#a whole white woman who i wasn't talking to

[felucians]

white people using AAVE to attack woc, have the day you deserve

[aceofwands]

1000% and it's especially egregious in the modern shows imo because like, in Sisko's case it was a symptom of their overall "oh no this is our first concurrent spin-off we HAVE to differentiate it from TNG!!" panic - which also led to them doing stupid shit like forcing Avery to grow his hair out even though he was far more comfortable with his later look because heaven forbid they have two bald leads!!! hence them quickly and unceremoniously promoting him at the end of the third season when Ira was like ffs why exactly is he a Commander?? cause he also thought it was dumb as fuck (and wasn't in charge until season 3 lol)

but what is the excuse for the new stuff??? Disco especially pissed me the fuck off when they not only killed off Captain Georgiou and robbed us of the incredible opportunity to have our first Trek show where the Captain and First Officer duo are both women - but then to pour salt into the wound there was season after season of white dude Captains!!

I'm not saying I dislike the "having to wait for and earn the captaincy" storyline. There's obviously a lot of really interesting stories there and great character beats that have resulted in some of my favorite Trek characters. But there is an extremely noticeable pattern in which show leads need character development to move up the ranks

And who is presented as inherently qualified from the beginning

And before anyone mentions her, yes, I know we have Captain Freeman, but she's not the lead of her show

[marzipanandminutiae]

"EUROPEANS ATE GROUND-UP EGYPTIAN MUMMIES!!!! ALL THE TIME!!!"

sounds much more dramatic than

"Europeans sometimes consumed ground-up Egyptian mummies, or fluid found inside the chest cavities of mummies, or a type of tree resin that became associated with mummies because it kind of looked like the bitumen used in the embalming process, or the dried and ground flesh of very specific European dead- most likely a bit of all of the above at various times in various places. but it's hard to say what the proportion of each was- and at least one early Middle Eastern physician, Abd al-Latif al-Baghdadi from modern-day Iran, also advised the use of the Body Cavity Liquid variety hundreds of years before the first documented use of mummy by Europeans. so it was a medicinal thing in the areas from whence the mummies came, too. unsurprising seeing as a lot of cultures- including Europeans -have done Corpse Medicine with their own people for centuries. there was also been pushback against the medicinal use of mummies in Europe since at least the 16th century; it remains unclear how popular the notion was at any given time. so the answer to Is This A Good Symbol For The Effects of European Colonialism In Egypt remains a resounding 'ehhh...?'"

"because the whole idea is, is it not, that Europeans were literally consuming the dead bodies of a non-European people who would have had no reason to sell their dead without a European market. and that's kind of true! there was a market that created a demand! but they were also already putting the bodies to these uses closer to home before Europeans started, because this whole thing began with both Arab and European doctors misinterpreting other Arab doctors who were talking about the medicinal qualities of tree resin. so really it's not as simple a situation as we might like to believe."

"and Mummy Brown paint is like this whole other situation where it was supposed to be made from ground-up mummies but often wasn't because Cost-Cutting, and a lot of artists didn't really like it anyway, and others used it thinking the name only referred to the color, and one time Edward Burne-Jones attempted an Egyptian funeral for a tube of Mummy Brown paint because he was so horrified with the origins, so while that's a more straightforward as an Oh Shit Violent Colonialism situation, people merrily waltzing into shops and buying one tube of Dead Egyptian Person, please, my good man! wasn't quite as widespread as one might now think"

"for me, the more compelling image of Europe Fucking Egypt Over is that of a white archaeologist peering curiously into a pit where Egyptian people are working tirelessly to excavate a tomb, their names to be lost to history in favor of whatever rich white person they toiled for. even that image is not without complicating factors- I, imagining it, am a white woman who cannot ask those Egyptian men what they think and feel about all their role in all this -but to me it seems more reliable than the VERY complex and often misinterpreted history of the mummy trade, even as I understand it after like an hour of research"

"on the OTHER HAND, does it even matter if people in the Middle East were already doing mummy medicine, when Europeans increased demand? does it even matter if Europeans felt bad or at least grossed out about Mummy Brown paint or if it wasn't ~always~ real mummies? maybe it doesn't! maybe my instincts as a history worker to say It's More Complicated are clouding my judgment on the nature of colonialism! or maybe they aren't! or maybe different people will think I'm right or think I'm full of shit and that's just the nature of doing public history on The Tungles!"

"anyway I have COVID and should probably go to bed now"

"this article and the Wiki page for Mummia are very well-sourced"

[3liza]

I agree that the pushback against White Woman Paranoia About Men is warranted but

I also see a lot of posts by men and people who situationally may never experience this, about how being wary of men as a class is delusional due to the actual crime statistics being basically negligible compared to, for example, being hit by a car or getting into a car accident. and what this kind of post doesn't acknowledge is that there are lot of ways to have an exceptionally bad experience caused by strange men in public that have nothing to do with anything that is classified as criminal, bodily harm, and specifically any behavior that would actually be worthwhile to report, making it unknown to the statistics. the guy who followed me for two blocks one night and then brushed by my back and said "don't fall" very pointedly as I was standing on a freeway overpass wasn't doing anything illegal and certainly nothing any cop would do anything about if I "reported" it (lmao) but yeah that is an unpleasant experience I remember vividly and would like to avoid in future. one example of many, obviously, I'm not making a whole post about a single experience

it is absolutely the case that the only rapes and most of the physical assaults I've experienced have been from men known to me socially or intimately, but until I got a large dog, going outside was about 60% likely to involve being harassed. which is a lot more than I have been hit by cars (zero times)

being harassed is extremely unpleasant regardless of its likelihood to progress to physical assault. sometimes it can be so unpleasant it affects our daily lives, and a single incident of harassment can impact a person's mental health. the expectation of ongoing harassment does this moreso, it creates a continual expectation of being pursued, questioned, and then having to deal with someone getting angry at you when you don't accede to their demands. in any context this is unpleasant. people who do not experience sexual harassment in their daily lives may be able to empathize with this experience if they were ever bullied as children. people chasing you around, calling you names, creating unpleasant confrontations for no reason, and then the next day you have to get up and go do it again. people change schools, quit jobs and move out of shared living situations to avoid this kind of stress, it's reasonable to develop an aversion to it. it's reasonable to develop reactivity and hypervigilance as well. verbal and social harassment without any physical assault is more than enough to cause a trauma response.

it's also just inconvenient. even if you are not menaced or belittled or traumatized by an episode of harassment, having to Manage a Harassment Situation in the grocery store or post office when you're just trying to get an errand done is a massive waste of time. a lot of women have to plan for extra time during errands or travel to account for getting out of situations like that.

a LOT of the paranoia about men from women that you can read everywhere in the culture is based not in a fear of getting physically harmed or killed, but simply avoiding more harassment.

I think a lot of women have defaulted to explaining this desire to avoid men and avoid being alone with men, or explaining their suspicion of men, as fear of physical harm, because that's the only way people who don't get harassed are able to take it seriously. but it's completely reasonable to want to avoid being annoyed, bothered, harassed, questioned, inconvenienced, interrupted, or to have someone just be rude to you, completely apart from the actual percentage likelihood that they are a serial killer. even the act of telling these men politely that you can't talk right now, aren't interested, have to go, have a boyfriend, whatever, is annoying and often escalates into a confrontation or to the man being angry at you or insulting you. we can agree that getting into a verbal argument for no reason on the street is a negative experience. it can be annoying and unsettling without being a threat to life and limb. and no this isn't a "i have bad social skills and can't handle normal human interactions" thing, it's not a social interaction required by common decency or manners or basic function, it's someone putting you into a bad situation for no reason and then getting mad at you when you decline to entertain them. the harassers are the ones being rude. it is a violation of the social contract to catcall someone. it's just annoying and I want to avoid it. most women want to avoid it, and behave accordingly.

no terfs on this post. everything I just said about being bothered by strangers applies double (at least) to the experiences of most trans women

women aren't the only people who get harassed by strangers either, but it is overwhelmingly an issue experienced by women, and people who are perceived as feminine or as women.

it's also not just men who do the harassing, but again, it is overwhelmingly men who are doing it.

some women experience no harassment or very little of this harassment and won't identify with this post. that's true and real, but doesn't make it not true that a very very large percentage of women, maybe even most women, have experienced this. no experience is universal

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

Nobody asked me for my opinion on the controversy that dropped today when the Sonic Movie cast pay rate was revealed, which is fair ig since I try to stay positive on this blog. But in case you're wondering, yeah as a certified AFAB™ I'm pissed, but not really specifically at the Sonic crew. Actor pay rates are usually negotiated between agents and the production companies so just like all the other problems with the Sonic movies, this is most likely an issue with Paramount and their patented dumbfuckery. Disclaimer that obviously it could very well be a Sonic crew issue as well, obviously I don't know the inner workings of the entire film production.

Also, if you're mad about this: please be mad about the pay gap that has been going on as long as Hollywood has been alive. This isn't a problem unique to the SCU. I know the phrase "pay gap" is thrown around a whole lot but do you guys actually know how big an issue it is?

Recent percentages are that male and female actors have "a wage difference of about 25 percent," with an estimated difference of $1-2million between star-power men and star-power women.[x][x] Basic Instinct star Sharon Stone said she made $500k to Michael Douglas's $14mil– and when she was asked to be lead in a film being made in ~2022, the lead male, who was "new", was going to be paid $8-9mil, with her salary still at $500k. Last December, Biggest Monopoly In The World Disney was sued by 9,000 women over their pay gap.

This article is from 2019 but brings up some big fucking pay gaps between leads– for instance, Gillian Anderson was offered half of what David Duchovny was for the X-Files reboot as one of the two main fucking characters, Amanda Seyfried has disclosed she made 10% of what her male co-star made on an undisclosed film, Natalie Portman made 1/3 of the salary of Ashton Kutcher in No Strings Attached, and Ellen Pompeo, the titular character of Grey's Anatomy, was paid less than the actor playing her love interest, Patrick Dempsey. In fact, Dempsey was being paid almost double what she was.

However, BIG issue with the 2019 article: it only focuses on what White actors are being paid. Research shows that Black actresses make 57 cents to every dollar white actors make on a good day. Viola Davis, one of the most popular and talented actresses of our generation, has said that black women "get probably a tenth of what a Caucasian woman gets. And I'm number one on the call sheet." Octavia Spencer had to collaborate with Jessica Chastain to make sure they both got paid the same amount of money on a film they both worked on, and revealed that her new salary increased 500% afterwards.

At the end of last year, while promo-ing The Color Purple, Taraji P. Henson broke into tears while talking about how little she's being paid when compared to her white and male contemporaries. And when she talked about the gap, I find it so fucking frustrating that the general audience response was to immediately blame the only Black female producer on the film. I have a million gripes with Oprah Winfrey but TCP cast has said that she herself managed to fix a lot of the problems on set and was nothing but supportive to them. Oh, and there were a lot of problems on set, including a lack of food and dressing space for the main actors. And this is all from celebrity women. Just think about how Hollywood is treating women who don't have the star power to speak up.

Of course this isn't even a problem solo to Hollywood, let alone Paramount, let alone just one movie. And honestly it was probably really sad that when I saw the pay rate for the Sonic 3 cast, I wasn't even surprised, because I've seen worse on bigger projects.

[ibrithir-was-here]

How the heck is there not more talk about Tanith Lee??

Like my gosh, the woman wrote, according to her wiki, 90 books, over 300 short stories, two World Fantasy Awards, and was the first woman to win the British Fantasy Award/Augus Derleth Award and wrote for tv shows.

Like, it's not like she just wrote a heck ton but wasn't very good! She was clearly very good she won awards, and i've read a swath of her stuff across different genres and really enjoyed most of it. I mean that even if not each one has been my cup of tea I can at least appreciate the skill and quite a lot I have truly enjoyed. She's got great prose and style and imagination. Not everything obviously was a banger, but they've all been at least well written, which is harder to come by in writing than you might think.

