#for context i have social media anxiety

[curiositysavesthecat]

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[mariacallous]

Trump is staffing his cabinet with billionaires, who will break the government out of incompetence, spite, or avarice. So why not just go for class politics, and forget about everything else? As the country reaches unprecedented levels of inequality, why not just tear off the oligarchs' masks? Why not present them as merchants of death?

We should all know who they are, how wealthy they are, from what sources, and how they profit from holding power. And, in some better future, we should all benefit from anti-oligarchical policies that make us all more free. We have to talk about inequality, about class.

But America cannot get to social justice only by talking about class. I want to consider the last few weeks and months -- the campaign, its outcome, the CEO assassination -- to think through how an effective opposition might work.

The election itself gives is an important clue. Oligarchy could have been halted at the ballot box. Harris would have been very different from Trump on taxes and redistribution. Sure, she might have run from further on the Left, but she was not herself a wannabe oligarch, and would not have built a cabinet of oligarchs. Had the Democrats controlled Congress, her policies would have continued a trend toward redistribution that Biden had begun. Even without Congress, she would have prevented the Trumpian oligarchical orgy. So if people had wanted to prevent rule by billionaires, they could have done so.

Harris suffered from an incumbency problem. It was a "change" election. Around the world and for several years, post-covid, it has been strikingly hard for incumbents to win. The question, though, is why Trump got to be the "change" candidate. Here is a hint of why just referring to class will never be enough. The candidate who would have changed American society in the direction of equality was not the change candidate. The candidate who was associated with wealth was. This can only be understood as culture.

Rule by the wealthy is not change. The wealthy, putting it gently, have been in charge before. The oligarchs don't actually need the support of the voters to have more than sufficient power in the United States. Why did voters support them? I spent most of October in the Midwest and Great Plains, entirely in states that went for Trump (except Illinois). It is harder and harder to have these conversations, but I think I have some notion.

Trump voters saw their guy as the outsider, even though he has already been president once, and has been very present in media for forty years. For Harris voters, the fact that she is Black and a woman make her an outsider; for Trump voters, or at least for many of the ones with whom I spoke, they make her an insider. And that notion that women and Blacks direct a deep state is a cultural construct.

For Trump voters, or at least many of the ones with whom I spoke this fall, Trump's (supposed) wealth also made him the change candidate. Anyone who is wealthy is seen as a daredevil who broke the rules. The image of Trump as a trailblazer was created by the man himself, not by actual earnings. More deeply, though, the notion of the wealthy person as a hero is an American cultural construct. It makes of voting a cultural act: I want to feel like I am a part of that.

So when people say we need a class war, I sympathize. The grotesque inequality of wealth in the United States is at the root of countless problems. I dwell on this in both On Freedom and Road to Unfreedom. And, of course, in the coming years, cities and states should redistribute wealth and provide social services, thereby helping people to become free. At the national level, though, you cannot just declare a class war, because you cannot decide what class people belong to for them, or tell them what their class interests are. Even basic interests, like staying alive, being safe, or having money, are experienced in emotional contexts. Class anxiety can lead right to oligarchy or fascism or both.

If you are an oligarch, you know this. You win the class war by fighting the culture war. You engage negatively with both class and culture. You never say: "hey, I am Elon Musk, and I care about you, therefore I am writing every American family a check for $5,000." You stay away from numbers and math. You tell a story about how the wealth of the wealthy somehow benefits everyone. And you reinforce the idea that the people who threaten the prosperity of your voters are those who threaten their culture. And so Blacks or immigrants or transsexuals (or whoever) are always presented as threatened both prosperity and identity.

On the other side, those who want democracy rather than oligarchy must engage positively with culture in order to engage with class. That people even have a class identity is not given by nature. It is a result of education, experience, camaraderie. The welfare state was curtailed at its foundation in the 1930s and weakened in the 1980s because of racism. Labor unions became effective at defending wages when they became effective at admitting non-Whites. Americans deny themselves the policies that would serve them because of culture, because of who they see as the real people, the real citizens. And that is why we cannot effectively care about economic inequality without practical, everyday understanding of racial other sorts of inequality.

Orwell said that it is a constant struggle to see what is right in front of your nose. Culture can blind us to the obvious. Non-Blacks tend to project onto Blacks political irrationality and "identity politics." But who in America votes consistently with their economic interests? African Americans, in general. And is this because they are somehow free of culture, and just more rational than the rest of us? Perhaps. Or is it rather that they are not subject to the dominant form of identity politics, and can see through it? And that this knowledge is not just the experience of one life, but generationally transmitted, deeply connected to the actual history of the country? The very notion that African Americans are the savviest voters is practically unsayable in American English.

Let me give a second example of how culture frames what we see. Affirmative action by universities on the basis of race has been banned by the Supreme Court. But the largest affirmative action at universities, as an honest admissions officer will tell you, is on the basis of gender. In college admissions, boys with worse grades are favored over girls with better grades. (Did you have to read that sentence twice?) But it is unthinkable that a woman could bring and win a case at the Supreme Court on the basis of the discrimination that girls inarguably suffer in university admissions. That all of this is practically unsayable is a sign of how the culture works.

When we say "identity politics" in American English, we are usually invoking women, or Blacks, or gender or sexual minorities. That is itself a sign of how deeply culture affects our judgements, and by "culture" here I mean a deeply rooted sense, among many of us, of what is normal and therefore unworthy of comment. The most powerful form of identity politics is Trump's, and it goes something like this: "I am a rich white guy who breaks all the rules and who therefore gets to make them, and so you should enjoy the feel of my hand in your pocket as I pick it."

Of course, we should pass policies that address economic inequality where and when we can. But there are barriers to the success of this at a national level, barriers that the coming Trumpomuskovite regime will raise even higher. The oligarchs understand all this, and those who wish to resist or defeat them must know how to turn a vicious circle into a virtuous one.

The work that has to be done on American racism is hard, and it is part of the work that has to be done on American social injustice. This might seem to make matters harder. But it doesn't, really. The impossible is harder than the difficult, and so avoiding the impossible is a good idea. Trying to do things that are impossible, like addressing class without addressing culture, is not the right use of energy.

And in an important way these realizations makes matters easier. The work that needs to be done in the culture has to be done every day. But that means that it can be done every day, in small ways, by all of us.

Some of that everyday work involves our analysis of the election. Personally, I hold the unpopular view that Harris ran a good campaign, if not a perfect one, and that the reasons she lost -- anti-incumbency, the internet generally, Twitter bias, Musk's money, Trump's talent, media cowardice, U.S. history -- were not things we can really blame her for not overcoming in a few months. I do agree with some lines of critique: I think that she should have let Walz be Walz, and used more grandiose language about her economic policies.

Where I disagree is the notion that Harris lost because of her "identity politics." She did not run her campaign on "identity politics" in the sense that is meant. Harris did not emphasize being Indian, or Black, or a woman. Trump's campaign, however was identity politics from start to finish. Trump ran as a rich white guy and won; Harris ran as an American and lost.

Trump succeeded because of his identity politics, which brings race and class together in a certain way. By connecting the desire for change with emotions that make it impossible, he (and many others) generate, in the end, sadopopulism: a politics that works not because all benefit but because some learn to take pleasure in the greater suffering of others. Deportations have to be understood in this light: they are a spectacle of the suffering of others. So does mass incarceration.

A test for this, as we have been recently reminded, is health. Persuading people that it is normal to pay for shorter lives is the litmus test of sadopopulism. In America, we do in fact pay exorbitant amounts of money to harmful middlemen who kill us by denying us care that we could afford if their scam did not exist. (It is a sign of our cultural problem that we say "insurance" or "health care" when we mean "death grift.") The recent assassination of the CEO of the misnamed company UnitedHealthcare brought the middleman problem into focus. On the internet, people on the Right joined people on the Left is sharing family stories of expense, uncertainty, suffering and death.

Will it matter that almost everyone agrees? Why did people who want better health care vote for Trump? Why do we not have a single-payer system? Who do we pay so much more and get so much less than other people in other countries? Why was it so hard for both Bill Clinton and Barack Obama, who were very popular presidents, to pass the kind of health care reform they favored? Part of it is, of course, that we have too much money in politics (a class factor, let's say); but part of it is that many people who would gain security, prosperity, and lifespan from a better system don't want it if they have to share it with others (a culture factor, let's say).

How this will play out under the coming Trump regime is a test. If Trump were a true populist, which he is not, he would seize on the issue of health care to gain support from Americans all over the political spectrum (this is an idea I steal from Kate Woodsome). The grifter king must protect all grifts. UnitedHealthcare, a company that makes lots of money by delivering a lethal absence, represents just the sort of capitalism that a Trump regime must celebrate. Indeed, the plan in the middle term (RFK JR.) seems to be to make us all sicker, so that even more advanced grifts are possible.

And so in Trumpomuskovia a way will have to be found to change the subject from health care, to blame the Blacks or the migrants or the trans people for all the lethal dysfunctionality, to connect the assassin himself to some conspiracy of unlikable figures, or something. It's not clear just how this will work -- most likely, the first move will be not to move at all, in the reasonable hope that the policies of January and February and March will be so frightening that people will forget about health care. And maybe this will work.

If it does, we can look forward to a new kind of fascism. In the traditional sort, your children had to die on the front to perpetuate a vision of racial glory. In this iteration, your children have to die of diseases so that people who are already billionaires can become wealthier. The Trumpomuskovian policy will be to keep the death-grift billionaires we have, and create new ones by ending vaccinations and thereby opening the snake oil market.

This is a deepening of class differences, between the wealthy and the long-lived and the financially and existentially precarious. It is possible future thanks not only to greed, but also to a culture in which we don't see our own health care problems as everyone's, and in which we can be easily drawn, by personal fears that activate prejudice, away from seeing ourselves as part of a larger class of people who could be living better and longer lives.

All the same, it won't be enough to be outraged at the terrible injustice in the abstract. Even when the issue is life itself, "class not race" won't work. We need the mode of outrage at the numbers. But we will also need the mode of empathy for African Americans and others whose marginalization has been used to keep health care -- and good policy generally -- from coming about. This is the most important effort, over time. How shock, including the shock of illness, strikes a population depends on how that population has prepared itself. And, yet, we will also need empathy for people who voted for Trump and who get sick. People change their minds, but not usually when they are suffering alone. This is a different kind of move, hard for different reasons, but necessary.

About class, about differences in wealth, we need clarity, and we need outrage. But we will not get far without equal clarity about race. Without empathy for others, we cannot see ourselves. Without empathy, every inequality can get worse, and will. But Trump and Musk and other oligarchs can be stopped when they try to blame our health care debacle on those who suffer the most from it. They can be stopped when they try to ban vaccines and profit from further disease and death. With empathy, health care might just be an issue where the oligarchy fails to consolidate, and the people begin to hear themselves speak.

[discursiverecursion]

Psst... Queer American fam...

A lot of us are in survival mode right now, and who knows how long that is going to last. An onslaught could begin the first day, or it could be relatively quiet until a storm breaks, so our background stress/anxiety levels are going to be high, and some of the effects of excess circulating cortisol include anxiety, depression, trouble sleeping, headaches, digestive problems, and problems with memory and focus.

It’s normal to be struggling right now.

It means you’re human.

I know this sounds bad, but I’m restating a thing I think many people already know, because the thing is, a common tactic of the Right is to put people in a stressful situation and then blame them for their response to it (I’ve seen this referred to in other contexts as “reactive trauma”). As queer folks and people being targeted, we might think we are immune to this, but it works more insidiously than that. It can tear us apart, and it plays out like the following:

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

As violence towards our community escalates, they will start publically pointing at things “we are doing” that are “causing” the escalation. 

