#i hate having to follow an instagram to get information that should have been on your website!!!

[vexx-the-egg]

Hate hate when companies are like yeah we sell this hyper specific product in store! NO we won't show you what it looks like on our website :) . Oh UNLESS you just so happen to follow us on INSTAGRAM;;)) then we can show you a bunch of stylized glamorous up photos of the product! No you can't see it unless you download the app and follow us! Oh whoops you spent all that time the product is now gone. You should have pre-ordered it!

[sprinkler-ashes]

gold rush // aaron hotchner x reader

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

description: in which aaron hotchner hates social media – unless it’s yours. inspired by gold rush by taylor swift.

words: 2.2k

warnings: hotch is down bad, curse words, a bit of pining and jealousy

a/n: i love the idea of the bau being active on social media + hotch having no idea what any online terms mean lmao anyways i just really like this little fic. happy reading!!

i don’t like slow motion, double vision in rose blush

i don't like that falling feels like flying ‘til the bone crush

everybody wants you

but i don’t like a gold rush

Aaron Hotchner is not a fan of social media.

Maybe it’s because of his job. He knows that posting too much information online could sometimes lead to bad situations because there are always people lurking – it’s impossible to know who, exactly, is watching online. Or maybe it’s because he simply didn’t grow up with it. It didn’t really matter – he just knows he does not like using it.

Penelope had shown him quite a bit of Twitter after several BAU cases started trending while the cases were actively going on, even somehow agreeing to let her set him up an account. Aaron didn’t really want an account, but it was almost impossible to say no to Penelope Garcia who Aaron genuinely liked a lot.

Facebook was another one that he had. He didn’t even have a profile picture and only harbored a small amount of friends – entirely family. The site was strictly used to keep up with Jessica since she was an avid Facebook user. If he couldn’t get a hold of her through her phone, he would send her a message on Facebook’s messaging platform, Messenger. She typically responded that way.

The last social media account Aaron had was a new one. Or, well, new-ish. It had just been created a little over a month ago. He didn’t want the account, but Penelope wasn’t the one who asked him to get an account that time.

It was you. And saying no to you was even harder than saying no to Penelope.

A group photo was taken at Rossi’s last month during a get-together after finishing a case. Penelope went straight to Instagram to post it, tagging everyone except Aaron who wasn’t shy to say he didn’t have an account. He was the only one – even Rossi had made an account.

“You’re not on Instagram?” You’d asked Aaron only moments after that.

He shook his head. “I don’t really use social media.”

You frowned like you were in deep thought before turning to him again with a smile. “We should change that.”

All it took was a good minute, maybe even less than that, and one of your signature smiles to convince him to let you help him create an Instagram profile.

He accumulated a small amount of followers since then, which he had to approve, of course, as Aaron made sure his account was set to private – mainly family, some friends, and the team. However, that was as far as it went. He was still figuring out the app, but completely forgot about his new account due to his busy life.

Except for now.

It’s a slow Friday at work – mainly just a day spent catching up on paperwork – and Aaron never really complains on days like this. Yes, it’s usually boring, but having a day without a case means he actually gets to see his son at the end of the day, so it’s a win for him.

But a slow day creates boredom, especially when he’s actually ahead on paperwork. Aaron can’t recall the last time he was this bored at work – probably because he usually has something to do – but when his eyes ghost over the time on his expensive watch, he has to resist letting out a sigh of agitation because, somehow, there are still four more hours left in the workday.

Aaron puts the pen he’s holding down and moves the file he’s in the process of reviewing. He grabs his phone from one of the drawers in his desk and turns it on. The lock screen, which is his favorite photo of Jack, lights up before he enters his passcode.

He does errand-like things at first, including responding to a couple of texts, checking his personal email, and even spending a minute, or five, on Twitter, not that he would ever admit that to Penelope.

Eyeing the colorful app with a white outline of a camera, he hesitantly opens Instagram, still not really used to it considering it’s been over a month since the last time he was on it. He waits a second for it to load up until a photo appears on his feed from JJ, who posted a picture of Henry and Will before she left for work.

jj_jareau: My two favorite guys <3

Aaron knows that the symbol on the end of her caption is supposed to represent a heart because you often send the same symbol in the BAU group chat. He’s not sure why you never use actual emoticons – he’s never asked you – but he associates the symbol with you.

Not that he’s associating hearts with you specifically. Or overanalyzing all your texts in the group chat. Of course not, it’s just because you use it often. That’s all.

When Aaron tries to scroll, he accidentally presses on your username that was showing up in the preview of the comments, sending him straight to your own Instagram page.

He’s about to click the back arrow above your profile picture that he’s assuming will take him back to his feed, but Aaron can’t stop himself from glancing over your profile. Your page is filled with photos from moments in your life that go back years.

Looking up from his phone, he can see you from his chair as the blinds in his office are currently open. You’re chatting with Spencer who’s sitting across from you, a smile on your face as you continuously glance from him and back over to your computer screen where you’re typing, making sure Spencer knows you’re still listening to whatever bizarre fact he’s probably ranting about.

Aaron looks back down to his phone. He’s never been on your page, nor have your posts ever shown up on his feed during the rare times he’s actively gone on the app. It almost feels too personal – like he’s not supposed to see the side of you he doesn’t work with.

He carefully presses on the last post you made. It’s a post from only one day ago, but you’re not in any of the seven photos you’ve posted, which makes him frown with a tinge of disappointment.

Your caption reads, September photo dump, with a couple emoticons.

Wondering what the hell a photo dump is, Aaron looks through the set of pictures again. Everything is random. They range from a sunset to a picture of a meal you must’ve eaten at some point during the month of September, which just passed, and even one of Emily’s cat.

He scrolls down to the next post from three days ago. This time, you’ve only posted one picture and luckily for him, you’re actually in it.

You’re sitting at a dinner table, head resting gently on your hand with a sweet smile while your other hand is gently holding a glass of what – Aaron brings the phone closer to his face without knowing he can actually just zoom in – appears to be champagne.

It only takes him a few seconds after admiring how you look in the photo to wonder about who’s on the other side of it.

Aaron doesn’t know who took the photo and is getting to see you smile like that, but he does know that he wishes it was him because you’re just so damn pretty.

The man is pretty sure he would quite literally melt down to the ground if you looked at him like that.

He’s attempting to push these thoughts to the back of his head as he prepares to scroll to the next post. Aaron is well aware of the fact he shouldn’t be thinking about you in any way that isn’t strictly platonic. He is your boss and even aside from that, the two of you are not only co-workers, but friends.