But nobody ever seems to talk about her?? And I feel like the fantasy crowd on here would really enjoy her stuff. The woman has done stuff in pretty much every genre from what I can see, but I never see her listed on fantasy authors like Clive Barker or Diana Wynne Jones or Neil Gaiman or Terry Pratchett or Diane Duane even though she was writing at the same time and has a similar sort of '80s Doing Cool Stuff with Fantasy vibe' I feel like people who like those authors would enjoy though she's very much her own style of author.

Anyway this was really just me putting out a rant that such a prolific and talented author seems to have fallen by the wayside and I think it's really a shame

Heck she even did a witch-queen fighting againt vampire Snow White a whole decade before Neil Gaiman did his phenomenal Snow Glass Apples and it's also excellent, give a look here:

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Wanna know why I don't like Peter B.?

Because when Gwen was actively forced into homelessness in front of him, he literally didn't help at all. And then it gets framed on JESS.

Gwen asks for help. And Peter says this:

Jess asks him to stop talking.

And from this moment forward, Peter makes no effort whatsoever to help Gwen.

Mind you. This is AFTER Miles' escape. After the whole 'shocked Peter' gif. Peter knows Miguel is willing to get violent.

But that line is his only attempt to help.

Even as he watches Gwen be fully restrained and physically forced into the machine. He stands there and watches.

He doesn't try to web her. He doesn't try to stop the machine or talk to Miguel. He stands there in silence. Watching Gwen get sent home to a universe he knows she is homeless in.

And the movie just lets him. Despite the fact he's known Gwen longer than anybody in this room.

Instead, Jess is the only mentor at fault. We're told to blame her.

During this scene we never pan to Peter, standing there literally motionless as Gwen gets dragged away. He's not panicking, or trying to talk Miguel out of it. We're just expected to absolve him of blame.

It's Jess' fault. Jess is her 'failed mentor' - despite the fact that Peter has known Gwen longer, is shown to have a better relationship with her, and we're given no reason as to why he wasn't her mentor to begin with.

Jess says this, and we're supposed to judge her for it. While Peter said nothing at all. At most he made a joke and then shut up when he was told.

Jess might've believed she couldn't help Gwen - but what was Peter's excuse? Standing there and watching this happen? He doesn't feel the need to do anything, say anything, or even leave the room.

For him, watching this is fine. And Gwen NEVER confronts him about it.

We're not supposed to blame Peter for letting Miles and Gwen down, repeatedly.

Even when Gwen is being physically forced into homelessness in front of him.

We're told to blame the black woman when the white man who has known Gwen longer literally stands beside Jess motionless.

Had Hobie not left Gwen the watch - We're left to assume that Peter would've just... let her be homeless in her dimension.

He watched her get sent home, said nothing, then went home to his wife and kid to ponder whether or not he was a bad mentor.

Not if Gwen was okay. Or whether he should go check on her????

That's NOT OKAY???!!!! THAT'S TERRIBLE!!!!!!! And this is the man we're supposed to be routing for? This, the dude who shows NO signs he was even gonna go and check on Gwen? The dude who lets child abuse go down in front of him TWICE and he just stands there blinking? That's our Peter Parker?

And I'm supposed to be thrilled to have him on the team??? Despite the fact Gwen had to come TO HIM. NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND???? Gwen doesn't see a problem with that?????

I'm supposed to be happy he's here? Forreal???

Oh joy. Thank you so much, Humbling Reality Spider-man. We love you.

I hate Peter B. ALL MY HOBIES HATE PETER B. (Not a typo)

[gayraeofsun]

i just really want to scream about this movie into the void because it was so well done, and i doubt anyone will really see this but i don't really have anyone i could have a deep discussion about this with.

trigger warning and spoiler warning ahead for the movie blink twice. content ahead discusses themes around sa, including r*pe, drugging, manipulation, and general physical/verbal abuse.

i don't keep up with any previews or recent movie releases much anymore, so i was going into this movie almost completely blind like i do with most new movies anymore. i had seen one preview, but it was apparently plain and simple enough for me to mostly forget about it. the irony in that will be made known a bit later on.

the movie automatically opens with a screen that displays a trigger warning, which is something that i had been seeing for the first time in any kind of visual media. normally these things are already listed by the ratings, but as a sa survivor who had no idea what this movie was going to be, it was a good thing to see so i could brace myself for what was to come. do i think this is necessary for any and every movie of this kind? no, it feels a little redundant (again, these things are typically included in the ratings). and, well, asking me to not watch if it would upset me is kind of a no deal, since i paid for a ticket and popcorn to see this on the big screen.

we're immediately introduced to our two main characters, two best friends, and it's hard to not immediately fall for their relationship with each other. so playful and silly and ridiculous, you can immediately tell they adore each other's company in their shitty job living in their shitty apartment, and you can tell that they're written by a woman who loves these characters and wants to portray them as relatable people. the interactions between the whole cast of girls, i think, was just outstandingly done. they felt realistic, not constantly shitting on each other and fighting for the attention of the men (though some jealousy of that fashion is still portrayed). they were all there enjoying the island and they ended up bonding together wonderfully. they were funny without being over-the-top rude or nasty or promiscuous, as is portrayed commonly in female characters in popular media. i can't and won't stop gushing over how much these characters felt just like real life girls that i was hanging out with.

this movie was really great at putting a pit in your stomach and slowly making it grow. of course, the trigger warning at the beginning spoils what's to come, so for me the pit was there from the start. any sensible person who's been socialized to be a woman will know, you don't ever just run away with some random ass group of men you don't know to the middle of nowhere with no cell service. but the little things that make the main character, frida, stop and question are so subtle, and so easily dismissed to start with. the used lip gloss in the drawer, the available clothes despite being an "unexpected" guest, the weird cleaning staff. but they increasingly get more odd. the island is full of venomous snakes and they all have to be killed on sight. something about these flirty interactions isn't quite right anymore, and he's talking about repressed memories. what day even is it? why am i always waking up with dirt under my nails?

who even knows or cares though, since we're all high and/or drunk 24/7. welcome to paradise!

it builds and builds until it begins to unravel, slowly and then all at once as the girls come to the realization of what happens to them every night when they get unbelievably high after dinner. the bond between the first two to piece it together was outstanding, and i love that there wasn't a cheap "find the phones and call authorities" plan. they worked out why that wouldn't work at all, because who would they believe? the "hysterical bitches" making claims without any kind of solid evidence, or the rich white man who's now a reformed soul and probably good friends with some of the cops?

the ending is not a happy one, in my eyes, though i believe it was probably supposed to be portrayed as one? two girls live and three girls die by the end. the ringmaster (ceo) of the whole thing ends up accidentally taking his own forgetfulness juice and suddenly doesn't understand what's going on and why all his friends are dead or have been otherwise brutalized. he knocks over lit candles and then trips and knocks himself out in his stupor, and the island burns down, the photographic evidence (that was later discovered) and all. i thought it was just going to end there and we would be left with the ambiguous ending, and that's never satisfying and feels very overdone anymore.

but instead, we're given a scene where our main character is now the ceo of the company, and legally married to the man who lured her away and horrifically abused her. twice. i interpreted this as her getting her own form of justice/revenge. i doubt she gives him half the treatment he gave her, but now she controls him and everything he owns and knew, and gets every bit of respect she wants. he killed her best friend and two other girls after overpowering the lot of them every single night. in a perfect world, he'd get tried and punished for his crimes legally. but all the evidence of it ever happening burned to the ground. so this is what she does to cope. in the final scene, she seems very satisfied, more than pleased to make her new husband's old crew squirm. she becomes the thing that destroyed her and so many others (but yk, most likely without the rapist cult).

one character i very suddenly grew interested in was the scrawniest boy in the group. he flies perfectly under the radar and doesn't appear in many of scenes that portray the gruesome sa. the one where he's in clear view, he appears to be another victim, trying to flee from one of the bigger men and receiving a black eye, which he would have no memory of getting the next morning. he's told by one of the girls that he smells nice, most likely referencing the perfume that was making them forget everything. it seemed very clear that he was in a victim role here as well, likely also being sa-ed. but he's never seen bound and gagged with the girls.

his final scene gets interesting when the ceo berates him for doing nothing to help the girls the entire time (yeah, the same ceo millionaire who's been basically orchestrating this whole sick fucking show in his perfect little getaway island). how he thinks there's a special place in hell for people who sit and do nothing in the face of evil. there are two very different ways to interpret this. 1) he wasn't actually getting drugged and abused with the girls, and was there as someone who didn't actively participate in abusing the girls, but also didn't do anything to try to stop it either. this could be blatant commentary on the two types of evil; while "not all men" r*pe and abuse people, not enough men will speak out against it or try to run to the victim's defense. or 2) the ceo was casting blame onto someone who was genuinely confused as to what was happening (which seems to ring true in both scenarios), and someone who was also a victim and stuck in a completely helpless situation. both could hold some level of truth, but ultimately i read him as the latter, thinking he was meant to represent the less common male victim. he gets killed by one of the girls, who wasn't specifically targeting him but also wasn't taking any chances, and that's the last we see of him. in my eyes he could either be read as the kind of evil that merely observes and therefore was rightfully murdered, or he could represent his male victims often get forgotten about or less acknowledged, which could speak as to why he was killed off so quickly never to be discussed again.

and i've gotta say, one thing i really appreciate about the scenes depicting r*pe is that it put a lot of the focus on the r*pists and not their victims. they were careful to not show any nudity or any shots of the women getting r*ped, but still showed them getting forced down when they tried to flee. i have not personally seen any other graphic scenes of this nature in other movies, but from what i hear a lot of it can get rather pornographic, and i feel like that's incredibly distasteful when you're trying to depict something that's absolutely vile. this movie does a great job of getting the absolute terror of the moment across without compromising any of the actresses by posing them seductively or showing off their bodies, and same goes for the men (if you don't count a couple of them being shirtless).

the writing is so wonderful, and the little clues as to what's happening beneath the surface are so good and plentiful. this is a movie that i don't think i'd ever be able to sit through again, but the sense of dread that continued to grow and grow will surely stick with me. it was very darkly funny in many places, which did great to break up some of the tension. for anyone who was able to stomach it, i would highly recommend watching through it once you're able. i think it was outstandingly well done and handled certain things as well as it could without watering any of it down.

[david-talks-sw]

"The Acolyte" wasn't 'woke' propaganda.

I had my issues with the show (you can check out my other posts to see what they were) but there's this notion that The Acolyte was created to spread The Message™ of "woke propaganda"... and I think there's a bit of a mix-up going on, there.

Because that's simplifying things a lot.

When you're a minority, you're not "being woke" when you're just being yourself! Conversely, you're not "writing to be woke" when you're a minority drawing inspiration from your personal experiences to tell a story.

I talked before about how George Lucas implemented elements of his personal life in his own films. In his own words:

"There's no way to write without writing from yourself. Y'know, the stuff gets made out of things that you care about… whether you've actually lived them or not. There are emotional issues that you deal with, and I think that's always a major factor with any writer. I don’t think— it's hard to write without having some kind of emotional connection to the material. I've never seen any reason not to. It’s easy to write that way. It's hard to write in the abstract. So when I write a scene, I write a scene that moves me or I care about, or is something that is personal to me." - George Lucas, Q&A with Lynne Hale, 1994 (StarWars.com)

Any piece of writing worth some salt needs to come from a personal place to some degree because that's where the heart of the story, the truth, lies. That's what an audience will relate to.

Example: The six original Star Wars films are purely George Lucas. As in, everything in those films, from the characters, to the cinematography, to the editing style, etc are all a reflection of who George is as a person and what he stands for:

anti-Vietnam / "fight the corporate & imperial machine"

60s-70s white kid from Modesto, California

single father of three

who defines himself as Methodist-Buddhist,

has an anthropology major and

a passion for Kurosawa,

cinema vérité,

cinema history in general

art and visuals and

car racing.