They will use this term “we”, because they don’t understand that we are not homogeneous.

Sometimes we ourselves, as individuals, will not be part of that “we”. 

It will be terrifying, in that moment, to have rights stripped away (or worse) without having any perceived control, and that lack of control will feel like it is due to the actions of another being blamed on you. 

DON’T FALL FOR IT THOUGH!

This is misdirection. They do not have to hurt us, even if we are loudly gay, even if we protest the ways they are hurting us already.

Please, please don’t let yourself get to a safe place and wonder why others aren’t hiding. You are allowed to keep yourself safe. In fact, I encourage it, but please remember that those of us fighting this thing publicly are not the enemy. We need your support and solidarity.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

We are a big family with many different survival strategies:

We don't all have to utilize the same one

We don't have to stick with our original choice over time

We are not bound to only using one at a time

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’m going to end this with a list of some survival strategies found in nature, because I'm definitely rambling and this was the thought I actually started typing this post with:

Do you recognize any of your own strategies in the list below?

Do you recognize any that are the opposite?

Can you hold that we are all in this together coping in our own ways, that we are not each others’ enemies?

Can you remember that "health" is a social construct, and that a strategy doesn't have to be the "best" one for it to be functional for the time being to keep someone alive?

I hope you can, because we will need each other to get through the coming years.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

STRATEGIES:

Becoming a spore (more info) - Shutting down completely for a bit - Sleeping more - Building mental walls

Playing dead (more info) - Retreating from social life  - Retreating from social media - Missing work

Camouflage (more info) - Going back in the closet - Codeswitching - Becoming extremely quiet

Mimicry of a more dangerous creature (more info) - Being argumentative/loud - Being assertive - Presenting even more queerly

Nocturnality (more info) - Nocturnality - Avoiding people - Staying in a social bubble

Distraction (more info) - Drag - Hacking - Certain forms of protest

Pursuit-Deterrent Signals (more info) - Making oneself needed - Feigning compliance - Presenting in “stealth” mode

Mobbing (more info) - Protests - Taking down websites - Coworker solidarity to create workspace change

Staying in the middle of a group (more info) - Being in community support networks - Going to therapy - Getting to know your neighbors

Sounding an alarm (more info) - Being loud on social media - Being loud in the workplace - Naming the quiet parts out loud

[muiitoloko]

Could you write an angsty with happy ending Alan x reader imagine in which reader quotes a line from a movie in an interview and thar is used for a promo for the interview, but of course it’s used out of context to lure people in and Alan sees it and it causes a fight between you guys

Title: Reel Lies, Real Love

Summary: When a viral video threatens to destroy their relationship, Alan and his partner must navigate betrayal, insecurity, and forgiveness to find their way back to each other.

Warnings: Angst

Pairing: Alan Rickman × fem! Reader

Author's Notes: Merry Christmas! 🥰

Also read on Ao3

Alan settled onto the plush couch in his London flat, his iPad perched precariously on his knees. He squinted at the screen, his hazel eyes narrowing in concentration as he navigated the icons. Technology had never been his strong suit, but he was nothing if not determined. His godson had given him a crash course on this "social media" craze, a concept Alan found both fascinating and perplexing. Still, the idea of being able to watch your latest interview from across the Atlantic had motivated him to wrestle with this confounding device.

"Right," he muttered, his baritone voice carrying a hint of exasperation. "Where is this bloody YouTube button?"

After several minutes of poking at random icons, he finally stumbled upon the app. Alan allowed himself a triumphant grin, the corners of his mouth lifting in quiet satisfaction. "Brilliant," he murmured, tapping the icon and watching as the screen flickered to life. "Not bad for an old dog, eh?"

"All right, here we go," he muttered to himself, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he typed your name into the YouTube search bar. A plethora of videos populated the screen almost instantly—clips of interviews, red-carpet appearances, and even behind-the-scenes snippets. Alan couldn’t help but smile; your charm practically radiated through every thumbnail.

He scrolled carefully, his hazel eyes scanning for the most recent interview. Finally, one title jumped out at him, standing apart from the rest. It read:

“[Your Name] Shocks Fans: ‘I Would Never Marry Him!’”

Alan’s heart skipped a beat. The bluntness of the statement hit him like a slap, the words lodging uncomfortably in his chest. For a moment, he hesitated, his thumb hovering over the play button. Logic whispered that it could be a misquote, a clickbait title meant to draw attention. But curiosity—and a flicker of unease—pushed him to tap on it.

The video began with a cheerful introduction from a well-dressed interviewer, and Alan leaned forward slightly, his breath catching when you appeared on screen. You looked radiant, as always, your smile lighting up the room. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride, even as a knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach.

The interviewer started with light questions about the film, your co-stars, and your experiences on set. Alan’s lips quirked into a small smile as he listened to your eloquent responses, your humor and intelligence shining through. But then, the conversation took a turn.

Alan’s breath hitched as the video transitioned from light-hearted banter to a pointed question from the interviewer. The screen focused on the interviewer, who leaned in with a conspiratorial smile.

“You’ve been in a relationship with Alan for two years now,” the interviewer said casually, his tone laced with curiosity. “Do you have any plans to marry him?”

Alan’s brow furrowed, his hazel eyes fixed intently on the screen. A flicker of anticipation danced in his chest, quickly snuffed out by the sound of your laughter. The video cut to you, seated comfortably in your chair, a radiant smile lighting up your face. But it wasn’t the smile Alan had grown to adore—it was laughter, unguarded and light, as if the question had caught you off guard.

“Marry him?” you repeated, still laughing. “Oh no, not even if I were crazy. Never.”

The words struck like a blow, his chest tightening as he replayed them in his head. Never. His hooked nose flared as he inhaled sharply, his knuckles whitening as he clutched the iPad. The interview continued, the interviewer chuckling along with you, but Alan didn’t hear the rest.

He set the device down with deliberate care, his hands trembling slightly. The echo of your words reverberated in his mind, each repetition like a twist of the knife. He ran a hand through his silvered hair, his hazel eyes staring at the wall as he tried to make sense of what he’d heard.

“Two years,” he muttered under his breath, his baritone voice thick with disbelief. “Two bloody years.”

He wanted to dismiss it, to tell himself there must have been a misunderstanding. But the way you had laughed, the ease with which you dismissed the very idea of marrying him—it felt too real. It gnawed at insecurities he thought he had buried long ago, whispering that perhaps he was too old, too unworthy of the love you so freely gave on screen but apparently withheld in reality.

Alan stood abruptly, pacing the length of his living room. The plush rug muffled his footsteps, but the turmoil in his chest was deafening. Every laugh, every word in that interview played on repeat in his mind. He picked up his phone, his finger hovering over your contact name before he dropped it back onto the table. Confronting you now would only make him look desperate, wouldn’t it?

The hours dragged by, and Alan finally sank into his armchair, exhaustion overtaking the restless pacing. He stared out the window at the London skyline, the city lights twinkling faintly against the darkening sky. His heart ached with a familiar, dull weight—a longing for clarity, for reassurance, for you.

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, you sat in your hotel room scrolling through social media when you saw the headline:

“[Your Name] Slams Marriage Rumors with Alan Rickman: ‘Not Even If I Were Crazy!’”

Your stomach dropped. Clicking the link, you watched in disbelief as the video unfolded. It was a butchered version of the interview you had done just days ago. Your laughter and the line about “never marrying him” were shown out of context, manipulated to make it appear as if you were speaking about Alan when, in fact, you had been referring to your character’s reluctant relationship with a villainous love interest in the film.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you watched the fabricated exchange. The interviewer’s voice had clearly been re-recorded and spliced into the footage after you had left the studio. Your responses were genuine, but they were answers to entirely different questions, framed in a way that distorted their meaning.

Your hands shook as you dialed Alan’s number, the line ringing endlessly before going to voicemail. “Alan, please, call me back,” you said, your voice cracking. “You have to believe me. That video—it’s not real. They’ve edited it to twist my words. I’d never say something like that about you. Please, just… call me.”

You hung up, your mind racing. Alan was intelligent, discerning—surely, he would realize the video was a sham. But deep down, you knew how much it would have hurt him to see it. The way his self-deprecating humor sometimes masked lingering insecurities. And now, the idea that you’d laughed at the prospect of marrying him…

The hours passed in agonizing silence, your calls going unanswered. You paced the room, anxiety gnawing at your insides. Finally, unable to bear the distance, you booked a flight back to London for the following morning. If Alan wouldn’t answer your calls, you’d confront him in person.

The next morning, you stood outside Alan's door, heart pounding as your knuckles rapped against the heavy wood. It was early, the London air brisk and damp, and you hadn’t slept a wink after your red-eye flight. Every second of silence on the other side of the door stretched into eternity, your mind racing with every possible reaction Alan might have. Finally, the door opened, and there he was, dressed in his usual crisp shirt and slacks, his white hair slightly disheveled but his hazel eyes sharp and guarded.

You smiled, attempting to close the distance and kiss him as you usually did, but Alan turned his head, avoiding your lips entirely. The rejection stung, a cold ache blooming in your chest. He leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable.

“What do you want?” he asked, his baritone voice low but devoid of its usual warmth.

You blinked, stunned by the bluntness of his tone. “Alan, can I come in?” you asked softly, trying to steady your voice.

He exhaled through his nose, stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter with a stiff wave of his hand. “Make it quick,” he muttered. “I’m due on set soon.”

You walked in, the familiar comfort of his flat feeling suddenly foreign. He closed the door behind you and strode into the kitchen without a glance in your direction. The bitterness in his tone cut deep, but you forced yourself to push through it, following him as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He stood with his back to you, every movement deliberate, as if he was purposefully avoiding looking at you.

“Alan,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “That video—it’s not what it looks like. The interview was manipulated. I wasn’t talking about you.”

He didn’t respond, only lifting his mug to his lips and taking a slow sip. His silence was deafening, his refusal to even turn around twisting the knife in your chest.

“I flew all the way from New York to tell you this,” you said, desperation creeping into your voice. “I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t care about you—if I didn’t want to fix this.”

Finally, Alan set the mug down on the counter, his fingers gripping the edge tightly. For a moment, you thought he might turn to face you, but instead, he let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head.

“Fix it,” he repeated, his baritone voice laced with sarcasm. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat. “I spoke to my agent,” you said carefully. “He suggested we make a public statement together. It would clear everything up, and—”

“Ah,” Alan interrupted, his voice cutting through yours like a blade. He finally turned to face you, his hazel eyes cold and distant. “So that’s it, then. This isn’t about me, is it? It’s about you. About salvaging your precious image after this little scandal didn’t go down the way you hoped.”

Your stomach dropped, his words hitting like a punch to the gut. “Alan, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “That’s not what this is about. I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, his hooked nose flaring as his voice rose. “You didn’t come here for me. You came here because you��re worried about your bloody reputation. Don’t pretend this is some grand gesture of love.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “That’s not true,” you said, your voice breaking. “I came here because I love you. Because I wanted to make things right.”

Alan laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and mocking. “Love?” he said, shaking his head. “If this is love, then I want no part of it. You’ve always been a problem, haven’t you? A bloody headache from the start. And for what? You’re not worth it.”

The words struck like a hammer, shattering whatever hope you had left. Your breath hitched, the tears you’d been holding back spilling over as you stared at him, your heart breaking into pieces.

“Alan,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through…”

“Because it’s the truth,” he said coldly, his hazel eyes hard. “And here’s another truth for you: even if that video was a lie, it wouldn’t matter. Because I wouldn’t marry you either.”

