#ask the internet and the people you pay if youre a good person
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carmenifold · 2 days ago
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help two disabled trans women eat and pay rent! (again...!)
hey it's your favorite local broke girl again!! happy new year, and here's to another year of begging on the internet so you don't starve!!! (just kidding i am so fucking tired and i want that to stop! lol) in all seriousness i don't know how we would've made it through the past two years without your help. it's... very difficult to figure out how to move on when people you thought you could trust in a very vulnerable period of your life just kinda.. put the person you love most in mortal danger and ruin your life. we survived but...
fuck it this isnt a journal post sorry. probably the lack of meds making me just say shit. anyway i have what is hopefully (send me luck please) a really good shot at getting an actual job soon and then i could hopefully just!! stop doing this!! and get back to doing art and the things i love and working through my heaping commission backlog (ty so much for your patience im so sorry)
but for now, we still have zero income. please, i know i've asked every month for the past year and then some, but this is the only way we can keep what little hold we have on things for now. if you can, please consider donating to help us make rent (around $600) and get groceries. if you can't, please consider spreading this post anyway. that's the thing that gets us help.
PP / VM / CA
i feel like i ran out of ways to thank everyone who's helped out so far, but i'll just say it again because i still feel so so lucky and grateful to have support through this mess: Thank you. <3
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rifle-yes · 1 day ago
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normally I love getting emails from students telling me my class helped or came up in their life in some way - but the number of emails I've gotten from students over the years telling me they used the evac shopping list or the bug out bags we made in my geo hazards class is pretty horrific and the reason I'm going to gently poke you all and ask you:
how much drinkable water do you have on hand if your water stops working? (aim for 3 gallons per person per day)
do you have a physical copy of a map with at least two evacuation routes should internet or your phones not work?
how much food do you have that is non-perishable and easy to travel with and are the expiration dates still good? (2k calories per person per day)
do you have at least two flashlights with fresh batteries and replacement batteries?
do you have a pair of more rugged clothes you can easily grab that you know will fit you and be weather appropriate for the season?
do you have a carrier(s) that fits (all) your pet(s) comfortably for long periods of time?
do you have a bag set aside with a dental hygiene and standard hygiene items you could easily grab?
is your first aid kid freshly stocked with more than just bandaids and checked for expired items? are your prescription meds easy to get to and add to this if needed? do you have pain killers, tummy trouble pills, antihistamines, splints, ACE bandages, medical tape, & alcohol wipes (these are my most used items in the field)
where are your important papers (passports, insurance papers, proof of ownership, birth certificates, important photos, etc) and are they ready to travel if need be?
if you're in an area with cold temps do you have thermal blankets or normal ones?
do you have toilet paper and menstrual items? because restroom restocking/cleaning is not a priority for most places in a disaster situation and sometimes you don't even get the luxury of having a restroom.
do you have a back up power bank?
weird items you might not have in your go bag but might want to consider:
PPE eye covers like lab goggles or even swimmers goggles if you're in fire zone - it can help prevent eye irritation in smokey areas
DUCT TAPE. DUCT TAPE. DUCT TAPE. ADD IT TO YOUR BAG NOW.
disposable face masks - don't breathe in smoke
silverware/utensils - you can eat food right from a can but silverware takes up minimal space
headlamps like hikers/bikers/ya girl uses - SUPER USEFUL and it keeps your hands free
a whistle
solar power stations (I have a Jackery brand solar power station for the field and this thing is a work horse - 10/10 do recommend)
chemical cold packs/hot packs
pocket knife
cash (apple pay and cards aren't always accepted in emergencies)
barter items (cash isn't always accepted or useful in emergencies) like tiny airplane bottles of booze, big bottles of booze, cigarette packs, extra medical supplies, batteries, duct tape, toilet paper)
pashminas/scarves/shemagh - useful in more than one way
& a question people sometimes forget: can you easily lift and carry the bag that contains these items? a 75lb/45kg bag of gear will do you no good if you can't pick it up and take it with you in an emergency.
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explode-this · 5 months ago
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Just glimpsed the cover of People magazine (I can read it free with kindle unlimited, sometimes I like to see what entertainment the old folks and straights are into, don’t @ me) and it’s Prince Harry with an inset picture of King Chuck and the headline The Real Reason They’re No Longer Speaking. It really sums up the sincere readership as the kind of folks that write advice column letters asking why their ungrateful adult children (and most of their peers’ adult children) have gone no-contact, as though it’s a trend and something their offspring do to spite them that has absolutely nothing to do with them and their parenting in any way, shape or form.
#I’d like to state for the record that i was well ahead of the curve having gone no-contact with my father in 2001#both of my folks have shuffled off this mortal coil and i miss my mother but y’know#whatever about the old boy#i know this might sound harsh to people with loving parents but if you know you know#you don’t have to be in contact with a person who dehumanized and abused you instead of caring for you#providing a roof over a child’s head is not a complete sentence nor the extent of a parent’s duty#even if it was ‘just’ emotional detachment and lack of involvement that still warrants not having to keep a relative in your life#though most people i know who have gone NC had explicitly abusive parents/siblings i just wanted to state that it includes emotional absence#anyway if calling your mother hurts because she never asks about you and talks about your siblings all the time#or it never feels like you’re good enough and your father says he’s ashamed of you for not living up to his expectations#y’know… fuck ‘em#you might have a therapist or mentor or someone who suggests playing nice or forgiving them#and they mean well but in the end forgiveness is for you and if you don’t have a connection with them you don’t have to do that#i never forgave my father to his face#just made peace with him being a complete stranger to me#and I’m doing pretty well with it actually#that is my situation and yours may vary#but if you’ve never considered that you don’t actually have to pick up the slack or take the high road and be the better person#I’m just giving you permission to think about it#one internet stranger with a shitty dad to potentially another#and remember once your shitty dad dies you no longer have to pay dues to the shitty dads club#anyway love you fellow survivors! bye! ♥️
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DPXDC prompt. Field trip.
Some people would call gothamites petty, but given that most of the USA population treated them as scum, they believed that their behavior was justified.
They didn't like tourists, to put it mildly. Therefore, after learning that in their city were people on a field trip from Amity Park who could not leave Gotham for several days due to weekly escape from Arkham, the news channel immediately decided that a short interview from the guests would definitely amuse the locals. The reaction of outsiders never ceases to be ridiculous.
Reporter: ~Good afternoon~ Gotham News! May I ask you to share what you liked most about our wonderful city?
Mr. Lancer*still in a cold sweat and looks at every passerby as a potential villain*: Uh, no, me..It's so unexpected. Well, first of all, people here are very…
Danny *is high after the tasting samples Dr. Crane gave him for free and is extremely eager to share his happiness with others*,* picks a microphone*.
Danny: Gotham is the best city in the world! Like seriously, damn, I'd like to die here. Although there are constant shootings somewhere, half the time people don't even shoot at me! I haven't been this relaxed since middle school! And in the evenings, there is often such a pleasant scent of fear and despair on the streets. This fear toxin of yours is a real miracle! It's sooo good!
Sam *decides to take the initiative in her own hands before Fenton says too much*: Personally, I am very pleased with the number of green spaces you have in your city. It's nice to see that here eco-activists are really being listened to. Also, the fact that most restaurants have a thoughtful menu for vegetarians left a very pleasant impression.
Dash in his favorite T-shirt "it's not gay if he's dead": Four words. Hips of Red Hood. The fact that it is not marked in the guidebook as the main attraction of the Crime Alley is a real crime. This dude clearly never skips leg days. My respect.
Tucker: What can I say? The speed of internet here, even during villains attacks, is absolutely  unbelievable. I don't want to leave this place.
Jazz: I love Gotham! Finally, I was able to buy all the works published by Dr. Harleen Quinzel. *girl picks up an impressive stack of books* For some reason, they are not available online.
The camera points at a red-haired guy with a twitching eye.
Wes: I'm 85% sure Bruce Wayne is Batman. I have a proof and I am ready to provide it.
A girl with a "Good Guess" pin from Riddler enters and takes camera away from conspiracy theorist.
Star: Sorry, he slipped out at night and went to look for problems. Again. Don't pay any attention to him. He's always like this when he drinks more than two energy drinks in a row.
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mx-pastelwriting · 2 months ago
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Saving My Fanfiction Work
First. Side note: This post was only intended to give resources to fanfiction writers and enjoyers. My talk on recent political events was a context/reasoning on why I made this post. Also I’ve had to add more information to this post over time due to people’s confusion in my comments. Explaining it was to make sure that this post didn’t come off as out of the blue for my followers and this community. Which is fanfiction.
Also, why I made this post was from people asking if they could download my fanfiction because of the recent political events in America hence why I named it “saving my fanfiction work” and added my context. So this was also a post to tell people that liked my fanfiction they could download it as long as it was for their personal collection. I merely just wanted to list resources to people who wanted to download fanfiction and don’t know where to start or don’t have the immediate resources. I’m not here to fear-monger. I am just giving resources and the reasoning on why I’m giving them along with urging people to look into those information/recent events as staying aware is important. I respect everybody who’s given their opinion and yes, some of my grammar in this post is not adequate as this post was merely made for giving/stating resources.
Lastly, I will no longer update this post with comments as I’ve said my peace, nor will I pay attention to the notifications as they are muted. As my page is for fanfiction not politics. Thank you for the people in this community who share this post for the resources see you around the tags! Stay safe friends!!✨ Remember I love you! And you are loved!💛
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Due to the recent events in the United States. To clarify the recent events being Trump becoming president of the United States, Project 2025 more than likely going to be integrated. If you are not familiar with Project 2025 I urge you to look it up.