Friends, he reminds himself. That’s all.

But as he scrolls to the next post, every thought of friendship leaves his body.

It’s a photo taken with the flash on from exactly a week ago, last Friday night, of you, Emily, JJ, and Penelope in what appears to be a club that Aaron can’t say recognizes. You’re standing on the end, your arm snaked around Emily’s waist with your body turned towards the camera while mid-laugh.

The black dress you’re wearing hugs every inch of your body perfectly – you’re showing more skin in the photo than Aaron has ever seen out of you. He’s seen you dressed up before – even seen you in person at clubs himself – but nothing like this before. Ever.

Much needed girls’ night out, your caption says.

Aaron’s not even sure he’s still breathing when he swipes to the second, and last, picture in the post.

This time, it’s only you. You’re still in the same dress, looking at the camera with a sultry smile. You’re not in the club this time. Aaron can’t tell where you are, but that doesn’t really matter because you’re looking straight at the camera with one of the most attractive looks he’s ever seen – it almost feels like you’re looking directly at him.

prentiss_emily: Baddest bitch in the bureau

yourusername: @ emily_prentiss Only behind you ofc

Though he knows she means it in an endearing way, Aaron doesn’t want to call you a bitch, but Emily’s comment on your post technically isn’t a lie. Unfortunately, he also can't seem to figure out what "ofc" means.

A part of him feels guilty. He knows he can’t have you, yet he’s going through your Instagram right now imagining a thousand what-if scenarios, a tinge of jealousy running through his veins at the idea of you ever looking at anyone the way you’re looking at the camera in your photos.

Aaron spends so much time trying to convince himself he doesn’t feel the way he does for you because there are so many reasons why he shouldn’t have the feelings he does. He can’t think of a scenario where you can be his nor can he think of a world in which you feel the same.

So, after he looks at this photo for another couple of seconds, he’s finally going to close out the app and forget about the way you look in that dress.

He can’t get the chance to do that because the door to his office is opening abruptly, startling him to the point where he drops his phone onto his desk.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, hands fumbling to lock his phone so your Instagram will go away.

There you are, mouth open to say something until you notice him fumbling with his phone.

A sheepish look appears on your face. “Sorry, I forgot to knock.”

“It’s fine,” he says, hoping his voice is even and doesn’t scream: Hello, I just looked through your Instagram. “What do you need?” He lays his phone down – it’s finally locked – and looks up at you, trying to appear like he was actually doing something.

“Oh, I don’t need anything. Reid and I are going to try that new place that just opened up down the street for lunch. I was wondering if you wanted me to grab you something.”

“Do you have a menu?” He asks.

“Yeah, give me a second. I’ll text it to you,” you tell him.

You’re pulling your phone out of the pocket of your pants and if Aaron had been paying attention and not pretending like he was working, he would’ve seen the way you glanced up at him, back to your phone, then back to him, a giddy smile on your face.

You do as you told him you would and send him the menu. “Take your time looking over it. Just text me what you want within the next fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks. I’ll look over it in a minute.”

Aaron really does go back to work this time, his hands moving to pick up the file he moved earlier. He hears the door open and assumes you’re on your way out of the door, but you don’t leave yet.

“Oh! Before I go,” you say, your body out the door and your hand lingering on the outside knob of his office door. He looks up at you, pen in hand. “Thanks for the like on Instagram.”

Aaron thinks his heart has stopped upon hearing those words. Before he can even say anything, you shut the door, and you’re making your way back to where Spencer is still sitting.

He swallows hard, closes the file, and sets it away once again. His fingers frantically type in his passcode, and Instagram immediately pops up, still open from when he tried to turn his phone off.

To Aaron’s horror, he sees the Instagram heart that’s used to like photos filled with red and seemingly glaring at him. It was too late to unlike it now. You’d obviously already gotten the notification.

Meanwhile, as Aaron is mentally panicking, you’re whipping out your phone again to send another text. This time to Emily who is currently in a meeting.

I will never doubt you again – Operation post-a-thirst-trap worked!

[mads-hemmo]

Baseball Boy - College AU

Part 2

Baseball Player! Schlatt x Fem! Southern Sorority girl reader

Part 1

Part 3

Schlatt moves down south to play baseball for a Division 1 school. At a party, he meets a girl who is the exact opposite of him. She’s a sorority girl who obviously has money and a very strong southern accent. She believes there is good in everyone and Schlatt isn’t as much of an asshole as he is letting on.

The beginning of the semester is always your favorite time. You love spending too much money on a planner and choosing an appropriate color for each class. When you receive the syllabus, you put all the assignments in your planner in their respective color. You also love seeing your friends and sorority sisters. It warms your heart to be back on campus in the place that feels the most like home.

You are glad that you had gotten an early start on planning because there’s only been one thing on your mind since Saturday Night. Schlatt. You don’t know why he has taken up so much space in your mind. Frankly, he’s a bit of a douche, but you want to break his shell. You are curious to see what is hiding under that tough exterior. There seems to be more than meets the eye and you want to know what it is.

You have always been curious, wanting to understand how things work and know every detail of it. You hate the unknown and he seems to be the biggest mystery you have ever encountered.

On Sunday, you decided to go on Instagram and search for Schlatt’s name. He only has a couple hundred followers. The only mutual friend you have is Alex Lopez. You saw them talking during the party. There wasn’t much information you got from his account. There were about 6 posts and he only had one that included his face. The rest are just photos of him playing baseball.

Baseball. That seems to be the only thing you know about him. That and he’s from somewhere up North. You are not sure where, but it seems like it might be the New England area.

The other things you know are what you can see on the outside. He’s tall, probably about 6’3”. He has messy brown hair and puppy brown eyes that seem to be constantly squinting into a glare. You're surprised he doesn’t already have crow’s feet. He’s annoyingly gorgeous.

There is so much you do not know about him though. What’s his major? Where exactly is he from? Why did he brush me off when every other guy would be falling at my feet? It’s what made you the most curious. You took the time to talk to him and he barely batted an eye. You know most guys only like you for my money, but he didn’t even care to know your name. Maybe that’s what made you somehow want him even more. He does not know who you are, so he cannot judge you. Even though it seems that he already has.