You staggered back as if he’d physically struck you, your hand flying to your mouth to stifle a sob. The room felt suffocating, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a vice. “You don’t mean that,” you said weakly, your voice barely audible.

“I do,” he said firmly, his baritone voice like ice. “And I think it’s time you left.”

For a moment, you could only stand there, staring at him in disbelief as the weight of his cruel words hung in the air. The room felt unbearably small, suffocating, the walls pressing in on you as his hazel eyes—those eyes you once found so full of warmth—now bore into you with cold indifference. Then, something inside you snapped. Anger surged through your veins, igniting like wildfire, burning away the sadness and leaving only fury in its wake.

“An idiot,” you hissed, shoving him hard in the chest. “That’s what you are, Alan. A fucking idiot.”

Alan staggered back slightly, his expression shifting to one of shock and fury. “Don’t touch me,” he barked, his baritone voice sharp enough to cut glass. “I swear to God, if you lay another finger on me, I’ll get a restraining order so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“Oh, brilliant,” you spat, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Go ahead, Alan. Get your precious restraining order. Add it to the list of ways you can further tarnish my ‘beautiful reputation.’ You know, the one you think I care so much about.”

Alan’s lips curled into a bitter sneer. “Don’t tempt me,” he growled. “You’ve done a bloody good job of ruining it yourself. What’s next? Another fabricated scandal to boost your career?”

You stepped closer, refusing to back down, your fists clenched at your sides. “That’s rich coming from you,” you snapped. “You think I care about any of this more than I care about you? Do you have any idea how much it hurt to see that video, knowing how it could hurt you? I flew across the fucking ocean to fix this!”

“Fix it?” Alan repeated, his hooked nose flaring as he glared at you. “You didn’t come here to fix anything. You came here to save your own skin, to play the innocent little actress trying to save face. Don’t insult me by pretending otherwise.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound raw and harsh. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Alan. You think I’d go through all this trouble just for my image? You’re not as clever as you think you are. If you had half the brains you claim to have, you’d know I’m here because I love you. Because I thought you were worth fighting for.”

Alan took a step forward, his presence looming over you. “You don’t love me,” he said coldly. “You love the idea of me. The actor, the director, the man who can hold his own in your world of lights and cameras. But me? The real me? You’ve never loved that.”

You felt your breath hitch, your anger momentarily faltering as his words struck a nerve. “How dare you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How dare you tell me what I feel? You’re so bloody self-absorbed, so stuck in your own insecurities, you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

“And what’s that?” Alan shot back, his voice rising. “A woman who laughs at the idea of marrying me? Who humiliates me in front of the world? You think I’d ever want to marry someone like you?”

Your hand flew to your chest, as if to shield yourself from the impact of his words. “You bastard,” you said, your voice shaking with a mix of fury and heartbreak. “You’re nothing but a coward, Alan. A scared little man hiding behind his wit and charm, too afraid to admit that he’s just as human as the rest of us.”

Alan’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he stepped even closer, his face inches from yours. “Careful,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t want to say something you can’t take back.”

You let out a bitter laugh, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Take back? Oh, don’t worry, Alan. I’ve got nothing to take back. I’ve been nothing but honest with you, but you? You’d rather burn it all down than admit you’re scared of being vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable?” he barked, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’m not the one who flew across the world for a bloody PR stunt.”

“That’s it,” you snapped, shoving him again, harder this time. “You’re impossible, Alan. You’re so afraid of being hurt, you’d rather destroy everything good in your life before anyone else gets the chance.”

“And you’re a goddamn fool,” he shot back, his voice shaking with rage. “A naïve little girl who thinks love is some fairy tale where everything works out in the end.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, your voice breaking. “You don’t deserve me.”

“And you don’t deserve anyone,” Alan snarled, his hazel eyes blazing. “No wonder every man you’ve ever been with has left you.”

The words hung in the air, a deafening silence following in their wake. You stared at him, your heart shattered into a million pieces, before turning on your heel and walking toward the door.

“Goodbye, Alan,” you said quietly, your voice hollow. “I hope you’re happy with the mess you’ve made.”

You didn’t look back as you slammed the door behind you, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. But as you walked away, the tears fell harder, and you wondered if you’d ever be able to piece yourself back together.

Alan stood there, staring at the door as it slammed shut, the sound echoing in his empty flat. His chest heaved, his heart pounding against his ribs. His hazel eyes burned, filled with rage and anguish as your parting words replayed in his mind. You still say you love him, you liar. The thought ripped through him, venomous and relentless, eroding what little control he had left.

With a guttural roar, Alan grabbed his coffee cup from the counter and hurled it against the wall. The porcelain shattered on impact, shards scattering across the floor. “Bloody hell!” he cursed, his baritone voice raw and trembling. His fingers raked through his silvered hair, tugging at the roots as he struggled to regain his composure. But the ache in his chest only grew stronger, an unrelenting pressure threatening to crush him.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, his knuckles white as they gripped the edge of the counter. “Calm down, Rickman,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and shaky. “She’s gone. Let her go.”

But as he turned, his hazel eyes landed on your coat, draped carelessly over the back of the armchair. His jaw tightened, his hooked nose flaring in irritation. She can’t even remember her bloody coat, he thought bitterly, the anger bubbling up once more. I don’t want anything from her. Absolutely nothing.

Grabbing the coat with trembling hands, Alan stormed toward the door, determined to rid himself of even this small reminder of you. His strides were long and purposeful as he descended the stairs of his building, his heart hammering with each step. The chill of the London air hit him as he stepped onto the street, but he barely noticed, his hazel eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of you.

It didn’t take long to spot you. You were walking briskly, your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, your shoulders hunched against the cold. Alan’s anger flared again, hot and sharp. She doesn’t even know where she’s going, the idiot.

“[Your Name]!” he called out, his baritone voice cutting through the noise of the street. But you didn’t hear him, your focus fixed straight ahead as you moved toward the crosswalk.

Alan quickened his pace, the coat clutched tightly in his hand. “[Your Name]!” he called again, louder this time, his voice laced with frustration. Still, you didn’t turn around. His heart began to pound for a different reason as he saw you step off the curb, the light still green for oncoming traffic.

“Stop!” he yelled, panic creeping into his voice as his eyes caught the glint of an approaching car. The vehicle sped toward you, its headlights cutting through the early morning gloom. Alan’s breath caught in his throat, his anger dissolving into sheer terror.

“[Your Name]!” he bellowed, his voice breaking as he broke into a sprint. But it was too late.

The car’s tires screeched as the driver slammed on the brakes, but the impact was unavoidable. The sound of metal meeting flesh and bone was sickening, reverberating through the street. You were thrown backward, your body crumpling onto the pavement like a discarded doll.

“No!” Alan’s scream tore from his throat as he reached you, dropping to his knees beside your lifeless form. His hands trembled as they hovered over you, afraid to touch, to confirm the worst. Your eyes were closed, your face pale, and blood pooled beneath your head, staining the asphalt.

“[Your Name],” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. “No, no, no. Please, God, no.”

His hazel eyes searched your face desperately, looking for any sign of life. He pressed his fingers to your neck, his own pulse pounding in his ears as he prayed for even the faintest flutter beneath his touch. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Don’t you dare leave me. Not like this.”

The driver of the car had gotten out, shouting frantically for help, but Alan barely registered the commotion around him. His world had narrowed to the space between the two of you, his heart shattering as he cradled your head in his hands.

“Wake up,” he begged, his baritone voice cracking. “Please, [Your Name]. I can’t… I can’t do this without you. I’m sorry. I’m so bloody sorry.”

Tears streamed down his face as he leaned over you, his hooked nose brushing against your temple. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’ve always loved you. And I’d marry you in a heartbeat, you stubborn, infuriating woman. Just… just come back to me. Please.”

The sound of sirens grew louder in the distance, but Alan barely heard them. His hands trembled as he stroked your hair, his tears falling onto your face as he whispered your name over and over like a prayer.

And as the paramedics descended upon the scene, Alan clung to you, refusing to let go, his heart breaking with every passing second of silence.

Alan sat hunched in the sterile hospital waiting room, his face pale and drawn, his hands gripping your coat like it was a lifeline. The fabric was soft and smelled faintly of you—lavender and the subtle spice of your perfume—a cruel reminder of the argument that had sent you storming out in the first place. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, the tick of the clock on the wall amplifying the deafening silence. His hazel eyes, rimmed red, flicked anxiously to the hallway every time a nurse or doctor passed, his breath hitching with hope, only for it to deflate when they didn’t approach him.

Beside him sat Sarah, your agent, her usually sharp, polished demeanor softened by worry. She glanced at Alan, who looked like a man on the brink of collapse. His fingers were white with the force of his grip on your coat, and his silvered hair fell messily over his forehead.

“Alan,” Sarah began gently, leaning toward him. “You’ve been sitting like this for hours. You need to—”

“I need to wait,” Alan interrupted, his baritone voice raw and thick with emotion. “I need to be here when they tell me something. Anything.”

Sarah sighed, her eyes darting toward the hallway. “She’s strong, Alan. She’ll pull through.”

But Alan shook his head, his jaw tight. “This is my fault,” he said, his voice breaking. “If I hadn’t been such a goddamn idiot, she wouldn’t have been out there. She wouldn’t have—” His words faltered, his hands shaking as he buried his face in your coat. “It’s because of me. All of it.”

“Alan—” Sarah started, but he cut her off, his voice rising, trembling with anguish.

“I fought with her over that bloody interview,” he admitted, his hazel eyes glassy as he lifted his head to meet Sarah’s gaze. “The one where she supposedly laughed about marrying me. I saw it, and I—I didn’t even give her a chance to explain. I lashed out like a fool. So what if she didn’t want to marry me? She wouldn’t want to marry a fucking idiot like me either, would she?” His laugh was bitter, hollow. “I drove her away, Sarah. And now she’s—” He couldn’t finish the sentence, his voice breaking into a harsh whisper.

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s enough,” she snapped, her tone cutting through his self-loathing like a whip. “You think wallowing in guilt is going to help her? Grow the hell up, Alan. She loves you, you idiot. She wouldn’t have flown across the goddamn ocean to fix things if she didn’t.”

Alan stared at her, stunned into silence. But before he could respond, Sarah’s phone buzzed on the chair beside her. She snatched it up, her expression shifting as she read the screen. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” she muttered, her tone laced with venom.

“What?” Alan asked hoarsely, his gaze locked on her.

Sarah stood, her heels clicking sharply against the tile floor as she paced. “I got access to the real footage of her interview earlier today. The one those bastards butchered to make it look like she was talking about you.” She turned, her hazel eyes blazing with anger. “You want to see how wrong you’ve been, Alan?”

Without waiting for a response, she pulled up the video and handed her phone to him. Alan’s fingers trembled as he took it, his heart pounding as the video began to play. There you were, sitting gracefully in your chair, the radiant smile on your face one he knew so well. The interviewer’s voice was calm, asking about the romantic dynamics of your character in the film.

“Marry him?” you had repeated with a laugh, referring to the villainous character in the movie. “Oh no, not even if I were crazy. Never.”

Alan’s breath hitched as the context became clear. You weren’t talking about him at all. The manipulated video had spliced your words with a fabricated question to create a scandal where there was none. The guilt that had been gnawing at him now felt like a vice tightening around his chest.

“It’s not real,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “She wasn’t talking about me.”

“No, she bloody wasn’t,” Sarah snapped, snatching her phone back. “But you didn’t think to ask her, did you? You just assumed the worst and tore into her like an insecure, selfish prick.”

Alan flinched at her words but didn’t argue. She was right. He had been a selfish prick. The realization hit him like a freight train, and his knees buckled as he sank back into the chair. He buried his face in his hands, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“What do I do now?” he murmured, his voice muffled and broken. “How do I fix this?”

