iron Man (Pepper Potts), Zack and Cody (Maddie), Liv and Maddie, FMAB (Winry), Captain Marvel, She-Ra, Buffy, The boys (starlight) etc. etc., and go sit down somewhere 🙄🙄🙄 (those were literally all things I've watched recently, off the top of my head, btw 💀)
5. It's not about race, but...:
Yes it is. It was always bout race. No other actors got as much hate as Leah. Her grandmother and other family members on IG had to mute their comments because they were getting so many threats.
Alexandra Daddario had to come to her defense on Twitter. Rick had to put out an official statement on his website. This girl has endured years of psychological torment for simply having the best audition. No one else is book accurate, no one else is ethnically Greek (except Jason Mantzoukas). Walker literally has British and German ancestry.
Why was she being called racial slurs on reddit and in youtube comments?
I know what you're gonna say, "I actually had problems with the entire cast", "I actually had a bigger issue with Walker's hair color", blah blah blah. Then why aren't you in Walker's comment sections? Why are you only making your displeasure known on posts defending/advocating for Leah? Why is she always your first example of 'wrong casting"?
Well, she "looks the most different"... Look up the term "scapegoating".
"Oh, I don't agree with the harassment. I just don't like the casting." Guess what? She's already been cast. They are not going to uncast her. What do you get out of still complaining about it.
All the vitriol you're stirring about her when you complain about her on Social media, it is directing people to send her hate, even if you're not writing it directly. It's is not enough to "not agree" with the racism, it is your duty to actively prevent it. And btw, these are young gen z actors, they are active on social media. They see the edits of themselves (even comment on it) and they most likely see these little "harmless" complaints you're posting. Are your upset feelings really worth contributing to the racist dogpile on this poor girl?
6. Why couldn't they atleast give her blonde braids?:
Why should they? Y'all wanted blonde because of the "dumb blonde" trope... that doesn't apply to POC.
A blonde black girl is gonna be viewed the same as a non-blonde black girl (or at worst, someone might decide she's "ratchet" or some shit for wearing colored hair). What difference would it make?
Why shouldn't Walker dye his hair, then?
7. Annabeth has Gray eyes:
Less than 3% of the global population has "gray eyes". Even if they cast a white actor, they would've needed contacts. Her being black is not the reason Annabeth's eyes aren't gray. Simply put, it is a plot element they removed, like the whole "names have power" element, or Ares having flames for eyes, or Dionysus using his powers to grow strawberries at Camp.
That's how adaptations work. Unnecessary plot elements are cut to save time and budget. This has nothing to do with her casting. They probably also didn't want to make child actors wear contacts (not a new practice).
8. Even if Rick chose her, he was wrong/Disney is forcing him to be okay with it:
Where do I start? Rick created the character. He can't be wrong. Do y'all have no self-awareness? Death of the author has no place here, because y'all are hung up on an aspect of the character that is not relevant to her arc or development.
Y'all's justification for wanting a "book accurate" Annabeth is that she was such an inspirational and important character growing up, and yet your behavior is so in conflict with the character you claim means so much to you. You're narrow minded, dismissive of bigotry and injustice, and disrespectful to the wishes of the creator of your favorite character; everything that Annabeth would never be. Y'all were never genuine fans of the books. You're bigots that needed an outlet for your rage.
Keep in mind, Rick has said countless times that PercaBeth directly mirrors his relationship with his wife. Y'all think he would have allowed them to cast someone who doesn't live up to the woman who has been by his side for decades? The mother of his children?
Regarding Disney forcing him, show me one piece of direct evidence that proves Disney in anyway pressured Rick to cast her. Cuz if you can't, that's baseless speculation. And if you have to resort to baseless speculation, maybe try to examine why it's so important to you to hold on to this belief.
9. So, I'm racist because I hate "race swapping"?:
To start, there is a difference between "race swapping" and "color blind casting". Often times, when y'all complain about the former, you're actually mad about the latter.
It would be "race swapping" if Rick and the team decided ahead of time that they wanted a black Annabeth and ONLY allowed black actors to audition. But the actual reality was that they accepted auditions from everyone (there were white actors and non-black poc that also auditioned for the role) and chose the best person who embodied the role. They didn't "make Annabeth black" and they didn't "make Zeus black", they cast black actors for those roles.
Y'all think you're being slick with your wording. Dismissing that is implying that they did not earn their roles fair and square. Which is racist. It's the equivalent of going up to a black college student and telling them they only got in because of affirmative action. You're dismissing the achievements of a person solely because of their racial background.