As you have a meal plan, you make your way to the Cafe to get some dinner. “How was your summer break, Miss.(Y/N)?” Ms. Debra, the sweet lady at the front who scans our cards, asks you. You made it your mission in your first semester to learn every staff member's name, especially those who work at the Cafe. You learned after a semester that if you are nice to every employee, they make your college experience enjoyable.

“It was pretty boring honestly. I’m happy to be back here. How was your break?” You ask her back.

“It wasn’t too bad, sweetie. I was here for most of it as many students take summer classes. The family and I went camping a few times.”

“That sounds amazing. Have a good rest of your night Deb.” you make your way through the main line to grab some chicken fried steak, rice, and peas. You missed the food served here, especially since it wasn’t made by someone who thinks you should be on a diet.

After you get your food, you see your friends sitting at their usual table towards the right side of the cafe. You smile at the familiarity that rings through you as you sit down with the three girls I missed the most during the summer. Gia’s boyfriend Alex is also there. He became a part of the group as soon as they started dating two years ago. Your friends and you all met in your freshman year. Lucy and Gia were assigned as your roommates along with another girl, Sara Beth. Sara Beth however did not stick around as long as the other two. Sara was a nice girl but she never really fit into your group. She came here with her high school boyfriend so you barely saw her. Lucy, Gia, and you all ended up rushing KKG where we met the fourth member of your group, Haley. Haley is Gia’s big who didn’t bond as well with the girls in her year, so she quickly joined your friend group.

Even though you only met them two years ago, you feel like you have been friends with them your whole life. You all live in different cities so you didn’t get to spend the summer together. This is the first time you have all eaten together since May. As soon as you sit down, they all give me a big smile. “How was your first day of classes, (Y/N/N)?” Gia asks you with Alex’s arm around her tiny waist.

“Pretty boring. Just a syllabus day as the first week always is,” you tell her.

“Same for me,” Lucy says as Haley nods in agreement.

“Did Alex tell you about his asshole roommate from the North?” Haley speaks up.

“(Y/N) has met him,” Alex says, with a wink. You raise my eyebrow at him. You didn’t even know Alex had a new roommate, much less met the guy. Alex notices my confusion. “You spoke to him at the PIKE party.”

It finally clicks. “Schlatt is your roommate?” You ask. He just nods. As in on cue, you see Schlatt with a few slices of pizzas on his plate walk to a small table in the corner. His fluffy hair is hidden by a baseball cap. He looks a lot more comfortable than he did at the party. You ignore the butterflies in your stomach when he combs through his hair before putting the cap back on. You also ignore how lonely he looks as he scrolls through his phone.

“(Y/N)!” you hear Gia say, snapping me out of the one-sided staring match. You look over at her. “I said,’ Was he that guy who made you feel bad at the party?’”

“He didn’t make me feel bad. He just didn’t know anyone and I was being too pushy. Do you guys think he looks lonely?” you ask, looking back over in his direction.

“Do not say you feel sorry for him,” Lucy says. “I should’ve kicked his ass when I had the chance.” Lucy is always the one threatening to beat anyone up who ‘hurt’ the ones she cares about.

You roll your eyes at her forwardness. “Maybe I should go give him company. No one wants to sit alone,” you say.

“Didn’t you just say he called you pushy?” Alex comments. “Plus I think he is one of the few people who likes being alone.”

“Like I said he doesn’t know anyone. I’ll die of regret if I know I let him sit by himself when he didn’t want to.”

“God you’re too sweet,” Haley pipes up. “If you do go over there, please just be careful and don’t get upset if he’s an asshat to you.”

You grab your plate and make your way over to him. He doesn’t notice, so you clear your throat. “Can I sit by you?” You ask him.

He finally looks up from his phone. “It’s you again. Why do I feel like, if I tell you no, you’ll do it anyway?”

“You looked lonely over here so I figured you needed some company, so can I?”

“Whatever,” he mutters, paying attention to his phone. You feel like this was maybe a bad idea but you can’t back down now. You have to prove everyone else wrong.

“So Schlatt right? Did you have any classes today?” He just simply nods. “Awesome. How were they? My professors just went over the syllabuses or syllabi I guess is the right term for it.”

“I’m not interested in joining your sorority or whatever cult you are a part of,” he says, finally looking up from his phone.

“Obviously, you can’t join my sorority seeing as you’re a male. Or at least I assume you are since you play baseball and live with Alex. I don’t want to make any assumptions.”

“Definitely a male,” he confirms with an eye roll. He takes a bite of his pizza and makes a face in slight disgust at it.

“Yeah, the pizza here is disgusting. They were serving chicken fried steak which is much better. If you don't want southern food, they always have pasta.” You take a bite of your food, savoring how good it is. White gravy is a gift from heaven.

“Do you always dress like you’re going to an event ?” He asks, looking you up and down. You’re not even that dressed up in your mind.You are wearing a pink flowy tank top with white jeans and flats. The only jewelry you’re wearing is a pair of pearl earrings and your Kendra Scott necklace.

“This isn’t that dressed up, but I always try to look nice. I feel better when I take the time to do my makeup and pick out a nice outfit.”

He just snorts a bit before scrolling again. You sigh seeing that the conversation has gone one-sided. Though you should just walk back to your friends and accept defeat, you continue. You take a look at what he is wearing. He has on a baseball cap and a plain T-shirt. You noticed he was also wearing joggers earlier, meaning that he prefers to dress comfier than you.

“What team is that?” You ask, motioning towards his hat. The logo isn’t one of any team you recognize.

“It’s the school I played at before I came here. Don't look it up. I don’t want you stalking me.” You feel a tinge of guilt. He thinks you’re some creepy girl who can’t take a hint. Maybe this really was a bad idea. Why didn’t you listen to your friends? “I’m joking,” he says, noticing my discomfort.

You let out a fake laugh. “Obviously. I knew that.” you sigh. You’re usually really good at reading people, but he’s so hard to read. You feel like the whole douchebag thing is a cover-up, but he’s making it seem like that’s not the case. You want to learn who the real Schlatt is. The one who doesn’t feel like he has to be a lone wolf to not let anyone in.

“Did anyone teach you it’s not nice to stare.” He looks at you with his soft puppy brown eyes that make you want to melt in your seat.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I’m just trying to figure you out.” God that sounded a lot less creepy in your head.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Why are you trying? I’m obviously an asshole who isn’t worth your precious time. Don’t you have some impressional freshman girls to join your cult, I mean sorority.” He cracks a small grin as if he thinks he finally broke you.