Along with the KOSA bill that has many problems and it has passed the senate now needing the finally vote in the house, which both are majority red. Go here to learn more on why it needs to be stopped and how you can. This is another component that will harm our communities. Go to: stopkosa.com
With all of its harmful plans some of the plans are to take down/restrict internet sites that have LGBTQ+ communities that means communities like the fan-fiction communities/sites in the United States.
I am only giving resources to those inside and out of the US in case they banned sites that hold fan-fiction. Better safe than sorry.
Being that I live in the US the possibly of mine and many others Fanfiction has the possibly of being in danger. Therefore I'm giving you recourses. (I'm not leaving or stopping my writing, I'm here for the fight!)
For those wanting to save my fanfiction, I give you permission to download them off of AO3 and to be used for your personal collection. Meaning, your eyes only. To clarify I’m saying this as others have asked if they could download my fanfic so for those who would like to you can.
If you do not know how to download them many others on online have tutorials on how to download them and add them to our phone libraries.
Here are some links to tutorials:
Downloading Fanfic
Adding to Iphone & Android Library
Adding to Kindle Library - Video on How (On TikTok)
Adding Book Covers (At the bottom) - Good EPUB Cover Changer (I use this)
Types of Files and What they mean
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Please stay safe out there! Remember to follow the rules below.
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DO NOT share the downloaded file anywhere online.
DO NOT repost the downloaded file under your name.
Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.
♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.
♥ mx-pastelwriting does give consent to "reblog," sharing links to direct work, and being in recommend lists.
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Please stay safe out there friends! I love you so much! Know that there will always people that love you and in for the fight to make sure you are loved!
And here are some resources in case you don’t feel okay! Resources here
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drchucktingle · 4 months ago
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sometimes buds ask’ what is it like to be a neurodivergent artist?’ and this is great summary: the charts can look like this, and at same time people will be endlessly posting on how you are ‘not real’ or ‘a bit’. you can hold bestsellers in slot 1 to 4 and still not be 'serious'
i am ultimately ok with this. i love my trot and would not have it any other way, but i think it is worth investigation. when irony poisoning has seeped into everything, how many times does a neurodivergent person have to say ‘actually this is NOT so bad its good. its just good’
when you are autistic, or queer, or both, how much proof do you need to be considered good art? or good business? what do the charts have to look like for me to be a ‘real’ author? or allowed my face mask at a library association conference? or one person not a group of writers?
im coming up on a decade of writing tinglers soon, and people are still talkin about my ‘serious’ works vs my ‘joke books’ and at every turn, as kindly as i can, i shout from the rooftops: THEY ARE ALL SERIOUS BOOKS. THIS IS NOT A BIT.
but its hard when buds have had ‘the correct way to be a writer. the correct way to be an artist. the COOL way to react to a book that is TOO weird’ pounded into their heads by internet culture. 'kill it with fire' they say. 'i need eye bleach' they say without thinking. a line.
heres the thing, the tide IS turning. theres buckaroos jumping in and saying, ‘I want to be a part of this’ and for that they are being rewarded. the publisher who took me seriously is lookin pretty dang good right now with these charts and these sales. i am honored and moved
over time there will be more buds who shed that irony mask. the tide of sincerity is powerful, and the tide of love is inevitable. it is difficult to stand strong in our uniqueness but it also pays off, and I hope to be a shining example. eventually THE TIMELINE BENDS TO YOU
so this is not a thread to complain. i have been trotting long enough that these things do not really bother me. being made fun of and disparaged as ‘not legit art’ while also being objectively successful at the things im made fun of about is kind of the ocean that i swim in.
no. my point of this is to say THANK YOU to those of you who have been trotting by my side over these years. THANK YOU for proving love to me. im so honored by your support, and you should know that YOU have seen beyond the irony poisoned veil that stops many others. YOU get it.
and to those with their own unique perspective on creation: look what you can do. yes there will likely be a lot of resistance to something different, but there is also a LOT of reward. YOU can trot a new path. YOU can prove love is real, not in MY way, but IN YOUR OWN WAY
anyway thank you for reading buckaroos. thank you for your support. LUCKY DAY comes out next summer and it is probably as FAR OUT and existential as the tingleverse has ever gone. you can preorder it here
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mortalityplays · 10 months ago
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You need more free art.
I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.
You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.
We all need more free art.
So what am I going to do about it?
This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.
I'm going to do this:
1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.
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This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.
Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.
2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.
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Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.
Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.
I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.
2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY
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To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.
On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.
You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.
3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS
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Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).
The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.
4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE
I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.
tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!
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mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months ago
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Even if you think AI search could be good, it won’t be good
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TONIGHT (May 15), I'm in NORTH HOLLYWOOD for a screening of STEPHANIE KELTON'S FINDING THE MONEY; FRIDAY (May 17), I'm at the INTERNET ARCHIVE in SAN FRANCISCO to keynote the 10th anniversary of the AUTHORS ALLIANCE.
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The big news in search this week is that Google is continuing its transition to "AI search" – instead of typing in search terms and getting links to websites, you'll ask Google a question and an AI will compose an answer based on things it finds on the web:
https://blog.google/products/search/generative-ai-google-search-may-2024/
Google bills this as "let Google do the googling for you." Rather than searching the web yourself, you'll delegate this task to Google. Hidden in this pitch is a tacit admission that Google is no longer a convenient or reliable way to retrieve information, drowning as it is in AI-generated spam, poorly labeled ads, and SEO garbage:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/03/keyword-swarming/#site-reputation-abuse
Googling used to be easy: type in a query, get back a screen of highly relevant results. Today, clicking the top links will take you to sites that paid for placement at the top of the screen (rather than the sites that best match your query). Clicking further down will get you scams, AI slop, or bulk-produced SEO nonsense.
AI-powered search promises to fix this, not by making Google search results better, but by having a bot sort through the search results and discard the nonsense that Google will continue to serve up, and summarize the high quality results.
Now, there are plenty of obvious objections to this plan. For starters, why wouldn't Google just make its search results better? Rather than building a LLM for the sole purpose of sorting through the garbage Google is either paid or tricked into serving up, why not just stop serving up garbage? We know that's possible, because other search engines serve really good results by paying for access to Google's back-end and then filtering the results:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi
Another obvious objection: why would anyone write the web if the only purpose for doing so is to feed a bot that will summarize what you've written without sending anyone to your webpage? Whether you're a commercial publisher hoping to make money from advertising or subscriptions, or – like me – an open access publisher hoping to change people's minds, why would you invite Google to summarize your work without ever showing it to internet users? Nevermind how unfair that is, think about how implausible it is: if this is the way Google will work in the future, why wouldn't every publisher just block Google's crawler?
A third obvious objection: AI is bad. Not morally bad (though maybe morally bad, too!), but technically bad. It "hallucinates" nonsense answers, including dangerous nonsense. It's a supremely confident liar that can get you killed:
https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/sep/01/mushroom-pickers-urged-to-avoid-foraging-books-on-amazon-that-appear-to-be-written-by-ai
The promises of AI are grossly oversold, including the promises Google makes, like its claim that its AI had discovered millions of useful new materials. In reality, the number of useful new materials Deepmind had discovered was zero:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs
This is true of all of AI's most impressive demos. Often, "AI" turns out to be low-waged human workers in a distant call-center pretending to be robots:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/31/neural-interface-beta-tester/#tailfins
Sometimes, the AI robot dancing on stage turns out to literally be just a person in a robot suit pretending to be a robot:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain
The AI video demos that represent "an existential threat to Hollywood filmmaking" turn out to be so cumbersome as to be practically useless (and vastly inferior to existing production techniques):
https://www.wheresyoured.at/expectations-versus-reality/
But let's take Google at its word. Let's stipulate that:
a) It can't fix search, only add a slop-filtering AI layer on top of it; and
b) The rest of the world will continue to let Google index its pages even if they derive no benefit from doing so; and
c) Google will shortly fix its AI, and all the lies about AI capabilities will be revealed to be premature truths that are finally realized.
AI search is still a bad idea. Because beyond all the obvious reasons that AI search is a terrible idea, there's a subtle – and incurable – defect in this plan: AI search – even excellent AI search – makes it far too easy for Google to cheat us, and Google can't stop cheating us.
Remember: enshittification isn't the result of worse people running tech companies today than in the years when tech services were good and useful. Rather, enshittification is rooted in the collapse of constraints that used to prevent those same people from making their services worse in service to increasing their profit margins:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/26/glitchbread/#electronic-shelf-tags
These companies always had the capacity to siphon value away from business customers (like publishers) and end-users (like searchers). That comes with the territory: digital businesses can alter their "business logic" from instant to instant, and for each user, allowing them to change payouts, prices and ranking. I call this "twiddling": turning the knobs on the system's back-end to make sure the house always wins:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/
What changed wasn't the character of the leaders of these businesses, nor their capacity to cheat us. What changed was the consequences for cheating. When the tech companies merged to monopoly, they ceased to fear losing your business to a competitor.
Google's 90% search market share was attained by bribing everyone who operates a service or platform where you might encounter a search box to connect that box to Google. Spending tens of billions of dollars every year to make sure no one ever encounters a non-Google search is a cheaper way to retain your business than making sure Google is the very best search engine:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task
Competition was once a threat to Google; for years, its mantra was "competition is a click away." Today, competition is all but nonexistent.