For all you people complaining about "unfairness" and "forced diversity", I would think hiring based on merit would appeal to you 🤔
71% of theatrical Hollywood leads were white in 2024 in comparison to 29% POC and you still think "black washing" is a thing? You still get this angry over a black person fairly earning a role because you think in a time where Hollywood only knows to do remakes and adaptations, that the majority of lead roles still *have* to be reserved for white actors?
Once again, white people have never been excluded from Hollywood for being white. Representation has never been something you lacked nor is it something you can lose. Your anger comes from seeing a black face where you think they don't belong. Because you feel you are owed a disproportion of representation in Hollywood.
10. Woke agenda/DEI/Forced Diversity:
If you are unironically using any of these terms in a negative light, it's already too late for me to reason with you. Look up the term "dog whistle". If you are sharing the same terminology with Elon Musk and his fanboys, maybe reevaluate some things.
POC are objectively underrepresented and have been historically excluded through actual laws and policies in Hollywood. There is no such thing as "forced diversity", you have bought in to a right wing conspiracy theory.
"Woke" is a term that was intentionally appropriated from the black community. It originally meant being aware of injustice and systematic threats to the community and is now being weaponized by bigots. Good job.
Diversity and inclusion is a good thing.
11. But POC deserve to have their own stories told:
We do. And we have been fighting for it for over a century now, and we've made great strides, no thanks to y'all.
No thanks to y'all gaslighting us about how little representation we get or that representation matters at all. No thanks to y'all pushing the idea that POC can't sell globally and obscuring POC actors in international promos. No thanks to y'all continuing to whitewash even to this day (Bullet train, the beguiled, gods of Egypt, atla, every portrayal of Jesus ever, etc.). No thanks to y'all calling every piece of media that has more than one black lead and more than one queer couple "woke". No thanks to y'all throwing a fit every time a black person in a fantasy setting isn't a slave.
Fact of the matter is, y'all never cared about POC "getting their own stories", you're only parroting our own words back to us now as a politically correct way of saying, "leave white roles alone" lmao
Well fun fact, actors of color getting opportunities to play lead roles and allowing poc to "tell their own stories" are not mutually exclusive. If y'all cared that much, instead of bullying a 12 year old actress, you could actually support up and coming independent POC writers, directors, and studios 😱
12. Studios need to stop "setting up" actors of color:
Do me a favor and google the term DARVO.
Your racism is not the fault of the studios for giving a POC actor a role that they earned. It is not up to the rest of society to tiptoe around racists to avoid their vitriol. It is our responsibility to hold them accountable and protect minorities from unwarranted hate. At most, you can say it's the responsibility of the studios to provide adequate support to POC actors who face this backlash.
At the end of the day, Hollywood only allows very few spots for POC actors (especially WOC), while simultaneously pushing a new white boy every month to put in everything. Putting minorities in these roles that are usually closed to them, usually opens the door to more actors of color than before.
Brandy being cast as Cinderella did a lot to push her into the mainstream (yes, she was already extremely famous in the black community atp), Halle Berry being the first, black, bond girl literally shot her to icon status, and even going as far back to what Anna Mae Wong did for Asian American actresses with her "femme fatale" roles.
At the end of the day, even with the backlash, *some* rep does more good for POC actors than *no* rep. The solution to racist backlash isn't to take away those opportunities, but rather to not be racist??? 🙄
Also, for everyone that claims that "POC race-swapping" is just as bad as "white-washing", despite white washing having a longer history and objectively causing more harm, note how the backlash to white washing never lasts as long as the harassment that POC get.
Like, no one brings up Scarlett Johansson's ghost in the shell role anymore, but you can best believe Candace Patton is still fending off racist trolls. As much as people hated the atla movie, people moved on quick from Nicola Peltz playing Katara since she was just a kid that accepted the role (re: daddy bought her the role), but y'all would not have any of that consideration for Leah Sava Jeffries.
But I digress...
13. What if we made Tiana white? Wakanda white? Hazel white...:
Ah, my favorite inane point. I was so excited to get here :)
See, I could start out by pointing out how "White washing" and casting a POC actor as a traditionally white character are not equivalent.
I could point out the history of hollywood ACTIVELY excluding POC actors and POC stories. I could point out how grossly over represented white people are in hollywood. I could point out that POC characters are so few in comparison that whitewashing them causes actual harm, where white people have never lacked rep.
I could point out how, because poc characters and stories are so often tokenized that their racial/cultural background is often directly tied to their character's identity, in opposition to a lot of white characters, since hollywood treats white as the "Default".
See, I could make all those points, but the thing is, the people who make this argument already know all that. They are trying to waste time by drawing me into a pointless circular argument that will sum up to "fair is fair", while ignoring all the context and nuance I previously provided.
So you know what? Forget it. Let me play your game.