Sarah’s gaze softened, but her tone remained firm. “You start by being there when she wakes up. You apologize, and I mean really apologize, Alan. None of that clever, self-deprecating crap you like to hide behind. You tell her the truth—about everything. And for God’s sake, stop sabotaging yourself.”

Alan nodded slowly, his hands still trembling. The weight of his mistakes pressed heavily on him, but beneath it was a glimmer of hope. If he could just make it right, if you would let him, he’d do whatever it took.

For now, though, all he could do was wait—and pray that when you woke up, you’d still want to hear him out.

The sound of footsteps snapped both their heads toward the hallway, and a doctor in scrubs appeared, his face calm but serious. Alan and Sarah bolted to their feet, the tension between them palpable as they moved to meet the man.

“How is she?” Alan asked, his baritone voice rough with worry.

The doctor gave a reassuring smile. “She’s stable. She has a few broken ribs and a mild concussion, but there’s no permanent damage. She’s under strong painkillers right now and likely won’t wake up until tomorrow.”

Alan exhaled sharply, the relief almost knocking him off his feet. He slumped back into the chair, his head falling into his hands as the weight of his fear slowly began to lift. “Thank God,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

Sarah placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression softening. “She’s tough, Alan. She’ll be fine.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Alan said firmly, his voice brooking no argument as he straightened in his chair.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Are you sure? Don’t you have filming for Gambit tomorrow?”

Alan’s hazel eyes narrowed, a spark of irritation flaring in them. “To hell with filming,” he snapped, his hooked nose flaring slightly. “She’s more important.”

Sarah blinked in surprise before letting out a small sigh. “Fine. But I’ll call your agent. Someone has to smooth things over.”

Alan waved her off, his attention already shifting back to the door leading to your room. “Do whatever you like,” he muttered, his focus solely on you.

Sarah shook her head, muttering something about stubborn men as she left. Alan didn’t care. All that mattered was staying by your side.

The hours dragged on, the sterile hospital room quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Alan sat in the uncomfortable chair beside your bed, his fingers intertwined with yours. The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. Balloons and roses from friends filled the small space, their cheerful colors stark against the clinical white walls.

He hadn’t moved all night, his hazel eyes fixed on your face, searching for any sign of movement. The steady rise and fall of your chest was the only thing keeping him sane.

When you finally stirred, it was almost 2 PM. Alan straightened in his chair, his heart leaping as your eyes fluttered open. For a moment, you blinked groggily, your gaze unfocused as you adjusted to the light. Then your eyes found his, and he froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“Who… who are you?” you asked weakly, your voice hoarse but teasingly innocent.

Alan’s heart stopped. His face paled, his hazel eyes widening in panic. “What?” he croaked, his baritone voice trembling. “You—you don’t recognize me?”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Then, a slow, mischievous smile spread across your lips. “Relax, Alan,” you rasped. “Of course I know who you are. How could I forget a man who growls my name like he’s narrating a bloody BBC documentary?”

The relief that washed over Alan was almost overwhelming. He let out a shaky laugh, his hand covering his face as he shook his head. “You absolute minx,” he muttered, his voice a mix of exasperation and affection. “Don’t scare me like that.”

The teasing smile on your lips faded slightly as you shifted, trying to sit up. Alan’s hands were on you immediately, firm but gentle, pressing you back down against the hospital bed.

“Stop,” he said, his baritone voice both commanding and soft. “You’re not going anywhere. Just calm down.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the ache radiating through your body. “Alan, I’m fine,” you protested weakly, your voice still hoarse. “I can—”

“You can stay put,” he interrupted, his hazel eyes narrowing. “For once, listen to me. You need to rest.”

Your expression softened, and you gave a small nod, though the worry in his eyes made your chest tighten. “What happened?” you asked quietly, your fingers brushing against his where they rested on your arm. “I remember fighting with you, then going out into the street, and… nothing after that.”

Alan inhaled sharply, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he glanced away for a moment, as if to steady himself. When he met your gaze again, his hazel eyes were filled with guilt and pain. “You were hit by a car,” he said, his voice low but steady. “After you left my apartment.”

You blinked at him, processing his words, before a faint, teasing smile tugged at your lips. “A car?” you said lightly. “Are you sure it wasn’t a train? Because it bloody feels like it.”

Alan’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw tightening. “Don’t joke about that,” he snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. “Do you have any idea how close I came to losing you?”

The sincerity in his words and the tremor in his voice made your teasing demeanor fade. You reached for his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice earnest. “I didn’t mean to make light of it. I just… didn’t want to see you upset.”

Alan exhaled slowly, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as he shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize for that,” he said. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. For everything.”

You frowned slightly, trying to sit up again despite his earlier protests. “Alan—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “Let me finish.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the edge of the bed as he held your hand tightly. “I was an idiot. No, worse—I was a selfish, insecure prat. I saw that interview and—well, I let my own pain blind me. Instead of listening to you or even giving you a chance to explain, I lashed out. Like a bloody child.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he shook his head, stopping you. “And then Sarah showed me the real footage,” he continued, his hazel eyes filled with self-loathing. “It was all fake. The entire thing was manipulated to make it look like you were talking about me. But you weren’t. You never were.”

His voice cracked slightly, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I should have believed you,” he said, his tone raw. “But instead, I hurt you. I wanted to hurt you because I felt humiliated, and that’s… unforgivable.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you shook your head, your voice trembling. “Alan, it’s not unforgivable. I said things too—things I didn’t mean. I was angry, and—”

“I don’t care,” he cut in, his baritone voice softening. “Whatever you said, I deserved it. All of it. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing gently along the line of his jaw. “Don’t say that,” you whispered. “Don’t you dare say that. I love you, Alan. And yes, you can be a stubborn idiot sometimes, but so can I. We’re human.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly before opening to meet yours. “You’re too good for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“And you’re too dramatic,” you teased gently, a soft smile playing on your lips. “But that’s why we work.”

A faint laugh escaped him, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “God help me, I do love you,” he said, his hazel eyes shining with both amusement and adoration.

You smiled, your hand slipping down to rest over his. “Good,” you replied, your voice soft. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

Alan’s lips twitched into a small, self-deprecating smile as he leaned closer, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, his baritone voice warm and steady.

“And for the record,” you added, your smile turning mischievous, “I would marry you. Even if you’re a stubborn idiot.”

Alan chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. “Careful,” he said, his hazel eyes twinkling. “I might hold you to that too.”

[eetherealgoddess]

ꨄClose Quartersꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere College Au

❦When delinquents have a little crush on Kazutora’s roommate❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Japanese Language is Red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture him as a black male but you can see him however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Close Quarters

“Damnit!”

Laughter filled the room as the loud clicks of thumbs hitting the buttons sporadically on the controllers echo amongst the shots ringing on the television. A hand drops the controller before the culprit stands from the floor.

“Alright, man. I’m done.”

“Aw, don’t be such a sore loser, Y/n.” The roommate with the tiger tattoo taunts, chuckling as he sets his own controller down.

“Whatever, Kazu. I know you’re cheating, anyway.” He responds, smiling as he walks behind the counter to grab a water bottle.

“Someone’s bitter.” He responds as he grabs the bong sitting beside him, lighting the remaining flower in the bowl. Y/n walks to the couch and sits with his ankle resting on his leg.

“Shut up. Anyway, can I borrow your laptop? I left mine at Mikey’s dorm.” Y/n explains, sipping his water before closing it and setting it on the coffee table. After finishing the bowl, he hands it to Y/n as he gets up from his seat.

“Yeah, I’m going to the Haitani’s so I’ll tell Mikey to bring it there.” He says as he walks to his bedroom.

Y/n sets the bong on the table and swipes through social media until Kazutora brings him the silver device. His earrings jingle as he walks to the front door, opening it and giving a small wave before he shuts the door behind him.

Opening his laptop, Y/n goes to the search engine and types their university’s assignment website. A few hours pass and he completes two discussion boards and a five page paper. Out of boredom he roams his roommate’s laptop until he finds his messages app. He finds quite a few chats though two stuck out to him. One is the chat they’re all in considering Kazutora introduced them all, and the most recent one is the group chat not including him.

Of course, they’re closer so it would make sense that they have their own group chat, though Y/n’s anxiety caused him to come up with scenarios where they might talk crap about him so he decides to open the chat excluding him. He scrolls just enough to see the most recent messages.

mikey: wat a pain

we shud do somthin

me: yeh? like wat hes straight

rin: u dk that

ran: hes dl theres no way hes not

sanzu: his gf

rin: guys do tht all the tjme

me: theh call evry njgbt which is annoying af

sanzu: could be bi

Y/n eyes the chat in confusion as to who they could be talking about. He scrolls up to see more of the conversation for context until his phone buzzes repeatedly. Viewing the caller id, he brings it to his ear after pressing the answer button.

“Hey babe.” Y/n says, backing out of the app and closing the laptop.

“Hey, how’s your day?” Her sweet voice says from the other end.

While they converse, his phone buzzes once more, causing him to pull it down and set it to the speaker.

Kazu: smoke n drink? come over

Considering he’s finished with his assignments, he shrugs as he takes his phone with him to grab his stuff. Considering the dorm is near, he decides to walk as he talks to his girlfriend. When he makes it to their door, they tell each other ‘bye,’ before ending the line.

When he walks in, he shuts the door and walks past the empty living room to Ran’s bedroom. Walking in, the guys are spread out, Sanzu working on his laptop with his back leaning on the headboard. The oldest Haitani laying beside him as he smokes a joint, Mikey sits on a bean bag chair with a controller in hand as well as Rin who sits on the floor in front of the bed. Kazutora has his feet on the desk as he leans back in the chair.

He’s greeted as he’s handed a bottle filled with the alcoholic beverage by the short blonde. Sitting beside Rin, he watches the tv as their characters run across the screen shooting enemies. They all converse as normal ‘homies’ do, playing their game as they switch who gets a turn with the controllers, along with drinking and smoking.

“I’m sick of beer. Someone make a real drink.” Mikey, tired of the bitter taste, suggests.

“Don’t be a baby, drink it straight.” Rin taunts.

“Aren’t you an alcoholic?” Mikey gives him a bored look. The youngest Haitani laughs at his response.

“Maybe so.”

“Alright, ladies. We’re gonna fix the drinks. Come on, Sanzu.” Ran says as they both get up from the bed, heading to the kitchen.

“What are they making?” Y/n asks in curiosity.

“Something good. It’ll definitely fuck us up.” Kazutora smirks.

A few minutes pass as they continue playing their game with conversation. Finally, Ran and Sanzu walk in with cups filled with a reddish purple liquid, handing it to their friends as they sit back where they were. An hour passes and by the time everyone is done with their drinks, they’re all giddy as they become less sober unlike Y/n whose head is leaned back against the bed in a deep slumber.

“Wow, he’s really knocked out.” Rin says as he attempts to wake him up by shaking him.

Mikey crawls over to the sleeping figure, smacks his face a few times, to no avail.

“Damn.” Kazutora says. “What did you put in his drink?”

“Something good.” Sanzu says as Ran stands up to walk towards the limp body.

“I’ve got an idea.” He says, picking him up before walking over and placing him on the bed.

“He’s not gonna wake up and if he does, he probably won’t remember anything.”

“What are you getting at, Haitani?” Kazutora asks with his arms crossed.

The purple eyed man proceeds to remove Y/n’s shirt, slightly looking back as he side eyes Kazutora.

“What do you think, Hanemiya?” He smirks before undoing Y/n’s pants and tossing them to the side.

