#female film maker

[luminofilmsofficial]

Creative Queens

Studios and slick production teams, rich and powerful men trying to stop us making real indie films with nuanced female characters.

Perpetuating the myth that young, smoothe skinned women in dopey, compliant roles are what an audience wants.

A middle aged sleazy “boys” club all patting each other on the back and financially supporting each other.

A dominance of male Directors who get the vast majority of the Hollywood Films to run. Who then go on to win 90% of the major awards.

Industry press releases praising action led, male dominated films. Men get 67% of all words spoken in films.

The lack of mature women in nuanced roles and as the love interest is shocking.

But we have something powerful on our side. 

We’ve got you. 38% of the UK population is over 50, 46% is over 40. 34% in the US and 43% over 40. That’s nearly half - half of a population that’s not properly served or included.

sign up today to get a discounted membership fee of £30 til July 31, when it will revert back to £40. Read the benefits and join on www.luminofilms.co.uk/creative-queens

Break the patriarchy and control- if you are a woman 40 up in film, tv or theatre join us now and inspire, uplift and support fellow women plus collect together to strive for change.

If you want to join us in our mission to empower and make change and generate more work

[kingrosalani]

Meet the Underhill’s (2024)

[vinescreens]

TÁR

[aestas666]

The Interview [K. Hammett]

pairings: kirk hammett/female! reader

warning/s: smut, inappropriate language. MINORS DNI

-request via message of the reader interviewing kirk! (REQUESTS OPEN)

5:00 AM

That’s what the clock read as I blinked my eyes groggily. My body was still numb from sleep. The hours rushed by so fast it was as if I never slept.

“God, I have an interview.”  I thought as I rose from the soft duvet and headed toward the kitchen to make myself some coffee. I glanced at my apartment windows noticing the still dark sky. As the coffee maker softly hummed in the background, I pulled out my papers to look back into the history of the band I would interview later on.

METALLICA

That’s what was written as the headliner of the article I was reading in huge bold text.

Hopping into the shower I was rehearsing my questions, I had none prepared. That was the point of our brand. We intend to make things come up naturally and we invest on making sure we knew who we were talking to flat out.

“Should I look up a photo of them?” ... Shaking my head, I thought an element of surprise would be good.

After the shower I hurriedly rushed to my closet. “Should I dress in black? I mean- they’re a metal band. Am I supposed to look the part?” All these questions rushed in. I really should have prepared more the day before. I pulled out some black button long sleeves and some denim shorts with a black studded belt.

Downing the coffee in one go, I grabbed the keys of my car and rushed to the venue. It was in some room of the arena they were performing in. Call time was at 7:00 and it’s already 6:48.

Parking was easy, the lot was huge. I found myself running to the arena and into a hallway. Stopping at a door with 1507 written at the front.

I took a deep breath in and entered. The crew was in already. 2 guys named Michael and Jim. 

As soon as I walked in Jim (the cameraman) hit record. 

Only one guy was sitting on the chair, I looked back at Michael in confusion as he just nodded at me to go on. 

“Oh, um hi-” I extended my hand over the table as I took a seat down in front of him.

“Kirk. Kirk Hammett. Yeah, it’s just me, the guys are still sleeping.” He laughed softly as he shook my hand.

“Yeah sure, that’ll be fine. We could start the one-on-one interview now if you’d like?”

“Oh for sure yeah, you guys are the Ride or Die people, right? How does this work?” He looked at me with intent as I waved off Jim to stop filming.

“Yup that’s us. Basically, we ask general questions. Some fan questions that could get a liiitle too personal can come up and you have to answer honestly. That’s our whole gig.” He nodded, his mouth making a small “o”. 

“This’ll be interesting for sure. Never expected a cute girl from a name like Ride or Die actually.” His comment made me heat up; I mean. This man was gorgeous, he had such nice curls and an adorable smile. There was so much I wanted to-

“Hey. Are we starting?” Jim interrupted my thoughts as Kirk looked back at me, amused.

“Ah yeah- sorry. Start rolling.” He hit the record button as I once again extended my hand to the guitarist.

“(Y/N)”

“Pretty name, I’m uh. Kirk.” He grinned at the camera almost awkwardly.

“Renowned guitarist of Metallica. Wow it truly is an honor. How are you doing today, Kirk?”

“Haven’t had breakfast, the boys are sleeping, it’s 7:00 AM. I’m pretty good.” We both shared a laugh as we finished up some questions on the album, the band’s touring and his thoughts on the city.

“Now for the fun part. Fan questions. I’ve gathered some questions they are dying to know.” I enunciated the ‘dying’, watching him suddenly turn to stifle a small laugh.

“I’m kinda scared to be honest. They could get a little crazy.”

“You’ll be fine! This one is from Kacey, and she wants to know what your type in groupies are.” I cocked a brow at his furrowed ones.

“Wow. This one’ll need some deep thought.” He looked up as if he was reflecting. 

“Probably someone like her.” He nodded at me as I held my chest in pretend shock.

“I look like a groupie?” 

“You’d look good as one.” It was Michael's turn to chuckle as the camera whipped to him and I shot him a look.

“Who was the last person you had in bed?” I continued.

“Jesus. At least get me some breakfast first, wow.” He rubbed his face in embarrassment as he went on “Come with me and it could be you.” 

“God I would.” 

“What was that?” He shot me a look as if in shock.

“Huh?”

“You said you would. You’ve got some honesty there Ms. Interviewer.” He leaned in my direction as I mouthed a “cut that out” to Michael, who just rolled his eyes at me.

“This is the last question.” I stated as he clasped his hands together, awaiting.

“What place do you want to visit most?”

“Back to serious ones huh. Hawaii. It just looks so relaxing y’know.” 

“Well. Thanks Kirk. That’s all.” I glanced back at the 2 men who hurriedly sorted their gear back into place.

“Yeah, the rest of the band probably isn’t going to wake up any sooner.” Kirk called out to me as I rose from my seat to leave.

“Ah yeah that’s fine. I could come back some other time.” I put the notes I had back in my bag.

“I was serious by the way. I think you’re gorgeous.” My heart was suddenly pounding, I looked back to see both Jim and Michael gone. 

“Thanks, Kirk. You look goo..d” I mentally face palmed. I was dead nervous, and it was more than obvious.

“I don’t bite (Y/N). Come here.” He rose from the seat and approached me. He was taller, by some inches. He smelled like tobacco and a few hints of spearmint. 

“I’m sure you don’t.” I backed up toward a couch just at the end of the room.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you. Sit down.” He motioned toward the couch as he knelt on the ground. 

“Tell me. Do you want this?” 

Only a sicko wouldn’t want this. He was knelt before me and I just wanted to scream. “Yes please.” He grabbed my calves from the bottom as he softly trailed them on top of my knees. “Remove your shorts.” Quickly removing my belt, I looked away in embarrassment, I was still wearing my underwear and I was already flustered. Christ. “Pink panties? Thanks for dressing up for the interview I guess.” Kirk grinned, his fingers clasping at both sides and dragging the underwear down.

“Hey. I could stop anytime.” His brown eyes bore into mine as I shook my head with a clear no.

His rough hands caressed my thighs, opening my legs further. “You’re so wet already.” He dragged a finger down my slit and back up. Resting a hand on my stomach he licked a stripe and gave a coy smile at my flustered face. “Do you want me to stop?” His voice was almost a whisper as the pounding in my ears increased. 

He stood up and leaned toward me to give a kiss, his lips were soft and wet and strangely tasted like mint. Grabbing my waist, he sat next to me and pulled me up to his lap as he continued to feather my neck with small kisses. 

I lifted my hips as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, he raised his hand to gather the slick from my cunt and pumped himself, his breath hitching.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.” I breathed out as he gently placed both his hands on my hips and lowered my body to his tip. “Fuck.” He moaned out, stretching me as I whined at the foreign feeling. My eyes squeezed shut while he whispered reassuring words, dragging his other hand on the back of my head and pulling me closer. 

“It’s alright sweet girl, move when you’re ready.”

I rested my head on his shoulder as I raised my hips up slightly and started moving at a slow pace. Gaining the courage as I got used to the pressure, he met my bounces with a hard thrust each time. I moved my head up to look at him. His hair stuck at the sweat of his forehead and his blown eyes focused on his cock pounding my cunt. 

He flipped me over and was now on top, still pounding, chasing his high. My legs were over his arms now as I gasped at the new position. Placing his thumb on my clit, he rubbed small circles, his jaw slack. My eyebrows furrow as I feel my orgasm rushing. “C’mon, baby.” He leaned to kiss me again, suppressing my soft moans. 

“Fuck, Kirk. I’m close.” My eyes started to tear up as his pace quickened. He’s hitting my sweet spot over and over as I choked a moan and felt my body tense and slacken at my release. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good. I’m close, baby.” He rambled as he rammed into me, and I felt him fill me up after his thrusts.

He pulled out as I swallowed at the feeling of loss. He knelt in front of me between my legs and laid his head on my stomach, breathless.

“Wanna interview me again sometime?” He looked up with the same cheeky grin.

“I’ll think about it.”

[bitter69uk]

“Why does everybody think I’m so wild? I’m not wild. I happen to stumble onto wildness. It gets in my path.” Cookie Mueller

"Cookie looked like Janis Joplin-meets-Jayne Mansfield, a redneck hippie with a little bit of glamour drag thrown in. She never led a safe life, unsafe was her middle name. She lived on the edge, always." John Waters

Born on this day 75 years ago: vivacious bad girl, writer, go-go dancer, advice columnist, art critic, drug dealer, globe-trotter and avant-garde New York scene-maker Cookie Mueller (née Dorothy Karen Mueller, 2 March 1949 – 10 November 1989). She’s a fiercely charismatic presence in early John Waters "gutter films" like Multiple Maniacs (1970), Pink Flamingos (1972) and Female Trouble (1974). Her close confidante, photographer Nan Goldin would describe Mueller as “the most fabulous woman I’d ever seen ... She was the starlet of the Lower East Side: a poetess, a short-story writer, she starred in John Waters’ early movies. She was sort of the queen of the whole downtown social scene.” (Unsurprisingly, Goldin has an eye for vivid detail. In the wrenching 2022 documentary All the Beauty and the Bloodshed, she recalls that the first time she met Cookie in Provincetown in the 1970s, Mueller was wearing vintage Springolator heels held together with safety pins!). I highly recommend investigating Mueller’s wry and elegant autobiographical musings like Walking Through Clear Water in a Pool Painted Black or Garden of Ashes (recently reissued) – or Chloe Griffin’s excellent 2014 biography Edgewise: A Picture of Cookie Mueller. Pictured: portrait of Mueller by Bob Berg.

[nushkiespeaks]

PSEUDO FEMINISM?

Well this is something I wish to talk about in regards to Mahabharat and out of Mahabharat, the general perception towards 'feminism'.