I am actually fine with a white Tiana. Would it make sense, for her and her family to experience Jim Crow era racism, in the south while white? No. But we can look past it. Disney was never known for historical accuracy anyway 🤷🏿♀️
However, in exchange, the live action frozen will have a black Elsa and Anna, live action Rapunzel will be black, live action Merida will be black, we're re-filming Cinderella and Beauty and the beast to cast a black belle and Cindy, snow white will need to be recast as black, and we also get aurora whenever the live action sleeping beauty is announced. But then y'all can keep Tiana, deal?
You want a white T'Challa? Fine! (I'm partial to Ryan gosling), in the meantime, we'll be recasting Iron man, Captain America (Steve version), Bruce banner, Thor, Loki, hawk eye, black widow, ant man, captain marvel, Bucky, Peter Parker etc. All the avengers and their side characters, then y'all can have Sam Wilson, war machine and the whole of Wakanda (will it make sense that a sole, hidden, African nation is randomly made up of white people? Who cares? We get the avengers!).
You want white Hazel? You got her! I hope you have no problem with us taking Percy, Nico, Will, Poseidon, Jason, calypso, Rachel, Tyson, Silena, the stoll brothers, Sally Jackson, Hades, Hepheastus, ares, etc. But y'all can have Hazel and Beckendorf.
If we're gonna do this, let's commit all the way. Fair is fair, after all.
14. Leah isn't as "pretty" as Book Annabeth/Movie Annabeth:
I wish I could say this wasn't a genuine point I had read, but when all else fails, they will always go for a woman's appearance.
Now first of all, as a rule, I will never hold black women to white beauty standards. Our hair will never be long and silky enough, our nose will never be narrow enough, our skin will never be fair enough and our eyes will never be light enough (Might I recommend Toni Morrison, when you get the chance?). But Leah is unfairly gorgeous idc what any of you say, and you're not gonna have me use my defense of Leah as an opportunity to bash Alexandra either because she is also beautiful. These two queens slayed to the best of their abilities within this toxic ass fandom.
I find it funny, however, that so many of you harped on the "blonde" issue because you thought it was important that Annabeth be seen beyond just her looks, but quickly devolve to bashing an actress's looks when it comes to why she's not right for this role 🤔
I would also like to sincerely apologize that the 13 year old girl they cast in the show, wasn't as sexually attractive to you as the 24 year old woman they cast in the movie and sexualized through like 25% of her screen time (I'm actually not sorry. You're very weird if this is an actual point for you).
15. I don't agree with sending hate to the actor, but she's just not right for the role:
Once again, what are you doing by complaining about her casting on no other basis than her race?
The creator of the character said she embodied the role. She has already been cast, and Disney would be in a legal/production hell to recast her atp. Just because you're not directly leaving comments on her social media doesn't mean you're not part of the hate mob.
No matter how you look at it, your issues with her casting come from a very entitled and narrow-minded place. When you join in on these dialogues you are bolstering a sentiment that pushes more people to harass this teenage girl. When you leave these "harmless" complaints, on show content, fan posts or posts defending her, she's liable to read them because the cast regularly interact with fans online.
What do you have to say that is so important that it trumps protecting a young girl from the long-staying trauma of racism, of being told she doesn't deserve something she worked for because of how she was born?
16. I can't even criticize the show without being called racist:
Get. Over. Yourself.
Y'all are not the victim. Have fans of the show gotten protective of Leah and the young cast? Yes.
With good reason. This fandom is unbearably toxic.
Racism outweighs your need for a "perfect adaptation", sorry.
If you explain yourself properly and keep your critiques fair (like, even I don't think this was a perfect season, and will be sharing my thoughts shortly), no one is gonna call you racist.
You're preempting with that because in all honesty, you're probably planning to use your "critiques" of the show to pivot to one of the many points that I just outlined, and you want to pre-empt the criticism.
If a black Annabeth is the end all be all for you, just don't watch the show, no one's holding a gun to your head. Geez.
17. I'm Black/POC and I don't agree...:
Hey, Candace Owens... No one gives a shit.
First of all, for all the "I'm POC and I don't agree" people, you don't speak for us. Anti-blackness is rampant in just about every culture globally. You being not-white doesn't somehow make you less prone to hating black people.
But for the "I'm black and I don't agree" leftovers (assuming you're not just a 👩🏼💻 behind a keyboard). Black people are not a monolith. You're not obligated to think a certain way because you're black.
But consider why you're putting yourself up as a barrier to protect this hate mob. It's one thing to just state why you don't like Leah's casting, but to start off your spiel with "I'm actually black" as a way to weaponize the very identity politics you're critiquing... very strange. Not to mention, what are you defending?
The black community is coming together to defend one of our own, a kid who has been receiving death threats since she was 12, and this is when you feel the need to back the opposition?