You see all that in those films.

Same thing with The Acolyte.

Leslye Headland drew from her personal experiences.

Among other things, Leslye is gay. So that's what she uses as inspiration to, for instance, craft Qimir's character motivation.

"I was on the treadmill being like, “What is [Qimir] gonna say?!” And my wife, who is a huge part of my creative process, finally she said, “What do you wanna say? Stop thinking of it like you have to somehow tap into a different guy.” [...] I was like, “I wanna say that people don't want me to exist as a gay woman, as a woman in this particular space, working in this wild sandbox.” There was a whole crew of people who believed in me, but deep down, I felt like, “I am unaccepted for who I am because of what I believe in and wanting to wield my power the way I'd like without having to answer to the legion of people that just exist out there.”" - Leslye Headland, Collider, 2024

She took this specific life experience of hers, and then made it more universal, so that a bigger audience could relate to it.

"By the way, I think everybody feels this way. I think that's why it resonates when you're honest about yourself, and you get personal about it. When [Qimir] says, “I want freedom,” that's what I want. I just want freedom. I want to be able to just be out there and be myself and be the type of artist I want to be without having to answer to anybody." - Leslye Headland, Collider, 2024

Same goes with Osha and Sol's relationship, or how she defines the Jedi Order. It derives from her own relationship with her father and how she felt being raised straight, in a Christian household.

If you have the time, listen to this audio clip where she describes that.

In the context of the whole interview, her voice goes down a few octaves and starts to crack a bit. This is a vulnerable moment, when she's talking about it... and it's this experience that she turned into fuel for her writing of Sol and Osha's father/daughter bond.

"There's this thing that's called benign sexism, and part of it is this paternal protectionism — it seems like this good thing, but like you said, there's this, “I have to protect you from everything. I have to make sure you're okay. I have to tell you what track to get on, and then once you're on that track, I need to support you.” Ultimately, what happens is — again, this is a father-daughter relationship — as women evolve in their lives and develop their own personalities separate from their fathers, at some point, they have to reject that protectionism. [...] She cannot stay a little girl or an adolescent or young adult. She has to, at some point, say, “I reject what you have told me I need to do to make you proud, to follow in your footsteps.” She has to do that." - Leslye Headland, Collider, 2024

Now... if we're talking consistency with the themes in Lucas' Star Wars, then yeah, The Acolyte misses the mark.

The Jedi Order isn't the patriarchy or the Catholic Church. They're more like Buddhist monks, George has stated so multiple times.

The Jedi teachings aren't narratively meant to be the same traits found in toxic masculinity or benign sexism.

When a Jedi tells you to be mindful of your emotions, it's not meant in the "boys don't cry" sense.

When they talk about letting go of attachments, it's not meant in a stoic "don't get emotionally involved" sense.

Anakin too, the whole point is that he's wrong, the narrative frames his fall to the Dark Side as his own fault, it's not meant to be perceived as a failure in upbringing.

But she's not the only one who does it. Filoni does it too, a majority of fans have this take on the Jedi.

And because of her experiences, I can see why her takeaway would be that. Same goes for Filoni, they're products of their generation, upbringing and experiences.

My point is:

Leslye Headland is writing from a personal place, when she's writing The Acolyte. It's partially informed by her politics because - like she quotes, "personal is political" - but when it comes to the writing of the show, it's personal first and foremost.

What this was, was a Star Wars fan (arguably the nerdiest one we've had so far, in terms of creators) putting all of herself in the creation of a show that perfectly reflects who she is and what she stands for, resulting in:

a story about growing past your father's paternal control and accepting that our guides aren't infallible,

where her wife holds a role and gets to wield a lightsaber,

a show about taking corrupt religious institutions to task

about the Sith and the Dark Side

and questioning the unquestionable

and exploring whether the good are really so good and if the bad are really so bad.

This was a project written from the heart, and regardless of whether the resulting art found its mark, I think it's important to note that it wasn't written to spread a propaganda message in some "pro-woke holy war" or whatever the hell the YouTubers are peddling.

[momotorin]

heya @idlesana i have news to say

gp! professor!sana is the sweetest, most responsive professor you've ever had. it's so crazy that she's patient with everyone, especially you. she knows that you've been having difficulty with her class, and makes sure that you're understanding and passing everything.

she's been too patient with you and you just can't help but to adore this absolute glory of a woman— kind, beautiful, and fuck does she know how to make you sit.

well, it wasn't your fault to miss her class. it was your best friend's party, and she's your first class, so you went to her class, half-awake, half-sober.

that was the only day you saw miss minatozaki mad. (and fuck, she's hot.)

after the class, she makes you sit, stares at you with her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose and looks through it with literally the angriest (hottest) version you've seen her.

"you're late, y/n," she stood up, hands on table, still looking at you. "it's your first class of the first semester yet you're here like some drunk fuck."

"so what?" you sighed. "miss sana i do appreciate the comcern but you can't j-"

"what do you mean by i can't just?" she inches closer to you, sitting just on top of the table with her eyebrows creasing in the middle, in anger with what you just said.

"you've said it before to me," she lowly chuckles. "you," she points at your chest. "cannot," she does it again, a little more forcefully. "pass," you try to make her stop, but you just froze at her reaction. "this," she looks at you. "fucking class," she presses, a little more to make you feel a certain pain. "without me."

"i mean it's just a reaction since you've been really helpf-"

"did you think i'm just supposed to be helpful to you all the time? dumb bitch." her hands are now on both sides of your chair, looking down on you. "not even trying to listen to me, just busy with her shitfaced hangover."

"miss min-"

she puts a finger on your lips to shut you up. "don't even try to reason it out. where were you last night? out being fucked by some girl, drunk, on the streets? you look like you'd be the type to."

"no, for fucks sake that was my best friend's party," i chuckled at her. "just got really drunk and it must happens th-"

"another worth from your filthy mouth or i'm going to punish you."

you just nodded, feeling her backing away from you.

"let's make a compromise," she sighs, leaning against her table once more. "let me fuck you like little bitch you are, and i'm going to help you pass. hell, i'd even retell the whole lesson when you're fully sober. deal?"

you couldn't stop yourself, so you stood up to take her into a kiss, deep, passionate, as your tongues clash with each other.

"oh, um," you pulled away, seeing sana display a smirk. "uh.. sorry i-"

"don't be," she chuckles as she held your cheek. she comes close to your ear, whispering, "bend your ass over for me on the table like the little slut you are."

you did, as told, and she pulls down your pants, leaving you in your red, lace panties.

"pretty," she chuckles, tracing her hands on the pattern that drew along your ass. "who's got you dressing up like this, hm?"

"i just didn't have anything lef-"

"i told you, dumb slut," she faces you again, now removing her tie from her neck, pulling it to tie on your wrists. "no talking until i say so. got it, baby?"

you just nodded, complying with her condition. she unbuttons her white dress shirt, slow, teasing as you just watch her get undressed infront of you.

she humms, finally removing her shirt, unclasping her bra. she then moves on to her skirt, revealing a skintight compression boxer underneath.

"fuck," she grunts, hurrying to move the boxers to free her 10 inch cock. "hmm," she sighs, finally removing the length, so hard and ready that you heard it slap to her stomach.

"open up," she held you by the cheek, making you look up at her. "be a good girl and suck mommy's cock." she says, tapping the head on your mouth, forcing you to open. you opened your mouth for her, the length and girth consuming until the tip of your throat, choking you. she puts your hair in a makeshift ponytail as she ruts her hips, not even letting you room to breathe.

"fuck, so tight," she grunts once more, fucking into your mouth faster, making you gag on her cock. "can't take it all, hm?" she teases, making her thrusts slow but forceful.

"take it," she sighs, cumming in your mouth, pulling out to let herself see you receive her cum. "swallow, baby," she said, putting a hand on your cheek. "be a good girl."

you swallow, looking into her eyes like pleading to remove the itch between your thighs.

she then moves, going to your ass, spanking it hard enough to make you yelp.

she pulls your panties down, seeing a trail of wetness that had formed. she kneels and spreads your ass cheeks apart, letting herself see your wetness, so ready and inviting.

she licks a stripe from your clit, to your slit, making her tongue taste your arousal and need for her.

you whined, and received another spank, removing her tongue away fron you.

"so desperate," she lowly chuckles as she stood up, lining her length to your wet, needy little pussy. "i bet you're going to be so tight and warm for me, huh."

she inserts herself in an instant, her full length and girth stretching you whole. "fuck!" you screamed in shock.

she giggled as she leaned to whisper on you. "bet it's your first time to be fucked like this, huh."

you just nodded as she thrusted, slow, getting used to the tightness of your cunt.

"fuck, maybe it's your first time," she says. "is it?"

"yeah, ah," you moaned, tearing up as the stretch was really painful, but her being so deep inside you brings you some kind of pleasure you couldn't explain. she lets you hold onto her hand, as she thrusts in and out of your wetness, slow, gentle, trying to get you to be a little loose. "more."

"yeah, more?" she says, now her hands are placed on both sides of your waist as she builds up her speed. "if you're going to behave, and be my little cocksleeve, i'll give you the most, hm?" she whispered, letting herself succumb into your tightness.

safe to say her best was to let you go down the hallways limping.

[marysdigdiaries101]

NEW INTERESTS

summary: as business woman barbie, you had to be quite serious and uptight about your field of work. so when you couldn't make it sleepover night, which wasn't unexpected of course ꒰but nevertheless꒱ , stereotypical barbie comes to check up on you.

warning/s: top! barbie, bottom! reader, no smut, but it's implied, fluff/comfort, tired reader, talk of depression, swearing, not proofread, pretend they have genitals btw.

word count: forgot to check lmao

authors note: hi hi hii ! first post omg? i just watched the new barbie movie and..im fucking obsessed, i swear i missed half the movies dialogue tho cause i was admiring margot's gorgeous face. anyway i thought what if we had a super stressed, borderline depressed barbie who just needed a break from her thoughts ? enjoy pookies ! ୨♡୧

+ btw men dni.

navigation ! | ୨♡୧

the wheels of your pastel pink car came to a stop in your driveway as you sluggishly dragged yourself out of the drivers seat. another long day, another girls night you couldn't deal with. bright lights illuminated the moving bodies on the vast dance floor, pointed stilettos tapping and turning swiftly as stiff hands clapped and clicked to the music.

clutching your purse, you moved across the dance floor, avoiding flapping arms and desperate kens in need of a dance partner. as you got to the last section of your mission, you felt a pair of eyes on you, a pair of eyes that were too familiar for you to shake off. looking over to your far left you found a set ocean blue eyes staring right back at you. the one and only stereotypical barbie. the perfect one, the main bitch of barbieland acknowledging your presence.

conversations between the two of you were very scarce. with you having a very busy work life and her having none at all, you never crossed paths that much. but living right across from her was a given, so conversations at times were necessary.

brushing off the nervous feeling that had crept up on you, you silently scolded yourself for the rosy blush that had quickly painted your cheeks. once again, clutching your purse tighter, you resumed your journey to your apartment in the lively dreamhouse.

the scratched door creaked open as you released your grip on the plastic doorknob. in any other room you can pretty much expect bright pinks and yellows and lovely colors..but not yours. in fact it wasn't the case at all.

black scribble lines all over formerly hot pink walls, torn up grey bed sheets, deflated pillows, a bedside rug that was once a lovely shade of baby blue now a murky lake green, and scratches, whoever was messing with this room had a no sense for care, as this room, this room was desecrated with scratches and marks.

sighing, you flopped unto the creaky mattress, the back of your knees hitting the plastic bed structure. reaching over to your achy feet, you pulled off the black heels that had been causing you anguish the whole day.

dropping your heels, you unzipped your pale pink silk dress, one of the very rare bright pieces of clothing you had left. flinging it over to the other side of the room, you tapped over to your closet, the once shiny, luxurious white structure, scribbled on and vandalised; stripped of its pride. you looked through the distressed drawer that had been left open from the mornings' rush. music flooded into the silence of your room as picked out navy blue pyjama bottoms and a tight fitted white tank top.

as if by magic (no pun intended) , your desired clothing adorned your slim body as you strolled over to your bed, plopping yourself on it and sinking into the mattress.

thoughts clouded your mind like a raging storm, keeping you a prisoner of your own mind. weird barbie said this would happen a lot more so it shouldn't have been unexpected. but it still hit you like a brick every time the thought of stereotypical barbie flooded your head. her plump lips, the crystal blue eyes that locked you in a trance at the slightest glance and her hair, oh god her hair. you just wanted to run your fingers through the golden curls. you wanted to tangle your fingers in it, you wanted to ruin it, you hated how perfect it was.

you hated her. you hated how ken adored her, how everyone was so goddamn drawn to her, it was like the town revolved around her jobless ass. you wanted her. you needed her. you needed her to need you. but you had your ken and she had hers, and that was that.

the last person who uttered a word about a barbie and a barbie or a ken and a ken was weird barbie and look how she turned out. it's not like you weren't weird yourself, with your heels dropping, thoughts about death, uncanny interests in barbie , your burnt waffles and messed up room and messed up clothes, you were borderline line outcast. you just hadn't been sent to the weird house yet.