“Wait, so we’re gonn-!”

“I know what you’re thinking and it’s not like that. We all love him, right?” Sanzu says as he takes a sip of his own spiked drink. “Then what’s wrong with showing it however we want?”

“As far as I’m concerned, I can do whatever I want with what’s mine.” Ran smiles as he eyes the limp bulge in Y/n’s underwear. The rest of the friends hop up from their seats as they walk to the bed, hovering over as they caress his body.

“You’re still sick. Move.” Kazutora says as he positions himself to sit behind Y/n as the back of his head lays on his shoulder. He moves his hands to his hips as he squeezes.

“And you’re not?” Ran laughs.

He ignores him, slowly placing his lips on Y/n’s neck as he rubs his sides.

“Honestly, this seems like a special moment.” Rin says as he grabs his phone, pulling up the camera app and setting it to record.

“Hey, what the hell?” Kazutora questions. Ran puts his finger to his mouth.

“It’s alright. Memories, you know.” He pulls out his own phone as he moves back to get a better angle.

Mikey eyes Y/n for a moment before pulling his underwear down. He throws them to the side as he leans in, hazy eyes as he stares at the limp cock. Sanzu positions himself next to the other blonde as he spits in his hand, reaching over and wrapping his hand around the muscle.

Kazutora continues his kissing which turns into licks and the licks turn into sucking his neck, hands moving to his nipples as he rolls and pinches them. Y/n’s cock twitches as the blood rushes slowly.

“So beautiful.” He whispers against his skin as he looks down at his rising length. His own hard cock rubs against Y/n’s lower back, precum leaking through his briefs.

Sanzu lowers himself as his lips close around the head of Y/n’s penis. Sucking the precum from his urethra, he uses his tongue to swirl around the mushroom top. Y/n’s hip twitches as his head slightly moves, still in a slumber as they eye him cautiously. Sanzu continues until he fits the whole girth into his mouth, the head hitting his throat as his eyes close, moaning from the stretch.

Everyone can feel their own pants tightening at the view, especially with the way Y/n twitches from the touches. Kazutora unclips his own pants, moving to where he could pull them completely off. Rin gets closer, his phone’s camera facing his hand that moves up to play with Y/n’s nipple. Ran focuses his camera on Sanzu as he bobs his head.

Y/n’s leg moves as his cock completely hardens. He releases a small grunt as his hips twitch once more. When Sanzu releases, he looks at Mikey expectantly, who answers by wrapping his hand around the tense muscle and placing his lips around the head, easing down to fit it in the back of his throat, no gag reflex detected.

“Good?” The blue eyed man questions.

“Mhm.” Mikey moans as he bobs his head.

Completely aroused by the display, Kazutora opens Ran’s nightstand drawer, finding the lube he sets it on the top. He pulls down his briefs and throws them to the side. Using the lube, he covers his dick with the liquid.

“Whatcha doin there, Kazu?” Ran taunts.

“Shut up. I’m only putting the tip in.”

“Yeah, sure.” Rin rolls his eyes.

Kazutora grips Y/n’s thighs as he pulls the legs back, leaning his own body back to position the head of his cock comfortably at the sleeping man’s entrance. Sanzu and Mikey take it upon themselves to lick and suck his cock together.

Kazutora breathes out as his cock enters the tight hole slowly. The Haitani brothers watch as Y/n’s nose scrunches. His cock throbs as his head falls back.

“Fuck.” He whispers to himself, trying all his might to not fully shove it in.

“Come on, Kazu. Take what’s yours.” Ran says with his signature smile, teeth showing as his arousal takes over.

“Yeah, you might as well. You’re already in there.” Rin continued.

“Fuck I’m sorry, baby.” He whispers against Y/n’s ear before shoving himself deep inside of Y/n’s ass. One of his hands reaches to hold his neck as the other arm wraps around his waist. He grinds his cock in and out before he accelerates his pace, throwing his head back once more and releasing a moan.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow as his eyes peak open, a throbbing pain going up his back as his body rocks up and down. He breaks out in a cold sweat as he feels moisture on his cock, confusion and exhaustion being the only feelings he can decipher at the moment.

Opening his eyes fully, he makes eye contact with two pairs of familiar eyes looking up at him. He shifts his gaze to the other two people who have their cameras facing him. His eyes tear up at the agony coming from his ass, the pain conflicting with the pleasure of his cock adding to the confusion. He turns his attention to the hot body holding him from behind.

Wait, I’m naked?

When reality hits, his eyes widen as he struggles against the hold.

“Wh-what the fuck is going on?!” He exclaims. He grunts as his hips buck when Mikey and Sanzu continue their assault without a care in the world.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, just relax and it’ll feel really good.” Kazutora whispers against his ear, sweat dripping down his head as his hips accelerate, angling his cock to hit his roommate’s. prostate.

“Ah! K-Kazutora, wh-what the fuck?!” He could barely think about anything else but the intense sensations his body is being met with. His arms were bound by Kazutora’s wrapped arms so he couldn’t use them to get out of their grips.

“Relax.” His hand tightens around his neck as well as the arm around his waist before Kazutora plunges his cock inside of him rapidly, hitting his spot each time.

Y/n’s mouth is held open as he breathes heavily, the pain turning into a pleasurable fullness that he couldn’t believe.

I can’t believe they would do this to me. We’re supposed to be friends.

“I want to try something.” Mikey states as Sanzu moves back to give him room. Kazutora slows down to small thrusts as he holds back for Mikey to get adjusted, already having an idea of what he’s about to do.

“N-no! Get away from me! All of you!” Y/n exclaims, crocodile tears streaming down his face.

“Stop being so dramatic, Y/n” Rin scoffs.

“Y-you’re all fucking sick! Pieces of sh-!”

Sanzu shoves Kazutora’s balled up underwear in between his lips, forcing him to have muffled screams.

“If you spit it out, I’ll kill your girlfriend. Watch your mouth.” He threatens as he caresses his cheek with his thumb. Y/n could only stare in horror when he heard the promise, knowing how they’re all in a gang and have killed people before. He feels as though this could be his karma for turning a blind eye, not wanting to be involved but couldn’t help but accidentally hear conversations he wasn’t supposed to hear, though that doesn’t come easy when his roommate is so involved.

While all of that played out, Mikey undressed himself before climbing on top of Y/n. He grabs the lube and covers Y/n’s cock with it.

“Please, no!” He muffled, though he was ignored. Mikey places the head to his own ass before he drops himself on top, cock disappearing into him as he bottoms out with a grunt. He picks himself up before slamming down again, moaning as the head hits his prostate. He accelerates along with Kazutora who also matches his pace. Mikey’s head leans on Y/n’s shoulder as he rides him, grinding his ass while his own cock rubs against Y/n’s stomach.

“S’ fucking good. You feel so good inside of me.” Mikey moans against his neck, sucking his skin as Kazutora did the same on the other side. Y/n could only grunt and whimper occasionally as he’s stretched out from his ass and squeezed tightly from his front.

Y/n’s phone buzzes from the floor, Sanzu picking it up and smirking when he sees the caller id. He pressed the answer button. When her face appears on the screen, her eyebrow raises in confusion when she sees Sanzu.

“Oh shit.” Rin’s smirk grew wide as he eyes Sanzu in surprise. Ran could only laugh as the moans from Mikey and Kazutora could be heard.

“Hey. Y/n is kind of busy, right now.” At the sound of his name, he turns his head to see Sanzu holding his phone.

Oh no!

“What’s that noise?” She asks in confusion.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Sanzu says before turning the camera to face her boyfriend, making sure Y/n would be able to see her facial expression. He spits the cloth out, forgetting the threat as he desperately speaks to her.

“M-Mai! I swear to god this isn’t what it looks like! Pl-please!” He cries. “I didn’t kn…!”

“See, he’s busy.” Sanzu turns the camera back to himself, eyeing her distraught face in content.

He chuckles and sets the phone down when she hangs up.

“Why?! Why did you do…?!” He’s cut off by Mikey placing his lips on his.

“Didn’t I say that I’d kill her if you spit that out? If you bite him I’ll do it slowly.”

Y/n shakes his head sporadically as he whimpers before his eyes roll in the back of his head and his head drops back, Kazutora thrusting harder inside of him, rubbing his walls as he hits his prostate each time.

“You’re doing so fucking good. I’m so close, baby.” He whispers as he kisses his ear.

Mikey continues grinding hard, hitting his own prostate as Y/n’s cock rubs against his walls. Both of Kazutora’s hands move to grip Y/n’s hips tightly as Mikey hugs around his neck, thrusting harder.

Finally, Kazutora releases deep inside him, thrusting up as he holds his cock there, Mikey following along as his ropes of cum shoot against Y/n’s stomach. Because of the pressure, Y/n’s body reacts as he convulses, orgasming hard inside of Mikey.

They all breathe heavily before Kazutora removes himself from Y/n as Mikey climbs off. The Haitani brothers hand their phones to Kazutora and Mikey as they tell them to keep recording.

They force his legs up and spread as Sanzu and Ran immediately lick up the cum on his cock. Rin pushes him up more to get a better angle of his ass before licking the rim.

Weak, Y/n tries to push them away by pushing their heads back. They don’t budge and only swatt his hands away. His limp cock springs back to life as the sensations take over once more.

Ran takes him into his mouth fully as Sanzu moves to his testicles. Rin plunges two fingers into the wet hole, specifically angling to meet that familiar spongy spot. Kazutora moves closer to his upper body.

“I hate all of you.” He hissed as his body twitched against their play. “S-so fucking much.”

“Love you too.” He responds before placing a kiss on his lips. Caressing his forehead as he angles the phone’s camera to his dick.

Ran bobs his head thoroughly as Sanzu licks and grips his balls. Rin continues using his fingers to plunge back and forth deep into his hole at a steady pace. His legs tremble as his body convulses once more, nearing his release.

Throwing his head back, his hips buck once more. Releasing a grunt he shoots his semen in the back of Ran’s throat as he swallows it all. Both men lick up the remaining slick as Rin pulls his fingers out. Kazutora and Mikey stop recording, sending the video to the group chat without Y/n.

“I think it’s time to pay her a visit.” Sanzu says as he wipes his mouth.

“No! You’re not gonna fucking touch her!” Y/n growls as he sits up.

“What are you going to do about it?” Rin challenges.

“He’s going to do nothing but take this dick.” Ran states as he picks him up and forces him into doggy style. He struggles against Ran, failing miserably as his ass is pointed in the air.

“We’ll take care of it.” Mikey states as he dressed himself.

“No! No, please! Don’t hurt her! Kazutora! Stop them, please!” His voice cracks as the tears stain the sheets. Kazutora crouches in front of his face.

“Calm down, Y/n. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll get over it.” He says before walking to the doorway with Mikey and Sanzu.

“Please!” He whines as he begins to break down. Rin crouches as he stares at him with a smile.

“If you relax, you’ll feel better, okay? There’s no way we’re letting you go so you might wanna get used to this now.” He wipes a tear away with his thumb.

“Also, we’re gonna try to fit both of us in so relax your muscles, pretty boy.”

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Is it weird or strange or a mark of anything that I should talk to a therapist about that I. like. genuinely don't see a problem with teenagers consuming porn? Interacting with adults in that context should absolutely not be encouraged, but like. teenagers are going to be horny. That's part of puberty, for people who aren't on the ace spectrum. Again, I don't they should be interacting directly with the people producing the content, but don't see the issue with their consumption of it.

hi anon,

it's so difficult for me to describe the emotions that this ask created within me. I think maybe it's a little like if someone walked up to me and said, with full sincerity, "I don't think it's a big deal when people jaywalk. do you think I need to go to therapy about that?"

like. no. of course you don't need to see a therapist about that, although you may want a consultation re: anxiety if this is something that you're worrying about often.

obviously in a perfect world I'd hope that teens could get a nice lesson in media literacy before they see to much porn to make sure they understand that it's as much a guide to real sex as the Fast and the Furious movies are a tutorial for passing a driving test, and that kids will have access to other ways to learn about more realistic expressions of sexuality. but there are approximately two hundred thousand social issues for pressing it than teens watching porn. who gives a shit.