I mean whatever... sometimes the house slaves would snitch to the master. There will always be some of y'all in the woodwork. It is what it is.
But when the exact ideology you defend is turned against you, when a Baltimore elected official is being accused of getting his job through "DEI", when conservatives are claiming that they wouldn't "trust a black pilot", don't decide that's where you'll finally draw your line in the sand.
All that being said, This is my Annabeth:
May every tongue that rose against Leah Sava Jeffries Shrivel and die in 2025 🙏🏿 My girl will keep winning ❤️
(video by @/waleahhasmyheart on TikTok)
#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo#percabeth#disney+#pjverse#pjo tv show#percy jackson fandom#rick riordan#riordanverse#leah sava jeffries#leah jeffries#walker scobell#camp half blood#pjo series#disney percy jackson#annabeth chase#mine
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Alan Rickman, David Thewlis, Gary Oldman and all those are iconic in their roles in Harry Potter, but I’ll always be a bit sad about that casting, because having that ‘Marauders era’ cast be age appropriate would’ve just been so much better for the story.
Sirius wasn’t this old man who spent 12 years in Azkaban, no he got locked up at 21. He spent almost third of his life in a cell. He wasn’t this wise father figure to Harry, he was a reckless thirty-something who never really got the chance to mature past 21.
Remus was an exhausted, bone deep tired man carrying both physical and mental scars from the suffering he went through. Because he’s a werewolf, because of the war, because he lost all of his friends. And he’s only 33 when first introduced.
And Snape. Snape wasn’t an old bitter man who just hated everyone and enjoyed being antagonistic. He was 31 in Harry’s first year. He began to work for Voldemort as a teen, and as a double agent at 20. He’s a thirty-something bitter man, who never got to really live or make real connections. From Harry’s perspective he’s scary and intimidating, but really he’s just kinda…sad and pathetic. And then especially that scene where Snape is begging Dumbledore to help save Lily, and promising anything in return. (Because apparently Dumbledore needs something in return…for saving people.) He’s twenty. Barely out of his teens. Rickman was good in that scene, but having someone who actually looks twenty, would better show how scared, young, guilty and just desperate he was. That might not put Dumbledore in such a good light, though.
And then, the characters I think would’ve been the most important to cast age appropriately. And most people probably already agree and know who I’m talking about. James and Lily. They were 21 when they died. When Harry sees them in the mirror of Erised, they’re 10 years older than him. That’s the age difference Ron has with Bill. In that scene I might understand somewhat them being in their thirties, because that’s what Harry wants. He wants his life with his parents, he wants to have been raised by them. Though, I don’t know if the mirror could know what they might’ve looked like in their thirties, since they didn’t live that long. But then, in the cemetery when Voldemort’s wand spits the last spells cast, we see Lily and James as they were. 21. They’re telling their son to hold on just a moment longer. And they are 7 years older than him. In Deathly Hallows, Harry sees Voldemort kill them. They’re not this happy couple who’s got to love each other for a long time, only to have that happiness torn from them, no they started at Hogwarts ten years ago. They’re 21, and they’ve barely tasted that happiness. At the end of the book Harry talks to his parents. They comfort him and promise to stay with him, as he goes to die. Harry’s seventeen. James and Lily are four years older than him.
It wouldn’t have felt as nice. Harry being comforted by someone who looks almost his age. But it wasn’t nice. It was pretty tragic. Casting people who look 21, would’ve really made it land on the audience. It was a tragedy. They were barely adults.
#every time I swear I’m over this fucking franchise#some stupid ass thought drags me right back in#i didn’t mean to write that much#the brainrot is real#harry potter#harry potter movies#marauders#sirius#sirius black#remus lupin#severus snape#james potter#lily potter#lily evans#can you tell I don’t like Dumbledore
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the shift in lore literacy in homestuck’s fandom
i was thinking about how the people who got into homestuck after it ended—whose interactions with the comic are in a static, archived state, not an ongoing thing—missed out on information that was more common knowledge in the fandom at that time. i don’t know if this is true since i’m not on tiktok, but i wouldn’t be surprised if it was. the fandom certainly isn’t the same as it was before.
ive found that many people reading homestuck now simply do not understand things in homestuck that were common knowledge back in the day, with calls for “homestuck literacy classes to become mandatory” in response to baffling takes because so many people just now seem to have glazed over the comic without absorbing important plot points, and i think i know why this may be. i ended up writing a post reflecting on my time with the comic, my perspective and how ive seen this change. i still think and write about homestuck because it still fascinates me. earlier i quote retweeted that call in my thread talking about the temporal relativity of dave and rose’s god tier ascension in the green sun, saying “my homestuck literacy is 100% so guess im doing my part as a teacher by pointing out whatever i think is really cool about it”. this post im writing now started out as a reply to this tweet i got in response.