'it's only a matter of time though'. you thought shutting your eyes. the late nights and early mornings catching up to you.

it only seemed like a few minutes before you felt the opposite side of your bed sink and a warm hand on your icy shoulder. shrieking, you leaped into an upright position, very nearly hitting your head on your heart shaped headboard.

"jesus! what the hell.." you came to an abrupt stop as you looked over to your side meeting a very dear set of eyes. "look, i'm sorry for barging in so randomly, i know you were sleeping and you're a very busy woman and-" the words mushed together in your head as you focused on her pouty lips. you would let her talk for hours on end if it meant seeing those lips move.

"it's okay." you stated, the corners of your lips turning up. "really? i mean i could leave honestly! it's no biggie..i mean if you want me stay i could?" the icy blonde rambled meeting your gaze softly. "i promise your fine." you assured her shuffling a bit, suddenly feeling very naked.

"so why are you here?" you questioned, sinking back into the comfort of your duvet. dropping your gaze, she fiddled with her velvet night gown, undoing the strings and redoing them. "..well i don't know, you looked more down than usual and you at least make it to the nail painting sessions in my room, but today you missed the whole night altogether." barbie confessed, searching your y/e/c eyes for reasons.

"i know, but-" "you promised." she stated, cutting your flimsy excuse short. "i'm sorry. i've just- i've had some things on my mind as of recent." you explained, your eyes looking at barbies' room across from yours.

“ what type of thoughts?” you raised your eyebrow at her answering her question silently. “right. too far… sorry.” she blushed, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. an uncomfortable silence filled the room as barbie crossed her legs, moving dangerously close to you.

clearing your throat, you glanced at her figure, letting the image cloud your senses. the curve of her hips to the sharp cut of her jawline, she really was the perfect barbie.

“i have thoughts about death too.” barbie whispered. you didn’t reply so she continued “all the time actually. they’re more frequent than they used to be. i thought maybe someone felt the same way as me so i shared it during the dance party downstairs, but, they just looked at me like i was.. weird.”

your heart rate tripled as you gazed up at her. she looked so.. vulnerable. all this time you had thought you were alone in this paradise. you thought of yourself as the elephant in the room. but there was a chance that the one person you thought was perfect, was just as fucked up as you.

“i’m so sorry, i’m gonna leave now-” “stay.” you muttered connecting your eyes with hers. “what?” the blonde asked, a bewildered look on her face. “i think about death too. maybe we have more in common than we thought.” you explained, running your fingers through your y/h/c haphazardly layered hair.

grinning immediately barbie sat back down, babbling instantly. and you did what anyone would do if they were in that same situation, you stared at her with hearts in your eyes, smiling broadly.

only mattel knew how you ended up sprawled across your bed with barbie straddling your lap, braiding chunks of your hair. who knew depressive thoughts could bond two dolls like this?

“your eyes are so pretty.” you murmured gazing up into her ocean blues. blushing she retorted : “oh shut up.” , but you could tell from her scarlet cheeks and darting eyes that she appreciated the compliment.

“can i kiss you?” you blurted, not being able to hold yourself back. barbie stared at you, her eyes glistening. preparing yourself for rejection you opened your mouth only to have it shut by pillowy lips.

stars behind your eyelids, in fact a whole constellation. gliding your fingers up the small of her back, you reciprocated the kiss as she cupped your face softly. biting your bottom lip, she explored your mouth slowly. sucking on your tongue, she extracted a well deserved moan out of you.

“fuck y/n” she groaned, grinding on you. moaning desperately, you fervently moved your hands around her body as she pulled away. breathing heavily you both stared at each other lovingly. “the others will hear..” she commented, returning to fiddling with your hair. agreeing, you smirked as she looked at your lips.

“i better go then. i don’t want you tired tomorrow, busy work life and all.” the blonde remarked as she slowly stood up. “mhm” you retorted, as you let your eyes wander all over her body.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, sleep well okay?” she stated, looking over at you as she got to the door. “i will.” you grinned, snuggling into your comforter. and at that she giggled as she closed your door, the echo of her voice promising you of better days. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🩰 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

[two-white-butterflies]

when he goes down on me

Description: A struggling accounting student meets a successful lawyer. A relationship blossoms. With a few social media excerpts.

Pairing: thranduil/reader

Warnings: age-gap

There was a saying around the school - only the accountings get the accountings. While all the students from the other majors were out partying and dancing until their heels hurt from jumping, the accountings were stuck memorizing business terms and calculating debits and credits until their fingers hurt from routinely tapping their calculators. It was a figurative hell on earth.

And you have always been fond of burning.

It was seldom to see you attend a party, but miraculously your schedule cleared up and there weren't any quizzes or lectures in the vicinity. "Are you already missing the comforts of Harvard?" your father teases and you crack a smile. "God, don't remind me of studying." You groaned while slumping on the leather couch.

You've almost forgotten about the comforts of your childhood home after being surrounded by flashing white lights and empty cans of redbull, comfort wasn't exactly in your vocabulary. "I'm just saying; you ditched school to attend the neighborhood gathering and you are cooped up in this humid living room, avoiding everyone who wants to talk to you." He emphasizes, encouraging you to come out.

"Please, those people saw me grow up. I hardly think that I'm missing out." You reasoned, returning your attention back to your cellphone. "- all they ever talk about is me getting married, or at least having a boyfriend." You added while scrolling past a TikTok video about some random guy bashing Crumbl cookies.

The people in your parent's close circle were typical upper-echelon folks whose only means of communicating with some 20+ year old is asking them about marriage. Of course, your usual reply would be that you are not seeing anyone and they'd blink at you like fucking reptiles. They can't fathom the idea that a young, intelligent and relatively good-looking (not ugly) woman still didn't have a husband.

It did make you happy that they found you interesting enough to have a husband but it was infuriating that being married was the only thing they cared about you. They belonged to a different time, you tell yourself before your mind drifts back into TikTok.

"We have a new neighbor, he's a good fellow but he's a little too young for our crowd. I don't think that he's old enough to relate to Geert's Hoover Deluxe jokes. You should talk to him, you've always had magic with your words." He encourages, and a sigh escapes your mouth. "Dad, I'm not talking to one of your golf buddies." You groaned. Maybe it was a mistake coming here.

You still needed to study for the licensure test, that test was something that you could not fail. It was the first step to your CPA to Lawyer plot-line, if you are unable to handle the pressure of the licensure exam then maybe you aren't equipped with Law School. Then, maybe you should just drop out and become a stay-at-home daughter like your other friend, Magnolia.

"He's a lawyer. He handled that case that you were fixated on, the one with the ballerina and her father. Of course, he defended the ballerina." He did his best to remember your teenage ramblings about Oonagh, the ballerina, and her treacherous ex-husband, Gilbert. "What?" You pry your attention away from your mobile phone. Johnson v Johnson was the court case that began your fascination with law, and the guy who defended Oonagh Johnson was in the same house as you! Goddamn.

Thranduil wanted to let the ground consume him whole. He's spent a lot of time with businessmen and world-leaders alike but BBQ with his neighbors was a different type of embarrassment. He couldn't relate to them in matters of American life or farming, and he honestly doesn't know enough about the outsourcing industry to make a decent connection with these folks.

Of course, he could relate to their wives about perfume, but he doesn't want to be that cunt who talks to random people's wives. He seriously wanted to go home, but then he sees a figure in his periphery. A woman with amazing hair, walking towards him and suddenly everything was happening in slow motion.

She takes a step, her hair moves along with her, the wind is her willing assistant and her lips turned upwards. A smile. Is she looking at me? He tries to hide the fact that he was looking over his shoulder. Maybe she's looking at someone behind me? He thinks, but then again, there was no one standing beside him, save the rose bush.

"Hey," you greet him and suddenly he finds himself leaning back into his true self. The confident defense attorney who charms everyone that he speaks to. "Hey?" He raises an eyebrow, as if he's teasing you. "My dad told me that you were the one who defended Oonagh Johnson back in 2012." You opened your mouth to speak.

Always straightforward. Time is gold.

"Yes, it was a terrible thing what happened to her." He breaths. The case seemingly close to his heart just like this case was to you. "I know that it sounds a little creepy but that is my favorite case in the history of the world. I was thirteen years old-" you rambled and he releases a breath that he was unaware that he was holding.

Thirteen years old in 2012. I feel so old. He muses.

"- I didn't know what I wanted to be, and then I saw you and Oonagh on the news. I knew then that I wanted to be in the same spot as you, defending women, minorities, children. I knew then that I wanted to give what was due. Justice." You finished rambling, he notices that smile on your face.

It reminded him of himself back in his rookie days, that hopeless glimmer in your eyes mirroring back to all the years before him. Some dreams remain dreams, and others turn into goals. "Well, that case is close to my heart. I don't think I've ever told anyone about this before but my mother was a victim of domestic abuse, her father was not a good man, and when I defended Oonagh, I felt some sort of retribution..." He pauses. I shouldn't tell this to a stranger.

"It is a different kind of power that you feel when you do something right. Yes, it is every citizen's right to defend themselves in the court of law whether or not they are guilty or innocent, but I think that you'll realize this when you do become a lawyer. It feels like a breath of relief when you bring true justice to the innocents." He continues. A feeling that feels so far from me now.

"Yeah, I don't know how I'll deal with choosing cases when I'm an actual lawyer but my dad says that I don't have to think about that until after I actually pass the bar." You chuckled nervously. He pries his attention away from his current woes, "Oh, are you studying law right now?" He inquired, his body leaning closer to yours.

"Oh no, I'm studying Accounting right now. It's my pre-law course." You informed, and he slowly finds himself respecting you. "I wish that I did something cool like that, my pre-law was Polsci and I wouldn't recommend it even to my worst enemy." He chuckles, his conscience floating away and instead is focused on you.

The shining starlight that has come to guide him away from this existential crisis. "I've heard a lot of things about that major. Some people say that it doesn't really equip you in law school, but the Polsci majors that I know are such cool people." You smiled, only beginning to realize that the man standing in front of you was h o t.

Hot with a capital 'H'.

He had a cleanly shaven face, and beautiful golden blonde hair that seriously rivaled those of the Targaryens that you watch on HBO. (You are still stuck in Season 5 of GOT due to being on studying jail.)

"That major did not help me in law school. It gave me an overview but law school is ultimately a different demon." He warns, staring deep into your eyes. She looks good, he thinks. "Well, hopefully if I pass next year I'll be able to apply for law school. Are there any universities that you recommend?" You ask and he ponders.

"I finished my degree in Harvard-"

"Fuck," you interrupted him. "No, I'm sorry." You gasp.