Then the surveillance business consolidated into a small number of firms. Two companies dominate the commercial surveillance industry: Google and Meta, and they collude to rig the market:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue
That consolidation inevitably leads to regulatory capture: shorn of competitive pressure, the companies that dominate the sector can converge on a single message to policymakers and use their monopoly profits to turn that message into policy:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/regulatory-capture/
This is why Google doesn't have to worry about privacy laws. They've successfully prevented the passage of a US federal consumer privacy law. The last time the US passed a federal consumer privacy law was in 1988. It's a law that bans video store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you rented:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Privacy_Protection_Act
In Europe, Google's vast profits lets it fly an Irish flag of convenience, thus taking advantage of Ireland's tolerance for tax evasion and violations of European privacy law:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town
Google doesn't fear competition, it doesn't fear regulation, and it also doesn't fear rival technologies. Google and its fellow Big Tech cartel members have expanded IP law to allow it to prevent third parties from reverse-engineer, hacking, or scraping its services. Google doesn't have to worry about ad-blocking, tracker blocking, or scrapers that filter out Google's lucrative, low-quality results:
https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/
Google doesn't fear competition, it doesn't fear regulation, it doesn't fear rival technology and it doesn't fear its workers. Google's workforce once enjoyed enormous sway over the company's direction, thanks to their scarcity and market power. But Google has outgrown its dependence on its workers, and lays them off in vast numbers, even as it increases its profits and pisses away tens of billions on stock buybacks:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification
Google is fearless. It doesn't fear losing your business, or being punished by regulators, or being mired in guerrilla warfare with rival engineers. It certainly doesn't fear its workers.
Making search worse is good for Google. Reducing search quality increases the number of queries, and thus ads, that each user must make to find their answers:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan
If Google can make things worse for searchers without losing their business, it can make more money for itself. Without the discipline of markets, regulators, tech or workers, it has no impediment to transferring value from searchers and publishers to itself.
Which brings me back to AI search. When Google substitutes its own summaries for links to pages, it creates innumerable opportunities to charge publishers for preferential placement in those summaries.
This is true of any algorithmic feed: while such feeds are important – even vital – for making sense of huge amounts of information, they can also be used to play a high-speed shell-game that makes suckers out of the rest of us:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/11/for-you/#the-algorithm-tm
When you trust someone to summarize the truth for you, you become terribly vulnerable to their self-serving lies. In an ideal world, these intermediaries would be "fiduciaries," with a solemn (and legally binding) duty to put your interests ahead of their own:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet
But Google is clear that its first duty is to its shareholders: not to publishers, not to searchers, not to "partners" or employees.
AI search makes cheating so easy, and Google cheats so much. Indeed, the defects in AI give Google a readymade excuse for any apparent self-dealing: "we didn't tell you a lie because someone paid us to (for example, to recommend a product, or a hotel room, or a political point of view). Sure, they did pay us, but that was just an AI 'hallucination.'"
The existence of well-known AI hallucinations creates a zone of plausible deniability for even more enshittification of Google search. As Madeleine Clare Elish writes, AI serves as a "moral crumple zone":
https://estsjournal.org/index.php/ests/article/view/260
That's why, even if you're willing to believe that Google could make a great AI-based search, we can nevertheless be certain that they won't.
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If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/15/they-trust-me-dumb-fucks/#ai-search
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Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en
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djhughman https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Modular_synthesizer_-_%22Control_Voltage%22_electronic_music_shop_in_Portland_OR_-_School_Photos_PCC_%282015-05-23_12.43.01_by_djhughman%29.jpg
CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en
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ohnoitstbskyen · 4 months ago
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I deleted the ask, but someone wrote one basically saying "why do you post reaction videos to Helluva Boss? Don't you know the show exploits its workers and they're overworked and get burned out?"
And, I mean, I love your energy, person who asked, definitely hold on to those values and speak up about this. But also, I am afraid I might have some bad news for you about literally the whole entire animation industry.
As near as I can make out from the sparse journalistic reporting that's been done on SpindleHorse -- and as a sidebar, please for the love of god read actual reporting about these things and not just callout posts and fandom discourse -- as near as I can make out, SpindleHorse as a studio is neither all that much better nor all that much worse than basically anywhere else in the industry on their level. It seems like it is (or was? Hazbin Hotel seems to be run differently) a studio mostly run by contracting people on a project-by-project basis, which leads to a crapton of turnover, and a huge need for organizing and onboarding, which according to the reporting I have read, the producers and freelancers have struggled to balance and manage properly, which has negatively impacted a number of the workers.
Top that with the usual catty, clique-based backbiting, sniping and poorly managed conflict resolution that's just kinda endemic in creative environments mostly staffed by twentysomethings and stressed out freelancers, and you have the recipe for a workplace where a lot of people are going to have a great time and feel creatively fulfilled, and a lot of people are going to come away feeling justifiably burnt the fuck out and exploited.
All of this is... not especially unusual for the animation industry, or indeed for any creative industry. Which is not to say that it is good, or that it should be allowed to be normal, or that it shouldn't be reported on and criticized (and please for the love of god support unionization efforts because that's the only thing that will actually address these kinds of systemic problems). It's just to say that if those kinds of issues are the line in the sand you draw where you refuse to engage with a studio's output...
Then, for starters, say goodbye to basically all of anime, because the Japanese animation industry is actively in a state of crisis trying to recruit new talent because its working conditions and pay are so astonishingly abysmal. And the horror stories that escape from that industry make the issues at SpindleHorse look like summer camp at times.
But you also have to say goodbye to a lot of American and European animation. Please do not imagine that Disney and its subcontractors, or that Nickelodeon or Warner Bros, are benevolent employers. They exploit their staff brutally and are currently trying to crush the labor value of animation with threats of generative AI being used to replace jobs. But those corporations also have extremely well-funded PR departments and the ability to silence employees with NDAs and threats of blackballing, so you don't get to hear as many of the horror stories as you might from a smaller independent studio that's less able to silence criticism by holding people's careers hostage.
All of this is to say that 1) it's valid and important to have criticism of both large and small-scale animation studios, and to keep the well-being and happiness of the workers higher in your priorities than the output of Products™.
And 2) if you're going to have a principle for what kinds of problems make a studio's output morally untouchable for you, and what kinds of problems you think should make a studio's output untouchable to other people, you do need to apply that principle consistently to the entire industry, and not just to the independent animation studio that happens to be surrounded by the internet's most inflammatory fandom discourse.
If you don't apply that principle consistently, maybe don't send reproachful messages to strangers scolding them for not living up to your standards, and even if you do apply that principle consistently, maybe still don't do that, because it's mostly quite annoying, and doesn't really do anything to support animation workers struggling for better working conditions.
The Animation Guild in the US is currently in the middle of a bargaining process with their industry, and they have a social media press kit as well as relevant talking points on their website which you can use to post in solidarity with the workers. If it comes to a full industry strike, consider donating to their strike funds to help them maintain pressure. Outside of the US, try and find out what (if any) local unions exist for animation workers, and maybe sign up to their mailing lists. They will let you know what kind of support they need from you.
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ningvory · 3 months ago
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SCREAM - jang wonyoung
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1,740 words // yall i wanted to do kinktober sooo baddd but im so outta ideas and school and work has been draining😔 so instead i'll just write 2-3 more halloween themed fics
CW: noncon -> dubcon, ghostface!wonyoung, big dick wony, bully!reader, a little knife play, choking, backshots, doggy, missionary, a little tit play, mentions of reader getting impregnated, squirting, not proofread lolz
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its about 11pm on a friday, 'means girls' is playing on your living room tv while you were in the kitchen searching for a pot to put your noodles in. your parents left for their business trip to wherever, you weren't really paying attention after they mentioned you'll be alone for two weeks and that you had a spending allowance of 5k, which is why you were wearing your new black lingerie set under your fuzzy pink robe.
you were humming a song as you head to the pantry to get a bottle of water to fill the pot with until you heard your phone ringtone go off. you went to mute the tv and grabbed your phone, tapping the answer button. you held the phone up to your ear but you're met with silence.
"hello?~" you questioned, dragging out the word. it was a habit of yours when you were annoyed,
"didn't think you'd pick up." the voice was cheerful, too cheerful to the point where it had you furrow your eyebrows trying figure out who's calling you at this time.
"well, i did. so.." you responded with a little bit of attitude. you were starving and here this stranger is playing on your phone. "listen, who the hell are you and what do you want?" you raise your voice a octave.
"your tits look good in that bra, wish i can see the way your ass looks in the panties." you furrow your eyebrows once more. every window was locked and your curtains blocked any prying eyes from seeing inside.
"um—you must've gotten the wrong number or something. i'm hanging up now." you smile half heartedly, trying to wrap things up, whoever this girl is can probably hear your labored breathing.
"hang up this fuckin' phone and i’m killing you myself!" she quickly responded, you froze immediately. especially after hearing some sort of bang coming from upstairs, “not so tought without your friends here, hm y/n?"
you were assuming this was a silly halloween prank call but she knows you personally! she knows your friends and even your name—you can admit that you were a bitch to most people but you didn't think that someone would break in and kill you for it!