i joined the fandom in 2013. i was 11. i had been aware of it since at least late 2011, early 2012 when my friend ryan in fifth grade told me to read it but i couldn’t get past the first few pages. i remember writing a journal on deviantart around this time (late 2011-early 2012) that was mocking people who typed like gamzee, which ironically was very karkat of me. and i remember someone on flipnote hatena i was following was making flipnotes with the alpha kids.
i dont know what caused me to flip the switch into reading it but 2013. i got into it somewhere between april (i think closer to april—i remember it being quite a span of time between the last update before HOMOSUCK dropped.) this was the most recent page the comic, meaning there was no > [S] ACT 6 ACT 6 at the bottom.
i got into it during a pause in updates, which looking into it, was the year 4 megapause. i wasn’t sure of the month until seeing the news post detailing the reason for the hiatus and the status report of the comic’s development at that time. pretty cool i could narrow it down by referencing the dates of those updates and the news post to correspond with the pause!
according to readmspa, the year 4 megapause was a 59 day hiatus from Apr 14, 2013 ==> (EOA6A5) running to 12 Jun 2013, [S] ACT 6 ACT 6. then for a few months there were the first updates that i was apart of the fandom for.
and what an exciting time during the story get into the webcomic! when the updates resumed in june, part 4 of homestuck had begun. here was a glimpse of the updates in that span of time before the next hiatus began in october.
that hiatus was none other than the gigapause, the longest hiatus in the comic, which started october 2013 and lasted for a YEAR, and i already posted about what happened on the date of return.
but here were the main events happening in the story at the time i first actually got interested in it. i wasn’t aware of the full context of them then like i am now, but i was looking at the most recent updates anyway with interest:
the alpha kids just emerged as god tiers from their slabs in derse and prospit, blown up by the condesce and caliborn / lil cal-possessed b2 jack noir.
the journey to the new session started 24 hours after jack called an early reckoning in descend—for context that was about when dave entered around midnight central time and before jade even entered. it’s pretty easy to forget that side 1 of homestuck basically happens within the span of a single day—and at this point in the story, the 3 year journey (which was also 3 real life years) had just ended. john and jade emerged from the other side of the yellow yard through the fenestrated plane on LOMAX. john’s real body was asleep upon arrival in the new session, while his dreaming projection out in the dream bubbles came across vriska’s ghost ship to learn lord english lore with vriska and aranea, and go on the treasure hunt where they found the ultimate weapon at the X mark out in in the furthest ring. in the dream john stuck his hand in the juju, started warping all over canon which removed his real body from the ship on LOMAX. he zapped around for a while but eventually zapped back to LOMAX, now awake, completely out of the loop of what everyone else is up to, and bored as fuck. what was everyone else getting up to while john was asleep?
jade was now once again within the domain of the green sun. im pretty sure her space god doggy essence comes with the power to sense what was anywhere within the domain of the session since her face looks like she arrived at that spot with intent (and she literally has jack noir’s exact powers from bec’s prototyping. also this panel). she immediately dispatched b2 jack to the edge of the incinisphere, defending the newly god-tiered jane and jake. i think even if they weren’t in any danger, she would have warped to them instantly anyway because she COULD now, and i can imagine she wouldve been sooooo eager to meet everyone. even davesprite comments about her rapid departure.
the pre-scratch refugees arrived during the only time serious shit ever went down in the nobles’ months-long inert void session. the condesce used her freak psychic bronze-cerulean powers to commune with jade’s bestial side and mind controlled her, which is super dangerous as someone with the powers of a first guardian. she then used jade’s powers to corrupt jane with the tiaratop. no funtime meetup allowed!
the trolls’ meteor with rose, dave, and the remaining trolls was pulling up into the new session with no way to slow it down. grimbark jade warped there once it was in the incinisphere and took active control. she warped everyone off the trolls’ meteor and sent them to LOMAX.
as john was losing his mind on LOMAX waiting for everyone, the meteor crew warped in. after 3 years he finally reunited with rose and dave, and at least saw the trolls in person. close curtains, end of A6A5. this was the newest [S] flash page at the time, one of my first impressions of this comic, and still one of my favorite flashes. knowing the context of the flash in the story only enhances the retrospective joy i have at getting into the comic at the time i did because it’s such an anticipated moment in the story for everyone, while for someone with no context of the story it was still enjoyable.
so that’s what was going on plotwise when i joined the fandom.
from this time, through those few months of updates and through the gigapause, i was familarizing myself with the characters in the story and overseeing the state of fanbase, getting myself acquainted with the story and wrapping my head around everything.