This is so weird that it has almost been fitted in our mind that a true feminist woman is someone who is 'strong physically' or can handle weapons both in historical era and present. People always want to see women with guns/pistols or during that time with bow/arrows or swords, and then they will be worthy of 'applaud'. Else, they're just aren't worth any eyeballs. Be it any story centered around feminism, they will make the lead or OC a sassy character, too much sassy with a foul tongue, adamant and arrogant and who loves to mess with others for the sake of it, and it of course is either learned in martial arts or swords/bow-arrows. They're then regarded as embodiment of feminism. The soft spoken ones, introvert ones and good-natured women are 'weak' or 'dreamers' or the 'damsels in distresses' always.

You can't deny that. This is what you all think don't you?

A woman who has undergone through a lot of trauma only is a true feminist. A woman who is having cigarette, drinking alcohol, drug is a feminist. A woman who is learning martial arts or is in an army etc. is a true feminist. A woman who can't apparently do her own chores also fits into that category.

IN SHORT, A TRUE FEMINIST WOMAN IS SOMEONE WHO BEHAVES EXACTLY LIKE A MAN 🙃. AND I CAN'T JUST UNSEE THE COMPARISON NOW.

You want a woman to beat 20 enemies out and out with a little scratch and boom! You have a strong female lead then only, a feminist woman then only. You want her to be physically strong even, then she'll be worth eyeballs. Or when she's in a revenge mode. She's wild, aggressive and sassy. She's no explanation to why she misbehaves, but she will and the audience will go nuts.

This is what 'female' centric films/book are like mostly. MOSTLY I REPEAT.

I admit there are a few films where a woman is normal and just a simple aspect of her life is considered. But no one would want to see it, that's what. No matter how good it is. Even if you see the film, the back of your mind will run around with the thought--'eh' what's so new about this girl? She's the same; gone is the time we love shy, innocent woman too, who upholds values and is goodie-good. Nah, she's weak lol.

And this is where modern authors fail to sketch DRAUPADI. The authors, and the serial makers.

This is why the retelling Draupadi is never like the OG Draupadi of Mahabharat. Never.

People/authors deliberately make her 'arrogant' or unnecessarily sassy, and times when she doesn't know how to speak and where to speak. Breaking rules has been the new normal. Her shouting at the top of the lungs is applauded. Her literally going berserk with smallest of issues is feminism. She's egoistic, proud and doesn't know where to speak correctly. 'Deliberate' attempts to make her seem like forcefully fierce has been incorporated. She's smug and can't take things the way it comes. Always complaining. Ungrateful to her husbands for this life, and to God also.

Yes, and that is the Draupadi most people love and will love. ( This is the reason I am not a fan of the characterization of Draupadi in Star Plus Mahabharat, and BR Chopra.)

The BORI Draupadi will eventually be labelled as a 'damsel in distress' or a 'scaredy cat'. Her being so much lovey dovey with Pandavas even after Dyut will make her seem powerless. Her running towards Bheem during assaults will make her seem 'weak'. Her being so grounded to the rules or Dharma will make her look weak.

Apparently, her surrender to Krishna/Dharma during Dyut is also labelled as a sign of weakness by some.

Internalized misogyny is just all over. A woman has to be like a man to be labelled as a 'true woman'.

The authors who 'write' about 'feminism' or rather it becomes a piece of 'pseudo' feminism. Please. They diss men in their books and yet make the women behave like men-

I mean. . . *smh*, like WOW. If you hate men, why make your women like men?

[neon-junkie]

Behind the Screen - Pt.3

Summary: Tech has been scrolling for hours, searching for something specific. His little crush on you is constantly sitting on his shoulders, and it’s weighing him down to the point that he’s desperate to find any content that reminds him of you, so he can jerk off and go to sleep! However, what he wasn’t expecting was to come across you specifically, legs spread, hand in between your thighs as you touch yourself proudly on camera.

Pairing: Tech x Female Reader

Tags: Sex work, Mutual pining, Masturbation, Flirting, Smut, First time, First kiss, Light dom/sub, Oral (giving and receiving,) Multiple positions, Dirty talk, Creampie, Pillow talk, Love confessions.

Word count: 6k

[Part 1]

Notes: HELLO LOL. I didn't realise I had left this fic for a year n a half!! I started writing the finale back after I posted the previous chapter, but I just... couldn't get into it. I kept going back to it, adding this, removing that, and then I decided to leave it for a couple of months, and focus on other fics. Well, it's finished! I've finished this series!!! YIPPIEEEEE!!! Thank you to everybody who's stuck around. I didn't think this trope/fic would become popular, but I'm thankful that it has ^_^

Knock knock!

You knock again, uncertain if Tech heard the first time. He's probably caught up in work, as always, no doubt with headphones on. It's also likely that he might be asleep, but it's a rarity for Tech to sleep before the sun rises. He can be both a night owl, and an early worm, only because he stays up all day and night, tinkering away on never-ending projects.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you decide that he doesn't want to be disturbed, and begin making your way down the Marauder's corridor, heading back to your room.

And then a familiar voice calls out your name...

Peering over your shoulder, you lock eyes with Tech, half-hanging out of his doorway. He looks like he's just run a marathon, covered in sweat, and missing his shirt with his goggles resting up on his forehead. "Do you need something?" he asks after clearing his throat.

"Your assistance, if you're free?" you question back.

Tech stutters, debating his reply. He knows that you're into him, and that you're attempting to get him into bed right now, but the issue is... well, him. It's painfully obvious what Tech has just been doing - jerking off - as he's still rock solid, and barely able to hide his length behind his sweatpants. How is he meant to explain that? Confess that he was watching your stream? What if you get offended? Or find it creepy?

"What exactly do you need?" Tech asks, somewhat avoiding your question.

"Uh... I can tell you in my room? It's... personal," you briefly explain with a soft shrug, nodding in the direction of your room.

You truly are two awkward idiots pining after each other, aren't you? Both in your underwear, clearly interested in each other, but too ditsy to confess and sin the night away. "One second," Tech mutters before scurrying back into his room. He shifts his erection about, attempting to cover it as much as possible. If he walks a certain way, then he can keep his erection contained, rather than letting it glide against the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. So, he waddles awkwardly after you down the hallway, and thankfully, your back remains turned.

Upon entering, Tech blushes at your setup, knowing exactly what you've been doing. It's not like he was watching, right?

"What are you filming?" Tech asks, hoping that his innocent question is an open window for certain things to happen.

"Well..." you begin, and turn to face him. "I need your assistance for something that I'm filming, but it's rather... uh, explicit."

"Explicit?" Tech stutters, looking at you wide-eyed. Maker, are his eyes always this vibrant? A welcoming shade of brown, often hidden behind the yellow tint of his goggles. The soft indents of his goggles come into focus, and you smile at the sight. He's such a dork - a loveable, shirtless dork, who's attempting to not focus on the used dildo sitting on your bedside table.

"Yeah," you nod in confirmation. Your eyes scan the perimeter, quickly chalking up a plan. Maybe you should have thought about how to come onto him first, but there's no harm in following the flow. "Sit down," you gesture to your bed, although your words come out like a timid question.

Tech looks at you for a moment before sitting on the edge of your bed, his hands resting on his lap, clearly hiding something. Without a word, you slowly drop to your knees, positioning yourself in front of Tech's legs. He raises a brow, and it remains raised as you say, "tell me if you want me to stop, alright?"

"Alright," Tech nods, followed by letting out a shaky sigh. He watches as you place your hands on his thighs, parting them slightly so you can wedge yourself between his knees. His thigh muscles flex at your touch, skin contact separated by a thick layer of fabric, soon to hopefully be removed.

You gently squeeze Tech's thighs, massaging them in an attempt to calm his nerves; or are you trying to calm yourself? Your stomach is more restless than the waves on Kamino, and somehow, they worsen when Tech finally moves his hands off his crotch, revealing his painfully hard erection.

"Oh," you softly sigh, not realising the expression has fallen from your lips. Tech grips onto the edge of your bed, bunching up fistfuls of your duvet, acting like an awkward teenager. His tense emotion grows tenfold when you look up at him from beneath your lashes, and ask, "may I?" in a tone so sweet that it's guaranteed to give him cavities.

"Please," Tech practically sobs, desperate for your touch.

You don't dive in straight away; instead, you wrap your hand around his clothed erection, and get a feel for what you'll be working with. Maker, he's gorgeous. Tech seems to be the man of your dreams, delicious and perfect in every way, and such perfections continue throughout his entire body. He sweetly groans as you touch him, firmly enough to show your presence, but still light as to not give him too much pleasure.

"Is this alright?" you question, locking your gaze onto Tech's.

Tech's fists tighten around the edge of your bed, attempting to steady his dizzy form. He's on cloud nine, in euphoria, blissed out from such a small amount of contact. "Y-Yes," Tech weakly nods.

A light laugh flows from your lips as you move a hand up to press on his chest. "Relax," you sweetly order as you gently push, encouraging him to drop onto his elbows, and unwind for the first time in days.

Tech goes to push the bridge of his goggles up his nose, a small gesture that he does when nervous, only to remember that they're resting on his forehead. You can't help but smile at him again, and your smile remains as you gesture to Tech's sweatpants and ask, "can I take these off?"

"Of course," Tech consents with another nod. With your help, he shimmies his sweatpants down, and kicks them off, discarding them on your bedroom floor.

As Tech lies back onto his elbows, you take a good look at him, now nude, relaxing on your bed. His solid cock is pressed deliciously against his stomach, waiting for attention, with a certain... something wrapped around the base. You make a mental note to mention that later, but for now, you peer up as Tech casts you a soft smile after readjusting the way his goggles are sitting on his forehead; clearly, he's uncertain if he should remove them, and you decide for him as you comment, "they look cute."

"Cute?" Tech repeats with rosy cheeks. "Darling, if only you could see yourself."

This time, you're the one blushing. The tender moment fizzes out into lust as your eyes trail back down to his cock, and instinctively, you sit forward on your knees, sandwiching yourself between Tech's thighs again. An almost silent exhale can be heard as you gently wrap your fist around his cock, and begin jerking him, saliva pooling in your mouth at the sight.

"So..." you begin. "I should probably tell you what exactly is going on."

"Oh. Yes, indeed," Tech agrees, feigning innocence, as if he wasn't watching you perform mere minutes ago, with clear evidence scattered around your dorm.

"Well, Tech... in my spare time, I like to stream."

"What games do you play?" Tech questions without missing a beat.

"I- No, I mean stream," you repeat, and emphasize that last word.

"Oh," Tech mutters as he side-eyes the used dildo still sitting on your bedside table. His expression is pleasant, far from concerned, not the expression that you were expecting.