"I study in Harvard right now. It's just I found it - I don't know." You mentally cringe, accepting the fact that you've let go of your chance with dating this hot lawyer man. "It's alright, I was gonna say to not study in Harvard. Stanford is much better. I've found really formidable opponents who finished their degree in Stanford." He smiles, finding your quirks to be adorable.

It is not everyday that a woman walks into his life and talks about his best case to date, and then laugh about stupid stupid things. "The food isn't really that great to be honest," you mumbled. "Some things never change." He mused. "Oh wait, I'm sorry. I haven't introduced myself. I'm Y/N Saint." You offer your hand to shake and he takes it.

"Thranduil Greenwood." He smiles while shaking your hand. He lets go of it, and then remembers. "Daniel's your father?" He asks. "Yeah, but he's not really my biological father, he adopted me when he married my mom." You provided a bit of a background information.

He tries to make the conversation longer, in the hopes that you wouldn't walk away from him or that you'd leave at least an email or a number or a facebook profile so that he'll have some way of communicating with you. "He's a nice guy." He compliments.

"He's more than nice," you smile.

Suddenly, your phone rings. "Oh damn, sorry. I really have to catch a plane, but it was so nice talking to you attorney. Um, do you have a phone or anything. I'd love to keep in touch." You turn the alarm off, and focus your attention back to him. He unlocks his iphone and hands it to you. You glance at his wallpaper. "It's my son." he answers, not bothering to hide that fact about him.

"You have a wife?" You tired to keep your tone nonchalant, but it comes out jealous and icky. "No, his mother left when he was born. Funny enough, I couldn't blame her anyways. I was twenty, she was nineteen and she had an art degree." He jests and you try your best to find an instagram app on his phone.

How old is this man anyways? All he had on his phone was whatsapp, imessage, a few apps that were there when you buy the phone, and then two different email apps (email for apple and gmail.) Which made you want to laugh at him, as it was adorable, but you decide to open his notes app. "I don't have any social media except for instagram so I'll just write my username down and hopefully you do have an Instagram at home." Your voice turns nervous at the end.

There was a 50/50 chance that Thranduil had an instagram. "Goodbye, it was nice talking to you." You greet, handing him his phone, but before he could reply - you sprint away.

yournamesaint: mornings like these...

liked by 891 others

>comments

ingridhorstefe: the type of thing u see before going to bed - yournamesaint: chug redbull and the bed becomes a theory - ingridhorstefe: id reply something smart abt management theory but my brain is fcking fried

"Thank you for helping me set up an Instagram account, Tauriel." Thranduil thanks his intern before taking a sip of his coffee. "I don't think that you should post anything for legal reasons, but I already fixed your profile and privated your account. I also told everyone in the firm to follow you, Legolas says he'll only follow you after you get 10 followers so everyone won't think that he's following a bot." Tauriel continues, and Thranduil has no idea what those words mean.

"It is about time that I enter the realm social media. I mean, it is one thing to not have social media but Atty. Elros has an instagram and he's literally fifty something." Thranduil jokes. "I did tell you to sign up, which reminds me, you should follow Atty. Alfred." Tauriel presses the 'follow' button on his screen.

"As much as I hate Atty. Elros he has an amazing feed." He jokes again, and Tauriel nods agreeing with him. "He's actually an excellent photographer, I've heard a story about him actually. I heard that he wanted to be a photographer at first but then had a change of heart because his twin brother became a neurosurgeon..." Tauriel informs.

greenwoodlaw_ has requested to follow you

yournamesaint wants to call you.

"Hello," he greets seeing your face on the other end of the line. "Hey, I'm surprised to see you with an instagram. I mean I'm not stalking you or anything, it just says 'new' on your profile." You found yourself explaining to him, and he responds with a laugh. "Tauriel, my staff, helped me make this account. I figured that it was about time that I make one, I mean even the old lawyers in the neighboring firm have their own social medias." His big eyebrows merged together.

"I was about to give you my phone number yesterday but I remembered that I didn't have a line. I wouldn't be able to call you or reply to the text messages." You reply uneasily. Your father has pestered you about getting a line since the moment you bought your phone, but you shook him off saying that no one texts or calls people in their mobile number anymore. You were wrong.

"I didn't really bother paying for that since it's a distraction." You settle your phone on the desk in front of you, not bothering to adjust it to an angle that'll make you look better. There is no use fighting against what you really look like. "I understand. Shouldn't you be studying?" He asks and you shake your head.

"I'm free, miraculously, but I'll start on some reviewers in an hour. Better safe than sorry." You inform.

"You must always be on your feet." He says.

"You sound a lot like my professor." You teased. "- but thank you for the advise, I shall use it well." You add.

Tauriel walks inside of his office, carrying a stack of files. "Oh, it looks like you've got a lot of work to do." You smile. Tauriel raises an eyebrow but he gives her a glance telling her not to ask any questions. "I guess this is goodbye. I'll call you again tomorrow."

"Goodbye,"

"Bye."

[suna-cerely-yours]

Say you love me (Losing all my innocence in the backseat) ft Tobio Kageyama

Synopsis: What should you do when you're being forced into marriage?

a. Seek ravishment from the most notorious rake

b. Get ravished by a stranger who you thought was the most notorious rake

c. Get married anyway d. All of the above

warnings: fem!reader, afab reader, 18+, mdni, themes of misogyny, historical inaccuracy, dubcon (not really but it's a case of mistaken identity), public sex, dry humping, making out, reader is called good girl.

a/n: think of it as a Bridgerton au. not historically accurate at all, and i might have gone overboard with the dialogue. i also use the phrase 'notorious rake' too much, but there's so much fun to be had in this universe

♛

"She's turning four and twenty next month! She debuted six years ago! She'll be on the shelf if you wait any longer. I've given enough autonomy to you, and clearly, I am the only one who's worried about the poor child!"

Your aunt announces to your mother a fair morning in September, having arrived at your townhouse in London a mere three days after you and your family had yourselves arrived for the season.

You freeze in your seat at the sudden change in topic (they had been discussing lace doilies, for heaven's sake), teacup raised halfway to your mouth. Your mother is also taken aback at this, although she hides it better than you, having years of experience dealing with your father's cousin.

Painting a gracious smile, ignoring your sudden personification of the stone gargoyles that graced the roof of your townhouse, she swallows her sip of tea.

"Surely, you've given this a lot of thought."

Your aunt sniffs, the flamboyant feathers on her dress quivering as you watch, teacup still in hand, " Someone has to! You handle a household so charmingly my dear, but you are too lax with your daughter. I should have known the moment you and my brother decided on teaching the lass Mathematics and Science. Honestly, had she taken up the piano forte instead she might already be popping out her third child!"

Your mother's smile becomes strained as she pats your hand, gesturing you to put down your teacup. "The piano forte is of course, a fine skill to be knowledgeable of. We have been looking for suitable er suitors for her, but you must know how the mart is, there's been a recent dearth of good men."

"What a load of hogwash that is! You know the ladies of the ton have been talking, after that whole ordeal with Lord Miya, especially Lady Evans- she gossips entirely too much for her own good. Either way, I have a perfect gentleman in mind for her, in fact they share quite a bit in common."

You watch in horror as your mother's interest piques at this, and your aunt barrels on. White noise fills your ears as you find yourself rising from the breakfast table, barely remembering to excuse yourself, rushing to your room. Gripping a bed post you lower yourself on your bed. It wasn't as if you were unaware of the fact that you were nearing an age after which you could no longer be looked at as an eligible option, nor were you unaware that your parents wished you married soon. However, you quite liked your life on the sidelines. You had a bit more autonomy than usual for an unmarried woman your age, and after what your friends and neighbors had said about marriage itself, you certainly were in no rush to partake.

You had to get out of this, by any means necessary.

♛

"D'you reckon Lady Wei has a female lover? I didn't know you could do that, Mama always said only men and women can be married, but that's such an old concept, don't you think?" your friend chatters, pointing out various people milling about at the Beauford-Shankar Annual Ball. You had attended every year, since your debut, and so had your friend, and usually the two of you would have a splendid time, pigging out on the different cakes and gossiping about the various characters who showed up each year. However, this year, you could barely stomach the few sips of lemonade you had, stomach turning at the prospect of meeting Lord Grant, the oh-so-perfect suitor your aunt has scrounged up.

"Oh!" she gasps, "and did you hear? Lady Garcia was ruined over the summer, by none other than our favorite rake, Lord Oikawa. She's apparently headed to the continent now, to traipse around, since she can spend her dowry as wishes. I wish I could do the same, Lord Oikawa please ruin me!" she laments, pretending to swoon against the window in front of which the two of you were situated.

Casting another cursory sweep around the ballroom, you turn towards your friend smiling, " And what news about our second favorite rake, Duke Kageyama? I overheard two ladies discussing he saved yet another poor girl from marrying her grandfather's schoolmate."

Your friend's eyes widen as she latches onto your arm, "Did I not tell you? He's so dashing, a libertine of course, having ruined what- at least fifty girls by now-" she stops to fan her face. "But all those women would have been positively miserable, had they married their intendeds. He's done the world a great good, if you were to ask me."

Smiling slightly, you're reminded of a quiet boy. You cannot recall his features very well, but it is rather hard to forget the only man who's ever caught your eye. You hadn't realized he'd turn into a libertine, but at least in your memories he'd always be the shy boy who'd helped his older sister secure her love match.

Lifting the glass of lemonade to your lips, you take a sip, before promptly choking, as you catch sight of your aunt and mother, being followed by a blonde gentleman, heading straight towards you.

♛

Tobio was decidedly not having a good time. Society events were low on the list of things he did enjoy, and after many years of not attending any, the Beauford-Shankar Ball was bordering unbearable.

"Tobio! Smile a little, you'll scare off all your admirers."

"Lord Sugawara, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's your first society event in nearly six years, why don't you look around? See if anyone catches your eye, or if you can even find that one girl who you used to stare at."

Tobio sputters, cheeks heating, "I- I didn't stare at anyone, and besides even if I had she would have been married by now."

Swallowing, an unbidden image of an eighteen-year-old girl comes to his mind, laughing at something Miwa had said to her. He'd been nineteen that year, much too young to even think about marriage and too focused on his sudden inheritance of the Kageyama dukedom. Miwa had married that year, and he had been running himself ragged trying to keep everything in order. But he remembered that one ball, the last one of that season, a young woman with a throaty laugh, big eyes and a closed posture, as if she were unsure of being there. He hadn't caught more than a glimpse of her, but her memory had remained, after all these years.

Suppressing a twinge of jealousy and sadness Tobio continued, "There was no one. Besides, it is becoming a little difficult to enjoy myself with all these Mamas glaring at me."

Sugawara tilts his head, surveying the room. "Ah, that must be because you've deflowered nearly fifty young ladies these few years."

"Yes, there's that but- wait, wait a moment, what? What did I do?" Tobio turns to Sugawara, astonishment smeared across his face, eyes narrowed incredulously.

"Deflowered, ruined, y'know all the good stuff." Sugawara shrugs with a small grin.

"No, what- I, no that's impossible. I- yes, there's been one or two women, but not- not young ladies. What are you saying?"

"Well, Your Grace, in the years you've declined to grace, ha, us with your presence, the gossip mill has churned quite a bit. You've prevented many marriages; I am sure you're aware."

Feeling completely discombobulated at the news, Tobio groans, "You have got to be jesting, there's no way- I certainly would know if I had ruined fifty young ladies, and I can assure you I have done no such thing."

"The truth is often not gossiped about my young friend. It seems as if the young ladies of the ton are taking advantage of your absence from society to escape from their intended marriages by using your name. They say they've been ruined by you, pay off a maid to spread rumors of 'catching' the two of you in the act and voila! No unhappy marriages for these women, and an expansion of your sordid reputation."

Scrubbing a hand across his face, Tobio sighs," and you did not think to inform me of these happenings, at least once?"

"I was completely under the impression that you were a right rake!"

Tipping his head back, Tobio sighs again. This was going to be a long season.