[platonicmoonwater00]

I see these everywhere. and i mean EVERYWHERE. and also i need motivation so lets go ig

10 notes- i'll drink on weekends too(i forget cos on weekends im just at home and not at school lugging around my frank green in my tote bag)

20 notes- i will(try to) pay attention in class

30 notes- i'll watch my whole watch later playlist on yt

50 notes- i'll actually do the techniques im learning in ✨therapy✨ to help with my anxiety and shitty social skills

75 notes- i'll take my iron tablets every day

100 notes- i'll start my assessments when i get them(i have one due tomorrow which i was gonna finish now but i'm doing this apparently)

125 notes- i'll ask my crush to hangout alone during spring holidays

150 notes- i'll try to go for a run or at least a walk every day

500 notes- i'll write another chapter of my fanfiction

1k notes- i will actually make an effort to get clean

2k notes- if i see someone pretty that i want to go out w in public i'll ask for their number cos holy fuck i need to put myself out there. even if we js end up being friends cos holy shit im lonely

3k notes- i will actually finished the dress i started making

4k notes- i will try to get over my crush cos its ✨never gonna happen✨(she so pretty and masc tho its gonna be hard)

5k notes- (this is so far up here cos idk how to do this so im gonnna need a lot of time to figure out how) im gonna try to demolish the rumour that im gay thats going around a bit.**

6k notes- i will finish all my crochet projects and not start any new ones until im done.

**context. i go to an all girls school and theres a lot of people so its not like everyone knows everyone, even in my year(theres approx. 174 in my year alone, and theres 6 year groups at my school cos high school is 7-12 where i live) but some people know me ig cos i know a few girl who are more notable, im in the top class and i recdntly started sitting with a group that the popular girls call furries.

(theyre a pretty big group and popular girls hate them cos one or two of them are trans - ftm, ftnb etc, no mtf cos my lovely/s catholic school wouldnt let trans girls in- several of them are gay, a few of them are emo, most of them are poc's and a few of them dont have english as their first language. overall they are seen as the "weird kids" in my year)

so this rumour apparently is going around that i like a girl in my class(i absolutely do but if you havent noticed my school is hella hoomophobic and i could very well get beat) which js isnt ideal and is gonna lead to a lot of issues, especially if a lot of people start believing it so if you guys have any advice pls lmk. and its not like i can js get a fake bf and show him off cos its a GIRLS SCHOOL. if i reconnect with a friend from primary school tho we could pretend to be dating and like make a post on social media. but then kids at his school would find out and hed either have to tell them its fake(which would eventually find its way back to my school, and when i say eventually i mean immediately) or he couldnt get a girlfriend so that probs wouldnt work.

i know it sounds like im making a mountain out of a molehill but ive got years to go here and i dont want to spend all my high school years getting bullied bc even if i went to a teacher about it or smthing id have to like analyse them first and try to figure out which ones are homophobic or not.

like learning about why "being gay is a sin"(pretend im saying that really mockingly) is literally in our curriculum.

holy shit that was longer than expected.

no pressure tags: @wishiwereheather13 @loserboyfriendrjl @fracturedsunsets @chasingthemoony @stars-and-leather @starsofleo

thats all im doing idk how you guys can stand js copy and pasting moots over and over i cant do this i did the first six that came up and that seems like enough 🤷‍♀️

begun doing

going to do

finished

[transmutationisms]

i always felt like moralizing about children becoming more adapted to phone by “shortening attention span” or whatever was especially silly because maybe children are adapting to phone because… phone is a vitally important tool in society now and that’s not likely to change anytime soon? they’re literally just adapting to their environment? like just because you think it shouldn’t be that way doesn’t mean it isn’t (coming from someone who has never had a cell phone)

yeah i mean, i think it can be edifying to point out the ways in which this brand of technophobia oversimplifies or just fabricates psychological research, but the political response is arguably even more fundamental. so much of this anxiety about the supposedly deleterious effects of phones (or social media or chat gpt or whatever else) really hinges on assumptions about particular reading practices and skills being uniquely valuable, morally salubrious, indicative of 'intelligence', etc. it's worth asking ourselves where this defensiveness comes from... attention, focus, etc always vary depending on our lives and needs; we talk about these things like fixed psychological characteristics that the smartphone is newly and uniquely threatening to destroy, but in reality they are context-dependent and have always varied (over time, between person, in the same person over time, etc). i don't assume any changes catalysed or reinforced by smartphones etc are inherently good but i also don't assume they're inherently bad; i especially don't assume they're some kind of urgent irreversible damage to the human psyche, because i don't assume that any one particular skill or mode of attention or whatever is universal or necessary to human existence

[yesornopolls]

To those confused by how the panopticon theory can apply to dating, think about this way. As the mod explained, the theory holds that “people can be controlled when they believe themselves to be under constant surveillance even if no one is watching. The theory stems from the intended effect of having a central guard tower in a prison that all the prisoners could see, even though they could not see the guards.”

So in the context of dating, if you’re NOT aware by the social panopticon, you’re chill when dating people. It’s just about you and your partner. There’s no one watching you, whether literally or metaphorically, digitally or in real life. So there’s no performance, no anxiety about the larger context, no sense of being surveilled and judged by others, no need to prove your love to the world.

On the other hand, if you ARE aware of the social panopticon when dating, the larger context of what it means to date in the modern era is always (potentially) watching you. It’s not just you and your partner, it’s you and your partner both against the world AND in the world. But it’s also subtly you against your partner, cause what if they’re with the world? You have to test them to make sure.

Social media is a huge part of this cause it includes soft-launching and hard-launching partners, posting them the right amount of times but not too much, keeping the mystery or revealing more. It’s things like National Boyfriend Day or subtle boyfriend tests on TikTok. Even just being in a queer relationship can come with its own panopticon, its own rituals of surveillance and performance. Everything is the relationship as product, the relationship as lifestyle brand.

To use well-known celebrity examples, Taylor Swift who knows she can’t escape the social panopticon with dating so she leans into it. Chappell Roan is someone who is very aware of it and scared of it. And Sabrina Carpenter’s song “Please Please Please,” where she sings, “ Please please please don't prove I'm right/Please please please/Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice/Heartbreak is one thing/My egos another/I beg you don't embarass me/Mother fucker ahhh” is a perfect example of this phenomenon too.

Most of us aren’t celebrities, but the basic principles remain no matter the scale. But some people seem to have the freedom to truly not be influenced by it.

Oooh, when Googling it, I just found this article which I think captures the concept well: https://helenaaeberli.substack.com/p/dating-in-the-digital-panopticon

FYI

[ginger-fitzgeralld]

A transgender woman who sued a women-only social media app for alleged gender discrimination has been awarded $10,000 plus costs after a judge found she had been indirectly discriminated against in a landmark decision that tested the meaning and scope of the Sex Discrimination Act.

Roxanne Tickle, a transgender woman from regional New South Wales, sued the women-only social media platform Giggle for Girls and its CEO, Sall Grover, claiming she was unlawfully barred from using the app in 2021 after the firm and Grover said she was a man.

On Friday morning, federal court justice Robert Bromwich said the respondents considered “sex” to mean the unchangeable sex of a person at birth.

“These arguments failed because the view propounded by the respondents conflicted with a long history of cases decided by courts going back over 30 years. Those … cases established that on its ordinary meaning sex is changeable,” he said.

Onboarding to the app required the user to upload a selfie verified as female by KairosAI gender detection software and then by Grover. Tickle was barred after initially being allowed to join the platform – which was shut down in August 2022.

The judge said the evidence did not establish Tickle was excluded from Giggle directly “by reason of her gender identity although it remains possible that this was the real but unproven reason”.  Rather, the indirect discrimination case succeeded because Tickle was excluded from the use of the social media app “because she did not look sufficiently female”.

Bromwich disagreed with Grover and Giggle’s arguments about the constitutionality of the protections for gender identity in the Act – in line with the position of the sex discrimination commissioner.

Tickle had sought damages and aggravated damages amounting to $200,000, claiming that persistent misgendering by Grover resulted in constant anxiety and occasional suicidal thoughts.

In his written decision, Bromwich drew attention to the behaviour of Grover, including laughing at a caricature of Tickle during the trial.

“[Grover’s] explanation, that it was funny in the context of the courtroom, was obviously disingenuous. It was offensive and belittling and had no legitimate place in the respondents prosecuting their case.”

Tickle said Friday’s decision showed transgender people could stand up for themselves.

“I’m pleased by the outcome of my case and I hope it is healing for trans and gender diverse people. The ruling shows that all women are protected from discrimination,” she said outside court.

“I brought my case to show trans people that you can be brave and you can stand up for yourself. I can now get on with the rest of my life and have a coffee down the road with my friends, play hockey with my team and put this horribleness behind me.”

Changes to the Sex Discrimination Act in 2013 made it unlawful under federal law to discriminate against a person on the basis of sexual orientation, gender identity or intersex status.

It is the first time alleged gender identity discrimination has been heard by Australia’s federal court and goes to the heart of how gender identity – and being a woman - is interpreted. The outcome is likely to have wide-reaching implications for male and female spaces and activities and is being watched around the world.

Over the course of a three-day hearing in April, the court heard that Tickle had lived as a woman since 2017, had a female birth certificate and gender affirmation surgery and “feels in her mind that psychologically she is a woman”.

Tickle’s barrister Georgina Costello KC said that “Ms Tickle is a woman” but that “the respondents flatly deny that fact”.

Giggle and Grover’s team asserted that the case must focus on biological sex.

“Sex is discriminatory, it always has been and always will be … biological sex must prevail,” barrister Bridie Nolan said.

Grover told the court that she would not address Tickle as “Ms” and that, even if a transgender woman presented as female, had gender affirmation surgery, lived as a female and held female identity documents, Grover would still see her as a “biological male”.

The court heard that Grover started the app, intended as an “online refuge”, after receiving trauma therapy for social media abuse while living in the US.

The Australian Human Rights Commission acted as a friend of the court. Barrister Zelie Heger told the court that sex was no longer defined in the Sex Discrimination Act but that “importantly the Act recognises that a person’s sex is not limited to [being a man or a woman]”.

The case has been closely followed by both women’s and trans rights supporters, with Bromwich admitting “this was never going to be an easy case for anybody”.

Tickle received support from the Grata Fund, while a crowdfunding campaign set up to cover Giggle for Girls’ legal costs raised over $520,000.

Ignoring the tone of the article because I haven’t found a non-biased one yet, I’m so fucking over this shit. I’m disappointed in our court systems and what this precedent will mean for the rights of girls and women across the country.