"Yeah. And I've been wanting to partner up with someone for quite some time now..." you continue, leaving open windows for Tech to slide any questions in. Instead, he simply nods. "...My viewers were telling me I should make a move on someone that I'm into, and... well, now you're here."

Tech lets out a nervous sound, a mixture between a laugh, and a sigh. "You have... far better choices than myself," he grumbles as he diverts his gaze to the floor.

"Don't be so self-deprecating, Tech," you roll your eyes. "If I wanted anyone else, I would have approached them, hm?"

"Certainly, that is true," Tech agrees with a light shrug. "However, I'm not certain that I can perform up to your standards."

"Oh?" you quirk a brow. "Are you hinting that you're a virgin?"

Tech lets out that same nervous sound from before as one hand moves up to rub the back of his neck. "Not particularly, but it's been so long that I certainly feel like my virginity has 'grown back,' as some would say."

Whilst still slowly pumping Tech's cock, you kiss along his tanned thighs, noticing how the muscles tense and relax under your touch. "Well..." you say between kisses, "how about you let me do the work, and I'll guide you?"

A whimper escapes Tech's lips when you reach his cock, only to divert your lips away, and peer up at him, awaiting his reply. "I am happy with this arrangement," Tech confirms with an eager nod.

"Good, good," you smile. "Now, I need to address the Nexu in the room..."

Ah. Tech knew you were going to mention this. His appearance was rushed when you knocked on his door, and a certain item was left on standby, unable to be removed during Tech's moment of panic.

"Tech..." you say with a light laugh. "Why do you have a cock ring on?"

The poor man looks like he's about to burst from embarrassment; his body has shifted to a deep shade of red, all the way up to the tips of his ears. Sweat is forming above his brow, and Tech refuses to make eye contact.

"Well, I-I uh..." Tech stutters, and rubs his hand across his face. "I was... occupied when you knocked on for my assistance."

"Uh-huh," you say with a slow nod, biting back a giggle. "I guess you didn't get around to finishing?"

"Not... yet..."

"I also assume that you were edging yourself?" you question again, and continue biting back laughter when Tech sheepishly nods. "How long for?" you stutter, in awe that you've just discovered a small handful of Tech's kinks.

"I'm afraid I wasn't keeping track of time, but it certainly was... a while," Tech shrugs, still refusing to meet your gaze.

You bat your lashes as you sarcastically reply, "Tech, you poor thing."

Tech casts you a scowl, only for his expression to instantly disperse as you begin to slowly and carefully remove his cock ring. "Let me help you," you sweetly coo, and soon toss the cock ring to the end of your bed, instantly to be forgotten about.

Tech hisses through his teeth as you wrap your fist around his length, now jerking him with ease. His cock is throbbing against your palm, weeping from such minor contact, desperate for release after, what must be, an hour of edging? More? Less? Who knows!

With one hand occupied, the other unfastens the ties of your gown, and you shrug it from your shoulders, letting it pool on the floor. Tech instantly flushes again from the sight - you, on your knees, pumping his leaking cock whilst wearing nothing but lingerie. Maker, he certainly has died and gone to heaven, or whatever holy place the afterlife holds.

"Can I take this further?" you question.

Eagerly, Tech nods his head, and mumbles, "please." He then clears his throat, and tries again, "if you would, please."

You barely need to put any effort into your touch. After licking a firm stripe up the base of Tech's cock, and swirling your tongue around the tip, Tech falls back onto the bed and blurts out, "I'm not going to last long."

Biting back a laugh, you coo, "that's alright, Tech. Whenever you're ready."

Poor thing. At least his stamina will be reset when it comes to round two!

You softly run his cock past your lips, pumping the base in time with your thrusts. You're gentle, knowing that he's overstimulated as it is, but it seems even your feather-light touches are enough to make his knees weak. Tech's warning appears as a groan, and with that, the taste of his release appears on your tongue.

Once you're off his cock, you gulp down some water, rinsing the salty taste from your tongue. Tech peers up at you from his debauched state on your bed, and after letting out a deep sigh, he mutters, "your turn."

"Are you sure you're ready?" you say with a soft laugh. Tech eagerly nods, and hoists himself up into a sitting position.

"But first..." his words linger, and are replaced with the sensation of his lips against yours. It's such a tender kiss, so delicate and nervous, barely lasting a few seconds before Tech breaks apart. "I am following your lead, Darling, but I'm certain that you'd like some attention, yes?"

"Mhm," you say with a nod. "I suppose I should turn my stream back on too?"

"Whenever you're ready," Tech consents. With that, you rise to your feet and awaken your laptop. You get your stream up and running again, and as you sit back down on the bed, in camera shot, you ponder on making some sort of announcement.

"I'm... I'm just going to focus on you," you inform Tech. "I want this to be natural, you know? It is our first time, after all."

"And hopefully, not the last," Tech says with a hopeful glisten.

You let out a chuckle, only for your laughter to fall silent as you plant a sweet kiss on Tech's lips. He lets out a hum, and deepens the kiss as his hand comes up to cup your jawline, his fingertips dancing over your hairline.

"It would be nice to rewatch this one day," Tech mutters against your lips, referring to your stream.

"We've barely started," you point out, chuckling once again.

"Ah, yes. About that..." Tech smirks. This time, you're the one being pushed back onto the bed. Large palms grip at your thighs as Tech shifts down into position, spreading you apart. His semi-erect cock is pressed between his stomach and the bedsheets, and you let out a groan as he begins kissing down each thigh, stopping when he gets close, then switching to the other.

One hand moves from your thigh, and Tech pauses his kissing to watch in awe as he hooks his index finger around your panties, shifting them to the side to expose your cunt. "Oh, my..." Tech mutters under his breath.

He manages to wedge the crotch of your panties in the crevice of your thigh, freeing his index finger. It gently runs over your folds, up and down, testing the waters. Once tested, Tech decides to switch his finger out for a more efficient tool, and smiles to himself as he licks a firm stripe along your pussy.

Up and down, over and over. He's teasing you, but in doing that, he's also teasing himself. Tech caves in swiftly, and puts his focus onto your clit, smiling once more as you fall back from your elbows with a moan.

The hand on your thigh tightens, holding you in place, whilst his other hand begins prodding at your entrance. A single digit is teasing you, and if this alone is making you a whimpering mess, then who knows what more will do to you.

Tech soon slips his fingers in, and as he does it, he firmly sucks on your clit. Your thighs instinctively attempt to clench together, and with it, Tech's brows furrow as he clicks his tongue. "Ah, ah!" he mutters against you. "Don't you dare."

"...sorry..." you pathetically whimper.

Satisfied with your meek apology, Tech returns to his task, and before you know it, another finger has slipped into you. They curl upwards, and your thighs begin to tremble again as Tech begins rubbing against that spot, all whilst he's having a sloppy make out session with your clit.

Digging your fists into the bedsheets is doing nothing for you. So, you tangle your fingers in Tech's hair, your chest warming as the realisation that his hair is soft. You don't want to tug hard - how could you do that to such a man?! - but your light pulls are clearly appreciated, as Tech lets out a soft hum in response.

Tension is high, running throughout your entire body, and passing through to Tech. Whilst lying flat on his stomach, his hips are softly moving, grinding his cock against your bed, desperate for some form of relief. However, Tech can wait, and take pleasure in ruining you whilst working on his patience.

"T-Tech, holy fuck," you whine. That's all you manage to sputter out before your first orgasm hits you, your hips automatically rocking against Tech's tongue as he milks your pleasure.

"That's it," Tech repeats, muttering against your folds. He fingers continue to pump away, but as your orgasm ends, so does his magic. He's grinning like an idiot as he removes himself from between your thighs, and licks his lips before wiping your juices off his face using the back of his hand.

"Are you satisfied?" Tech asks, and all you can manage is a pitiful nod. "Excellent, then I will continue to keep my standards up."

You let out a light laugh; every time that you've dreamt about hooking up with Tech, he's always remained formal. That's just Tech, even if your fantasies, and it seems that your dream version of him, is painfully accurate.

Tech crawls up the bed, pinning your body against the mattress. He's sweet as he plants a few kisses on your lips, before moving his focus elsewhere. "As ethereal as you look, I would much prefer to see you bare," Tech gestures to your lingerie.

"Go ahead," you reply with a blush. "That is, if you know how to unclasp a bra."

Tech chuckles, and nods his head. "You underestimate me, Darling."

Shifting into an upright position, you watch in awe as Tech begins undressing you, kissing every surface of your body as each item of your lingerie disappears, one at a time. His touch is tender, loving, and deliberate, motivated by admiration and lust - Tech wants to have your mind spinning before he sheaths himself into you, and to nobody's surprise, his plan is working.

"May I?" Tech questions as he moves his head up to yours, your bodies pressed together, with his cock eagerly twitching against your cunt.

You let out a needy, "please," that has Tech chuckling.

"There's no need to be so desperate, my dear," he coos, and locks his lips with yours. The taste of your afterglow is vibrant on his lips, and you don't mind the sweetness; it doesn't last for long, only a few seconds before your attention is stolen elsewhere.

Tech, with his hands curled around your body, manages to slip his cock into you using only a tilt of his hips. His uncut tip begins to slip into your entrance, and all the wind is knocked out of your lungs as Tech slams into you.

Once fully sheathed, Tech holds himself there, his exceptional mind spinning in admiration. He's oh-so-giddy, utterly love drunk over you, and the fact that he's here - inside of you - has caused his poor brain to short circuit.

Tech reboots, and begins with a calm roll of his hips. Back and forth, he's testing the waters, soon to bring you to the depths with him. "Is this alright?" Tech questions, and smirks when you eagerly nod.

The faster he goes, the more you begin to moan, and it seems your vocals are contagious. Tech is letting out sounds that you've never heard before, but they're bound to play on repeat in your mind for the rest of eternity. He is beautiful, even more so like this - slamming into you, with half-lidded honey eyes gazing over your form, parted lips, and a light glisten of sweat coating his body.

Not to mention his goggles, sitting on a slight tilt on his forehead, a silent reminder of the man that you're getting down and dirty with.

Tech, your squad mate, a friend, is fucking you on camera. He's pounding you silly on the Marauder, 'his' ship, as he calls her; yet, it's not only his ship. The others are meant to be asleep, but you two are most definitely keeping them awake.

"I don't want you to, but you need to be quiet," you painfully protest. As sweet as Tech's mewls are, he's blatantly loud, and it doesn't take a genius like himself to put two and two together. Tech is moaning in your room? Yeah, that's a recipe for teasing from the others.

"I do not want to," Tech replies with a mindless shrug, and an expression that reads, 'and how dare you suggest it!'

"The others will-"

"-That's fine," Tech cuts you short with a small wave of his hand. "I can tolerate their teasing. It's not like I've endured it before," he shrugs, and returns to a quick pace, the sound of skin against skin filling up your room.