at that time i found that a new-ish group called colab HQ who were producing a let’s read homestuck series on youtube. hearing the voices and the pacing of it like that really, really eased me into it (maybe it was my adhd that gave me trouble actually starting it?). i caught up to a certain point using lets read homestuck and from that point was able to continue with the comic on my own, and by the time the gigapause came to a close i was fully caught up. i remember the rebranding of colab hq into voxus about a year and a half after i discovered them.
but.. back to the main point of my post. even these posts from hussie’s tumblr exist in archived states. how many new fans know about hussie’s old tumblr? i don’t know, unless theyre a new fan that must scour the internet for more deep more dives on homestuck and its fandom as a whole. but since hussie deleted his tumblr (it exists archived now on homestuck.net which, alongside from the unofficial homestuck collection, has nearly singlehandedly kept the most important relics of the fandom and lore archived), that page is not an active part of the fandom now, because it’s gone. it’s a pile of bones. it’s not living and breathing. it’s in an archived state. the whole thing is already there. homestuck and its fandom history is something you now binge instead of slowly consume and meld with as it comes out. it’s now this rapid information intake that you might forget about if you read it now instead of engaged alongside it. you’re not surrounded by people actively talking and theorizing about developments anymore. the ability to have those sorts of conversations during the ongoing development of the story reinforced concepts, ideas, and lore over and over as we tried to make sense of it.
being in a fandom when the author is still delivering the story is like nothing else. it allows you grow alongside the characters and engage meaningfully with the media and people in the fandom space around you. it feels like you’re participating IN the media itself, especially if you’re interfacing with the creator. it’s in always having something to theorize or talk about and speculate. and people become very aware of these sorts of forgotten story facts because they were applying the logic of the newest official post from hussie into making their sburb ocs or something and share resources and discussion posts about “what just happened in this update?? recap????” it was this cultural osmosis thing. i think this is why homestuck literacy is now at an all time low, at least from what i can see on twitter.
reading homestuck then vs now is like the difference between serialized shows with spaces between episodes to discuss stuff and time to reflect and learn and become attached to the story, narrative, worldbuilding and its characters, vs the netflix model where it’s all dropped all at once and people forget about it after binging.
at this point in time im getting the sense that “homestuck elders” now are no longer just people who were there since 2009-2010, but now also people who were there while it was still updating, probably stretching into 2014-2015. there are many sources of lore that were common knowledge in the fandom at the time that, since becoming susceptible to the deletion of content and link rot, and with the thanosing of mspaforums, are no longer accessible at the source. and a lot of people moved on after it ended, especially following the epilogues, the kate drama, and the whatpumpkin-sarah z drama, leaving a void of information behind if not for archivists and people such as me who continue to keep old facts relevant in discussions. my friend has called me a fandom scholar before and seeing this post i think i get what they mean.
EDIT: there is a series of video essays ive watched multiple times (because theyre that good) and they are exactly what modern fans need to see more of. they really help contextualize the comic and the themes present in it help you appreciate the basic fabric of homestuck a hell of a lot more. i highly recommend them and encourage any fan of homestuck to watch them, or someone considering getting into homestuck to watch the first one.
i think this is arguably as close to the “mandatory literacy class for homestuck” that person was talking about as you can get, especially the first video.
additionally, there is also the website https://rafe.name/homestuck which is essentially a sparknotes for homestuck and can help you follow developments in the comic itself.
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house of the dragon characters ranked by how good of a guest judge i personally think they would be on drag race🙂↕️
19. ser criston cole- gets a reverse glaad award for most homophobic thing ever said on television.
18. alicent hightower- would cry.
17. aemond- would do a little better post-alys rivers but it’s still looking pretty dire. hates camp despite dressing like an anime villain every day. criston raised him.
16. otto hightower- openly homophobic but clearly strangely familiar with drag race and knows what he’s talking about
15. helaena- shes sweet but I think it would be hard to get her to focus and also she might accidentally prophesy the winner. don’t really think it would be her thing she’s not really a fashion or prolonged social interaction person.
14. aegon- funny and cool until the exact instant he is extremely NOT.
13. corlys- does alright on his own but he’s clearly a little uncomfortable the whole time. if they let him bring his wife it’s a good time.
12. rhaenyra’s brunette sons- raised too right by their mom they would just respectfully clap and cheer and say “i think she looks nice” about everyone.
11. larys strong- weird and off-putting but bizarrely accurate reads.
10. ser harwin strong- could handle they/them pussy could handle being a guest judge. solid pick. episode gets significant backlash from the flea bottom community for inviting essentially the chief of police on though.
9. the crabfeeder- gay people love the crabfeeder.