"w-what kinda joke is this? this isn’t funny!" you let out a nervous laugh. no way this is fucking real, this is just a prank, right?
the person lets out a hysterical laugh���almost like she’s gone crazy. "you think this is a joke? was it a joke when you make every single day a living hell for me?" she asked but you remained silent, "now you wanna act like a scared little girl? don't you think its time to get what you deserve?" she asks.
the amount of people you’ve been a bitch too, its hard to guess who this person was. the fact that this persons voice was low and raspy to the point where you couldn’t even identify who’s voice this is didn’t help you either.
"i think we should play a game. i’d advice you listen, if you want to live that is." you can hear her smiling through the phone.
your heart is racing now, you have a gut feeling that this person is in the big ass house somewhere and that promise of her killing you is haunting you.
"fine. what's this game?" you try to put on that tough façade, still holding onto your pride.
"go upstairs. into your room." she commands you and you hate it but all you can do now is obey her words.
you grip your phone tighter and walk up the stairs—just like she said. you walk into your room. your pink led illuminated the room.
"good girl~ now, strip." her praise breaks the silence.
"what?" you whispered in disbelief.
"you heard me, don't make me do it for you."
you sigh, you really aren't sure why she wants you to strip for her. maybe to humiliate you on the internet on something but you comply to her demand, untying your robe and letting it drop to the floor. you stand, praying that’s all she meant when she said strip.
"do you not know what strip mean, bitch?" she questions, noticing that you're just standing there.
you stay silent, tears were beginning to form in your eyes and you let out a whimper, “why? are you some kinda sick pervert?” you demand, looking around the room.
it was silent for a while, it was like she hung up the phone on you. your heart was racing, you were getting anxious, “hello! where are you!? who are you!?” you cry out.
as soon as you asked that your closet door opened, revealing a figure dressed up like ghostface charging right at you. you let out a loud scream, backing up into the wall but the figure used that to her advantage, her long hands engulfed your neck, pushing your head into the wall and tightening the grip, forcing a strangled whine to fall from your mouth as you gasp for air desperately.
tears began to fall from your cheeks, your hands came up to hold her wrists before hitting them, desperately trying to pry them off your neck. she swiftly slapped you right across your face and manhandled your frail body on your bed, choked whines coming from you in the process.
“you look so cute like this, crying and at my mercy.” her tall body straddled yours, under her coat and her skirt, you can feel her bulge on your tummy. no way she’s hard from this.
if you were gonna die like this you might as well see who this sicko is, you removed your hands from the hands that were on your neck and you reached up to the ghost mask, removing it from their head. your eyes widen when you realized who it was. wonyoung.
her soulless eyes looked down at yours, a smile slowly found its way onto her face which made shivers run down your spine. she removed her grip on your neck, but still remained ontop of you.
you inhaled air almost immediately, trying to catch your breath before you can question the girl. but before you could even speak, she held a butcher knife right under your chin, “don’t scream or move.” she spoke menacingly.
“since you can’t seem to follow orders i’ll force you to,” she sighs. she starts to slowly move her knife down to your shaking body. the metal causing goosebumps to awake on your body. she trailed down until she got to your bra, she easily sliced it in half with her knife. “hey! i just bought this!” you spat, your first time wearing this set and it’s already ruined? this really isn’t your night.
“shut up, whore.” she’s quick to bring the knife back to your neck, pressing down on it but not enough to draw blood.
your bottom lips quivers which makes her coo before she gets off your tummy and flips your body over. you yelp in surprise with how easy she’s moving your body.
before you can complain she’s pushing your head into the sheets and placing the palm of her hand to your back, forcing you to arch your ass up in the air. to position muffled anything that you might’ve said and you felt your heart drop when you feel her bulge prodding against your ass.
wonyoung slices your panties as well before placing the knife in her mask. she pulls her boxers down along with her miniskirt. she giggles as she hovers over you of you, large hands pinning yours to the bed before she leans into your ear with a wicked grin.
“i’m going to make you scream.”
“w-wait!” you quickly retort squirming under her iron grip.
she wastes no time before she pushes her cock deep inside your virgin cunt.
it was like the wind got knocked out of you. you can't even make a sound, all you can concentrate on is the burn on your hole being stretched out. she had just pushed in and her cock is already kissing at your cervix, just how big is this girls cock?
wonyoung harshly gripped your hips and pulled out until her cock head was the only length left inside you before violently thrusting forward, letting out a long groan at the satisfaction. her hands left your back to grab your wrists to hold them behind your back, and forcefully yanking you back down onto her cock. she wasn't letting you get out of this anytime soon.
she was using your body like you were her human sized sex doll. drool was running down your chin and down to the valley of your tits and your eyes were crossed over, "for someone that hasn't taken a real dick before--you take it like a cock drunk whore." wonyoung muttered loud enough for you to hear. if you hadn't been too busy cryin' n moanin' on her dick, you would've made a snarky comeback.
she's never heard your voice become this high-pitched but she wasn't complaining, "s-so big! y-you're gonna break me!!" you whined through your tears.
"and you're gonna keep taking it all in your little cunt. even after i impregnate you." wonyoung quickly agreed to your statement, shooting three spurts of cum into your cunt.
you thought she'd be done but her hips never stopped smacking into yours, instead, she flipped you over into missionary. she swiftly picked up your left leg, placing it on her shoulder to reach a deep angle.
she continued to drill into your cum-stuffed pussy, her cock heavily throbbing inside you due to just seeing the lewd sight below her, "like being fucked by a killer, gonna cum all over me?"
"uh-huhh~" your eyes rolled back and your body began to shake. she took one of you tits that's bouncing with her thrust into your mouth, earning a loud moan from you. you suddenly felt a little funny, almost like you had to pee? your body soon went limp before you let out a whiny moan, squirting all over her dick and pelvis.
"at first i was just gonna fuck you and then kill her." she pulls out of your sloppy pussy and grabbed her knife. you flinch at these words, a bit terrified of what was gonna happen next, "but i think i'll make you my cute cock sleeve."
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naffeclipse · 1 month ago
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Hopefully this hasn’t been asked quite yet
But what if orca eclipse was more like the canon dca as in-
He was an animatronic instead of a fish man?
*rubs my filthy mitts together*
The setting becomes a Seaworld-esque theme park (not good) called Freddy Fazbear's Boundless Sea.
Y/N is still a photographer. You have been personally invited by the corporation to take stunning candid photographs of everything within the park so they may use the photos in future marketing endeavors. The pay is more than convincing. You're thrilled to get an inside peak into a notable establishment and discover what you can capture with your camera.
You're allowed almost everywhere. You get to see shows with oceanic-themed animatronics that perform stunning water tricks and can morph from their landform to their sea form in the blink of an eye—legs are replaced with fins, and vice versa. The areas have their themes from the warm and relaxed Caribbean-themed shallow pools on the east end to the excited and tidal-wave high pools on the west side to a swampy and green lily pad-dotted south.
Funny enough, you remember a small blurb on a news website about Freddy Fazbear's Boundless Sea shutting down a section of the park. No big deal. It probably just needs to be renovated, but you keep passing maps that have one certain section on the north side of the park either covered up with a big sticker, crossed out with a black marker, or outright torn off. Strange. They did say you could go almost everywhere.
You find the north section, but it's all covered up in tape and looks to have an Arctic theme. There are polar bears and narwhals painted on the icy-faux walls. The entrance is locked up tight. You keep photographing everything else, everywhere, but the north area keeps gnawing at the back of your brain. Any efforts to find out more information are met with standard explanations of the work required in the area. It is closed until further notice.
Which you sit with for a few days before you discover a back area. The excuse of needing a better angle to take pictures of the animatronics performing their great stunt show gets you through, but while wandering through a cluttered and stacked high mess of merchandise, you find a poster.
The poster features an animatronic you have never seen before. One painted in black and white, and in his seaform, he possesses a great dorsal fin and flukes on his mechanical tail. The background is frosty and pale blue.
You tuck the poster into your camera bag and go about the rest of the day. It triggers a faint memory of an old commercial from a few years back you watched about the park, where there was, indeed, an orca-themed animatronic who had his very own show. In fact, after a quick internet search, you find he was really, really popular. He had shows twice daily—even more than the main cast. He was powerful and stunning, and he would splash people in the audience. Everyone ate it up.
His name was Eclipse.
But then, a few months back, he seemingly vanished. The area was closed down. Complaints are wondering when it will open back up. No one mentions the animatronic.
You don't get it. Why shut down a money-maker like that? Something's going on. Frankly, you want pictures of such a powerful performer. Wouldn't the corporation want you to get good shots of him?
Then you find a little article. A blurb about an incident at the beloved Freddy Fazbear's Boundless Sea. The animatronic was acting strange. Onlookers repeated that there was an agitation to the show, a tension that permitted the water and air. A staff member was pulled into the pool. Immediately, guests were ushered out while help swarmed the water. Then, the entire park was shut down for the day.
What happened?
You try to find more. Yielding nothing, you return to work tomorrow with a plan. You've been studying the layout, mostly to find better vantage points to snap a shot, but now, you realize there are maintenance tunnels below the entire park. You slip into one while a show is happening, keeping most staff members above ground. You wander for a bit before you find a marker pointing to "Eclipse's Arctic Sea."
A door finally opens into the closed section of the park. Most of it is sheltered under a pale, gray colored roof painted to appear like an Arctic sky. The dimness leads you towards an open section. A few aquariums are dimly lit but empty. The walls are painted with facts about polar bears and seals.