His thrusts have your brain short-circuiting, until his words repeat in your mind. "Wait, they've teased you before? Over...?"

"Over you, yes," Tech confirms with a nod. He almost looks embarrassed at his confession, so much so that his hips have stilled again. "I am not exactly timid when it comes to my admiration for you."

"Awh!" you say with a soft laugh. "I've never picked up on anything," you confession, and this time, Tech is the one raising his brow.

"Never?" he repeats, and seems even more taken aback as you shake your head in confirmation. "Well, I'll spare the details for now, seeing as I don't want to confess to all my sins on camera," Tech explains, and trails his eyes over to your set-up, a reminder that you're streaming all of this.

"We'll save it for pillow talk," you agree.

"Pillow talk? Hm," Tech repeats, adding the new word to his dictionary. "Anyway, back to business."

To your surprise, Tech slips his cock from you, his tanned skin glistening with your slick. "Hands and knees, Darling. I have an idea," Tech orders, and watches in admiration as you change your position. "Here-" he directs you, positioning your face in the cameras' direction, whilst he slots in behind you.

Tech lets out a long and deep sigh as he slides his cock in, his hands finding comfort in the curve of your hips. He gives one slow, experimental thrust, followed by another, testing the waters of this new position.

Soon, he begins, but slow and gently, at first. It only takes a few encouraging moans from you to urge him to speed up his pace, filling the room up once more with the sound of skin against skin.

Tech weaves his fingertips in your hair, and with a tug, pulls your head upright. "Keep your eyes forward, Darling," he speaks against your ear, whilst directing your gaze to the camera. "Look into the camera," he orders, and lets out a pleasing hum as he feels you clench around his length.

Whilst Tech's hand returns to your hips, he keeps his body looming over yours, pinning you down to the mattress. His voice remains low and husk, speaking for you, rather than your audience. "Your meek eye contact is a reminder that they will never be able to enjoy you like this, a sensation that I've been craving ever since you were first assigned to our squad."

"Tech?!" you sputter, peering over your shoulder to meet his gaze.

"Ah, ah!" Tech tuts, and directs your sight forwards. This time, he keeps his grasp in your hair, ensuring that you won't stray from his task. "Once again, eyes forward, Darling."

The excessive evidence of your arousal is now dripping down onto your bunk, along with being slathered all over Tech's cock. He lets out a grunt at the sight, and takes pride in the utter mess that he's making of you. Recording everything is a hobby of Tech's, and he's beaming at the fact that you're doing his job for him, with your adorable little set up. Maybe next time, he'll take a recording from his perspective?

Falling down onto your elbows, you attempt to slip one hand beneath your thighs, wanting to set off the final spark in your chain of reaction. However, Tech swats your hand away, letting your hair now fall freely.

"I'll take care of that," Tech informs, and places two warm fingertips over your clit. "You just focus on looking pretty, which I estimate will be a rather attainable challenge, for you."

And with that, he's paying attention to your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves in a motion that has your whole body trembling. "T-Tech, shit! I'm gonna-"

"-Of course, you are," Tech cuts you short. "Go ahead, I'm right behind you," Tech encourages, and you swear you overhear him mutter, "quite literally," under his breath.

In those few moments, you consider the position that you're in. Do you really need all of these sex toys? Should you dispose of the entire box? None of them, nothing, will ever compare to this current feeling of bliss - this feeling of bliss that Tech has brought upon you. Nothing will ever beat this, so why not stick to this method every single time?

And just when you thought it couldn't get any better, Tech lets out the neediest moans as he topples forwards, burying his cock to the base, and fills you up to the brim. He's trembling, resting his forehead against your shoulder blades as he rides his high. His goggles are pushed off in the process, falling onto your bed, quickly to be forgotten about.

Tech has to physically peel his body off yours when he finally catches his breath. You're both a mess, utterly debauched, covered in sweat, spit, and Maker knows what else! Whilst Tech rolls onto his back, you take a moment to shut your stream off, mumbling something about having a fun time, and that you'll see your viewers whenever. You'd almost forgotten that the camera was running, and now, you're happy to have a moment alone with your squad mate.

As you lie besides Tech, his hand automatically clings onto your thigh, gently squeezing the muscle. Tech's breaths are finally steadying out, and he licks his lips before opening his eyes.

Warm, alluring eyes meet yours, and for the first time this evening, Tech looks somewhat sheepish. "How... how are you feeling?" he questions.

"Good," you confirm with a nod. "And you?"

"Minus the excessive heart rate, and the overwhelming urge to hop into the refresher, I'd say I'm rather pleasant."

"Pleasant?" you let out a chuckle. Tech raises his brow, and soon laughs along with you. "We've just had sex for the first time, and your response is to say that you're pleasant?"

"Well, I am," he shrugs, his eyes lighting up at your giggles. Even now, in this sweaty and unruly state, Tech is still head over heels for you. If anything, he takes pride in his work, and is thankful that you're not the type to get up and leave after sex.

Well, this is your room, but at least you haven't kicked him out.

A comfortable silence fills the air, and you're content just lying there, bare skin against bare skin, coming down from your joint high. That is, until the meek sound of buzzing catches your ears, and you sit upright to question, "what is that?"

The sound is coming from your box of toys, abandoned on your dorm floor. You let out a frustrated grumble as you rummage through to find that one of your vibrators has switched on, and has probably been buzzing away this entire time, the noise drowned out by your shenanigans.

Tech welcomes you back into your bed with an extended arm, and you don't hesitate to cuddle up to him. "You know..." Tech begins, and pauses before continuing. "I could build toys that are far superior to the standard ones that you own."

"Oh?" your ears perk up. "And would those toys be moulded after yourself, Tech?"

The sound of his name flowing from your lips has him turning red at the tips of his ears, but he brushes his feelings aside. "Why do that, when you could enjoy the real thing?"

"Hm, good point..."

"However, I am sure your viewers wouldn't want me appearing in every stream. Still, I can be there in some form," Tech continues. From the soft tilt to his brows, you can tell that he's starting to think things through, happy and eager to improve the quality of your sex life.

As much as you enjoy seeing his brain tick away, you have a secret that will leave him a sputtering mess, and you decide that it's time to reveal your hidden card.

"You seem rather interested in my streams, Tech," you casually comment as you roll onto your stomach. Your hand comes to rest on Tech's chest, aimlessly playing with his soft trail of chest hair, whilst Tech lies back and enjoys the sensation of your body being pressed to his.

"Well, of course," Tech says with a shrug. "I want to encourage all of your interests-"

"-I don't mean like that," you cut him short. With that, you straddle his hips, pinning his body beneath yours. There's an evil glisten in your eyes as you maintain eye contact with a man who is starting to look worse for wear.

"What do you mean, then?" he sputters, and rests his hands on your thighs.

You pause for dramatic effect, then repeat your previous words. "I mean, you seem really interested in my streams," you smirk. "I think I understand now why you've recently spent so much time in your room."

If there were a physical example of 'guilty,' then Tech would be the spitting image of it! All colour has faded from his skin, soon to be taken over by a flustered swarm of redness. The hands on your thighs have swiftly turned clammy, and rather than stray his eyes around the room, avoiding the topic, all he can do is stare into yours as he realises that he's been caught.

"I... uhhh," Tech mumbles. His mouth falls open, only to instantly fall shut as he realises that, no matter what, there is no denying this. Tech has been caught, red handed, and he has to face the consequences of his actions.

But if the consequences are sleeping with you? Then, by all means, scold him as much as you physically can!

"So, you've got nothing to say for yourself, huh?" you tut, and cross your arms against your chest, your breasts bouncing with the movement, which causes Tech's eyes to wander south before returning to your playfully intimidating gaze.

"H-How did you know?" he questions with dry lips.

"Is that it? Is that all you're going to say?" you tease. Tech instantly begins back-pedalling, but you shut his rambling up with a soft wave of your hand. "As smart as you are, Tech, you're not exactly street smart."

"Do explain?" Tech tilts his head in confusion.

You let out a light chuckle, reminding yourself of how you pieced it all together. "Your username, Tech. You set your username to T99. It was so painfully obvious that it was you," you laugh, and laugh even more as Tech brings his hands up to cover his face with them.

"Forgive me," he mumbles into his grasp, causing you to laugh even harder.

"I'm not mad at you," you explain, and pull his hands from his face, returning them to your thighs. "I was actually happy when I noticed that you'd subscribed, which is why I stole your undershirt from your laundry pile. I wanted to drop a subtle hint that I'm into you."

Tech drums his fingertips against your thighs as his brain ticks away. "The hole that you made, was that intentional?"

"Possibly," you say with an innocent shrug. This time, Tech is the one chuckling, now with a more relaxed form - the opposite to how he looked moments ago. "I was surprised to see that you'd joined my stream, and I was kind of praying that things would eventually lead to this."

"Well..." Tech draws out the word as his hands move up to your waist. A gentle tug on them has you pressing your chest to his, and the way that his lips slide against your own has your chest burning hotter than the sun. Tech's eyes remain locked onto yours as the kiss breaks, and dare you mention it, but you can feel his length hardening again beneath your crotch. "...It's a good thing that I subscribed, hm?"

"A very good thing, indeed," you nod before planing another kiss on his lips.

Tech is oh-so-gentle as he rolls you onto your back, pinning your body beneath his. Your lips remain occupied, all whilst your hands roam every inch of him, to his toned biceps, to the cute plumpness of his butt.

Tech follows suit, admiring you in a new, gentler light, with a silent promise that he's far from finished with you.

Only this time, he'll be mindful of his neighbours.

A pair of feet lie relaxed on the Marauder's dashboard, a rare, yet comforting position for a certain Batcher to be in. Echo's eyes are half-lidded, looking down at his datapad, scrolling through the holonews like a father reading the morning paper. He barely looks up from his article as he comments, "the ship's finally stopped rocking."

Hunter perks up at his words, quite literally. The viroblade that he was twiddling between his fingers comes to a halt, and he squints as he questions his surroundings. "So, it has," Hunter soon agrees, and relaxes back into his chair, letting out a deep and long sigh.

Echo sighs with him as he swipes onto another article. "At least they've got it out of their system," he comments.

"Took them long enough," Hunter agrees with a grumble. "We can finally go to sleep," he continues, and looks over to Echo, who seems rather interested in whatever has grasped his attention.

Unfortunately, some people cannot sleep unless under certain circumstances - Wrecker and Crosshair have no problem dozing off, regardless of their surroundings. However, Echo, has regular sleeping problems, and Hunter struggles due to his heightened senses, meaning they have to sit and endure whatever is going on.

"I'll take the first watch," Echo says with a shrug, finally looking up from his datapad to lock eyes with his rather exhausted Sergeant, the bags beneath his eyes being an obvious giveaway.