“I’m a really good judge of character and you seem to not be as bad as you are putting on. Plus I’m a junior, I did my duties of talking up KKG as a sophomore.”

“Sorry to break your heart, but I’m really a douchebag. There’s no act I’m putting on. So why don't you just go back to your little friends and talk bad about some helpless girl who doesn’t know how to dress?”

You scoff. “This isn’t high school. Unlike you, I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not to feel better about myself. I’m a nice person just trying to help someone who knows no one here or even in Arkansas for that matter.” You look at your plates which are both now empty. “Do you want some dessert? I think Miss. Brenda made peach cobbler. It’s really good. It will make you happy you came here.” You know desserts are the way to anyone’s heart.

“I have a few questions for you first. One, are you offering to grab me dessert after I was rude to you? Two, what the hell is a peach cobbler? And three, you know the name of the lady who makes desserts.”

“Yes because like I said I’m actually a nice person trying to help someone out. I learned every staff member's name here during my first semester and it’s like a warm pastry with peaches and cinnamon. It’s really good.”

He sighs. “I learned that you don’t take no for an answer, so I guess if you’re getting one.”

You smile making your way to the dessert line. “Hi, Mrs.Brenda. Did your grandbabies have a good summer vacation?” You ask her.

“Hello (Y/N). Yes, we went to Pigeon Forge and they had a blast. Did you have a good summer?” She asks you, putting more bowls of peach cobbler on the line.

“Yes ma’am. I spent a few days with my granny and papa in Fort Worth. I would have stayed the whole summer if I could.”

“I bet they enjoyed having you there.” She hands you a bowl.

“I hope it’s not too much to ask, but could I possibly have two bowls? My friend over there is from the North and hasn’t ever had peach cobbler. So of course I told him he had to try it from the best.”

“You’re too sweet, darling. Of course, you can take two.”

You smile at her as you grab the two bowls and some spoons. You go over to the ice cream machine to add some to each of the cobblers.YouI make your way back to the table and set one bowl in front of him. “It’s best with ice cream,” you tell him, taking a bite of your own. The noise that comes out of your mouth is sinful, but it’s deserved as you missed Mrs. Brenda’s dessert.

Schlatt looks up at you with wide eyes before taking a bite for himself. “It’s good. A bit too sweet.”

“You’re in the south. Everything is a bit too sweet.”

“So I’ve learned,” he looks at you with a smile small enough that it’s barely noticeable and it makes you blush a bit. You feel like maybe just maybe his douchebag act is melting like the ice cream in your bowl.

You both sit in silence for a bit, just eating your desserts. After you finish, he looks at your empty dishes. “Are you done?” He asks and you nod. He takes them, adding them to his dirty plate and bowl. Instead of saying goodbye, he puts his phone in his pocket and takes your dishes to the conveyor belt where they get washed.

You probably look like such a creep watching him leave with a big smile on your face. You look over to see your friends looking at you with faces of disbelief. You smile at them knowing that even if you didn’t feel like you made much progress, they think you turned Schlatt into a total softie who put up your dishes. You grab your things and make your way towards the exit. You smile hoping that someday you will see the full softie that you feel like Schlatt is hiding behind his douchebag exterior.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Here is reader’s POV. As I mentioned in the first part, I changed the point of view from forts person to second person. I hope you enjoy this part. This gives you a little insight into reader. I’m sorry she is so stereotypical, but I promise there is more to her character. Let me know what you think!

[foxyyaoguai]

The antis have been all over my posts in the last few days, so I wanted to share my experiences and write a guide on how to deal with them. 

First off: Our ships and character preferences are valid, no matter how hard some people try to demonize them. We are part of fandom and allowed to post about the things we enjoy, just like everyone else. Our fanfics, fanart, video edits, photo edits, etc. are all works of love and they deserve to exist and be explored by others. 

✨ Strategies for dealing with antis ✨

Don’t engage. I have checked the bios of all the antis that left comments under my posts, and the majority of them are minors. You don’t want to talk to minors in fandom spaces!! And a conversation based on logic or reason won’t be possible either. 

Delete their comments. Tumblr, Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube allow you to delete comments, DO IT!! You created something with love and hateful comments have no place underneath it. Even if the comment just makes you uncomfortable and isn’t outright hateful, it is perfectly reasonable to delete it for your own sanity.

Block generously. Not only the people who target you specifically but also anyone who engages in character- or ship-bashing. People who do that for one ship will do it for other ships too and it’s extremely bad fandom etiquette. When you see a character or ship-bashing post, block everyone who liked it and then the poster.

Report people for harassment. The rules vary by site, but especially threats of violence should be reported. Also, if someone follows you to another social media site after you’ve blocked them, that is called block evading and you should report that too. 

When you see other people getting hateful comments underneath their posts, leave a nice comment to offset some of the negativity. Your being supportive can make the difference between this person never posting again and them being motivated to keep going. People are always welcome to send me links to a post that is getting targeted by antis and I’ll like it and leave a nice comment. 🥰

Don’t let the bad comments outshine the positive ones! Every time my post gets enough traction for antis to find it, it also gets lots of lovely reactions. Many people have told me that my content and recommendations made them ship my OTP, and that is the single thing that makes me happier than anything else. Take a screenshot and look at these kinds of comments when you feel down. This is the real reason you should keep posting. 

Most hate comments are exceptionally uncreative. It helps to laugh about it, preferably with a friend. ✨ Remember, you used your energy to create something and you should be proud of it!

When you see a creator you like, but they also display obnoxious behavior towards people who like other ships, characters, or dynamics, at the very least don’t give them a platform by sharing their posts. 

Stay safe. Don’t post personal information online. 

It’s completely valid to step away from social media for some time. Private your accounts, turn off notifications, do a canon reread, read some fanfics in peace. Whatever it takes to remind you why you love the things you love. 

Bonus Tip: Watch videos of cute animals to destress. Bunnies nose-booping each other can (and will) cure anti-induced anxiety. :)

✨ Platforms sorted by least to most toxic and my advice for using them ✨

1. Discord 

Discord is great because you can join servers specifically for your favorite characters and ships. If a server doesn’t already exist, consider setting one up! Pro tip: only invite people that have positively interacted with you in the past. A small server consisting of nice people is a lot more fun than a large server consisting of members that can’t get along or are only marginally interested in the topic. 

Fandom Discord servers have clear guidelines on what you can post. As long as you follow the rules, people have no grounds for calling you out. In my experience, moderators are quick to respond to harassment.  