[neonscandal]

9 Anime to Watch to Feel Like This 👇🏾

I love how long it's been since I've done any rec's lists before pushing two new ones out. Since my blog tends to have a bit of a reputation, this one felt necessary. In no way is this an exhaustive list, but if you're looking for some LGBTQIA+ representation this month, consider tuning into any of the below. While shonen ai and yuri will of course have representation, I tried to focus on mainstream stories where possible with characters that tackle their identity or where it's not necessarily a plot point but simply a recognized component of who they are. Bonus manga recommendations at the end! Happy Pride, beloveds. ✨

Zombieland Saga (series) - Something, something about stars burning brightest not lasting as long. This is the story of an idol group of zombies who were inexplicably resurrected to bring attention and culture back to the Saga prefecture. Enter Franchouchou forged by starlets who'd died far too young, seeming victims of some unspoken curse. Follow along as each of the girls reconcile the loose ends of their human lives while making the best of their second chance at stardom. ✨

Sub/Dub | Crunchyroll

Blue Period (series) - Who you are isn't something that's readily apparent especially in your teenage years. For Yaguchi, he starts a bit behind the curve realizing in his junior year that he wants to pursue art. While the story centers around his journey to catch up with his peers, there's an element of self exploration and vulnerability that he can't quite tackle alone.

Sub/Dub | Netflix

Komi Can't Communicate (series) - Arguably the first slice of life romance to hit the list but the character who inspires the series' inclusion is not involved. This is the story of a girl trying to overcome crippling social anxiety and the boy who patiently helps to expand her social circle (even though the girl's actually really popular??). Yea, it's one of those shows. While I haven't specifically tried to out characters in describing recommendations, I included this show specifically for Najimi Osana who, while their sexuality is not particularly explored, still has very Be Gay, Do Crime energy with the way they are always looking for an ever so slightly sheisty angle. Like, good for you. The fact that they are also extremely popular and accepted by their millions of friends is just another reason to adore them.

Sub/Dub | Netflix

Ouran High School Host Club (series) - This particular throwback is a dicier inclusion than the last, namely because of the antiquated (and, at times, offensive) language that doesn't particularly hold up in a rewatch today. The show centers around a group of affluent "boys" who cater to the whims and fantasies of well connected girls at their high school. This frequently involves a bit of overdone fetishization of their own questionable sexualities and, while most of the gang is referred to as the "homosexual supporting cast", I can't dismiss the feeling that there is some earnest representation specifically with the lead that most of the hosts have a romantic soft spot for. It's a cult classic but undeniably outdated; however, I think, in the representation it does well, there is diversity. In what the series does poorly, it opens up dialogue especially for conversations people simply weren't having back when the show dropped.

Sub/Dub | Crunchyroll, Hulu

Sailor Moon (series) - Can't forget the OG. I think what, inherently, inspires the inclusion of Sailor Moon and OHSHC above is the fact that, even then, there were small rays of hope in media. How well or poorly it was executed goes to show the evolution of that representation. Spoilers but, for context, in the US, the couple above was censored and portrayed as unusually close cousins rather than romantic partners. Granted, there were a lot of other choices that were made back in the 90's that have since been corrected as the series has been remastered.

Sub/Dub | Hulu, Prime Video, Pluto TV

Ranma 1/2 (series + movies) - OKAY, I know I called Sailor Moon the OG but.. for all intents and purposes. Ranma 1/2 precedes even Sailor Moon. I would say the series, at times, may teeter a bit on whether the representation is positive or not but, I maintain that a significant portion of the cast is queer as hell. The series follows eponymous person of legend, Ranma Saotome, in a quest to become a "man amongst men" as though their life depends on it.

Sub/Dub | Hulu, Prime Video, Tubi

Stars Align (series) - While I think most of the above can be considered positive or negative representation, they are at least not trauma porn in nature. Enter: Stars Align, a moody coming of age story set as an underdog tennis club tries to defy all odds and avoid being disbanded. While I wouldn't classify this as trauma porn either, it does delve into some viscerally heavy topics while also tackling the act of Becoming for a group of young boys and what that can mean with a support system of unlikely peers.

Sub/Dub | Hulu, Crunchyroll

Wonder Egg Priority (series) - As we've departed to delve into darker themes, the premise of this show centers around teens who have dealt with instances of suicide and, subsequently, learning to stand up for themselves in real life (while violently battling it out in a dream world).

Sub/Dub | Crunchyroll

Jujutsu Kaisen (series + movie) - wholesome inclusion to remind you that you should never let your sexuality nor your gender identity stop you from pursuing world domination. Representation is equal opportunity and of little consequence to this story and, yet, considerably diverse for a shonen series. Don't get me wrong, it's a battle horror anime where kids are battling curses and plot armor is hard to come by so prepare to get your heart broken.

Sasaki and Miyano (series and movie) - There will never come a time where I don't recommend watching this series. Actually wholesome romcom wherein there's a patient level of acceptance and support as Miyano navigates the confusion of his feelings for a clingy senpai. Because there should be more unproblematic love stories in the world. 💕

Sub/Dub | Crunchryoll

BONUS MANGA

Is Love The Answer? by Uta Isaki, completed

While the main story focuses on a character navigating their way under the Ace Umbrella, the story features additional characters on their own journey of self discovery with resources for Questioning readers sprinkled throughout. It's also a great example of how broadening your media intake can create a better sense of understanding with who you are and how you identify with grace so you don't have to be so quick to label yourself.

The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn't a Guy At All by Sumiko Arai, ongoing

Adorable story of opposites that find a middle ground together which drives home the idea that you should never judge a book by it's cover.

[oldphanny]

Heyoo, just call me B or Bip :)

I'm 27, non-binary, and I use they/them pronouns.

And as the username suggests, I'm just an oldphanny.

I've been round these parts for a long time.

This account turned 10 earlier this year, and I was consuming Phandom content a couple years before delving into the depths of Tumblr (mostly Wattpad lol). I didn't really start posting original content until this year though; I used to just lurk cause I was wayy too shy.

I love creating silly memes, edits and other content. Very unserious. I like to make stuff that you'd probably send in a group chat to your friends to make them laugh.

Here's some of my current favourites [ x | x | x | x | x ]

Plus I make art sometimes :) [ x | x ]

Asks and messages are open to everyone, so don't be shy <3 I can be slow to reply because of time zones and social anxiety, but I do my best to get back to everyone.

I'm also going to TIT Sydney (Gadigal Land) in December! So hmu if you're going too, I'd love to make some new friends and give out some bracelets :)

~~~

Side Blogs

@babysmosh = Smosh

@teenagemcr = My Chemical Romance

~~~

Tags

#bipanswers = asks

#bipswordvomit = personal/non-dnp stuff

#oldphannyppp = Phandom Phollow Phrain (500 followers)

~~~

TIT SPOILERS!

Things that I will be posting, reblogging, and discussing prior to my tit date are:

● Merch/Photocards

● M&G stuff (including photos/anything said or done during a m&g)

● Social Media Posts (made by dnp about tit/travelling etc)

● Teasers, Trailers or Interviews (posted public on any channels or social media beyond what we've seen)

● Preshow Stuff (this will be limited to text posts/reactions regarding what has been discussed or maybe photos/short clips depending on the context (one of them stacks it or they have cute outfits on as random examples))

Things I will never post prior to my tit date are :

● Photos, Videos or Audio files of anything to do with the show itself

● Audio or Video of Preshows

● Transcripts of the show itself or Preshows

● Any post discussing particular segments in length

Here are some things that may make me want to post:

● Phan Conspiracies

● Off script comments to one another

● Funny/Memeable moments that happen during the show but weren't actually scripted/intended

● Revealing of new Phan information in general

Anything in the orange category will be tagged appropriately #titspoilers and other variations. So, if you have censorship in place for that tag, you shouldn't see those few posts that may or may not be made.

~~~

Last Updated - 15.11.24

[rayspookyhistory]

ᯓᡣ𐭩Vampiresᯓᡣ𐭩

(id just like to say i love vampires and grew up in love with g1 draculaura from monster high :3)

For centuries, vampires have fascinated the human mind, appearing in various forms across different cultures and periods. From ancient legends to modern pop culture, these mysterious beings embody themes of immortality, fear, desire, and power.

Origins and Historical Context

The idea of the vampire dates back to ancient civilizations, with early mentions in Mesopotamian, Greek, and Roman mythology. These early "vampiric" figures were often demons or spirits linked to death and the underworld. For example, the Mesopotamian myth of Lilith describes a demoness who preys on infants and seduces men, echoing later vampire tales.

In Slavic folklore, the vampire was a more tangible figure—a reanimated corpse that rose from the grave to drink the blood of the living. These beliefs were often connected to unexplained deaths and diseases, and methods to prevent or eliminate a vampire included staking the body, decapitation, and burial rituals designed to keep the dead at rest. The "upir" in Russia and "vrykolakas" in Greece are examples of these regional variations.

Fear of vampires led to widespread practices aimed at preventing vampirism, such as burying bodies with objects believed to restrain the undead or placing garlic around homes to ward off these nocturnal predators.

However, these legends often arose from a misunderstanding of how bodies decompose. As a corpse’s skin shrinks, its teeth and fingernails can appear to have grown longer. And as internal organs break down, a dark “purge fluid” can leak out of the nose and mouth. People unfamiliar with this process would interpret this fluid to be blood and suspect that the corpse had been drinking it from the living. To which they would rip out hearts of the dead bodies and then feed it to their families.

Literary Vampires: Folklore and Fiction

Vampires entered the literary spotlight with John Polidori's "The Vampyre" in 1819. Inspired by a fragment written by Lord Byron, this short story introduced the aristocratic vampire, a sophisticated and charismatic predator. Polidori's work laid the foundation for later vampire literature, including James Malcolm Rymer's serialized novel "Varney the Vampire" (1845-47), which further established the vampire's place in popular culture.

The quintessential vampire novel, Bram Stoker's "Dracula" (1897), further popularized the vampire archetype. Stoker's Count Dracula, a mysterious and menacing nobleman from Transylvania, became the model for many future depictions. "Dracula" combined elements of Gothic horror, romance, and adventure, captivating readers and securing the vampire's place in literary history. The novel also mirrored Victorian anxieties about sexuality, immigration, and the breakdown of traditional social structures.

Vampires in Modern Culture

The 20th and 21st centuries have seen a surge of vampire-themed media, reflecting society's changing fears and interests. Early film adaptations, such as F.W. Murnau's "Nosferatu" (1922) and Tod Browning's "Dracula" (1931), brought vampires to the big screen, creating lasting images. "Nosferatu," with its depiction of Count Orlok, emphasized the monstrous and terrifying aspects of the vampire, while Bela Lugosi's portrayal of Count Dracula in Browning's film brought a suave and sophisticated allure to the character.

In the latter half of the 20th century, Anne Rice's "The Vampire Chronicles" series redefined the genre, presenting vampires as deeply introspective and morally complex beings. Rice's portrayal emphasized the emotional and existential dilemmas faced by immortals, resonating with modern audiences. Her characters, like Lestat and Louis, grapple with themes of identity, guilt, and the search for meaning in an eternal existence.

The late 20th and early 21st centuries witnessed a rise in vampire popularity, particularly in television and film. Series like "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "The Vampire Diaries," along with the "Twilight" saga, reimagined vampires as youthful, attractive figures entangled in romantic and often tragic narratives. These works expanded the vampire mythos, appealing to a broader and younger demographic. "Buffy," for instance, juxtaposed the supernatural with everyday high school struggles, using vampires as metaphors for personal and societal issues.

(id also like to recommend a show im loving atm called what we do in the shadows its so good)

Themes and Symbolism

Vampires serve as versatile symbols in literature and media, embodying various themes and societal anxieties.

Vampires, as undead beings, blur the line between life and death, exploring humanity's fear of mortality and the desire for eternal life. This theme is evident in works like "Interview with the Vampire," where characters wrestle with the implications of living forever.

Vampires often represent the outsider, reflecting societal fears of the unknown and the marginalised. The vampire's need to hide their true nature parallels the experience of those who feel alienated or persecuted in society.