"Are you sure?" Hunter asks, sheathing his viroblade, eager to get some rest, but not wanting to disregard Echo's needs and comfort.

"Yeah. I've got a few more things I want to read first," Echo shrugs, and returns to his holonews. He softly smiles at the sound of relief that Hunter makes as he pushes himself up from his chair.

Hunter has no effort to argue with his ARC Trooper, and swiftly accepts his invitation. "If you say so," Hunter replies, and says goodnight, heading down the Marauder's hallway, desperate for his bunk.

Echo remains fixated on his reading whilst his hand moves up to flick a button on his earpiece, muting his surroundings. "Just in case," he comments to himself, despite not being able to hear.

Better safe, than sorry!

[bioticlaw]

Symbiosis

( yandere geto suguru x female reader )

It couldn’t be. He was a professional, someone like him wouldn’t make such an amateur mistake. He said it himself: he wanted to help you. Dr. Geto becomes your lifeline.

content: yandere Geto, drug misuse & non-consensual drugging, dependency, past familial trauma, mental health issues, introspection, mentioned past overdose, medical malpractice. contains sensitive content. not a love story. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT — 5.5k words

notes: please keep it mind that my intention is not to romanticise or glorify these experiences, it is a personal narrative, so it's based on my experiences and feelings at the time. otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story and please, be kind. <3

divider by cafekitsune | cross-posted on ao3

You coasted through your life.

You moved on autopilot, you never questioned or thought about anything, and you had a routine you followed without deviation. You’d been in a state like this for as long as you could remember. You used to wonder how it all began. You used to feel hurt as you were thrown into a deep spiral when you realised that the joyous child you were was now a puppet on its cruel maker’s strings.

You wished you could have saved her.

You knew it was illogical to think that way. You can’t change a story that has already been inked and carved into permanence. Still, it didn’t stop your mind from wandering. Sometimes you’d think of what would’ve been if you could go back in time and save her from her father. If you could have escaped from your captor who saw you as collateral and not his child. Your grandmother used to believe that men were meant to lead and protect their families, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. Was it protecting you when he’d forbidden you from reaching out to the outside world?

Was it protecting you when he’d lock you in his room, away from anything you could use to call for help?

You liked to insist that you didn’t care anymore. Maybe you were a liar. You’d been dishonest far too often in your life, after all. Maybe, in a fucked up spin on the story of Narcissus and his reflection, you fell for your own tricks. You liked to believe you didn’t care, but sometimes, you’d find yourself feeling like that child again—alone and afraid as he gave more love to his stepchildren than you.

You might not have known anything at six years old. He was still your father. But as much as you loved him, you needed to break out of the chains he placed on your life. When he fell asleep from all the drinking he did, you took your chance. Called the number you weren’t allowed to call, decided on where to meet her the next day. Pretended like everything was normal when he woke up. Your mother took you back to your real home from school, and just like that, you were finally free. He cared too much about his public image to start a fight in public. It was the luckiest you had ever been.

You ended up forgetting about it all. You were happy. You were home. You might have spent more time with another relative because your mother was always busy, but you were loved. You felt loved. At least, that was how you remembered it. You weren’t quite sure if your memory was truly failing or if passivity had just been present for all your life. Your memories were in vignettes, burnt and broken, a film reel that was cut and couldn’t be put together. You’d given up on trying to remember. You were fine with leaving yourself in the dark and you were fine with being oblivious. You wouldn’t know if your memories were real, but it didn’t matter anymore.

High school was a blur. You fell asleep, skipped class, and still managed to stay one of your class’ best students despite it all. It was all you could do, anyway. It was just another obstacle you had to get over. As soon as you left the graduation ceremony, you left everyone behind with your memories. The teachers, the staff, your ‘friends.’ You didn’t know them that well. You hadn’t been all too honest with them, just like you weren’t honest with your doctor. The pills he gave you helped—you knew they did. For once, you felt like you were back on earth. You needed the feeling to stay with you. You needed to feel alive, to be alive again.

You liked the moment of bliss you’d get when you came to, so much so that you’d taken it all to die with a smile, but death never came.

Instead, the white light you saw was from the fluorescence of the ceiling, and the angelic choir you wanted to hear was instead the slow beeps of your heart rate on the monitor. What the doctors were talking about over your half-unconscious form didn’t feel like words but nonsense. You couldn’t remember what the nurse said to you, either. All you knew was that in your trance, the state where you teetered on the line between life and death, you saw shadows in that hospital. You saw the ghost of your grandmother in the corner, watching as charcoal flowed down your throat and into your stomach. You felt your father’s indifferent gaze, the same one he had when you drifted too far from shore at the beach.

You heard your mother crying, felt her guilt as she went through the whirlwind you had inadvertently put her in. It was perhaps your biggest regret of all; not the taking of your happy pills, but letting her shed tears over you. Your grandmother used to tell you this was the greatest sin you could ever commit. That scared you enough to force yourself to be better. To be as normal as you could be, as normal as your mother would want you to be. You didn’t want her to cry anymore.

But strength was never your best suit.

Your regret turned into something worse—anger that you let them take your salvation away from you. You weren’t always an angry person. It was hard to get on your nerves that much, you thought. You’d like to think you were carefree (or careless?) and resilient, but the craving in your system and the need to feel something again was all you could think of. You wanted your control back.

You had to get it back. Now that you were on your own, thousands of miles away from home, you had more autonomy to do as you liked. There were no vigilant eyes on you, no more obstacles to overcome, and no more people you had to lie to.

Tempted as you were to resort to such tactics again, you did initially come to the medical centre for a harmless reason. You were running low, and going through another withdrawal episode wasn’t something you were particularly thrilled about. You only wanted—needed—to keep yourself functioning; this was just part of the conditions that came with it. You hated dealing with these things for too long, so begrudgingly, you booked an appointment just to get it over with. Then you could go back to whatever your life was this time.

That feeling of emptiness would continue to persist, fading from one day to another, but you would live. It wasn’t anything worth celebrating. It was just a duty you gave yourself. Even if you didn’t want to, you had to.

Your leg bounced up and down as you sat in the waiting room, idly watching the second hand of the clock tick little by little. It was quiet and surprisingly not too crowded like you assumed when you looked at the appointment times. Other students you didn’t recognise scrolled through their phones, waiting for their names to be called just like you were. You sighed into your face mask. You were bored out of your mind and nothing on your phone could fix that. You’d still zone out anyway.

You glanced down at the paper in your hand. The letters seemed to burn themselves into your eyes the more you read them. You didn’t have to print the appointment details, but you valued your routine and habits no matter how mundane they were. You liked doing things in order. It kept you sane, you thought.

You didn’t quite recognise the name Dr. Suguru Geto. You were to meet them in—you took a glance back at the clock—2 minutes but you were dreading it more than anything. It would be your first time meeting them and if things went well, they’d be someone you see regularly. Apprehension and annoyance simmered at the pit of your stomach. Sudden changes were something you hated, even more so the fact that you had to tell a stranger your history all over again. Suffocated couldn’t possibly be the only word to describe how you felt about it. It was their job to know and help you, you knew that, but you still hated having to muster up the words to talk about how you were mentally and physically.

You didn’t like how vulnerable and paranoid you felt every time you sat in a doctor’s office. Anyone could use your weaknesses against you at any moment. Walking on eggshells around everyone had become second nature to you, irritatingly. It wasn’t as if you wanted to; it was more of a reflex, an instinct. You learnt to hide behind a character you built for yourself and grew used to it. To break that down and expose yourself again wasn’t the easiest thing to do.

Your name was called. “Dr. Geto is ready to see you now. Please follow me.”

The nurse’s heels clicked against the polished floors and the low buzz of the air conditioning was all that accompanied you as you followed her down the hall. Even the air was dreary, and the anxiousness you were feeling only seemed to grow as you got closer to the doctor’s office. It was colder at the end of the hallway where you stood. The nurse gently opened the sliding door, catching the doctor’s attention with a soft lilt of their name.

“Thank you,” you muttered and shuffled past her, tentatively making your way to the chair that was across Dr. Geto’s desk. As the door slid shut, the doctor greeted you, his voice far too jovial for a situation that could be the worst thing to deal with.

“Good morning,” he said. “How can I help you today?”

You shifted in your seat, feeling oddly more uncomfortable under his gaze. “I need a new written prescription. The one I brought from home doesn’t work here.”

“Ah, you’re a foreign student?” He scanned over the paper you handed him, a low hum vibrating in the back of his throat. His lips tugged into a frown. “I don’t think we have this variation in our pharmacy. I’d have to prescribe you a different one entirely.”

“W-What do you mean?” The words came out of you before you could think. “It’s pretty common, isn’t it? I could just buy it from pharmacies at home. What do you mean you don’t have that here?”

Geto raised his eyebrows. It was only then did it occur that you’d spoken too much and might’ve just attracted some suspicion as to why you were here. You pretended not to see how his expression changed, staring down at the floor instead.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine. I understand your worries,” he replied, eyes crinkling as he smiled once again. “How do you feel about starting a different one?”

“But…” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You didn’t like how it felt being watched by him. It was like you were getting reprimanded for something, even if there was nothing in his visage that implied that at all.

“It won’t be that different. I can prescribe you something with a similar composition,” Dr. Geto explained. The way he spoke was soft and calm. It didn’t take too long for that to affect you, making the tension in your shoulders lift away and your fists unclench. “I assume you know enough about drugs, don’t you?”

You weren’t here for that reason. You just really needed a refill, you weren’t falling back, you weren’t—

“Yeah. Just enough,” you replied hesitantly. “I’ve been seeing psychiatrists and doctors for years, so I just picked it up from them. And I read a lot, so…”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. The answer seemed to placate the doctor enough for him to lean back and scribble something down on a piece of paper. The sound of the pen scratching against the surface felt more grating than usual. You thought it was all done, that he’d give you that damn paper and you could leave. But then he crossed his arms over his chest and stared you down, and you realised that wasn’t the case at all. Why was he holding this back from you? Why wasn’t he helping you? All he had to do was click a few buttons, hit print and send you on your way. Why wasn’t he doing any of it?

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me anything.”

“I have been telling you everything,” you argued, exasperated and flustered. You didn’t understand why he was being so pointed at you. You didn’t remember exactly what you just said to him either. It had always been that way. “Doctor, I just don’t want to go through withdrawals again. That’s it.”

He didn’t seem convinced. What made him change his mind so quickly?

“I want to help you,” he said, your name rolling off his tongue smoothly. “I can’t do that if you don’t help me, too.”

You didn’t like the way he was speaking to you. It reminded you of being back at that wooden house, hiding behind the door as you anticipated when your father’s patience would burst. You shook your head, trying to clear the thought away.

“I… would like it if we could wrap this up soon. I have another appointment in half an hour,” you lied, hoping it would strike some urgency in him and that he would just hurry up. “I’m already running late. I need to be on my way.”