Strangely, you hear a faint scrapping. It pricks your ears as you follow the noise. Through a hallway that opens into a view alongside a great tank of water with the surrounding walls plastered with Eclipse's face all over them, you find another maintenance door and slip inside. The scrapping becomes a sawing, loud and sharp, through the metallic hallway, accompanied by violent splashes of water. The shrill noise becomes almost unbearable. Then you step into a narrow room filled with a single, shallow pool no longer than 10 feet.
The sawing ceases as something darts below the surface. The water sloshes until it calms into a deathly silence.
You ask softly who's there. You grip your camera tighter. Is the flash on? You can't remember. You step forward once, then twice. The opposite end of the pool bears great rakes through the flooring like claws dragging repeatedly over and over, shredding it into pieces. The edge glistens wetly by the toes of your shoes. The blue water looks empty until you peer directly over the ledge—
A sharp tooth smile greets you below the wavering surface before a hand flies out and snatches your ankle. The force of the grip rips you to the wet floor, knocking your head. Your vision swims. All senses within you only think to clutch your camera protectively as something rises from the pool. Dripping wet, the animatronic—one eye red, one yellow—grins down at you with utter detest.
"Hello, bird-eye. Come to get a look at the great killer whale?"
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inkskinned · 2 years ago
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one of the things that i think we should pay attention to, socially, about the disney v. desantis thing is that it is really highlighting the importance of remembering nuance.
in a purely neutral sense, if you engage in something problematic, that does not mean you are necessarily agreeing with what makes it problematic. and i am worried that we have become... so afraid of any form of nuance.
disney isn't my friend, they're a corporate monopoly that bastardized copyright laws for their own benefit, ruin the environment, and abuse their workers (... and many other things). this isn't a hypothetical for me - i grew up in florida. i also worked for the actual Walt Disney World; like, in the parks. i am keenly aware of the ways they hurt people, because they hurt me. i fully believe that part of the reason florida is so conservative is because it's been an "open secret" for years now that disney lobbies the government to keep minimum wage down, and i know they worked hard to keep the parks unmasked and open during the worst parts of Covid. they purposefully keep their employees in poverty. they are in part responsible for the way the floridian government works.
desantis is still, by a margin that is frankly daunting, way worse. the alternative here isn't just "republicans win", it's actual fascism.
in a case like this, where the alternative is to allow actual fascism into united states legislation - where, if desantis wins, there are huge and legal ramifications - it's tempting to minimize the harm disney is also doing, because... well, it's not fascism. but disney isn't the good guy, either, which means republicans are having a field day asking activists oh, so you think their treatment of their employees is okay?
we have been trained there is a right answer. you're right! you're in the good group, and you're winning at having an opinion.
except i have the Internet Prophecy that in 2-3 months, even left-wing people will be ripping apart activists for having "taken disney's side". aren't i an anti-capitalist? aren't i pro-union? aren't i one of the good ones? removed from context and nuance (that in this particular situation i am forced to side with disney, until an other option reveals itself), my act of being like "i hope they have goofy rip his throat out onstage, shaking his lifeless body like a dog toy" - how quickly does that seem like i actually do support disney?
and what about you! at home, reading this. are you experiencing the Thought Crime of... actually liking some of the things disney has made? your memories of days at the parks, or of good movies, or of your favorite show growing up. maybe you are also evil, if you ever enjoyed anything, ever, at all.
to some degree, the binary idealization/vilification of individual motive and meaning already exists in the desantis case. i have seen people saying not to go to the disney pride events because they're cash grabs (they are). i've seen people saying you have to go because they're a way to protest. there isn't a lot of internet understanding of nuance. instead it's just "good show of support" or "evil bootlicking."
this binary understanding is how you can become radicalized. when we fear nuance and disorder, we're allowing ourselves the safety of assuming that the world must exist in binary - good or bad, problematic or "not" problematic. and unfortunately, bigots want you to see the world in this binary ideal. they want you to get mad at me because "disney is taking a risk for our community but you won't sing their praises" and they want me to get mad at you for not respecting the legit personal trauma that disney forced me through.
in a grander scheme outside of disney: what happens is a horrific splintering within activist groups. we bicker with each other about minimal-harm minimal-impact ideologies, like which depiction of bisexuality is the most-true. we gratuitously analyze the personal lives of activists for any sign they might be "problematic". we get spooked because someone was in a dog collar at pride. we wring our hands about setting an empty shopping mall on fire. we tell each other what words we may identify ourselves by. we get fuckin steven universe disk horse when in reality it is a waste of our collective time.
the bigots want you to spend all your time focusing on how pristine and pretty you and your interests are. they want us at each other's throats instead of hand in hand. they want to say see? nothing is ever fucking good enough for these people.
and they want their followers to think in binary as well - a binary that's much easier to follow. see, in our spaces, we attack each other over "proper" behavior. but in bigoted groups? they attack outwards. they have someone they hate, and it is us. they hate you, specifically, and you are why they have problems - not the other people in their group. and that's a part of how they fucking keep winning.
some of the things that are beloved to you have a backbone in something terrible. the music industry is a wasteland. the publishing industry is a bastion of white supremacy. video games run off of unpaid labor and abuse.
the point of activism was always to bring to light that abuse and try to stop it from happening, not to condemn those who engage in the content that comes from those industries. "there is no ethical consumption under late capitalism" also applies to media. your childhood (and maybe current!) love of the little mermaid isn't something you should now flinch from, worried you'll be a "disney adult". wanting the music industry to change for the better does not require that you reject all popular music until that change occurs. you can acknowledge the harm something might cause - and celebrate the love that it has brought into your life.
we must detach an acknowledgment of nuance from a sense of shame and disgust. we must. punishing individual people for their harmless passions is not doing good work. encouraging more thoughtful, empathetic consumption does not mean people should feel ashamed of their basic human capacities and desires. it should never have even been about the individual when the corporation is so obviously the actual evil. this sense that we must live in shame and dread of our personal nuances - it just makes people bitter and hopeless. do you have any idea how scared i am to post this? to just acknowledge the idea of nuance? that i might like something nuanced, and engage in it joyfully? and, at the same time, that i'm brutally aware of the harm that they're doing?
"so what do i do?" ... well, often there isn't a right answer. i mean in this case, i hope mickey chops off ron's head and then does a little giggle. but truth be told, often our opinions on nuanced subjects will differ. you might be able to engage in things that i can't because the nuance doesn't sit right with me. i might think taylor swift is a great performer and a lot of fun, and you might be like "raquel, the jet fuel emissions". we are both correct; neither of us have any actual sway in this. and i think it's important to remember that - the actual scope of individual responsibility. like, i also love going to the parks. Thunder Mountain is so fun. you (just a person) are not responsible for the harm that Disney (the billion dollar corporation) caused me. i don't know. i think it's possible to both enjoy your memories and interrogate the current state of their employment policies.
there is no right way to interrogate or engage with nuance - i just hope you embrace it readily.
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krirebr · 5 months ago
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I'm Feeling Like I Never Should
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Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female reader
Word Count: ~1.3k
Summary: It's bad enough you've been forced to be at this charity gala, but now you have to deal with your ex, Ransom.
Warnings: Explicit language, anxiety, insults, bad parents All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Masterlist
A/N: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 Siri's Birthday Bonenanza!!! The prompts I used were seeking comfort (or sexy times) from an ex and “Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” which both screamed Ransom to me. 😂 Thank you for hosting such a fun event, Siri!! I hope you had a great birthday!
Thanks as always to @paperweight91 who has an endless supply of patience for talking through ideas with me and helping me whenever I'm stuck.
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
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The noise from the party floated down the secluded back hallway, muted but still audible. You took a deep breath, leaning against the wall. You really hated these things. Too many people. Too much smugness. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t all just donate to charities in private. That’s what the internet was for. But no, you had to watch each other do it to prove how good you all were while eating canapes and drinking too much in designer gowns. You really hated these things.
And your parents knew that. Your mom, especially, knew exactly what rooms like this, full of distant acquaintances and strangers, did to you. Knew how hard forced mingling was for you. Knew the way it made your chest ache. And still, she’d insisted. And then she’d–
You wiped the stray tears from your face. It was pointless to get upset over things she’d always done, over a person who’d never change. You should know better by now.
The door at the far end of the hall opened and you reflexively looked over at the noise to find Ransom Drysdale standing in the doorway in a tux. Shit. Shit. He, of course, had seen you too and now he was striding over.  
 “Not fucking now, Ransom,” you whined, but of course he didn’t listen. He’d never fucking listened. Not when you were kids and knew him in passing. Not for the entire time you’d dated as adults. Why would he start now?
“Wow,” he said, gesturing to you with a crostini in his hand. “There’s a party going on out there and you’re playing wallflower in here? Color me shocked.”
“Yeah?” you said. “And what are you doing in here? Trying to find a caterer to pay to blow you?” No one could get your back up like him. He’d always brought the vile out in you.
He gave you a mean little smirk. “You rather I slipped you a fifty instead? Your mouth always was one of the best things about you.”
You felt your skin start to heat in embarrassment (and something else you had no interest in naming) as you growled, “Fuck off, Ransom. I’m sure this building has other hallways for you to lurk in. Please just leave this one to me.”
You looked down, waiting for him to leave, but he didn’t move. Instead, you felt his intense stare on you. When you finally looked back up, his gaze was softer than you expected. “Is it your mom again?” he asked. 
You pushed yourself back into the wall, for lack of anywhere to hide. It was easy to forget when he was such an asshole, when all you did was trade barbs, how much he’d seen, how well he knew you. All you could do was shrug, with a quiet, “You know how she is.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “Still wants a mini-me instead of an actual human daughter?”