The act of vampirism, often depicted as a form of seduction, symbolises taboo desires and the complexities of human sexuality. This is evident in the sensual imagery associated with vampire bites and the intimate connection between predator and prey.

Vampires, with their supernatural abilities, frequently serve as metaphors for power, control, and the corrupting influence of absolute power. Dracula's control over his victims and his manipulation of others reflect the dangers of unchecked authority.

Vampires remain a potent and adaptable myth, continually evolving to reflect contemporary cultural and psychological landscapes. Whether as monstrous villains or tragic anti-heroes, vampires captivate audiences by embodying timeless human fears and desires. Their enduring appeal lies in their ability to mirror our deepest anxieties while offering a glimpse into the tantalizing possibility of life beyond death. The vampire's journey from ancient myth to modern icon underscores their significance in our collective imagination, ensuring that they will continue to haunt our stories and dreams for generations to come.

[shr00mie-rat]

INTRO POST!!!

(Edit: If you got mysteriously mentioned in this post, check the comments!)

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Hello, welcome to my blog :3

My name is Stanley but you can also call me Bara, Simón or Rat

I'm transmasc and my pronouns are he/him and they/them (pronoun page is still a WIP)

I'm mexican and i speak spanish and english

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OTHER INFO:

I´m a minor (suggestive things and non sexual NSFW are a maybe but straight up 🌽 is a no)

might or might not have anxiety (my diagnosis was given in a non medical context)

multifandom and multishipper acc

I'm a fictionkin with Wheatley from Portal 2 as my fictotype

DMs and asks are open, you can do both whenever you like :3

pls ask if certain things are ok with me or not, somethings i forget abt them and get stressed on thing i could've avoided U_U

Also I'm the owner of the @wh3atley-personality-core blog!!!

(More under cut)

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INTERESTS

color guide bc there's things i like more than others and i'm complicated like that:

REALLY LIKE IT, just think it's awesome, casual fan

The stanley Parable

Portal

Kirby

Gravity Falls

Spooky's jumpscare mansion

Regretevator

Little nightmares

Psychopomp

Hello Charlotte

Elevator Hitch

Spooky Month

Pokemon

Ghost and pals

Hollow Knight

Miracle Musical

Ikigusare idols

don't hug me i'm scared

Adventure time/Fionna and Cake

Popee the perforrmer

Undertale/Deltarune

DougDoug (only streamer i'll openly say I like)

Fractal space

Demon Slayer/Kimetsu no yaiba

Serial Experiments Lain

Delicious in Dungeon

Cookie run

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DNI LIST

Proshippers, Darkshippers, etc

Racists, Xenophobes

Homophobes, transphobes

AI/NFT defenders

Mysoginists, sexist, misandrists

🍇 apologists

THIN ICE LIST BC I CAN'T CONTROL MY AUDIENCE:

Commshippers

Danganronpa

Hazbin hotel

Boku no hero academia/My hero academia

(note: i don't really mind these fandoms, you can interact if you're on them as i'll also rarely interact with them, this is mostly based on past experiences)

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Tags:

#shr00mie-art (art tag)

#parable laboratories AU (Portal x The Stanley Parable AU)

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Other social media:

SpaceHey: https://spacehey.com/profile?id=1720839

Instagram (abandoned): https://www.instagram.com/shr00mie._.rat/#

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@soup._.b0i

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soup_b0i

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k, that´s it bye :3

[icarus-suraki]

Got this as a reply ages ago on my Ao3 post:

Yes, even that story.

Ao3 is not a platform. Ao3 is an archive.

Okay, so, this story was definitely not for the you, commenter. That's all there is to it. Not every story is for every person. And that's just how it is. And it's okay. There's an old saying in librarianship: "Every book its reader; every reader, a book."

But rather than freaking out, maybe we ought to query why the creator wrote and posted that story.

Because if they wrote it with the intention to be shocking and transgressive, they clearly succeeded. You, commenter, are shocked and find the whole thing extremely transgressive. Conceptually, it's a bit like novels that say drugs are great. Or like any number of commercially published novels that take on graphic murders. Horror novels have some fucked up shit in them sometimes and people who enjoy exploring intense emotions and situations in a fictional context read those without engaging in those behaviors.

For the record, I read a lot of "transgressive" literature and I'm out in the world with a job and a place to live and an internet connection. Meanwhile, fans of Christian fiction can be some of the most vicious beasts I have ever encountered. Thoughts?

This particular example, though, is also interesting because it's like inverse zoophilia/zoosadism--the human is the victim here, somehow. Zooisms have been a hot topic in recent years--so does this story stir up personal reactions to that topic? Is that the intention? I'm not about to defend acting zoophiles/zoosadists because they're literally engaging in animal abuse. Like, that's a crime. (Was the dog in this story a German shepherd? It's always German shepherds for some reason with the zoos.)

Or is the concern that this is the author's kink? Because there's a lot of concern over kinks anymore and whether a kink is acceptable or whether kinks are acceptable at all. Who is this story for? Someone with a similar kink? Don't start on the "consuming porn leads to more porn and more violent porn until you're a sexually-motivated serial killer" line because that comes out of a Ted Bundy interview and we all know he was a consummate liar. Again: horror fans read some fucked up shit. Mystery novel fans read some fucked up shit, even if they say the "good ending" absolves them of that. And they're not killing people.

Engaging with an unusual interest or desire on a level removed from reality is a much safer way to engage with that interest than in reality. Fiction is not reality. Movies are not reality. Theater is not reality. BDSM is theater and theater is not reality. These are all things with a remove from reality, which lets one engage with an interest without harm to self or others.

I can guarantee you that there are stories just as, if not more, distressing to you, the commenter, in notebooks and computer files all over the world. They still exist though they aren't published. You don't have to have read a story like the above to find a socially dangerous interest like this. These things can arise in relative isolation. Source: I grew up before the internet became what it is now and I have seen some shit.

The fact that this particular story was posted online suggests a desire on the part of the author to share it. Why would they want to do that? To shock readers? To find people with similar desires? Publication/posting implies a desire for responses. Why do you think this story was written? Why do you think it was shared? Who is the intended audience?

I'm sorry this story upset you, commenter. It absolutely sucks to get blindsided by a story (or any kind of media) that you find upsetting. It's certainly happened to me and I didn't like it either. I have had a lot of religious anxiety for most of my life and getting surprised by Chick Tracts being left around in the bookstore where I worked was not a good time. So, yes, I sympathize.

But it's impossible to control what billions of humans are going to be saying, doing, writing, or interested in. You can't stop people from writing fucked up shit, as much as you would like to. The best thing you can do is create a system to alert others about what, if anything, might be distressing in a piece of media. This is why, if one is usual Ao3 like a lending library and not an archive, there are content warnings, age recommendations, and tags. You can't control what everyone else is doing, but you can and should protect yourself as much as necessary. And, yes, that does mean that you have to deal with things that you don't like existing in shared spaces in the world. You may have to work on coming to terms with that. And yes I am serious. I have had to do the same thing in my life.

Also I have a lot of questions. How did you find this story? Was it by accident or was it intentional? What was the story "about"? How was it written? Was it genuine or was it a troll? Was the dog cognitively on a level with a human? How canine/anthropomorphized was the dog in this story? Was this Scooby Doo fanfic? Was this werewolf fanfic? Are you concerned that dogs will read this story and go on to rape eleven year-olds?

So why would someone write a story in which an eleven year-old gets raped by their dog?

And, gang, I anonymized the commenter on purpose. Don't go seek them out.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

hello readers. AITA for visiting a friend in another country before visiting a different friend in a different (neighboring, but still a good 7-10hr trip) country?

some context: friend 1 and i have been online friends for over a decade. by reasons of circumstance- they're a few years older than me so they could travel easier, their family is more affluent whereas mine couldn't shell out ~1k for an overseas flight until i was able to make that money myself as an adult, they had already graduated college and could travel easier than when i was still in college and could not (summer was technically an option but friend 1 hates hot weather and getting sweaty, so they always wanted to meet up in colder months, which limited my schedule)- the four times we've been able to hang out in person, they came to visit me instead of vice versa. the 4th time was a couple years ago, and they purchased tickets at the start of that year (2022). however, at the same start of that year, i got involved in a new community and met a lot of amazing people, especially friend 2, who quickly became one of my best friends in a short amount of time. it was just one of those instant connections, y'know?

anyway. fast forward about six months. since friend 1 was already coming here towards the end of 2022, and there was no refunding those tickets, friend 2 and i wound up making plans to see each other. but they couldn't easily afford the plane fare, so i decided to go visit them in their home country instead. part of the reason i never had done so with friend 1 before was bc i just wasn't mentally ready to be so far from family, in a different country, by myself - i had a lot of anxiety about such a long trip. i still had some now, but after going through covid and such, i changed a decent amount as a person, and wasn't quite as anxious anymore. i had also moved out, so i was more used to being away from family by then.

the trip with friend 2 wasn't going to happen until 2023. when friend 1 came to visit, however, they found out about the trip (by apparently looking through my likes on twitter, where friend 2 had made a post about it) and completely broke down. i had been trying to figure out a way to tell them, but had a feeling that any method would result in this exact reaction, so i had put it off, until i was unfortunately proven correct.

further context: friend 1 and i have never been great at honest communication. this is a fault of both of ours, but i feel like i am able to admit it more honestly, apologize/own up to it, and try and make changes. we met young and immature, and the majority of our talk over the years has been superficial, solely about fantasy characters. when i got too busy in college, and my time/interest in characters declined, i felt more and more like our relationship wasn't as fulfilling. i was afraid to bring this up because on two separate occasions in the past, when i mentioned hanging out with other friends (and in one if the situations, which was an online game, i invited friend 1 to join us) i was immediately ghosted by friend 1 for a few days. so i stopped feeling able to bring up any plans with friends going forward, for fear they wouldn't take it well. i made up excuses and lies when i DID hang out with other people to explain away my absence (we were used to talking daily, but it felt like an obligation after a time, as they'd always ask why i wasn't online for a day). obvs, none of this is healthy, but it led to how i (mis)handled the current situation.

friend 1 found out, we had a lot of difficult talks on a trip that was supposed to be fun, and throughout the remainder of the trip i basically felt watched for whenever i was on my phone - lots of passive aggressive comments dropped about how "they wouldn't use social media on a trip like this, bc they could just do that at home". i was accused of being in love with friend 2, bc why else would i wanna go visit them so soon into a friendship, of not wanting friend 1 to even be here, of "holding something that happened years ago" over them (the ghosting) when i tried to explain why i didn't tell them. (i don't hold the situations themselves against them anymore, but it's had a profound interaction on how i conduct myself in relationships now). they said that they wanted to be my first international experience, which i get, but in my mind, it's two completely different countries, and they were already coming to visit before these plans were even made. they also made it clear they didn't care about the circumstances, friend 1 just wanted to be "my first" no matter what i said. i felt/still feel like that's too controlling, basically asking me not to go hang out with friend 2 bc i didn't adhere to their timetable for it first.

i had an amazing time with friend 2, and it was just an overall more comfortable experience. i still feel like i owe friend 1 a visit, even though i don't see a long future for our dying friendship (and even, if i'm being very honest with myself, i don't want to go visit them). personally, i'm fine with this - we've just grown into different people imo. but they don't have many friends, and had a couple rough ghostings from previous friends of their own, so i feel guilty about wanting to call it quits on ours, which again i know they won't take well. i just don't think we're compatible anymore, but even so, this whole situation has continued to eat at me even though it's been nearly a year now. i keep wondering if i really am in the wrong here, if i wasn't as considerate as i should have been, if i shouldn't be so blase about ending a decade+ friendship.

so, AITA for visiting friend 2 in their country before friend 1?