Dr. Geto raised an eyebrow. “You’re avoiding my request.”

“I-I’m not!” you stammered. “Please, doctor, I only have two days left on that bottle. I’ll take whatever it was called that you talked about. I’ve always responded well to medication, it won’t be a danger to me.”

He didn’t respond, only continued to watch you as he absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the desk. The sound was overloading your senses—you felt cornered, you could hear the blood rush in your ears, you could hear ringing, and the taps of his fingers were making it worse.

Hunching over, dejected, you relented. “I was never really told what was wrong with me. They just gave me antidepressants and I never saw the psychiatrist again.”

“You said you met several, no?”

Did you?

“I won’t make assumptions about you,” he said, “but I’m not sure I can trust you with a month’s worth of pills. I’ll only give you a week’s worth of them, then we’ll have a follow-up next Saturday to see how you feel. ”

“I don’t know… Changing medications is scary.”

You cringed at how the confession came out of you so easily. Sometimes it felt like your mind and your body weren’t in tune with each other. There was a gap between the two and you could never manage to get it to close.

Suddenly, the stern demeanour melted away and the friendly doctor was back. His brows were no longer furrowed. His face relaxed as he leaned back against the chair and smiled at you.

“It’s only a bit stronger than what you used to take. There shouldn’t be a drastic change.” The printer whirred to life as it ejected a small piece of paper with words you didn’t really recognise on it. Medical jargon was one of the things you could never memorise well. “Alright. Come, I’ll lead you to the pharmacy.”

You blinked. “You don’t have other appointments?”

“We’re understaffed. It’s only me and two other colleagues working here.”

It didn’t answer your question, but the hope blooming in your chest took your mind off of it. You could finally leave this creepy clinic—well, you were exaggerating, you thought. The clinic was actually well-maintained and populated, but there was just something that felt a little off about this place. You decided you’d blame it on your nerves.

“Please wait here.”

You watched him move between the shelves with an air of familiarity and grace as he murmured something you couldn’t hear. He came back with a small pouch that was labelled with your name and the general details (you knew the gist, you’d done this for years) and placed it on the counter between him and you.

“Like I said, this is a bit stronger than what you used to take, so I want you to start by taking half a pill every morning first.” The pills didn’t look anything out of the ordinary. It was a small, standard white tablet with a line etched in the middle for easier splitting. You gingerly tucked it into your bag, instead rummaging through the mess to look for your wallet. Before you could take out a bill or two, he stopped you. “The university has that covered, remember?”

You blinked. “Oh, right. Yes. Thank you.”

“Come see me if you have a bad reaction to it.” He gave you another friendly smile. It was starting to grow on you. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he would be. You had a knack for being a bit paranoid, after all. It was just one of those days. You felt a bit bad for judging him so harshly before you even properly spoke to him. “That’s all. I’ll see you next week, same time.”

There was a sense of discomfort nagging you in the back of your mind, but you shook it off. You were prone to overthinking things; this was just one of them. Relieved, you thanked him again and left the clinic. The weather was nice today and you didn’t have overdue assignments. You could recharge for as long as you wanted to.

While you knew not to underestimate these little things, you also weren’t sure how effective taking only half of the pill would be. It wasn’t the first time being on a dosage that would gradually increase, but you were still guilty of constantly worrying if something would work out. You didn’t think you had anything left to turn to if it didn’t.

You’d just have to take Dr. Geto’s word for it.

—

You were never one to pay much attention to how you were doing.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care. Something like that was simply not on the forefront of your mind. You were more than accustomed to being in a perpetual state of lethargy. You didn’t think you ever had a time in your life when you weren’t tired. Despite that, you felt the changes in your behaviour and demeanour. It was hard not to.

In the first half of the week, you felt sluggish and ill, as if your immune system decided to go haywire with the hormones in your brain, but you quickly recovered. It was nothing a little caffeine couldn’t fix (or worsen, but you didn’t want to think about it). He wasn’t lying when he said the medicine was stronger. The side effects weren’t as bad as you assumed they’d be, which you were glad about. Your appetite died down a little, but that was fine. You didn’t eat regularly anyway. As the days passed, you felt less anxious. It was somewhat easier to concentrate and follow along with your professors, even if you remained easily distracted.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

You were never one to pay much attention to how you were doing, but you weren’t one to shy away from your impulses, either. A thought popped into your mind. If you could take only half of the pill well, surely it would be fine to take another for a minor boost? You had a presentation later in the afternoon. Embarrassing yourself in front of the whole class was not an option. Your mother was working overtime to keep you in this position. You couldn’t fail her.

But as you picked up the blister pack, you found that it was empty.

“What?” you breathed. He prescribed you enough for seven days. Where was the last one? Had you accidentally double-dosed without knowing it? You wouldn’t put it past yourself to do something like that. The presentation slipped out of your mind entirely as you seemed to move purely on instinct, tugging the drawers open to also find nothing. When you crouched, you couldn’t find anything under the bed. There wasn’t anything in your luggage. Not even the closet where you’d habitually keep your pills hidden.

Your breathing was getting faster. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears, overwhelming you in white noise as you paced back and forth, shaky sobs leaving your lips as you clutched your hair in a firm grip. Just where was it?

Did Dr. Geto forget to give you enough?

No. It couldn’t be. He was a professional, someone like him wouldn’t make such an amateur mistake. He said it himself: he wanted to help you. It made no sense why he would screw you over like this. This was on you, you thought. You were responsible for keeping them and taking them per instruction. A doctor wouldn’t make a mistake like this. Dr. Geto wouldn’t make a mistake like this.

Your nails dug into your palms as a broken wail escaped you. You needed it. You had an important class later, it was almost exam season—you needed to do well. Your eyes scanned the room once again. Your old ones had already run out; the new pills were your only option, but both of them were gone.

You cursed and harshly wiped away your tears with your sleeve. You were going to be late. You’d just have to run to the clinic as soon as your next class ended. That’s right, you echoed in your head, nodding frantically. That was all you had to do. You could do this, you could. This has happened before. You just needed to try to keep yourself together.

“I can do this,” you repeated to yourself. “I can. I can.”

Tugging your hood over your head, you grabbed your bag and hurried your way to class, trying to ignore the dull ache at your temples. You could take a painkiller later. For now, there was no time—you had to go.

Your breathing was going back to normal by the time you stepped inside the room with a couple of minutes left to spare. Though you weren’t the only one late, humiliation still washed over you. It felt like an omen. You somehow lost or accidentally double-dosed on your pills, you arrived past your self-designated time, and all eyes were on you. Things were all going downhill from here, you just knew it.

You meekly shuffled to the back of the class instead of taking a seat at your usual spot. Maybe the professor would be less likely to call on you that way. The student beside you smiled in greeting and moved his bag for you. You didn’t know his name, but he was nothing but friendly to you the whole semester. It was embarrassing, being in front of someone who recognised you while in such a pitiful state, but there was nothing you could do.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked. His brows furrowed, brown eyes looking at you in concern. “You wanna go to the infirmary? I mean, Fushiguro’s great at taking notes, we can just copy from him.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Just overslept.”

Thankfully, he seemed to buy it.

“Oh man, I totally get you. I actually ran here a bit before you did.” He patted your back, the action more awkward than it was comforting. Before he went back to chatting with his friends, he smiled at you. “Glad you’re okay.”

You returned the gesture. Though it didn’t quite reach your ears, he didn’t seem to notice or mind it that much. Luckily enough, the conversation ended there. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The last thing you needed was for anyone to see you in a state like this. It was better to stop it as soon as it happened.

“Today we’ll talk about transference…”

The voice of your professor eventually became muffled as the ringing in your ears grew louder. The headache was getting harder to ignore and you felt cold, your hands trembling under the desk as your mouth felt like it had just dried up. The world seemed like it was spinning and fading into a blur, and you swore you could hear the boy next to you call out in concern, but you felt heavy like you were falling—

You collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, raising gasps all around you as the boy next to you froze for a moment. You traversed between the light and the dark, barely registering the voices speaking over your weary body.

“—you’re the strongest out of all of us, Yuji, carry her!”

“Shit, yeah, okay—”

“—her friends? Take her to the doctor.”

Your bottom lip quivered, your hands loosely gripping the front of his shirt as he carried you in his arms, swiftly making his way across the campus. Tears sprung to your eyes as you blubbered, latching on to him to help keep you grounded. Nothing else was registering in your mind, only the cold and tremors that got worse the more you cried.

As your sniffles quietened down, you heard a familiar voice—the doctor—talking about something with someone while you felt yourself sink into a soft surface. Queasiness held you in its grasp, left your stomach churning. It dragged you deeper and deeper, distracting you from the sharp prick in the back of your hand before you fell into nothingness.

—

The fluorescent white light was unkind to your vision as you slowly blinked awake.

You felt… strange. Like you were floating. Like you weren’t in your own body. You felt weary, incredibly so, that just forcing yourself to sit up felt impossible. The world was coming back to clarity the longer you kept your eyes open. You were no longer in the lecture hall but in a doctor’s office. Your seatmate must have carried you here, you thought. You parted your lips to speak, tried to call out for anyone, but your voice wouldn’t come out.

You fell back against the pillow, your eyelids fluttering closed again. It wasn’t until the door slid open did you finally feel more alert, bottom lip quivering the moment Dr. Geto stepped in. How could he still smile at you after what you’d done? After you broke his trust?

He took a seat next to the bed you were on. You whimpered out his name, blindly reaching for him with what energy left you could muster. You wanted to apologise, to try to explain yourself, but instead—

“You didn’t give me enough,” you whispered, the rest of your words dissolving into soft and incoherent whines. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do or how you were supposed to feel. Anger? Regret? Ironically, emotions seemed like the least of your worries when he was right next to you. You stared at him, your eyes glazing over with tears. “‘m sorry.”

You barely felt a warm hand clasped on top of yours as he sighed deeply, taking a glance at the heart monitor by his side.

“It was my mistake,” he said. You shook your head weakly, a quiet no leaving your lips. “I’ve failed you as your doctor.”

“No,” you repeated in what you hoped was a more assertive tone. It felt useless to wish for something like that. Maybe you should just stop thinking overall and let whatever this was play out on its own. You were so tired, but slumber was falling out of your hands and replaced by a burden upon your shoulders, guilt. “No, doctor…”

You wanted to tell him it was your fault. That this was just another lapse of memory, just like the last time and the time before that. There was a sense of fear clouding your mind, a flash of a warning that disappeared as fast as it came. You felt like there was something you should tell him or even ask him, but you couldn’t think of what it was.

“You’ll be alright now,” Dr. Geto reassured you. “How are you feeling?”

You couldn’t answer.