You sighed. It was too much, too real, to have him here like this. You almost preferred it when he was insulting you. “I really just want to be alone right now, Ran. Please.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, shaking his head. His voice was so sure, firm.
“Excuse me?” you bit out, the acid coming back.
“If I leave you alone, you’re just going to stand back here and spiral until you’ve made yourself completely fucking miserable. To the point where it’ll take you days to come out of it. That is not what you actually want.”
His certainty lit a fire inside of you. “I know,” you growled out, “that you think you know everything, but you aren’t actually the expert on me, Ransom.”
“Aren’t I?” he asked, with a hint of that smirk returning. It made you want to punch him in his beautiful face.
“Just leave me the fuck alone.”
“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you? I know it’s been a while, but I know you. Better than any of those assholes out there.” He threw an emphatic arm back towards the party. “Including your fucking parents. You can talk to me.”
“And say what, Ran? That she’s still dragging me to these things even though she knows what they do to me? That she’s decided that there’s not much to brag about in a single daughter to her society friends, so these fucking events have become matchmaking opportunities too? That she will never tire of reminding me just how much I’m not the person she wants me to be? It’s just the same old bullshit. It’s not your problem anymore. It barely was even when we were together.” You sagged back against the wall, all of your energy leeched out of you.
Ransom was quiet for a very long moment. You hoped that meant he might leave, finally seeing what a lost cause this all was. Instead, when he finally spoke, he said, “She always really hated me.”
“Yeah, Ran,” you sighed. “She hates a lot of people.”
“No,” he said, with a smile that still had a touch of meanness to it, but, as always, you could somehow tell that none of that meanness was directed at you, “what I’m trying to say is I bet it would fucking piss her off if you walked back into that party with me on your arm. Spent the whole night with me. Left with me, even. I bet she’d be so angry. I bet it’d ruin her whole fucking week.”
You burst into laughter. You couldn’t help it. No one could do petty like Ransom. You’d forgotten how fun that could be. “Yeah? That’s why you want to hang out with me? To piss off my mom?”
“No, that’s why you want to hang out with me. I want to hang out with you because you’re always the hottest person at these things.” And then he gave you the most shameless once-over you’d ever received.
“Oh my god,” you chuckled with an overly fond eye-roll, despite yourself. He was always just so Ransom. The things about him that pissed you off and drew you to him in equal measure never changed. You were sure they never would. “What about you? I’m sure you have lots of people to piss off. How are Richard and Linda?”
He gave you a bright smile. “Oh, just the absolute fucking worst. As ever.”
You laughed again. “Glad to hear we’re still in the same boat, at least.” You pushed yourself off the wall and took a step closer to him, feeling like you might finally be ready to venture back into the party. “What were you doing back here, anyway? Do you need to finish finding whatever it is you were looking for?”
Ransom glanced away from you for just a moment and then shrugged. “Nah. I was bored out of my mind out there and then saw your mom swanning around, in rare form even for her. Figured I’d probably find you back here.”
You touched his arm without thinking, warmth spreading through your chest. “Wait, you were looking for me?”
He shrugged again. “I know how much you hate these things. Thought you might need checking up on.”
All you could do was stare at him, all the best feelings from your time together rushing back over you. “You’re very surprising, Ransom,” you said, quietly.
He shook his head with a rueful grin. “No,” he said, “definitely not that. I’m just the same old asshole.” He offered you his arm. “Come on, let’s see if we can make that vein in your mom’s forehead throb.”
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classiccowboy · 5 months ago
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Paper Rings. || Joe Burrow
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*The moon is high like your friends were the night that we first met. Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet.*
When Ja’marr Invited me to the Super Bowl after party I was not expecting the level of commitment they had given to celebrating. I don’t think there is a single person in this room other than me that’s sober. I’ve been hiding away in this corner hoping that J will have forgotten I’m here, and for a while it works. Once he spots me I have no way out. He’s coming over with a goofy grin on his face followed by what looks to be his buddy Joe. In all the years that Ja’marr and I have been friends I haven’t actually met Joe. Until tonight I guess.
“What are you doing over here?” Ja’marr asks, pulling me into his side and looking expectantly for my answer.
“I’m just enjoying the festivities..in private.”
“I have someone I want you to meet.” He turns around waving for Joe, who had got caught up by someone in the crowd, to come over.
“Joe this is my best friend from back home, y/n. Y/N this is my buddy Joe Burrow.” Joe holds his hand out and I take it giving a slight shake.
“Joe Burrow? I don’t believe I’ve heard of you.” I say sarcastically in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Well I’ve been waiting for this for a while. Chase talks about you all the time. It’s nice to put a face to the stories.” He says, the nervousness still evident in his voice.
“J likes to keep me hidden away from all of his friends. He thinks they’re gonna fall in love with me or something.” Joe’s grin reaches all the way to the corner of his eyes and he glances sideways to see J just staring off into space.
“I guess it’s a good thing he’s too high to understand what’s happening right now.”
“Looks like everyone is.”
We talked for a while longer before he got swept away, and maybe it’s the contact high from all the weed but I went home and read everything I could find on the internet about Joe.
*The wine is cold like the shoulder that I gave you in the street. Cat and mouse for a month or two or three.*
Why do people think inviting single people to weddings is a cool idea? I’ve been sitting at this bar for 20 minutes waiting on my glass of wine, which isn’t free by the way. The only reason I agreed to come to this silly thing is because the bride is the only friend I’ve made since Ja’marr convinced me to move to Cincinnati two months ago. Weddings suck. I’m so immersed in my thoughts that I don’t even notice when someone slips into the seat beside me. My eyes grew wide as I glanced over to find a familiar mop of brown hair.
“Be honest, are you stalking me?” He asks playfully. If he’s been at this thing the whole time I definitely didn’t see him.
“Why would I stalk some meat head football player? I mean you’re not even rich.” I spit back playfully.
“Okay, you got me there. What are you drinking tonight?”
“I’ve been waiting on a glass of wine, I think he forgot about me.” I fake pout.
“Don’t worry I’ll take care of it.” He waves down the bartender (who momentarily fanboys) and asks for two glasses of white wine, we have drinks within seconds.
“Oh the perks of being QB1.” A blush creeps onto my cheeks as he examines my face.
“I’m sensing you’ve got a problem with meat head football players.”
“Only the kind who get special treatment.” I pick up my purse and take out some cash to pay for the wine but he immediately pushes it back towards me.
“Let me.”
“I don’t need any charity Joe. I can pay for my own drink thanks.” I go to slide the cash onto the counter again but he stops me for the second time. “How about you just let me get the drink and you can pay me back?”
“And how do you suppose I do that?” I question suspiciously.
“Let me take you on a date?” His eyes are hopeful and they aren’t looking away from mine. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips. I stand up placing the cash on the bar in front of him before leaning down to whisper in his ear,
“Like I said, I don’t need any charity from you.” With that I turn on my hell and walk out the door. I hate weddings.
A few hours later I receive a texts that says:
I need the charity, go on a date with me?
I hate to admit it but I thought about Joe for the rest of the night. It only took him two months of texts and well timed “visits” to J’s until I finally said yes.
I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings. Uh-huh, that’s right. Darling, you’re the one I want.
Okay, so maybe I underestimated what it would be like to date the most famous quarterback in the NFL. My self-esteem has taken some major blows over the last year and with another season of football looming around the corner I don’t know if I can take it anymore. Fans are not thrilled to see Joe dating a normal “average looking” woman. Every time I show up to a game and they put me on that damned jumbotron there are clips of me circulating for a week until a new one comes about, the entire world just picking me apart. Which is why I have been strategically avoiding Joe’s questions about whether I will be attending his first preseason game tomorrow. Until now that is..
“Okay, talk to me.” Joe says, staring directly into my eyes as we sit across from each other at the kitchen counter.
“Talk to you about what?” I laugh nervously and start to fidget with a leftover piece of paper from crafts with his nephew yesterday.
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours? Why aren’t you answering my questions about the game? And why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” He says matter of factly, taking the paper out of my hands and messing with it himself.
“It’s nothing.” I mumble looking anywhere but at his face.
“Y/N.. if you don’t tell me what is going on, I’m asking J.” No way he just pulled the Ja’marr card. Who told me it was a good idea to date my best friends.. other best friend.
“Fine.. I just.. your fans don’t really like me Joey. I don’t know if I want to subject myself to the same torture I went through last season.” He sets the paper aside and pulls my hands to his mouth. Letting his kiss linger on my knuckle for a few quiet moments as he thinks about how to respond.
“I don’t care,” he looks me right in the eyes, “I don’t care what they say, or what they think they know about our relationship. You’re my girl. You’re the one that I want. Nobody is going to change my mind, don’t let them get in your head.” I can’t help the love and appreciation that seeps through me, I pick up the small piece of paper that he had formed into a ring while we were talking and focus on it for few moments to collect my emotions, he laughs and takes it from my hand before walking around to my chair.. “I love you, and it’s not because of what other people do or don’t think of you, it’s because you’re you. And because even if the only thing I had to give you was this little paper ring you’d still love me back. That’s what’s important to me. Not all that bullshit on the internet and in the tabloids.” I laugh as he slides the ring on my left hand and wipes a tear from the corner of my eye.
“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say at one time.”