When you join a server and you see they heavily restrict certain types of content, it is a red flag. Proceed with caution, even if you plan to only talk about “safe” characters and ships. 

2. Tumblr

I have rarely gotten hateful comments on Tumblr, and the few times I did they were easy to delete.  

A lot of the older fandom generations use Tumblr and they are more mature and accepting of all kinds of content.

3. Twitter

Twitter makes it easy to curate your own fandom experience. You can mute words you don’t like to see on your timeline, mute and block users, and most people have their ship preferences in their bio.

4. Instagram

My Instagram posts about Jadecest get a lot of positive interaction, even more than on Twitter. There are unpleasant comments once in a while, but they are easy to delete. 

Blocking a user will delete all their comments from your posts. 

5. YouTube

People who don’t like your ship will downvote your videos and downvotes lead to the algorithm not recommending your videos. 

I have gotten a few negative comments, but they are easy to delete. 

6. Reddit 

When you post in a fandom subreddit, everyone will see the post, independent of their ship preferences. 

There are a lot of minors on Reddit. 

You can’t delete comments.

Most fandom subreddits are poorly moderated. 

7. TikTok

I have gotten the most hate comments on TikTok. They can be filtered or deleted, but antis interacting with your video by leaving hate comments will lead to the algorithm recommending your content to even more antis. It can get very ugly. 

If you post on TikTok consider turning off comments, stitches, and video replies. You can also mark your content as 18+, so it won’t get recommended to minors. (Again, antis tend to be underage.)