♛

"Well? What do you think about Lord Grant? He's the modern sort of man, isn't he?" your mother asks you the morning after the ball, hope evident in her eyes.

"He's nice, I suppose," you mutter, refraining from mentioning exactly how modern the man was. "Sure, if thinking a woman's only role in life is being a perfect wife- then yes, he's perfectly modern."

Your mother frowns at this," darling, you know Lord Grant is a better choice than being a spinster. He may have his faults, but your aunt is right, your father and I have been too careless on the topic of your marriage. You've always been the adjusting sort, surely you can adjust here as well?"

Pressing your lips together you offer no reply, choosing to focus on your breakfast instead. Your mother sighs, pressing her fingertips to her temple.

"All of this would have been easier had you just accepted Earl Miya's proposal two years ago. I don't see how you could refuse a man of his type!"

"Lord Miya had proposed to me because he had lost a wager, Mama. I was not going to marry a man only because he was trying to honor his dignity."

"Nonsense, wherever did you get such an idea!"

"Well, you see, the other Lord Miya-"

"And whyever would you be a wager forfeit, of all things!"

There was no arguing against her. "Mama, I do not wish to marry Lord Grant."

Your mother appeared to have gained selective hearing.

"There's to be another ball tonight. You will dance with Lord Grant and form a more solid opinion on him. Your father is already quite fond of him."

"Mama, why are we doing this now? We don't have to listen to Aunt-"

"And stay away from the edges of the room and other dark corners, Lord Sugawara is friends with the nastiest men, I do not know why, he is a gracious man, but London's notorious are sure to be there tonight. The last thing we need is you to be found with, with that Lothario Oikawa, or worse, Kageyama!"

Rolling your eyes this time you retort, "Mama, the ton hasn't seen Duke Kageyama in years, I wouldn't even know who to look out for. As for Lord Oikawa-"

You stop. Lord Oikawa, notorious libertine, deflowerer of virgins, and all-round suave gentleman. Lord Oikawa, who from the whispers of the ton, was tall and handsome, and never turned a lady down.

You smiled.

"Mama, please be sure to ask Lord Grant to find me before the final waltz."

♛

"You've completely lost it, haven't you?"

You choose to ignore your friend, and continue your search for Lord Oikawa.

"Why is it, that he's our favorite rake, yet we've never actually seen what he looks like?"

"He's tall and handsome and has the prettiest eyes, or so I'm told. There cannot be many men that fit that description, can there?"

You discreetly point to a man standing in front of the painting of a fruit bowl, seemingly immersed in thought.

"There, he fits the bill perfectly, would you not say?"

Your friend follows your finger, before seeming to melt at the sight of the man.

"That's Baron Wakatoshi, he is quite tall and handsome, isn't he?"

"What about the man on the stairwell?"

"That's Lord Kuroo, he's quite a catch too, I must say-"

"What about him?" you whisper urgently, "in the center of the gaggle of mamas."

"That's Lord Kita, any lady who catches his eye would be the luckiest woman ever. And I mean ever-"

You groan, pressing your palm to your face. Why was Lord Sugawara acquainted with so many tall and handsome men? Granted he too was a part of the set, but surely friendship required more criteria? Perhaps a love of Plato, or horse riding?

Your friend suddenly tugs at your wrist, "that's him, oh my goodness, it has to be! Look at the refreshments, in the maroon coat, that's Lord Oikawa!"

An icy shiver bolted down your spine, as you glanced at the refreshments table. Now that you had found him, it was time to seduce him.

"The maroon coat you say?"

"Yes, he's reaching for that pastry look!"

You paused.

"That is not Lord Oikawa. That's Lord Miya."

Your friend looks at you with her eyes widened.

"You turned down a proposal from that man? It's worse than I thought!"

"No, I turned down a proposal from his brother, although they are identical, I suppose."

Your friend moaned," why haven't you introduced me to him, I could have been Lady Miya by now. You're a terrible friend."

"Er, I'm not exactly friends with him, but I'm sure he'll recognize me. Do you want an introduction now, or-"

A flash of navy catches the corner of your eye. You sharply turn your head, to watch a tall, dark-haired man slip out the garden door. Frowning, you glance at the clock, the final waltz would begin soon, and no gentleman would escape to the gardens right before it. It had to be him.

"I- I'm heading to the gardens, if Mama comes looking for me, tell her I'm in the gardens."

Your friend, still fixated on Lord Miya, flutters her hand in a go shoo motion. "Happy ravishment dear, tell me how it goes will you?"

♛

Tobio never should have believed Sugawara. Tonight's ball was worse than the previous and once Tobio caught sight of Oikawa it had been game over. Without looking back, he had rushed out the doors into the cool night. Making his way through the garden maze, he arrives at the center of it, where a small waterfall sparkles under the moonlight. Loosening his cravat, he pulls it off and slips it into his pocket, gulping fresh air. Tilting his head back, he closes his eyes, grateful for the solitary moment. He'd always hated the London ton- the socializing, the small talk, the judgement. Perhaps he ought to retire for the season and return back to his country home.

A rustling of skirts draws his attention, and he turns quickly, eyes flying open and, oh.

It's you. The girl from six years ago.

You don't quite look the same, but you do. Your stand straight now, eyes fixed on him. The same eyes, the same lips. Tobio feels the strongest urge to say something jocular, to hear you laugh again- to know if it was the same. However, before he can open his mouth, you're making your way to him, purpose in your steps. Instinctively he takes a step back, the back of his shins bumping into a stone bench.

"I," you begin, and Tobio's lips part at your voice.

"I," you say again, before stopping to take a deep breath. It takes every ounce of strength to Tobio has to not let his eyes flicker down as your bosom heaves with the motion.

"You're Lord Tooru Oikawa."

Tobio blinks. It cannot be, there's no way. No fucking way.

Before he can inject, you continue, effectively quashing any opportunity for him to rectify your mistake.

"I'm going to just say it, so please listen. I need to be ravished, right now."

Tobio's head has stopped working, and clearly so have his ears. There is no way in actual hell you said what he thought you did, and not to someone you thought was fucking Oikawa.

"I know it's improper to ask, and I'm not sure how these things go exactly, but I really need you to- to," you stumble over your words, clearly unsure what a ravishment entails.

Tobio finally finds his words and raises a hand to stop you.

"You have the wrong person, and I'm not sure why you're here, but your reputation would be ruined if you were to be found with me. Please let me leave you alone."

Heart pounding, he goes to move, but you quickly close in on the few paces that separate the two of you. Startled by your sudden proximity, Tobio drops down on the bench behind him.

"No, please. You don't understand- I need you to, to ruin me."

"You want to be fucked by Oikawa?" Tobio asks incredulously, feeling too confused and hurt to register the use of profanity before a young lady.

You frown, brow furrowing.

"Er, yes- I want to be ahem fucked, by you," you whisper the word, and a shiver runs down Tobio's back.

You move closer, placing your hands on his shoulders, and nudging his legs apart so that you can stand between them.

"Please, fuck me."

♛

You had no idea why Lord Oikawa was referring to himself in third person, but you decided to move on to more pressing matters. The man in question was looking up at you, eyes darkened, and mouth parted.

The rumors weren't wrong, and with a face like that- you could see why the ladies of the ton were queuing up to be ravished by this man.

There was something so curiously familiar about this man as well, although you suppose that was a part of his charm as well.

His hands rise to hover around the vicinity of your waist- hesistating.

Impatiently you guide his hands to your waist, heart backflipping as he immediately squeezes and pulls you closer to rest his head on your stomach.

"You don't know what you're asking for."

You shiver at his dark tone, acutely aware of his hands wandering, stopping occasionally to press into a particularly plush part.

"I know what I want."

"What if I were to tell you this is it? This is all there is to ravishment?"

"No!" you blurt out, sinking your hands into his hair and pulling, "it's not enough."

Inhaling sharply, he tugs, pulling you fully into his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Wrapping an arm around your waist he leans in, lips brushing yours as he speaks, warm breath fanning across your face.

"Say it again, tell me what you want."

Heat pooling in your lower stomach, you swallow once before you're able to get the words out. You feel your nipples peak, pushing against the thin silk of your dress.

"I want you to fuck me," you whisper, "I need you to fuck me."

His eyes flutter shut as slowly exhales, one hand sliding up your back to rest on your nape. Tilting your head back he leans forward and presses an open-mouthed kiss right in between your collarbones, then lower. You gasp as he licks across your décolletage, nipping at the swells of your breasts. Your nerves feel on fire, liquid lava coursing as he continues his ministrations.

"Who?" he murmurs, "Who do you need to fuck you?"

Whimpering you grind down on his lap, desperate for some sort of friction. Cursing softly, he rolls his hips up, and you whine as something hard presses against your core, at just the right angle- leaving you incapable of coherent thought.

"Please, again, just-" you cry, desperately searching for that rhythm again. Panting, he grips your waist again, lifting and moving you on his lap so that you're able to chase your pleasure.

The two of you rock together, Oikawa cursing under his breath as he scrambles to untie the laces holding your dress together. A faint part of you wonders why a rake with so much experience was struggling with a mere corset, but that thought vanishes the moment he slips his hands into your dress. Grinding against him, you frantically get rid of your gloves as he pushes your bodice down, baring yourself for him and the cool night. Sinking your hands into his hair you gasp again, as he nips at the edge of your nipple, before enveloping the entire thing.

"I. I'm-" you feel something building inside you, gasping for air.

"Yeah, just from this? Fuck, let go darling, I have you, just-"

You moan as your pleasure crashes over you, panting. He holds you close through it, pressing gentle kisses wherever he can reach. Panting, you come down from your high, hands gripping his shoulder for purchase.

Cheeks warm, you lift your head to look at him, finding his dark eyes trained on you.

"Open your mouth," he whispers, breath fanning over your face. Swallowing, you follow his orders.

"Wider."

You part your mouth even more. Pausing for a heartbeat, his eyes flicker down to your lips, before the corner of his mouth lifts- just barely- the beginnings of a half-smile. Leaning in, he licks into your mouth, muffling your whine. You move to kiss him back, but he sharply draws back.

"Did I say you could do that? Sit on my lap and keep your mouth open, just for me."

Eyes flickering shut, you part your mouth once more, waiting.

"You're such a good girl."

Saliva pools in your mouth as he continues licking, one hand gripping your jaw, palm resting against your neck, to keep you in position- the other slipping under your dress, flirting up your thigh.

Which is exactly how your mother, your aunt, and Lord Grant find the two of you.

♛

Your aunt's shriek pierces the night, causing the two of you to fly apart- well it would've, had Lord Oikawa not held firm on your very naked back. There was certainly no way to misconstrue what was happening here.

Biting your lip to hide a smile, you glance up at Lord Oikawa, who seems shell-shocked.

"What on earth is this! I cannot believe it, this- this is a mistake," your aunt continues, as more people start trailing over, alerted by your aunt's shriek. Your mother rushes over immediately, "Your dress, button up your dress, my god."

Oikawa seems to spring into action at this, sliding his coat off and covering you, ensuring you're completely covered before helping you slide off his lap and stand on your own. As more people crowd around, hushed murmurs and gasps fill the air, the rake strikes again!

The crowd parts as two tall gentlemen make their way.

"What is the issue here-"

"Oho? What indeed is the issue here?"

"Lord Sugawara, Lord Oikawa," the man behind you (still standing so close) begins, before stopping short.

You decide to take over, your plan had worked splendidly, might as well help the man out a little.

"Lord Sugawara, Lord Oikawa," you begin as well, curtseying to the best of your ability in the oversized coat.

Wait. Lord Oikawa?

You whip your head back at the man behind you, and then at the men in front of you.

"Lord Oikawa?" you ask again, hesitantly, and the man beside Lord Sugawara makes a noise of affirmation.

"Tobio-chan, it looks like you've surpassed me and Lord Miya!"