“What can I say, you’re worth getting passionate about.” I stand up and pull him close, leaning up to kiss him.
“I guess I better find me a game day fit,” He smiles before laying another peck on my lips, “I love you too, Joey. Just so you know.”
“I know.”
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calliesmemes · 3 months ago
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YET ANOTHER ROUNDUP OF ASOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF
ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS FROM AROUND THE INTERNET, including quotes from Tumblr, Pinterest, TikTok, and X (formerly known as Twitter), for when a muse wants to be a bit silly <333
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CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.
SPECIFY muse for multimuses.
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❛ I am not merely a clown; I’m the entire damn circus! ❜
❛ I will bite you if you continue this behavior. ❜
❛ Being a dramatic ass bitch isn’t a personality trait; it’s a lifestyle! ❜
❛ Trauma? Oh … you mean, my lore? ❜
❛ why must I cite sources? is it not enough to just say ‘trust me, bro’? ❜
❛ sorry for being a perfect sweetie and a genius it will likely happen again. ❜
❛ forget about touching grass; I need to touch WATER I NEED TO GO INTO THE OCEAN I NEED TO DIVE INTO THE SEA!!! ❜
❛ I’m attracted to men with muppet energy and no i will not be explaining. ❜
❛ you want me to make friends with people? the thing that killed julius caesar? ❜
❛ what’s your birthstone? mine is rock bottom. ❜
❛ I absolutely hate that I’m not bioluminescent. Pathetic. ❜
❛ ohhhhh my god i have got to stop mourning the past or whatever. ❜
❛ you expect me to act like a normal human being? I’m wearing a turtleneck! ❜
❛ i don’t struggle with same sex attraction I’m actually very good at it. ❜
❛ unfortunately i often find out without even getting the chance to fuck around. ❜
❛ I’m bisexual which means that I’m attracted to anybody who can defeat me in physical combat. ❜
❛ all anyone needs to know about me is that i’m a dumbass and i love women. ❜
❛ sorry but philosophers aren’t impressive i came up with stuff like that when i was 12. ❜
❛ I pay my own bills; I can cuss all I want! ❜
❛ I don’t have rizz; I have sad eyes and a weird presence. ❜
❛ my demons are chasing me and they’re doing the Naruto run. ❜
❛ honey we are ALL doomed by the narrative. it's not that serious. have some fun with it. ❜
❛ dating me is like interviewing a psych ward patient. ❜
❛ being a girl with very large brown eyes comes with great responsibility. ❜
❛ i’m autistic in ways that you can’t even begin to imagine. ❜
❛ being a loser may be a phase to you but its a lifestyle for me. ❜
❛ entering a magical portal in the woods would fix me. ❜
❛ I’m lonely but not in a hot mysterious way; more like in a pathetic way. ❜
❛ life is so unserious just say womp womp and move on! ❜
❛ you’re vibing? In this economy? ❜
❛ just because I’m small doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass. ❜
❛ my primary motivators are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ❜
❛ sorry about the chaos; I needed attention. ❜
❛ WHAT IS UP GIRL you look foreboding and malicious! ❜
❛ baby i can be your problematic bi wife. ❜
❛ i don’t think any of you understand how important i am to the plot. ❜
❛ what if we are both red flags? what then? ❜
❛ any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ❜
❛ my hobbies include being right, being gay, and being a hater. ❜
❛ i have a phd in Loving The Color Pink And Also Glitter. ❜
❛ being a menace to society is a full time job and I am dedicated. ❜
❛ my life has been a bouquet of oopsie daisies. ❜
❛ i survive on spite, anxiety, and blasphemy. ❜
❛ if you’re not obsessed with me, why would I wanna be with you? ❜
❛ the hottest thing a man can be is a little afraid of me. ❜
❛ my love language is being a hater. ❜
❛ i don’t get enough credit for acting far less insane than i actually am. ❜
❛ the A in my name stands for always right. ❜
❛ Jesus is my homeboy but God has a lot to answer for and I will continue to be rebellious until he does so. ❜
❛ I’ll see a man with long hair and then remember that I’m not above temptations of the flesh. ❜
❛ i’m going to be honest with you I’m not going to be honest with you. ❜
❛ stop asking me if I’m ok I’ll literally make out with you. ❜
❛ part of my masculine charm is that I’m literally insane. ❜
❛ are you sure those are demons bro? or are they consequences from the choices you made? ❜
❛ i do not identify as a boy or a girl. i identify as a nuisance, an irritant, a fool, and a problem. ❜
❛ praying on someone’s downfall isn’t enough i need to participate in it. ❜
❛ we all need to chill. i won’t do it first but it’s something i noticed. ❜
❛ not to sound like a Victorian woman suffering from hysteria but going to the sea would fix me. ❜
❛ the silly goose convention called; they asked if you could be their keynote speaker. ❜
❛ i deserve unrestricted access to old castles and old churches i want to know all the secrets. ❜
❛ doesn’t matter if you’re cringe or based we’re all just here to suffer. ❜
❛ I’m no longer comedic relief I’m now serious panic. ❜
❛ this is getting difficult to romanticize. ❜
❛ done healing my inner child. next up is my inner teen. her highness needs a sword. ❜
❛ i am God’s silliest experiment. ❜
❛ i’m very vulnerable right now if anyone wants to take advantage of me. ❜
❛ sorry i overshared do you still think im hot? ❜
❛ I can yap for days and still maintain my air of mystery. ❜
❛ good luck sending me mixed signals; I don’t even understand normal ones. ❜
❛ not all of your life decisions have to be smart. some can be purely for cinematic value. ❜
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houseofanticipation · 10 months ago
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It's impossible to count the number of times you've imagined this moment. Late at night, under the covers; in the bathtub, and the shower; on slow days at the bookstore, the summer before senior year; during Mr. Madrigal's long, droning lectures. You fantasized so vividly you could see each scene on the back of your eyelids, hear each sound between breaths. Many a time your hand migrated southward, almost of its own volition. If you were in public, you'd hold it against your crotch, pressing it into yourself with the force of your clenched thighs. In private, you'd be far less subtle.
In all those fantasies, you never imagined it would look quite like this.
The hallway smells like cigarettes and industrial cleaner. The haphazardly patterned carpet is coming up at the edges. The yellow tube light overhead might be attempting morse code, the way it flickers. Paint peels from the door in front of you, and one of the metal digits in the room number has been replaced with one that doesn't quite match: room 233. You raise your hand, your knuckles inches from the door, and then you pause. You're not sure if you can go through with this.
Before you can decide, the door opens anyway.
You started posting pictures in your first year of college. It was just your tits at first. You'd been quietly following those subreddits and tumblr blogs for a while, and you thought it would be a bit of fun, a little thrill. You didn't expect the response you got: dozens of people telling you how much they'd enjoyed it, asking for more. So you posted more, and the people asked for different things. Post your ass. Post your cunt. Post your fingers in your cunt. Post audio of you moaning as you came. The more you revealed of yourself, the more attention you got, and the more attention you got, the more you wanted to show. People wanted to send you tips, so you set up a Cash App address. You never got much, a few dollars here and there, but it was nice to get a free coffee now and then.
And somewhere along the way, apparently, you let slip that you were a virgin.
The message came late last semester, from a Cash App user whose name was just a string of numbers. It read, "I will buy your virginity for $100,000. So you know I'm serious, here is $7000 for you to keep, deal or no deal. Let me know if interested."
It was like one of those hypotheticals you talk about with your friends at the dinner table. Would you work nonstop for a year if it meant you never had to work again? Would you cut off your hand if it meant you never had to die? Would you let a stranger from the internet take your virginity for a hundred thousand dollars? You thought about it for weeks. The 7 thousand in itself was a windfall you never could have imagined. It was the new laptop you needed, four times over. It was a large iced coffee ever day for three and a half years. After graduation, if you were smart, it could be your living expenses for the better part of a year. But a hundred thousand might be a house, or a car, or a few years of freedom to pursue your goals. And when you asked how you could trust him to pay when he'd gotten what he wanted, he told you he'd be happy to pay up front.
So here you are, in a dingy hotel, face to face with the broad-shouldered, potbellied older man in front of you. "I saw you through the peephole," he says. There's something impish about him. Maybe it's the toothy grin, or the way his ears stick out from his head, or the obvious glee in his voice as he looks you up and down. "My, you're much better in person. Come in! You got the money then?"
You nod. You didn't leave the Lyft until it was there in your account.
"Good," he says, throwing the dead bolt. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"
"What should...I mean, how do you want to..." you feel yourself talking strangely. Breathing in the wrong places, words tumbling over each other. "Maybe we should...talk first? Get to know each other?"
"No need for that," says the man matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is smooth, his skin a mottled pink. He waves a hand at your body. "Go ahead and get those off."
Back in high school, one of your recurring fantasies involved Jason Meier having his way with you in the back of that beat up convertible he used to drive. That old thing used to get you so wet. It was a piece of junk, but something about the exposure of it...In the fantasy, he's driven you out to some secluded spot outside of town. Cicadas drone all around. The night sky shines bright with stars. He cups your face with one hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb, asks you if this is your first time. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, then below your ear, then down your neck. As his hands undo the top button of your blouse, he tells you he'll be gentle.
The man is watching you expectantly. With his shirt on, he looked like a portly old man. Without it you can see that every inch of that stocky build is hard muscle. That pink skin strains against his mass, muscle rippling beneath it as he moves. "What are you waiting for?"