Platforms are more toxic the more they show your content to people outside your bubble. Discord, Tumblr, and Twitter keep your content relatively well contained to your circle of friends. Reddit, TikTok, YouTube, and Instagram heavily promote your content outside your bubble, which is good, because more people are going to see it, but also bad, because it reaches more antis. 

~~~

Antis are loud and obnoxious, but it’s important to remember that they are a minority. Ship and let ship still exists, especially among the people who have been in fandom spaces for more than just a few years. Don’t be afraid to post your content and express your love for your favorite characters and ships! I, for one, would love to see your creations, and many other people would love to see them too. 

What are your experiences and strategies for dealing with antis?

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 7

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 6000

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Warnings: Language

Although this is an RPF, it is a character I created and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

*** Saturday ***

“Hey man,” Jared greeted Jensen, clasping hands and pulling him in for a half hug. “Glad to see you’re still alive. How was it?”

The entirety of the trip was still catching up to him. He was tired, from being in constant motion for three days straight to sleeping on crappy motel mattresses. But it was more than that. He had made it blatantly clear how he felt for you and still held no inclination on your stance. That wasn’t true; if you had any affection, it would have been reciprocated. Sure, there was the flirtatious banter and the natural ease in each other’s presence, but twice he had laid it all on the line only to be met back with a block of ice. And that last one… Hell, it had been magical. Sparks flying, gravity-defying. But your response confused the hell out of him. He’d been misinterpreting signals and your friendship the entire time. And god, he was such an idiot. He practically forced it upon you. If you felt uncomfortable or violated, his reputation would be in shambles, as he knew it should be.

“It was fine.” He grumbled. There was no need to get into all this with Jared, for the fact alone he would gloat about being right for months on end.

Jared did not let his relief show. Maybe Jensen was finally coming back to his senses. He feigned empathy instead.

“Just fine?” He asked.

No, it wasn’t just fine; it was amazing. You were amazing, and perfect, and hilarious. And he fucked it up just like he predicted.

“Yeah,” Jensen responded curtly.

“So, no Y/N then?” Jared pressed, a little confused by Jensen’s abruptness. “I thought she’d be here.”

Yeah, you and me both, pal. “Nah, she knew we’d be busy all weekend and wanted to hike the mountains instead. I don’t blame her. I’d rather be doing that myself too.”

“Are you okay?” Jared persisted.

“Yeah.” Jensen squeaked. “Let me get cleaned up. Then we can scout out some dinner before the craziness starts.”

Jensen left Jared in the hotel lobby. Jared sighed, unsettled. Something was clearly bothering Jensen, but getting him to open up would be hard. All Jared knew is it was centered around you. Ultimately, if the road trip didn’t go as planned or wasn’t everything Jensen had dreamed up, it was for the best. Sure, Jensen was down now, and it hurt to see him this way, but hopefully, this would help him move on and snap out of these unrealistic fantasies.

Jensen didn’t sleep well that night. The mattress was too plush, the sheets too silky, and the space beside him was too cold. He’d been informed that a few videos of the kiss had been circling some fan accounts and to expect questions about it at the panels. Followed by a scolding lecture on how to respond. He knew the expected response but wondered what he would say if he hadn’t been coached. It didn’t settle right with him. Maybe he’d get up early and call you in the morning. Just rip the bandaid off and ask what you wanted him to say. He tossed and then tossed again—the sheets tangling around his calves. He reached for his phone, the light momentarily blinding him. His heart raced as he scrolled through Instagram. It was easy enough to find. Replaying it, he could still imagine your lips against his, the back of your neck in his grasp, the fabric of his shirt straining as you pulled against it. It was a very good kiss. That is when your text came through.

‘Thanks again for an amazing trip! If you’re looking for a buddy on your next road trip, let me know. And don’t worry, the ghosts here are all bark, though I can’t say the same for those in room 217.’

He didn’t think his heart could drop further, but it did. There was no second-guessing it this time. The word repeated in his mind. Buddy. He had officially and unequivocally been friend-zoned.

*** Sunday Afternoon ***

If AllTrails had been tracking your time, they would have sent you a medal for the record time in which you descended that mountain. Even paying no heed to the speed limit, you couldn’t make it to Denver until mid-afternoon. You called Jensen twice, hoping to explain that you were on your way and wanted to talk, hoping he could spare a few minutes of his day. If you held these pent-up emotions in your chest any longer, you would explode. On the third attempt, you hung up early, logically knowing he was predisposed.

“Come on, come on, come on,” You chanted through the city streets, the consistent string of red lights taunting you.

The wheels of the rental car screeched as you pulled into the parking lot with a little too much tenacity. Upon exiting, you backtracked, realizing you had left the vehicle running. You ran through the hotel lobby to the adjoining convention center. The hall was filled with fans and staff alike, all eagerly waiting for the next event. Booths were filled to the brim with Supernatural merchandise, shirts, photos, and trinkets. Cosplayers caught your eye, Castiels and a human version of Baby. It was overwhelming and distracting from your overall mission to find him.

You pulled open large double doors leading to the main ballroom.

“Ma’am.” Someone called, and it took you a moment to realize they were speaking to you. “Ma’am. You need a wristband to enter here.”

Security personnel dressed in black pants and a yellow shirt with a conspicuous earpiece halted your progress further into the room.

“A wristband?” You questioned.

“Yes, you have to check in outside. Exchange your ticket for a wristband.” They explained.

“I don’t have a ticket.”

“You’ll have to buy one to enter.” Their patience drawing thin, tired of a weekend of over-explaining processes.

“Okay,” You held up your hands in defense. “Okay, where can I buy one?” You started to back away, signaling you wouldn’t be a problem.

You followed the directions back through the hall’s entrance to a booth where two bored attendants scrolling through their phones sat. Most attendees had already checked in at this point.

“Hello,” You tentatively called them from their screens. “I’m here to see Jensen.”

The one with pink hair sighed. “You and everyone else, sweetheart.”

Their concentration broke from the phone, and puzzlement crossed their face. Only then did you realize what state you were in from the morning hike. Tangled hair, sweat-crusted clothes, dried dirt down your entire left side, and a series of angry red scrapes on your calve. But they quickly recomposed themselves. Apparently, it wasn’t the oddest thing they had encountered today.

They grumbled as if you should know the process. “Ticket?” They held out their hand for a paper stub or your phone.

“You see, I don’t have a ticket.” You gritted your teeth, knowing how the next bit would sound. “But Jensen and I are actually… friends. So maybe he left my name or something on a list so I could get in?”

Something between a scoff and a laugh escaped the second’s mouth, covered up by a following cough.

“There’s no list. Friend or not, you still need a ticket to get in.” They held firm.

“Right, totally understandable.” You attempted to present as sane as possible, realizing passersby were staring too long for your comfort. “May I purchase a ticket?”

“If you want to meet Jensen in person, photo ops are done for the day, but we have a few silver packages that include autographs.” They explained.

“Great, that sounds wonderful. How much?” You asked compliantly.

“750.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “You must be joking.” Even for romantic prospects, paying that absurd amount would take hell freezing over.

From their facial expression, they were not joking. “You could get general admission for 95, but that will only get you to the day's last panel, starting in about an hour.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A 100 dollars to hear them talk for what, forty minutes, an hour max?” Fucking ridiculous.

“You need a ticket.” They crossed their arms.

“Listen.” You pulled out your phone. “I literally drove the man here. I have the pictures. I think it will be okay if I go see him.”

You realized how much of a ‘Karen’ you were coming across as, but something inside you was starting to boil. The further you were being pushed away from him, the more you needed to fight.

The second attendant leaned into the collar of their polo, whispering. “We have a potential code gray.”

Fuck. You tucked your phone away. “You know what, it’s okay.” You slowly back away. “I’ll wait until it’s over. This is a big misunderstanding and does not need to get out of hand. I’ll talk to him tonight, and it will all be fine.”