Dread fills you as you realize why Lord Oikawa, no, not-Lord-Oikawa had been speaking in third person and had been so insistent on names.

You turn to your mother, who looks like she's taken to praying, and then back to the man behind- now beside you.

Lord Kageyama.

Thoughts racing, you breathe. No harm done anyway, all you needed was to be ravished- what did it matter if it just so happened to be the quiet boy who had caught your eye six years ago, who had somehow turned into a rake. How did you not recognize him?

"Alright everyone, let's let the family handle this. Back to the ball, off you go," the other Lord Miya's voice cuts through the chatter, and you catch his bemused eye as he winks at you.

Your aunt comes forward, anger visible on her face.

"I will marry her."

Everyone stops.

Lord Kageyama turns to you, " Let's get married."

[violetrainbow412-blog]

White lies [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k

summary: you meet Spencer thanks to a nice coincidence and you become recurring chess partners, but he leaves out a small detail

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14

Spencer had come back to that park after a long time and, honestly, it was as quiet as he remembered it. He liked to sit there to read, watch the birds, listen to the trees hitting each other; just enjoy a moment of life. Matthew, a teenager he used to play chess with, sometimes kept him company, but he knew from his mother that he had sprained his ankle and could barely get out of his room, so those evenings it was just him and a couple of old men in a remote section of his favorite hangout.

The book he had in hand could have finished in less than ten minutes if he had wanted to, but it was one he had a particular interest in and so he was taking notes in a notebook by his side, lengthening his reading time. And besides, he had proposed to take things a little more calmly since the recovery of his leg, now that he could walk by himself, and that seemed to him a quite useful exercise.

The man was dimly aware that someone was sitting at the table next to his, but curiosity was not enough to force him to look away from the pages. It wasn't until after a while that he heard the characteristic sound of the chess pieces moving in the box that formed the board that he paid attention and noticed that the one who was settling there was a woman.

He tried not to look at you too much so as not to make you uncomfortable, but the quick scan he gave you only led him to the conclusion that you might be a college student and that you were very pretty. You were carefully arranging the pieces and once you finished, you looked around the whole park as if you were looking for something or someone, and then you took a pack of chocolates from your backpack and put it to the side of the board, somewhat disappointed that you hadn't found who you expected.

"Are you waiting for Matthew?" Spencer dared to ask. You were startled and had to ask him to repeat the question, a little afraid that a stranger had made such a pointed remark "I've seen him a couple of times eating those sweets and since he likes chess, I thought you were expecting him"

"Oh, you know him" you exclaimed, a little calmer. You were surprised by how observant the man had been, for a couple of random pieces of information had led him to the correct conclusion "I was his babysitter for a while and I ran into his mother the other day and she said he comes here in the evenings so I thought I'd come to see him”

“Too bad, he has a sprained ankle,” he informed you, with a sad grin. “Maybe he'll be back in a week or two. I'm Spencer, by the way."

"Y/N" you introduced yourself, shaking the hand the man was offering you "So you guys are friends?"

"Sometimes I play with him"

"Huh yeah?"

"Yeah. He is very good"

“I taught him,” you said, quite proud of yourself, “I hated when he asked to watch TV, and I brought all kinds of board games over to his house, until finally chess captivated him. In those years he participated in school contests so I was excited to play with him "

“Did you win some?”

“I was undefeated” you exclaimed, even more proud of yourself and smiling wistfully “But after a few years I gave it up. Matthew continued, so I thought it would be nice to dust myself off a bit,” you smiled.

You took a moment to look at the man, who might be only a few years older than you, and like him you were somewhat captivated. His long, wavy, golden hair gleamed in the sun and he seemed to wear clothes that were, if not expensive, then at least quite elegant. You looked at the stack of books and the notes scattered on the table with great interest, because frankly the only men who met all those characteristics used to be your grandfather's age and, although their talks were interesting, you couldn't get to think of them with anything more than tenderness. This person was different, almost like a sage out of a book.

You didn't know where you found the words to invite him to play with you and you didn't know why he agreed. He seemed busy when you arrived, which made you think that he might even be a teacher, but he stopped his activities to pay attention to you and that made you feel special.

"You like them? You can take some if you want. They were for Matty, but I'll buy him some more,” you said kindly, referring to the candies between you, to which Spencer nodded with a smile. You used to play with strangers all the time in that park, so you didn't think it was weird, but never one as handsome as the guy in front of you. You probably wouldn't even have dared to talk to him if he hadn't talked to you “White or black?”

“Black,” Spencer replied. You thought that maybe he was just being chivalrous to you by letting you move first, but you were also overconfident in your abilities and thought that he might feel bad if you turned out to be better.

"I'm not very good, I have to admit" you blatantly lied.

"Relax, I'm not either" he also lied. But neither of you could notice it.

The way Spencer saw the situation, he had two options: the first, demonstrate his extraordinary intelligence by beating you with a couple of moves, or the second, which was to turn off his brain for a while to give yourself a chance and lengthen the game a bit. He knew that, if he took the first option, you would most likely just smile and flatter him like everyone else did, or you might even ask him how he had done that. But Spencer was sick of being treated like a genius, despite being one, and having that label branded in his mind every place he went. He loved to learn, teach and know as much as he could on all subjects and he wasn't one bit ashamed of the abilities his mother gave him at birth, but his short experience with women led him to deduce that he had a better chance of continuing to talk to you throughout the afternoon if he would just play a little silly and pretend not to know what he was doing. And he definitely wanted to be with you that day.

It had been a while, and at some point, you moved a bishop.

Check in 4 moves if Spencer moved the rook.

He moved a pawn, you took the pawn.

Bishop takes the pawn and check in 10 moves.

He moved the knight. You moved your queen

Rook takes queen then checkmate in 5 moves.

But Spencer ignored any of the logical options his brain was giving him. He was moving pieces wrong on purpose and moving another pair well just so he could enjoy your face of concentration and victorious smiles when you made a smart move that he could have foreseen from the start of the game. He analyzed your game, you attacked hard at first, you were impulsive, but at some point you changed your modus operandi to a more calculating and strategic one, your eyebrows gave you away when you were going to make an important play.

"Check" you muttered at some point. Spencer knew how to beat you, but, I repeat, he moved badly on purpose "And that's mate"

"Oh really?" he said, pretending to be puzzled.

"Yes, you left the way clear for my bishop" you explained, with a kind tone but also somewhat condescending. It didn't seem like you wanted to make fun of him, but rather you were looking for a way to make him see his mistake, without knowing that your companion knew exactly what he had done wrong.

"Oh, it's true"

"Either way it's fine, you played excellent" you exclaimed to comfort him, while you offered him a piece of candy and smiled broadly. Spencer looked at his phone, expecting to see a message from JJ saying there was a case to attend to, but he found nothing.

"A rematch?" he said, trying his luck, to which you answered yes quite happily.

Spencer won that game and it was inevitable for both of you to wish for another game just for the tiebreaker, with you crowning yourself the winner of the evening. Between movements you took the opportunity to look at him and you would lie when you said that your cheeks didn’t feel hot from being in the presence of such a peculiar specimen. Most of the men around you behaved like cavemen, so being with someone that civilized was most pleasant.

“I have to go home, it's getting dark already,” you said, quite sad, after that third game. The candy had already run out and Spencer's book had been forgotten to the side, but you still didn't want to walk away with just the memory of those hazel eyes “But if you're ever around again, we could play… if you want."

"I'd love to" he replied, sounding quite sincere.

Would it be too daring to ask for his number? What if it had just been a nice time that arose from a coincidence? You didn't want to spoil it, or scare him away, or anything like that.

You only said goodbye saying that you hoped to see him again and he said the same thing before the two of you went off on your own, fearing you would never see each other again.

After a few days you went back to the park hoping to meet him, but you were disappointed to see the empty spot. The process was repeated a couple of times and although you were carrying books to spend the afternoon, the chess board could never be missing from your bag, keeping the hope of finding him again. Time wasn't wasted after all, as you took the opportunity to continue your schoolwork outdoors, but it saddened you to think that you probably wouldn't see Spencer again, going so far as to regret not finding a way to contact him. But whoever perseveres, reaches, and you verified it when one afternoon you finally found him sitting at the same table as the first time.

“Spencer! What a joy to see you here” you greeted him casually, as if you hadn't been going to the park repeatedly just hoping to find him.

The man apologized to you saying that his work had kept him so busy that he hadn't even had time to stop by and when you asked what he did for a living you were met with an ambiguous answer that he held a position in a government office. Not a complete lie, but not the truth either.

That's how you kept finding him around to play with him, until at some point you barely paid attention to the board to give priority to the chat. Every time you saw each other you thought, without the slightest idea of the truth, that Spencer had been practicing to improve, because sometimes out of five games you only won two. But other days you might have a perfect streak that, while it made you feel happy, allowed you to comfort your friend a little.

You had started carrying different snacks to at some point find out which one was his favorite, which turned out to be the trail mix and, truth be told, it was something you expected, as if it fit perfectly with his personality. That's how you started carrying a pack of those whenever you could, alternating it with other kinds of more substantial snacks that Spencer loved.

So it was that, during the nearly two months that Matthew was unable to go to the park, you and Spencer kept each other company. You learned that he was an avid reader that, according to your first impression of him, he had taught a few classes, that he lived alone, loved classical music, was a big fan of science fiction and science in general, in short, he was a bit of a nerd. He was always telling you interesting facts that you couldn't even have imagined and you always listened very carefully.

One day you were concentrating on your next move when his voice interrupted you. It was a very beautiful afternoon and you had decided to put on light clothes that fluttered in the wind.

“I forgot to tell you. I brought you a book” was what he had said and from his brown leather briefcase he extracted a book with a faded cover that he handed over to you with great care.

“Sylvia Plath?” you exclaimed with total emotion. You had talked about the interest you had in starting to read it in one of the last meetings, because considering Spencer a connoisseur of literature, he would probably know which book to start with "Where did you get it?"

"It was from my mother, but she won't mind if you read it"

You carefully caressed the back with your fingertips with the biggest smile on your face, feeling flushed at the obvious show of attention you were receiving.

"Thank you so much"

"It's no big deal"

"I'll give it back to you soon"

"Take the time you need" he exclaimed sweetly. He was wearing a gray knit vest and a black dot-patterned formal shirt, along with a brown tie. His hair framed his face and looked so soft it made you want to reach out and just stroke it. You had been so stunned watching him, wondering if he was a real man or not, until he reminded you that it was your turn.

You moved your queen. Check in 7 moves.

"Spencer, can I confess something to you?"

He moved his bishop. He is saved from check.

"Huh, yeah"

“These last few weeks I have had a lot of fun. I really like being with you”

He looked at you for a second, as if he was waiting for a but that never came. There was no but you just liked being with him. Reid didn't usually find many people who would enjoy his company without a work commitment involved and that you had said something like that made him feel a warmth in his heart that he couldn't describe.

"I just wanted to tell you that, no... I hope I wasn't weird"

"I like being with you, too," he exclaimed immediately, hoping you didn't get the wrong idea. "It's probably the most normal and quiet thing that happens during my week."

“You've never told me what you do at work, is it paperwork and stuff? Bureaucratic processes?

“Something like that” he lied “Most of the time it's stressful and very tiring. That's why I like coming here, with you, because it helps me relax. I used to play with a very dear friend, but I took a break because… I didn't feel like going back to it. But I have to admit that you are a wonderful player."

"I hope so. Because I'm about to beat you” you smiled, moving another piece and putting the game in check again. Spencer always knew that he had to move to win, but again he made enough mistakes to get beaten by you. Once this happened, he took his king and handed it to you with a small smile, allowing your hands to touch.

It was already getting a bit dark and that was the signal for both of you to come home.

"You won 3 out of 4," he informed you, more cheerful than he was supposed to be. "Rematch tomorrow?"

“Of course”

One of you always asked that and in the same way the other always answered yes. Come to think of it, it was pretty funny that when you lost the next afternoon you won and vice versa, allowing the promise of a rematch to always hold.