Just why were you nervous? There was nothing wrong here. He took care of you while you were unconscious, made sure you’d survive. You mumbled something under your breath, tears building up at the corners of your eyes the more you tried to speak. Bringing your hands up to your face, you shake your head again, this time allowing yourself to cry freely.

He softly shushed you, gingerly urging you to look at him. You let out a choked sob as he pried your hands off your face, saying your name in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“You’re okay now,” he said, “Don’t cry.”

You weren’t sure how long he comforted you. All you could do was cry and cry until there was nothing left, until all your sobs became sniffles and exhaustion crawled into your bones, finding a home in your being. A rustle of fabric and you were being lifted in his arms, your head dropping as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

“I’m cold,” you exhaled shakily, nestling closer to him in an instinctive search for warmth and comfort. “I wanna go home.”

You couldn’t hear what he said as you succumbed to fatigue, further and further away until you came to again. You’re not in the clinic this time but in someone else’s room on a softer, warmer bed. The haze you’re trapped in overpowers the warning alarms in your head, replacing them with a sense of longing for the doctor who’s been taking care of you so well. Your wish is granted as the mattress dips with someone’s weight. Dr. Geto sits at the side, gently clasping his hand over your thigh as he says your name, soft as the wind.

“I don’t…” you trail off. What were you going to ask him? Were you just anxious that he was gone? “Something… Something’s wrong.”

“Are you still feeling sick?”

“I don’t know.”

You turn on your side, bringing your legs to your chest as you curl deeper into the blankets. You glance up at him. He’s not wearing his doctor’s coat anymore. Is he going somewhere?

He gently brushes stray hairs off your face before cupping the side of your face, wiping your tears away with his thumb. When did you start crying? You don’t know why you still feel so tired, or why you keep forgetting things the moment you think of them. But maybe you don’t have to know. Maybe you just need to trust him and just fall.

There isn’t any strength left in your system. Briefly, you’re reminded of how this is just like when you were in the emergency room years ago, alone and confused and helpless. Still, you force yourself up and crawl to him before resting your head on his lap. Like he’s in tune with you, his fingers card through your hair, comforting and familiar. You don’t think you’ve felt that in years.

You’re in a daze and you’re starting to enjoy how it felt. You don’t have to think anymore. Don’t have to worry, don’t have to feel afraid. Still, you can’t help but call for him again, as if you were worried he’d disappear if you stopped looking at him.

“Doctor…”

“Suguru.”

“Suguru,” you echo. Something feels wrong. He’s your doctor. This isn’t the hospital or the clinic. You should get up and run, get away as far as you can, but it feels so good to be held by him. Your mother used to do the same thing until you fell asleep and got lost in a dream. Dr. Geto—no, Suguru—is warm. He loves you. He cares for you.

You don’t want it to end.

“I can’t do this without you.”

You stare into space, completely missing his smirk as he coos in reply, voice sweet like honey, “I know. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?”

He urges you to sit up properly before handing you two pills and a glass of water, comfortingly patting the top of your head when you take them from him. Your body moves on its own, far too used to this routine—take the pills, take a sip, swallow. Your limbs feel like jelly as you slump against him, resting your head on his chest. Strong arms wrap themselves around your frame and hold you close to a steady heartbeat.

Soft whines and whimpers leave your lips without you realising it. He’s so warm, a stark difference to how cold his office is, and the longer he holds you, the more you feel like you’re drifting away, sinking deeper, deeper…

“I do.”

And you let yourself fall into the ocean’s depths.

[popcornforone]

Make Me A Match

Day 15 of Pedrotober (The Materialist Prompt)

Masterlist

Well I don’t think he has a name yet (it was rumoured it was Randy, Rocco or Ricky) but that didn’t stop the few shots we got from this filming taking over our feeds for a few days in the spring did it. We were fed well.

Synopsis:- Your morning wake up is anything but slow.

Word Count:-800

Warning over & above:- anal sex, not exclusive relationship, piv sex,mentions of oral female receiving, older gentleman, lying, swearing(I’m sure I am doing this man a disservice & his character won’t be like this at all but you know)

Thanks for the read peoples. Remember to check out everyone else doing pedrotober thanks to @alyssamariag & @norththelemon

“Fuck oooh fuck” you moan. Your arse taking a pounding as he thrusts deeper inside you. You didn’t pull the curtains last night when you went to bed. Those two huge bunches of roses meant you didn’t even get to cook dinner. He’d been out of town for a while, & now he was back to seduce & win you over. He knows you’re not exclusive, but every time he comes around you remember you prefer a man, not a boy who thinks he can.

Your bed was still sticky with sweat & sex when his alarm went off at 5am but he was clever he set an early alarm to get more you time before he left. Morning kisses around your neck lead onto him eating out your pussy before turning you over. You’re on your front head buried into to the pillow as he has his legs either side of you claiming your arse. Your moans fill the room.

“God baby so tight, so fucking tight” he growls & is now balls deep, he’s gonna cum soon. Your skin red from where he’s been gripping, your own fingers pleasuring your clit to make sure you cum as well.

“Please baby please”

“Fuck darling ooooh fuck” he whines & fills your arse up & that sensation means you let go. Your cum seeping out of your sex as he withdraws his cock from your arse. You collapse onto the bed. He lies next to you & you both turn to your side panting & breathless. The way his lips feel on yours has you blushing even more. How can a man look that soft after he’s just been so dirty & feral at 5am. He smiles softly as the orange glow of the sun rise creeps across you giving you even more of a morning glow.

“You always look so cute when your freshly fucked in the morning” his squinting form the sun warms your heart.

“& your so sexy when you tell me how cute I am” your run your hand through his hair & giggle. “But do you have to leave?” You whimper.

“A multi billion dollar business can’t run itself baby”

“But can’t you do it from bed?”

“Only if you say you’ll be mine, & no one else’s.” You pause. Your job as a match maker means you try to never be exclusive just to prove there’s lots of different types for people. You sigh & go to explain but then you see the roses behind him & smile. You know you’re just lying to yourself if you say no.

“Yea, I think I am yours, I just think I’ve been kidding myself for so long.”

He rolls on top of you, the kiss deep & long, his erection pushing into your belly. You moan & your legs part. Desperate for his affection despite having only finished your last session moments ago

“Match maker, match maker, make me a match…” he sings. “Who’s have thought I’d have ended up marching with the woman I paid to help me match with others”

“Not me old man,” you giggle.”but your exactly what I need baby &….oooooh fuck” in he slips his penis, your pussy filled in an instant, clamping around it hard.

“Fuck baby don’t make me cum already”both his hands start roaming your body as you both thrust.

“You got this handsome”

Moans fill the room for the next half an hour, you’ve never had such intimate sex as this. Clamping constantly as he drags against you, your special spot bring hit every time. Your clit will never be neglected again. He’s so sensitive & and romantic when he wants to be. He is the man you’ve always needed. As you both cum, stars fill the air & he moans as loud as you.

A couple of hours later you sit up after a short nap, still naked in your bed, the sun now completely up. He’s showered, put on his nice brown shirt & snazzy jacket he got from Milan & his smart jeans. His hair perfectly in place. No one in the outside world will realise how passionate he has been. How he likes to fuck his girlfriend in the arse each morning he’s here. He will just be like any other ceo in the city.

He leans next to the vase & picks out 2 roses, putting one in his jacket pocket & traces the other up over your still naked breasts, up your neck & over your face, placing it behind your ear.

“You’re more beautiful than ever baby”he whispers before kissing your lips.

“That’s because I found me a match, & I’m not gonna let him go”

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil film portraying notorious crime during dictatorship strikes chord: ‘It hasn’t been overcome’

Abduction and murder of Rubens Paiva under the 1964-85 regime is retold in new box office hit I’m Still Here

They came for Rubens Paiva one Wednesday lunchtime in January 1971, barging into his beachfront home in Rio and carting him off – to where nobody knew.

“I didn’t have even the slightest idea what was going to happen. Much less that my sister and my mother would be arrested the next day. It was a terrifying feeling,” recalled the engineer and politician’s son, Marcelo Rubens Paiva, who was 11 at the time.

After a short but frightful stay in a torture centre run by Brazil’s military dictatorship, Pavia’s female relatives were released. But his 41-year-old father would never return. Authorities only acknowledged his murder 25 years later, when a death certificate was issued. Paiva’s remains were never found.

The abduction and murder of Rubens Paiva – one of the most notorious crimes of the 1964-85 regime – is retold in a new box office hit by the Golden Globe-winning film-maker Walter Salles, whose cast includes the grande dame of Brazilian cinema, Fernanda Montenegro.

I’m Still Here, which is based on a book by Marcelo Rubens Paiva of the same name, has struck a chord in a country still wrestling with the legacy and political consequences of its 21-year dictatorship. Nearly 2 million people have watched it at cinemas since its release in early November. Paiva’s 2015 book has shot up lists of bestsellers.

Continue reading.

[luminofilmsofficial]

Had a marvellous day with Astrid Schulz doing costume and photography of Florence Wright and Gabriela Heath doing her magic with hair and makeup at the National Theatre Costume house. We were photographing images to use for the poster of Winds of Transition a feature film for next year about the Suffragettes.

It was interesting to follow the process - using all the correct undergarments and transforming a modern girl to one from c1910.

[kingrosalani]

My short film ‘Garden of Des Moines’ will be playing at the Varsity Cinema for the DSM Underground Film Festival November 1st!

https://youtu.be/0f7LR44ifoo?si=6er4ExPvgRefBL_d

[farasen]

This was already said in the Replies but my 'we listen but we Don't judge' opinion is that Jojo in the show is kinda a weirdo. the Natascha clothes thing, the Kiss he gives Vanessa... I dunno why the show makers decided to include that. 2012 I guess. And I'm happy the Fandom ignores it. On the opposite end of the Spectrum: I always thought Leon would grow up to be a hetero Fuckboy. Its just his Vibes to me. Do you have any 'we listen but we don't judge' Thoughts of your own?

They did him dirty, my goat Jojo would never

As to my own thoughts... Speaking of the show, my biggest issue with it is probably the way they present Vanessa. I've already talked about it in my previous post, so I'll just put it briefly: starting an episode focused on female's problems with a phrase "I hate girls" from a girl (!!!), make her outright say that boys are better at football, and then present her as a good role model for girls is NOT how you write a feminist episode.

Also the way they've watered down Kong's progress. Literally change episode 6 and 8 places and it would make more sense.

And if we take films and books(?) in consideration: OMG I DON'T FUCKING CARE FOR THEIR RELATIONSHIP DRAMAS, THESE JEALOUSY AND BORDERLINE CHEATING SCENARIOS ARE PISSING ME OFF.