You weren’t sure if you were trying to settle them or yourself, but you turned back down the hall and hastily walked out. Back in the hotel lobby, you weighed your options. You looked at your phone, and he still had not responded to the missed calls. Your stomach rumbled, and you smirked, knowing Jensen would tease you about not making the most rational decisions on an empty stomach. And you know what else? He’d encourage your spontaneity. Rather than wait in the lobby until the evening, you’d find another way in. There couldn’t be watching eyes everywhere. And once you did find him, he’d explain everything to whoever was being called in for code gray or whatever that meant.

Exiting the lobby, you circled the building and found a little courtyard where fans sat, chatted, and indulged in a quick meal. A hint of envy glossed over your eyes as you caught sight of an In-N-Out bag. You anticipated the doors to be locked, circumventing fans to use the one entrance, but they easily gave way. With feigned nonchalance, you went through another hall as if you belonged and knew exactly where you were going. Having quickly mapped the layout, you went around the ballroom to the back.

You were quickly met with a barricade of metal fences and high black curtains. An obvious sign to keep out and most likely where cast and crew could walk through unimpeded. You were close to out of ideas when an unmistakable figure in black jeans and a blue denim shirt walked past, followed by a posse.

“Jensen!” Your voice cracked.

It didn’t sound like your voice. It was higher and sharper. But through the sways of fabric, you saw him briefly hesitate. He was quickly ushered along.

“Oh, I think not.” You mumbled to yourself.

One leg was over the fence railing before your brain could comprehend your actions. Two shadows approached from behind the curtain as you straddled the cold metal. The crackling of their radio startled you, and you realized too late your mistake.

“Ma’am, we’ll need you to come with us.”

Double fuck. You ran for the exit back to the courtyard. Pausing once outside, you texted Jensen.

‘You remember that bucket list item I was talking about? Yeah, well, it might be much closer in the future than I anticipated.’

You tucked your phone away and continued your circle of the building. At this point, you were in too deep. You either had to leave the premise or find Jensen so he could bail you out. Well, fuck it. Unwittingly, he was the one to get you into this situation in the first place. He could get you out. You came across a stairwell entrance requiring a keycard for access. But gods, be blessed; whoever was watching you sent an answer. Someone came out for a cigarette break, and they even held the door for you as you stepped in.

You plotted the path in your mind, where you were positioned, and the direction he was headed. You took a left, scanning the area for any threat. A hall stemmed down to the right, and you saw more black curtains, but this time, you were successfully on the other side of them. You had to be close. A mischievous smile crossed your lips. This was fun. The adrenaline coursing through your system giving you a temporary high. Soon the Ocean Eight team would be knocking down your door, begging you to join their next heist.

Your false confidence shattered as you collided with the solid frame of a man. You looked up and up some more. His expression was far from pleased. A small, terrified giggle escaped your lips. As you turned, you found his double blocking your exit. Handcuffs came down upon your wrists, and you were escorted away.

Jensen sighed a breath of relief, making it to the holding room, where he joined Jared. He made it through photo ops; all that was left today was the panel and autographs. The panel earlier today for VIPs went better than expected too. The kiss never came up, and he was holding out hope that this next one would mirror it. Clif, his long-trusted security guard, closed the door behind them.

Jared had already gone through a pour of bourbon and was now cracking the seal of a Russel’s 13.

“Make mine a triple,” Jensen instructed.

Jared laughed. “That kind of day, huh?” And handed Jensen a generous double.

“I can almost see the finish line.” Jensen sniffed the top of the Glencairn and took a testing sip.

He prayed that the whiskey would loosen his nerves or, at the very least, get you off his mind. Logically, he knew you were in Estes Park but couldn’t stop thinking about you. It only worsened as the day progressed. In this last hour alone, he thought he glanced at you exiting the lobby and later heard you calling his name. He shook the feeling off as he took a bountiful swig. He smirked, knowing you’d call him out for not slowly savoring the whiskey’s intricacies, and he would retort with you being a snob. He poured himself another round, this time to take it more slowly. Jared scoffed and was about to condemn him when the Barrell Seagrass caught his eye.

The radio crackled, and a stern voice came through. “Tiny, we have a situation. Require your assistance.”

Clif, who was also about to help himself a pour, cursed under his breath upon hearing his codename. It had almost been a flawless con. He had jinxed himself by celebrating too soon.

Jared’s brow furrowed. “Everything alright?”

Clif grumbled. “It will be once I get there.” And exited the room.

Jensen was unconcerned and too focused on the palate of cherry and leather.

“What’s that about?” Jared chuckled.

“I find it better for my mental health not to dwell on the possibilities.” Jensen teased back.

He went to his phone charging on the gray console to check the time, wondering when he’d needed to start hyping himself back up. Immediately his brow furrowed upon seeing your three missed calls and your message. Bucket list? Bucket list? He had to think back. The alcohol already clouding his memory. His eyes popped. Immediately setting the glass down, he dialed your number. You didn’t answer. He dialed again. No answer. He resorted to texting.

‘For the love of god, pick up your damn phone.’

Followed by, ‘I swear to god if your ass is in jail, I’m not bailing you out.’ Though he fully would.

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered. How was he supposed to get through the day now?

The holding room you were kept in was less of a room and more of a closet. The several monitors that observed the conference center’s layout indicated that you were not as stealthy as you had initially thought. One security guard sat across from you while the other stood behind them. Both of their arms crossed.

“Come on.” You reasoned. “One of you has to be the good cop and at least pretend to believe my story. At least offer me a coffee.”

“You think you are hilarious, don’t you?” The one seated said.

Deadpan, you said, “I think I’m adorable.”

They did not engage further, only held the stern expression.

“I’m not fucking crazy.” You would have gestured to the phone if your hands weren’t cuffed behind you. “You saw the pictures, the texts.”

“It’s amazing what Photoshop can do these days.” The one standing remarked.

“What about the video with the kiss?” You pressed.

They both scoffed. As you watched it with them, there was no clear angle of your face.

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

You rolled your eyes and clenched your jaw.

“Then bring him here, and he will vouch for me.” You demanded. “If he doesn’t, I will willingly walk away and accept whatever restraining order you see fit.”

There was a knock on the door, and your hope lifted. The one standing stepped out. Thus commenced a staring contest with the one across from you. As your phone rang, you lost.

“That’s him!” You exclaimed.

They didn’t move, still engaged in the staring contest. He let it ring to voicemail. Immediately it rang again.

“Goddammit! Answer the phone!” You demanded.

“Just because you named someone Jensen on your phone doesn’t mean it’s him.” He held his head high. “But then again, I’m fully aware there is no use rationalizing with a delusional person.”

Your breath became ragged and sharp. You were forming venom on your lips when the door opened, and the man you saw yesterday approaching Jensen appeared in the room. A couple of texts came through, but you couldn’t read them. The man took one look at you and sighed with disappointment.

“Let her go.” He instructed.

It was all you could do not to stick your tongue out in victory.

“Y/N, I thought you were supposed to be in Estes Park?” He said with an agitated tone.

The cuffs clicked as they released, and you rubbed your wrists.

“How do you know my name?”

You were equally concerned yet grateful this stranger was on your side.

“It’s my job to know.”

The other two whispered back and forth to each other.

“Speaking of jobs,” He remarked. “Why don’t you do yours and look for an actual threat?”

“Yes, boss.” They hung their heads and left you alone in the room.

“Let me guess,” You started. “Good cop?”

He chuckled. “No, not at all. The name’s Clif. I’m the head of Jared and Jensen’s security team. You caused quite the stir these past couple of days.”

“Yeah,” You agreed. “I may have gone a little off the deep end at the end there. Am I in trouble?”

“Only if Jensen wants to press charges.” You could tell he wasn’t joking. “Which I imagine he won’t. Not after a kiss like that.”

Your cheeks grew warm. “I’m here to talk about that with him, actually. To talk about that and a lot of other things. I know he’s busy, but…”