"Do you live far from here?"

You knew, of course, that there was another question implicit in it. He not only wanted to know how far away your apartment was, but he wanted to know if he could walk you there. You'd never thought of the two of you hanging out outside of your afternoon game sessions, so you told him it was about a fifteen-minute walk away, and he naturally offered to walk you there.

"You're not a serial killer or anything like that, are you?" you joked, although a part of you said it to watch his reaction and detect (if possible) any sign of a lie.

“I'm not, but it's quite right that you doubt me,” he replied, as he packed his things into his briefcase, smiling slightly as if he hadn't been offended but rather admired by a good question “From any man, really, because the largest number of serial killers is concentrated in the United States and 95% of murderers worldwide are… well, men. Possibly this is due to the levels of testosterone and the social implications of masculinity that exist, this isn’t counting the traumas that they may have developed during their lives. Speaking specifically of men with psychopathy, most of them are able to manipulate their chosen victims to gain their trust before harming them. Many murderers have been described as charming, an example of this is Ted Bundy, who even when he was arrested many women attended the trials with banners and self-declared his fans. A few years ago there was even a killer here in Virginia who would date young women and then kill them, because it was easier for him not to resist, but luckily he only took the lives of 3 women before he was caught”

Spencer wasn't even aware of the changes in expressions on your face until he looked at you, completely serious and doe-eyed.

"Should I be worried about the fact that you listed reasons why I shouldn't let you accompany me?"

“Oh no, no” he had probably scared you and it made him feel so sorry and silly “I just… like to read about it, I promise. In addition, I have a degree in psychology, sometimes we analyzed the profile of the murderers to understand their psyche. But if you don't want me to come with you, that's fine."

"I'll take the risk"

"I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry"

"You didn’t do it. It just wasn't such a convincing defense” you carefully reached out to grab his arm and encourage him to walk beside you, flashing him a sweet smile.

Spencer, still feeling guilty for having rambled on about psychopaths, walked by your side for a while, and until you started talking his mood improved. A lot of times your talks didn't have to do with anything scientific and focused more on pop culture stuff that Spencer was completely unaware of. But you never teased him, but little by little you started to explain to him the plot of different movies or celebrity gossip of the moment, which was very funny for him. Your vibrant personality had him completely fascinated.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" you said once you got to your building. They were nice condos that Spencer had seen before.

"If something unforeseen does not arise, yes"

"Thanks for joining me. And for not being a murderer too” you laughed, still in a joking mood, while he looked at the ground a little embarrassed.

"Your lack of confidence hurts me"

"Admit that it's your fault, Doctor Reid" taking advantage of the artificial height difference that standing a few steps higher than him gave you, you leaned over to hug him goodbye and he sighed deeply as he felt the softness of your body against his "I hope you're well. Rest"

"Bye," he breathed out softly, entranced by the sight of your kind eyes looking directly at him.

He went home wishing with all his might that the job in the unit would allow him to meet you, but unfortunately it didn't, and since the two of you still hadn't thought of exchanging numbers he didn't find a way to apologize to you. He went to the park for several days in a row, but he couldn't find you anywhere and he was afraid that you wouldn't want to see him again. Had he done something wrong? Had you really believed that he could be a criminal? He probably explained to you what FBI unit he worked for and all that weird stuff he was telling you would have started to make sense.

He had already given up hope just the day you were practically running to the park, your chessboard bouncing through your bag and your breathing heavy as a sign of your poor physical condition.

You expected him to be there even with your repeated absences and when you finally arrived you noticed that around your usual table was a small group of people. You didn't know what it could be so you decided to go look too and you were surprised to discover Matty, whom it was the first time you'd seen in months, playing with nothing more and nothing less than your game partner. 

You knew Matty enjoyed playing fast chess, so a clock was sitting next to both of them, and Spencer seemed to be playing better than he ever had in his life. His eyes lasted a second to scan the positions of the pieces and another to move his own, without needing to make any effort to plan the right move.

Everyone around was impressed by the skill of the teenager and the man who, according to your deductions, had not played more than 15f minutes. After a couple more minutes Spencer smiled broadly and declared that the younger one was checkmated, drawing Matthew's complaint and collective applause for the feat.

"The boy is good, but not as good as him" an old man informed you, who apparently knew the development of these games very well.

Spencer enjoyed the cheers rather modestly for a moment, but when he caught sight of you watching him from the crowd he went completely pale.

"Hello," he hurried to greet you, getting up from his seat to approach you and causing the fan group to break up "You came."

"Yeah, I've been kind of busy with college," you sincerely apologized, letting him envelop you in a hug that took you by surprise.

"I'm glad to see you"

"But what was all that about, by the way?"

"What was what?"

"Y/N!" said Matty, rushing over to greet you. "Do you guys know each other?"

"Yeah, I would say that" you clearly noticed the young man's intention to ask the story of that, but as soon as he opened his mouth you said something else: "But will you allow me to talk to him for a second? It's adult talk," you joked, trying to tease your little friend, and then walked a few steps away, taking Spencer with you. "Do you want to explain to me how you became a chess master during my three-day absence?"

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about"

"I saw that! You beat him so fast and Matt is very good. Have you been letting me win all this time?” you asked with a frown. You didn't sound annoyed with him, but rather surprised, and when he pursed his lips and looked at you with those sad little eyes, you knew you were right “You were lying to me! Why did you do that?”

"I didn’t want to make you feel bad"

“I'm an adult, I can handle failure” you argued. A lie, but he didn't have to know that.

“It's just that you… you looked so happy winning and I was happy to spend time with you and I figured if I played like that you'd start to get bored or think I'm a show-off. You didn't want to make a bad impression."

He had been cheating on you, yes, but now that he had explained his reasons, you thought they were really cute. Although you didn't like being treated with that kind of condescension, it would honestly have been foolish to bother you about something like that. They were just friendly games of chess, not a world championship.

"So all this time you were this clever?" you asked and he nodded sheepishly “And you still managed to lose?”

“It's easy once you get the hang of it. If you know all the possible outcomes then you also know where you shouldn't move your pieces."

"I must have looked so stupid all this time"

"No, it's not like that" he hastened to say, while one of his hands went up to your elbow and gently held it "I didn't behave like that because I think you're stupid. I think you're very smart, actually."

"So you were just pretending so we could see each other in the evenings?"

No one had ever done that for you and now you weren't even offended by it anymore, you were, how shall I put it? Touched, perhaps.

"I thought if we didn't play chess there would be no other excuse for it"

A giggle escaped your lips and although at first he thought you were mocking, the truth was the opposite.

 “You don't need to do that for us to be together, I could come to the park and just talk to you. I already told you, I like being with you” you clarified.

You two were silent for a moment and although you were calm Spencer was fiddling with his hands, apparently uncomfortable.

"There's also something else I didn't tell you" you widened your eyes slightly, waiting for him to continue "Actually, I do work for the government, but I work for the FBI in the behavioral analysis unit, that's why sometimes I disappear for so many days or…"

"That's why you know so much murder data" you hastened to say. Suddenly everything clicked together, like pieces in a puzzle "You're not a murderer, you catch murderers!”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want to scare you."

"Oh, and it was more convenient to let me think you're a psycho," you said sarcastically and only received another amused and sorry look "Any other secrets you want to share with me, Agent Reid?"

“At the moment I only have that. But the afternoon is young, more things can come up with the passing of the hours”

You both laughed at the joke and Matthew's voice calling you snapped you out of your conversation. The teen demanded an explanation as to why his playmate and former babysitter seemed so trusting of each other, which Spencer probably hadn't explained to him yet.

"I just want to ask you one thing"

"And what is?"

“Play a real game with me. No cheating, no tricks"

"Rematch?" he said, as was already your tradition, and you smiled widely.

You walked back to the table taking his arm and after summarizing a few months of history to Matthew the two of you finally got to play. Spencer beat you in less than 5 minutes, but the satisfaction you felt finding out that he was so smart, as well as handsome, was completely worth your loss.

You only managed to beat him after half a year, because from that moment on Spencer was so distracted by your face that it was hard for him to concentrate on the plays. And when you became his girlfriend, all you had to do was steal a few kisses from him to ensure your victory, which, honestly, didn't bother him in the least.

[josru]

a little rant:

If you need to understand one thing about the Bear subreddit, here it is.

It's not a supportive place for women, let alone black women/women of colour. (Not surprising, as reddit is male and white dominated.) Sydney gets mad hate for daring to be apart of the main relationship in the show (that is now defunct), something that the writers wrote for her? Regardless if you see Sydcarmy as romantic or not. The whole point of the Bear is their partnership.

And yet the Bear fandom on reddit loves to diminish her role, and act as if Sydney is an uppity black woman who needs to be rid of. They act like it's surprising that people want to talk about her or like her. And they also think Sydcarmy is mad overrated and implausible. They bring it up constantly because it pisses them off that a sizeable portion of us love it.

Probably because Sydney is an actual character we can relate to and root for. But oh no, men don't like that because that means she isn't a perfect little white fantasy, and she has actual problems and ideas and speaks on them, and she's BLACK, god forbid!! And they could never have empathy for someone who wasn't themselves. Sydney is annoying to them because it reminds them they don't care about other people.

It's barely a place for white women too, because they only like you if you're a gf/therapist/not your own person. A flat, 2-D image with no problems. They don't care about Jess or Claire, they just want to fuck them. Even in this post, the respect of relatability and empathy is given to Richie in the title, because he finally "got some", despite the picture being of Jess. Like, great, guys, you diminished a woman (a PERSON) to being a "win" for a man, because that's all that matters, right? Whether or not a woman is a fuckable prize?

Even the writing of the show actually just pushes the whole "if women = gf, = only gf, nothing else" trope. So in a weird way, I guess I know where they're getting it from, but I expected more from adult men? My bad.

Women deserve to be more than someone's fantasy!! I am sick and tired of this misogynistic drivel. I also think it's fucked up how much of these dudes on reddit love Richie this much. Like, we get it, you think he's a self-help sigma alpha chad king now. Just keep ignoring the problems he keeps creating, how irritating he can be sometimes, as well as the fact that men picking up their lives will always have way more support than female characters. Richie is not some underdog character lol. The narrative of the show has made it clear he is very beloved and will have a nice, sweet arc.

Unlike Sydney, and Marcus, and apparently maybe even Tina. But yes, keep talking about how your white male character is the underdog who is being sooo mistreated and finally got something he deserved, even though in actuality, Syd and every other POC got treated like shit this season. It's like they swapped them, the real main characters, and made them the underdogs/tertiary while Richie has become so important. But it's key to reddit's white male victim complex that Richie is finally getting "good treatment" when he never suffered being completely ignored by the writers at all, and he was never at risk of that either.

[batboyblog]

You realize Trump was being facetious talking about Hannibal Lector and only using the character to make a point, right? Btw, get ready for MORE taxes since Biden apparently just canceled more student debt. At this rate, you'll be able to bring home a whole cent!

I wouldn't really normally bother to answer this, but who knows I'm in a mood

one, Trump is dumb as hell and thats what the people who worked for him think, "has the understanding of a fifth- or sixth-grader", "an idiot", dumb as shit,” “like an 11-year-old child,” “moron,” and “kindergartner,” all from people who worked in his White House or were in his Cabinet

so forgive me if I don't think the great galaxy brain was being "facetious" a word I'd be my life he couldn't spell (or even say correctly)

second, Biden's stated budget will cut taxes on normal Americans so unless you happen to make over $400,000 a year and waste your billionaire time on Tumblr, you won't see your taxes go up, in fact they go down.

but finally, even if Biden wasn't gonna cut my taxes, a tax cut isn't worth my soul, I'm not gonna vote for a rapist

no amount of money is worth that, nothing is worth that, nothing is worth telling EVERY woman and girl in America, every victim of sexual abuse and assault in this country, "you are worthless" absolutely not. so fuck off, vote for you rapist.