8. mysaria- possesses the skillset to be very good at guest judging like she’s very established and known among the flea bottom queens but she’s seen it all and is a bit over it.
7. laena- from what little we saw of her she is witty and vivacious and passionate that’s a pretty high score.
6. viserys- don’t know how he feels about gay people but he DOES love pageantry and serving targaryen realness.
5. laenor- very very fun. even better if he gets to bring his boyfriend or rhaenyra.
4. rhaenyra- shes a little shy but once she opens up she is phenomenal. The Rhaenyra/Laenor guest judge episode woudlve been so excellent it would have bought them enough good PR to win the throne in less than 36 hours.
3. dragon twins- they got daemon’s mean streak plus laena’s sparkle i think they would KILL it.
2. daemon targaryen- crazy bisexual man on adderall. took rhaenyra to a rhaenyra-themed drag show when he was trying to groom her so i guess he’s with it. is at least entertaining to watch. thinks he can reclaim.
1. rhaenys- would absolutely CLEAR she is bitchy in just the right way and would clearly be having the time of her life. let her commentate on more things.
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i know some of you have been pressing your faces to the glass waiting for me to see this one in particular SO i saw "the nurses" the other night and am still thinking about it!!
i love love love it when characters get pushed to a point where you can almost see their childhood selves pop out, like are they even talking about what's happening right now? or are their 12-year-old hearts just screaming?? i love that margaret's outburst is both irrational (the hostile work environment is coming from inside the house; i was yelling at my tv "baby it's your fault!!!") and so so honest.
[this turned into a bit of a character thesis, so not only is there a readmore, there will also be a reblog soon with the rest of the post because i maxed out the image limit] [edit: part ii now in the reblogs!]
this whole time, margaret has treated her subordinates with a heavy hand because she thinks it's the right and fair thing to do. the rules say this is how it works!
she maintains a high standard of excellence in brutal circumstances, but she's also reactive, moody, and unforgiving. she's often shown on the edge of losing control and authority, she inflames situations by overreacting, and the thing she punishes most egregiously is disrespect (toward frank, toward the army, toward herself). she intentionally underlines the distance between herself and the other nurses at every turn.
from season 3 "there's nothing like a nurse": [all IDs in alt]
really, everything she thinks and does comes from a place of "they're not supposed to like me," but the childish part of her that is completely unable to see her own behavior is confused and hurt because "i'm just doing my job so why don’t they like me???"
it's her job to maintain discipline, but especially here in 4077-land, she doesn't have to lead with the whip. henry was beloved because he was an overly permissive clown, which will never be her speed, but colonel potter has all the same training as she does. he's loved and respected as the Good Regular Army Guy because he leads with discernment and mutual respect.
it's easier for him. he's more experienced, he's respected and supported from above and below, and he has a calm temperament — which isn't nothing.
from season 4 "the interview":
whether she's aware of this as a problem or not, we at home can see how margaret's inability to control her emotional reactivity causes her as much grief as her inability to control other people.
if she were capable of laughing off small slights, hawkeye and trapper wouldn't have used her as a chew toy so much, and henry might have taken her real concerns more seriously if they weren't lost in the noise of daily fits, you know? she rarely started it, so i'm not blaming her for the hostile chaos circus of seasons 1-3, but i am saying she would have had a better time if she knew how to take a few deep breaths.
this description from the script, after the near-brawl in the nurses' tent in act one, is basically her character thesis statement:
and here, when she's reacting fully emotionally, the truth comes out! the reason that she won't be flexible and show compassion to the nurses isn't because of the rules, but because they're mean to her!!
that's obviously a very bad place to lead from. she has enormous institutional power over them, including controlling their freedom of movement, but she feels like all the other girls in school are hanging out together and they hate her. because they are! and they do! the fight in act one boils over when they make fun of her hair, and that sent all of them back to middle school.
and in many ways, that's where margaret's emotional maturity is stuck (which is, i think, why i find her so endearing). she can't see herself. she knows they don't like her, trust her, or want her around, but she doesn't understand how she dug this hole herself, or how to get out of it.
to add insult to jealous injury, one of the nurses (mary jo, who gets between margaret and baker to stop the fight and takes care of the others in different ways) is margaret's age, and the others look to her as their chosen leader and personal support.
and i'm sure margaret had NO IDEA this was the messy truth until she heard it come out of her mouth.
and her emotionally breaking on the "one lousy cup of coffee" in particular…
i wonder, how often does some version of that first tent scene happen? does she deliver their assignments every night? she walks in already defensive, they immediately stop laughing, and then... she either finds a reason to scold them or they ice her out until she leaves. (and they probably start laughing again as soon as she does!)
from her perspective, when she arrived for the dreaded sleepover and they turned out the lights the minute she walked in, it's like they cancelled the nightly coffee klatch just to avoid spending one social minute with her.
i also think the nurses are right when they assumed that she wouldn't have accepted an invitation to hang out with them (and might even have snapped at them for being inappropriate for asking). she doesn't cross that emotional line, even when she should — she didn't know gaynor was spiraling after losing so many patients in a row, and didn't respond compassionately when she learned.
has she ever invited them for coffee or a friendly chat? no.