Your legs tremble. Your knees feel like they're about to buckle. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your body has never done this before. You didn't know you could feel this kind of fear, and yet there's nothing to fight, nowhere to flee. You agreed to this. You decided this was what you wanted. Slowly, you pull your shirt over head.
He groans in the back of his throat, a long, growly sound. His face is a mask of focus, the impish joviality gone, his eyes fixated on your breasts. "And the rest."
You kick off your shoes, pull off your socks. An inch at a time, you slide your shorts and panties over your ass, down your legs, past your trembling knees. You step out of them, and now you're completely exposed. You cross your arms over your chest, then lower them when he grunts disapproval. Almost urgently, he unbuttons his pants, pulls out a long, rigid cock, and begins to stroke himself.
You didn't discover internet porn until your senior year, and before then the only penises you'd seen were a few drawings in your health textbook. In the fantasy, you unbutton Jason Meier's pants and fig. 7.5, "The penis becomes engorged when in state of arousal," pops out of his underwear. You take it in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the girth, and look up into those beautiful brown eyes of his.
This cock is much...realer. It has bounce, texture, even a sound as his hand slides up and down its length. It's longer than the one in that old fantasy, too, and it leans slightly to the left. For years you've wondered what it would be like to see a cock in person, and now that you're here it terrifies you.
"Come here," says the man, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Get on your knees."
You falter. "You didn't...I mean, we didn't agree to that."
"I bought your virginity," says the man. "You ever suck cock before?"
You shake your head.
"Then your mouth is just as much a virgin as your cunt. Get down here."
It's almost a relief to get off your legs, the way they've been threatening to give out. Close up, you can see the purples and blues of the veins under his skin. The head of his cock pulses with anticipation as your lips part, your tongue extends...
You don't think you can do this.
Then his hand is on the back of your head.
You always imagined Jason Meier whimpering as you took him into your mouth. You were never quite able to picture what he would feel like between your lips, on your tongue; the movie camera of your imagination always panned up at that point, to focus on his face. He would let his head fall back in pleasure, eyebrows knit with sensation, lips slightly parted. Now, though, there's no camera to pan. You are here. This is real. And his powerful hand is pushing your mouth onto his cock.
A sound you can't control comes out of you. Your back arches, your hands flail, and then by pure instinct they're on his belly, pushing against him, away from him. Spit runs down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you say, looking anywhere but at his face. "I'm sorry, I can't, I thought I could do this but I can't."
There's a horrible darkness in his voice. "I already gave you the money."
"I know, I'll give it back, I'm sorry." The words trip over each other on the way out of your mouth. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have, I just, I thought I could..."
His hand is on the back of your head again, and this time his fingers are curled tight into your hair. He jerks your head back, forcing you to look at him, and his eyes are cold and predatory. "I'm not interested in returning what's already bought and paid for." He jams himself back into your mouth.
You always imagined yourself savoring it, taking your time to explore every inch of Jason's length with your tongue, but there's no time for that now. The veiny, throbbing thing in your mouth bypasses your tongue entirely, forcing past your uvula. You gag, then gag again. Your stomach churns and you convulse as your body tries to remove the foreign object, but the man just pushes harder. Your eyes water as he slides deeper, deeper, making your throat bulge, your limbs spasm. As his balls touch your chin, you close your eyes and try to relax your throat.
He holds you like that. You gag for a third time, and thick saliva explodes through the gaps around his cock, dripping down your chin and collecting in a long, dangling rope. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to acclimatize to the feeling, try to convince your body that nothing is wrong. You think you've got it, and then he moves slightly, and you're gagging again. He groans, grips your head tighter, and in the back of your throat you feel his cock swell slightly. He likes it when you gag for him, says a voice in the back of your mind. The motion is pleasurable for him.
You've got another problem rearing its head. You can't breathe. It was fine at first, but the man shows no interest in freeing up your airways, and in all the gagging and crying, you haven't exactly been conserving your oxygen. You pat his leg, trying to signal to him, but all he does is clap you on the side of the head. Your ear rings, you gag again, and his cock throbs. Black walls are closing in on your vision. The effort of struggling against him becomes too much, and your arms fall to your sides. Your eyelids flutter. You're going to pass out. You're going to pass out, and then what will he do to you?
But just before the world fades to black, he pulls your head back again. You feel every inch of his cock as it slides out of your throat. He lifts your face, and your eyes struggle to focus on his as you take lungful after lungful of glorious air. Drool spills across your lips, but you don't care. You're alive.
The man slaps you hard, leaving a stinging impression of his palm on your cheek. You whimper. Two of his fingers are in your mouth, pushing on the back of your tongue. Not knowing exactly why, you close your lips around them and shut your eyes.
"That's better," he says.
The first time you saw a male sex toy in use was in an ad before a porn video you were watching. You were taken aback by the way the performer had pounded it over his cock, barely more than an extension of his hand. You're reminded of that image as he parts your lips again, and the rape of your throat begins in earnest.
You haven't thought about Jason Meier in years, but at this moment he's the only thing keeping you sane. As your face rams up and down, up and down, you retreat to that beat up convertible, and Jason's soft, thoughtful face. As the man tightens his grip, Jason runs his fingers through your hair. As the man grunts and growls with pleasure, Jason coos your name. With each stroke of his cock down your throat, each spasm of your body, you focus on a different part of Jason's body: his large hands, his long fingers, his shoulders, his jawline, his liquid brown eyes. By the time the man finally releases your hair, you can barely feel your body any more. The convertible is far more real than the squeaky motel bed. The hands on your body are Jason's, soft and tender.
He climbs over the center console straddling you. You lock lips, feel your tongues in each other's mouths, kiss so deeply that it feels as though you share the same breath. He pulls the lever to lay your seat back, and then he's over you, on top of you, lifting your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.
This is the part where, in the old days, you would have slipped a finger or two inside yourself. But this time you don't have to. This time you can feel him inside you, really feel him, and he fills you up like your fingers never could. There's some pain—they told you there'd be pain, didn't they, your first time—but it falls away to the thrill, the lust, the pleasure. Jason whimpers as he slides into you, deeper, deeper, and you moan into each other's mouths as his pelvis meets yours. You take a moment to savor it, breathing each other in, and then he begins to thrust.
You feel drunk. It's exactly like you always imagined it, and somehow better than you could ever have expected. Each movement of his hips brings another sensation: a spasm in the arches of your feet, a hitch in your breath, a churning, swirling need in the depths of your abdomen. Deeper you tell him, harder, and he obliges, pulling you into him, and him into you.
You can feel the orgasm building, but it isn't like any you've had before. Every time you've ever cum, you've been in control. This time, Jason is in control. Jason decides when you cum, how you cum. One hand supports his weight as he leans over you, and the other slides up your belly. You used to watch those hands obsessively. The way he held a pencil, the way he bit his knuckles when he was thinking. Now that hand slides up, caresses your breast. Now that thumb brushes your hair out of your face. Now those fingers close around your throat.
You know you're safe with Jason, but the pressure on your throat triggers some animal fear response in you. You try to squirm away, but his arm is strong, and his hand his firm. Your hands go to his wrist. "I don't like that, stop." He just smiles. It isn't his usual sweet smile, either. This one is cruel. Predatory.
Your face feels tight. Your eyes bulge. You're beginning to panic for real now. "Jason, seriously, stop!" You beat at his arm with your fists, but he easily takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. You try to kick at him, but he's already past your defenses, between your legs, pushing them uselessly apart. His grip tightens, his rhythm increases, his cock swells inside you. He's getting off on this.
All at once you're back in the hotel room. The man's sweaty red face is inches away from your own, and the lust in his eyes is obvious. His cock seems to push deeper with every thrust, and the horrible thing is that the orgasm is still coming. It's close now, you can feel it, and it's like he knows exactly how to bring it out. You feel floaty, tingly, and that awful pleasure is welling up inside you, a pot about to boil over...
"That's right," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "That's what I was waiting for. That perfect mix of...pleasure...and...fear." He punctuates each of these last three words with a long, deep thrust, and it's these that send the orgasm spilling over. A choked moan pushes itself out of you as your back arches, your toes curl, your legs wrap involuntarily around his waist, tears roll down your cheeks. That floaty feeling has combined with the orgasm to create something like how you imagine heroin must feel; a wave of mind numbing, soul deadening ecstasy. Your insides feel hot, and at first you think that must just be what it feels like when you cum from sex, but then you see the look on his face and realize that he's cumming too. His grip relaxes and he pounds away a few more times at your now-limp body. You stare at the ceiling as he moans, buries his face between your tits, pumps round after round of his warm, thick cum into your cunt, your womb. After one final push he collapses onto you, his cock still inside you, his bulk crushing you into the bed. You don't move.
He strokes your cheek. Fondles your nipple. Kisses your neck. Then he kisses your mouth, his tongue pushing your lips open, his breath like damp earth. You barely see him.
It must be almost ten minutes before he finally gets up, his limp cock sliding out of you at last. You can feel his cum dripping from your cunt as he puts on his underwear, then pants, then shirt, then shoes. "The room is paid for the night," he says with his hand on the door handle. "Thank you for struggling. Taking someone's virtue is so much better when you actually get to take it.
You don't respond.
You don't know how long you lie there, motionless, dripping cum. Oddly, the man who just raped you isn't the one burned onto your mind's eye. Try as you might to return to that sweet teenage fantasy, all you can see is Jason Meier as he held his hand to your throat, and that cruel, predatory smile on his face.
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