[bitter69uk]

“I was always leaving. Every time I left, I had a different hair colour, and I would be standing on the porch saying goodbye to the older couple in the living room. I didn’t have anything in common with them except that we shared a few inherited chromosomes, the identical last night name and the same bathroom … at this point it would dawn on me there was another problem. Not only was I an alien to my parents, but I was an alien to my friends.” From the book Garden of Ashes (1990) by Cookie Mueller

“Cookie looked like Janis Joplin-meets-Jayne Mansfield, a redneck hippie with a little bit of glamour drag thrown in. She never led a safe life, unsafe was her middle name. She lived on the edge, always.” John Waters on Cookie Mueller.

“Cookie Mueller was a punk when it still meant someone who was raped in prison.” John Waters on Cookie Mueller

Died on this day thirty-five years ago: definitive Baltimore bad girl Cookie Mueller (2 March 1949 – 10 November 1989). The smoky-eyed and vivacious underground actress (she’s a charismatic presence in early John Waters films like Multiple Maniacs (1970), Pink Flamingos (1972) and Female Trouble (1974)), go-go dancer, globe-trotter, advice columnist, art critic, drug dealer, New York scene-maker, eyeliner role model, muse to photographer Nan Goldin (who described Mueller as “the most fabulous woman I’d ever seen”) and authoress of autobiographical volumes like Walking Through Clear Water in a Pool Painted Black and Garden of Ashes died of AIDS-related complications aged just 40. (As well as Mueller’s own musings, I’d recommend Chloe Griffin’s excellent 2014 biography Edgewise: A Picture of Cookie Mueller). Portrait by Bob Berg.

[neechees]

Looking back on Twilight criticism is so funny because mainstream crit (that I saw anyway) was all focused on "Ew girls like it" when literally the ENTIRE BOOK NEEDS CRITICISM IT STARTS WITH A CREEPY DUDE WATCHING A GIRL WHILE SHE SLEEPS AND WHEN SOMEONE ASKS "How much racism will Smeyer add?" SHE ANSWERED "Yes."

Exactlyyy. White ppl will like hide behind any type of marginalization they face (like misogyny, homophobia, etc) when they wanna dodge either being accused of racism, or things they like that are racist & being critisizes for that racism, even when said marginalization has nothing to do with it.

Twilight itself is an extremely misogynistic book, where it places White women as the ultimate standard of femininity, particular thin rich White women who are stay at home moms, home makers, etc, and places all other women as not as good or "pure" as them. Bella at 17 literally looks after her dad and cooks and cleans for him. Leah is demonized as a Native woman for literally no reason & gets used as a punching bag throughout the film & books. Abortion is seen as "murder", even when the fetus is slowly killing the mother & clawing its way out of her. There's more obvi but those are just a few examples.

But even if you ignore the racism or misogyny (which you shouldn't) it also romantisizes abuse, what with Edward fitting ALL "signs that your partner is abusive" ticks.

If you ignore the romantisization of abuse, it's also classist: the Cullens are upheld as this angelic set if vampires who are literally billionaires, and could go any fucking place in the world, but they decide to go to the one place they agreed not to go near (due to a treaty with the Quileute Forks) & where they were literally already colonizers who disrupted & harmed the Native population & where they're a threat to the Quileute & they go there for no reason. Edward replaces Bella's old car that her dad & Jacob had fixed up for her (which she had already stated to adore, one reason being that she has an interest in old things) with a sports car, purely to one up Jacob. They all drive various sports cars & Alice routinely wears & throws out clothes. They're held up to this romantisized standard against Bella & the Quileute tribe's middle to lower class status, & this is meant to be another point of why Edward is supposedly better than Jacob (because he is rich).

If you ignore the classism, racism, & misogyny then there's also the weird Mormon ideology literally baked into the entire series, & it can be considered essentially Mormon propaganda. The Native characters are demonized, obviously (considering Mormons literally think Native people are evil). None of the vampires have tattoos but all the werewolves do, & according to the lore, any and all tattoos get removed after becoming a vampire (which is what Mormons believe happens to tattoos in their afterlife). In the books, any poc who become vampires become pale regardless of their skin color in life, & again, this is what Mormons believe happens to poc who become Mormons & enter the afterlife. The whole "no sex before marriage" thing & the abortion thing. Bella & a lot of the other non-demonized female characters dress pretty conservatively, & Edward finds a full length skirt sexy & "indecent". The (white) vampires are repeatedly compared to "angels" & called beautiful & perfect. Other non Christian, non-Mormon religions (& the people that belong to/practice them) in the series are routinely demonized & mocked. Vampirism, but namely for the White characters, is literally an allegory for White Mormons in heaven.

If you ignore all the above and a bunch of other bigoted & weird shit in the series that I haven't yet mentioned, then it's genuinely just very dumb & badly written with stupid logic. Bella thinks it's weird how the Cullens all have really old names when HER name is literally "Isabella Swan". The Cullens literally hate the Quileute & "werewolves" for no fucking reason since they literally trespassed on Quileute land as colonizers in the 1800s, & it's already been established that the shapeshifters aren't even actually real werewolves in the lore so therefore they have no inherent quarrel with them based on the vampire vs werewolves thing, so they just hate them for no reason. The vampires keep going to high school & learning the same shit over and over again when they could be going to COLLEGE or idk doing something productive. Jasper apparently has to teach the Natives how to fight so obviously Smeyer has never seen a rez fight. Jasper is considered a "newborn" even though he was literally turned in the 1860s. Bella gave her kid the dumbest name ever. Ppl have been memeing & making fun of this series since it came out, & I feel like it's hypocritical for twilight fans to both say "ppl only hated it because girls liked it but its actually really good!" While also saying they find it hilarious even the actors made fun of it & hated making it because of its many faults (like so you agree? People made fun of it even back then?) And while also saying they "enjoy it critically" meaning. They admit there's something wrong with it, but still get mad when ppl critisize it.

[des2dream]

Sailor Moon Thought 2! So......Saban Moon

There's a lot to unpack with Toon Makers' version of Sailor Moon back in 1994 or as many fans like to call it, Saban Moon! Before the beloved anime was dubbed by DIC Entertainment in America, people saw the success it was bringing from Japan and wanted a piece of it. The company, Toon Makers had come up with an idea to American-ize the show by starting from scratch and making something both familiar and different to the story of Sailor Moon as a whole! The concept had been to have Sailor Moon and The Sailor Guardians escape to Earth by order of Queen Serenity when Queen Beryl interrupts the union between Sailor Moon and Prince Endymion and launches an attack. Now living on Earth, the girls stay in a female boarding school where they spend their "normal teenage girl" lives until they're summoned again to stop Beryl's evil forces in Space. To make things more interesting, the girls were to be filmed in live action while they were students and then switch to animation once they're called to save the day. Similar to Saban's Power Rangers when they transform from American live action footage to Japanese footage. Hence the nickname, Saban Moon!

The idea was bizarre, strange, and yet....very 90s! While in live action, it seems as though Sailor Moon and The Guardians would have been dealing with the usual adventures of a teenage girl. School dances, sleepovers, boys, makeovers, preparing for exams, and likely discussing plans to stop Beryl. There also seems to be a personality change in our Magical Girls compared to their Japanese counterparts. Sailor Moon is more courageous compared to the crybaby antics she was known for in the first arc. Mercury is more witty and provides comedy rather than being a shy genius. Mars is no longer a shrine maiden, but a more athletic enthusiast by looking at her wardrobe. Jupiter has changed into becoming the friend group's genius by using words such as, "Statistically speaking..." As for Venus, she seems to be the more fashionable and "girly" out of the group. Not only have their personalities changed, but their NAMES as well! Everyone is familiar with the DIC dub names like Serena, Lita, Amy, etc., but not even those were the official names of the girls back then. Usagi was changed to Victoria, Ami was changed to Blue, Makoto was changed to Sara, Rei was changed to Dana, and Minako was changed to Carrie. Only Mamoru's DIC name (Darien) remained.

When the girls aren't hitting the textbooks, they're heading off on their Sky-Flyers to their next Outer Space adventure. I do like the idea of using colorful flying sailboats as it plays on the sailor aspect of Sailor Moon. Very cute and I'm sure it was also meant to sell Sky-Flyer play-sets. It seems as though Queen Beryl is sending her forces out into the galaxy in her search to find The Jewels of Power that our guardians aim to protect. The girls fight their hardest in battle and are even accompanied by the help of Tuxedo Mask (or The Masked Tuxedo) with a single rose to help Sailor Moon use her finishing attack. We also have Sailor Moon's beloved companion, mentor, and talking cat, Luna! However, she's now taken the appearance of a fluffy white cat rather than a skinny black cat. The crescent moon on her forehead is thankfully still present. She takes on the role of alerting the girls whenever trouble arises so they can step into action. The similarities between the original 90s anime and Toon Maker's version aren't too far off from each other. Princess Sailor Moon and daughter of Queen Serenity is sent on a mission to stop the Evil Queen Beryl with the help of The Sailor Guardians, guidance from Luna, and support from Tuxedo Mask. Same concept, but different scenarios and several personality changes.

Unfortunately, Toon Makers was only able to make a one-episode pilot that wasn't picked up for a full series. Filming live action scenes with added animation was too expensive to work with at the time for a Saturday-Morning cartoon. That's when the idea hit that dubbing the anime in English and airing it in America was a cheaper option. While the animation does look messy, there's also this certain charm to it similar to shows like Moon Dreamers, Rainbow Brite, My Little Pony, and She-Ra. The audio may not be the best and the acting can be a little wonky, but it also has that late 80s/early 90s charm sprinkled in. I also appreciate how diverse the cast is when it comes to our leading ladies! Something that I feel would've motivated young lives during the 90s. Had this become a full series that aired on TV, I genuinely believe that I would get into it! This kind of media seemed right up my alley when I was little (and still to this day). I loved MLP, Winx Club, Barbie, Disney Princesses, and I especially gained a love for Sailor Moon! I would've loved to see Toon Makers' spin on the first arc of the anime.....and the other arcs too. Artemis was said to be in the series, so would he have been a black cat instead? What would Chibiusa (or Rini) be like during The Black Moon arc and would she be "Victoria's" future daughter or long-lost little sister since Usagi and Chibiusa gave much more sibling energy in the anime? How would The Outer-Sailor Guardians act during The Death Busters arc? Would they include Helios? Naru (or Molly)? What about Darien? Since Sailor Moon and the girls are staying in a female boarding school, would there have been a rival male boarding school where Darien attends? Could Darien have lost his memories during the attack with Queen Beryl and now takes on a secret identity as Tuxedo Mask? Would Darien and "Victoria" act as school rivals while also pining for each other in their galactic adventures? So much to wonder about....We may not have gotten a series, but we do have the pilot which is now available to see thanks to a special lost media detective, Ray Mona who took so much time and effort to find it. I'll even treat you all to the interesting theme song/music video that came with the pilot! IN THE NAME OF THE MOON, I'LL ENTERTAIN YOU!!!