...... but her circumstances have recently changed.
[reblog with the rest of it is here!]
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hello! i’m not sure if you’re taking reqs so if not feel free to skip this! i was wondering if we can get a oneshot of bakugo x reader except reader is a famous jpop idol (or even a global pop star) and bakugo is a pro hero. how the rest plays out can totally be up to you but i thought this would be a unique pairing. :)
ʚCont: pro hero! Bakugou x idol! reader, inspo from the met gala, gn! reader, swearing cause its bakugou
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a/n Hi hi! Yes my reqs are open so feel free to ask as much as you´d like! I looove the idea, its literally one of my fave tropes. It´s a little short but I thought it was a cute way to start a possible relationship between bakugo and reader :>
Bakugou hated attending these events. The constant flashing of camera lights, the stuffiness of his suit, the obnoxious voices of paparazzi begging him to look their way. It was exhausting.
But alas, as one of the top heroes, he had to show his face more often than he´d like to and make small talk with people he could care less about. At least he´d get a few free drinks and food for the night.
As he finished walking down the red carpet and away from the dizzying lights, a figure smaller than his own bumped into him. And Bakugou in his very characteristic fashion, was ready to threat whoever wasn´t watching their step. "Oi, watch where you´re-"
The words died in his throat when his ruby eyes landed on your own. You had to be the most beautiful person he had ever seen. The luxurious fabric of your extravagant clothes complimented your features and sitted on the curves of your body just right. He realizes he was staring more than he should when your silky voice reached his ears.
"I´m so sorry!! It´s just it´s a bit hard to walk in these clothes" You admit with an embarrsed chuckle. He tsks, though there was no real annoyance directed towards you. "Can´t believe they´re making you wear something you can´t even walk in"
You chuckle feeling flattered by the concerns from someone who was so notorious for being abrasive...and devilishly handsome. "Yeah, well, you know, practicality isn´t really on top of their priority list."
To the surprise of the both of you, he holds his arm out. "What table are you assigned in?" God it took everything in him not to sweep you off your feet with the way your doe eyes were marveling up at him. You link your arm around his own. "Table three"
He hums in acknowledgement, though deep down he felt his heart hammering in his chest like a teenage boy. "Good, at least there will be a pretty face sitting with me"
It was embarrassing how quickly heat rose to your cheeks from such a common and simple compliment you heard quite often. Though it felt so different hearing it slip from his tongue. It felt genuine.
The picture you had portrayed of the pro hero Dynamight completely shattered the longer you spent the night engaged in conversation with him. He too, felt any prejudices he may have held against you for being an idol slip away. Conversation rolled easily between you two as if you had been friends for years, and for the first time in a very long time, you both truly enjoyed being there.
Of course, it didn´t make it any less exhausting. The proof being written all over your energy drained face by the time the clock struck 12 PM. Lucky you, Bakugou had a knack for being observant, so it didn´t take long before he realized how fatigued you felt, and truthfully, he wasn´t doing much better than you. He was just better at hiding it.
"Let me drive you home" It wasn´t a question, and it´s not like you had the energy to retaliate. You let him place a warm calloused hand on your waist while he led you to his car. The drive back to your home felt like it went by in a flash, though it must be because you were fast asleep.
His heart clenched when he gazed at your soft features while you were deep in slumber. But alas, the last thing he wanted was to overstep boundaries, so, albeit begrudgingly, he reached out and shook your shoulder.
"Hey, wake up, we´re here"
Your dark lashes fluttered against your cheeks before your eyelids slowly opened. It took you a long moment to gather your surroundings, but once you realized, your lips formed into a small `o´.
Bakugou thought it was a crime to look so adorable, but it´s not like he would ever tell you that. "C´mon, i´ll help you upstairs"
Once again, his hands felt just right against your body when he aided you in walking properly to your home. Everything felt like a fever dream. The way he respectfully removed any excessive fabric of clothing or the way he helped you into your bed in a surprisingly soft manner for someone so rough.
But you realized how real it was when you spotted a little note sticked to your fridge the next morning with beautifully neat handwriting saying:
"Text me xxx-xx-xx-xx"
And if anyone had seen the wide grin that spread across your face, they would have called you a simp. Maybe you were.
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