Clif checked the silver watch around his wrist. “He’ll be getting ready to go on stage in about 15 minutes. Something tells me you’ll need more time than that.”

You nodded in agreement though slightly disappointed.

“If you’d like to sit in, it might make the time go faster,” He continued. “I can grab you afterward. There’s a dinner break between the panel and autos. I think he would be agreeable to see you then.”

You held up your bare wrist. “I don’t think they’ll let me in.”

Clif chuckled and fished through his back pocket, producing a bright orange wristband.

Before you left with Clif, you found Jensen’s texts and shot him one back, hoping he would see it before he had to go on stage.

‘False alarm. I’ll explain later. Have a great panel.’

The conversation was already in full swing by the time you arrived. Clif was escorting you there when he commented on your leg. Now that the adrenaline and pain meds from earlier had worn off, the pain was catching up to you. He made a quick pit stop on your behalf, getting you some additional painkillers and water. He insisted on cleaning it up better, but you insisted harder you wanted to see the panel and that it could wait.

The door echoed as it shut behind you. Jensen’s head snapped in your direction, but from the lights blinding him and dimming the crowd, he could barely make out a figure. He continued the banter with Jared as they began taking questions left and right.

As your eyes adjusted to the low lighting, you scouted out empty seats, yet the throbbing in your hip protested. It had already been cramped on the drive down here and again in the security room. You opted instead to lean against the back wall. Their antics riled up a laugh in you, but you couldn’t help to notice Jensen was on edge. He was fidgeting more than usual, wringing the microphone with his hands, combing his fingers through his hair, twisting in the barstool. You couldn’t help but feel a slice of guilt knowing you had caused some of it.

A girl walked up through the crowd, and as she got closer, her face felt familiar. She leaned against the wall a few feet away from you.

“Oh, I remember you.” You said aloud. “We took pictures with you at the Colorado sign.”

She glanced out of her peripheral and then fully at you when the realization hit.

“Oh my god, yeah. You were with Jensen, right?” She confirmed.

“Yup, that’s me.” You followed her gaze over you and remembered how dirty you were and most likely smelled of sweat. “Sorry, I went hiking this morning but wanted to make the panel.” You explained.

“No, I didn’t mean to stare. Sorry.” She gulped. “It’s just, yesterday you said you were only friends, but then we saw you kiss outside the hotel, and, like, that was a kiss to end all kisses. You’re totally together now, right?”

You gulped and stared ahead.

She didn’t wait for an answer. “What was it like? Kissing him?”

You inhaled sharply, remembering his taste, his scent, the feeling of his strong fingers against your flesh, wondering where else his hands and lips might wander if you gave him the chance.

“That good, huh?” She concluded.

“Are you having a good time at the convention?” You asked, hoping to move on to other topics.

“Oh, absolutely, but the crowds,” She gestured outwards. “They get a little overwhelming at some points.”

You nodded understanding. “Y/N.” You introduced yourself and held out your hand.

“Casey.” She said and shook.

As if proving her point of crowds further, Jensen used the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. The crowd went feral upon seeing a hint of skin.

“Stop it.” Jensen’s voice boomed over the system.

Then with a wave of his hand, he called for more praise which the crowd was more than happy to oblige. This went back and forth for at least three rounds. Jared and Jensen shared a private small conversation.

“Alright, alright, simmer down,” Jensen called. “We have more questions to answer.” When he finally drew command over the crowd, he turned to the girl on the right. “Hey, we ran into you at the border, didn’t we?”

The girl nervously chuckled, flabbergasted that he would remember.

“Oh, that’s my friend.” Casey pointed.

You were standing obviously next to flight, and based on the girl’s response, she must have been freeze.

Finally, she regained her composure and stumbled out of the question. “My question is for Jensen, and I’m a little shocked it hasn’t come up yet,” Jensen’s face dropped as she continued. “Since a lot of people saw you yesterday and the video of you kissing that girl has been circulating, I was wondering if you are officially off the market?”

Jared’s head whipped to Jensen. He held his microphone down as he hissed, “What kiss?”

Jensen gulped, realizing he had discussed it with Clif and his PR team but forgot to loop in Jared. Well, maybe purposefully forgot so as not to relive the humiliation. The crowd was so silent you could hear the air conditioning humming. Only the pounding of your heart was louder.

The lights seemed to grow brighter as the seconds ticked by. He raced through what his team had suggested and how he should respond. He breathed into the microphone, then paused as if halting a thought before it even started.

“It’s complicated,” Was all he said.

Jensen gave Jared a pleading look for aid.

Jared breathed in deeply, thinking he was going to save the situation. “I know every heart in this room just broke but don’t worry, everyone needs a good rebound, and Jensen was due for one, give it a few weeks.”

“No.” Jensen stopped him. “No, that’s not what this is at all. I…” His voice cracked, and he paused again. He was exhausted from being careful with his words, hiding shit, and painting a face that would create appeal. And so he decided to let it all go. He picked a loose thread in his jeans as he confessed to the world. “A few months ago, I met someone. And I was a complete ass, but she gave me a second chance anyways. She’s not just a rebound from Elena. She’s kind, and funny, and a smart ass, but most of all, she is real. And she sees me not as Jensen Ackles, but just as…”

“Dean Winchester?” Jared grumbled.

A few fans yelped, but most stayed respectful.

Jensen’s jaw tightened. “She sees me as I am.” He huffed. “I like her. Like, like her.” He said as if he was in middle school, and there was a collective aw in response from the audience. “I saw a future with her.”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Jared piped in.

“Calm down,” He snipped back. “Not wedding bells, two kids, a dog, and a white picket fence. Not yet, anyway. Just taking it a few months at a time. Having someone other than you to confide in, to care for and be cared for in return, someone I can laugh and cry with, someone to share adventures with, I don’t know…” He sighed, defeated, getting away from himself, feeling like he wasn’t making sense. He turned to Jared, “It’s not like you aren’t my best friend, but you have Gen. You have someone you can go home to, someone you can talk to when I’m annoying the hell out of you, someone you can be vulnerable with and don’t have to act around.”

Jared sighed.

“That doesn’t sound complicated.” The shy voice peeped up.

Jensen smiled mournfully, addressing the fan again. “The thing is, she doesn’t feel the same. I got friend-zoned. Hard. Which is okay. It is completely her right. And I mean, I’m a lot to deal with, so I get it. So it’s complicated because we have to figure out if we can stay friends now that I screwed us over with that kiss half of you witnessed.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It took a second for you to process it all.

“This is utter bullshit.” You gasped, Casey taking it all in, though you had completely tuned out the rest of the world as if you were talking directly to him. “Friend-zoned, how did I friend-zone you? Maybe, and here’s a thought: if you had the ability to confess your feelings to me with as much ease as to hundreds of people, I could have told you I felt the same. But you just kissed me, and I panicked because I didn’t know what you wanted, and I thought I wanted more than you. Because I do see you as you are, but I acknowledge that you are still Jensen Ackles, and I’m still a crazy little fan that shouldn’t even know you in the first place. It’s not either, or, asshat; it can be both. I’ve been waiting for your lead this whole time. And now that I’m here, you are telling everyone it’s over before we even had a chance. Fuck!”

Although it was a rageful whisper, Casey heard everything and ferociously typed away on her phone.

Before Jared tried again to regain control of the situation, Casey’s friend jumped back on the mic. “Y/N says that if Jensen had confessed his feelings to her in the first place with as much ease as he can in front of thousands of fans, she wouldn’t have accidentally friend-zoned him.”

Jensen stood abruptly. “Y/N’s here?”

Panic rose again, seeing heads turn, looking for an imposter in the crowd.

The girl continued. “She says she was waiting for him to decide if he wanted to take the relationship to the next level, probably because she’s just a fan like us, and well, fuck, he’s Jensen Ackles. And I’m looking at her right now, and she is head over heels. Well, okay, she’s a little furious, but if Jensen wants her to have his babies, she would totally have his babies. Girl, we have to help her lock that man down…”

Again, silence in the room.

“What did you do?” Your eyes were wide.

Casey kept typing, ignoring your panic. “Trust me.”

You felt eyes on you and slid down the wall in mortal dread.

“Sorry,” The friend at the mic said. “Those were texts from my friend. I probably shouldn’t have read every single one.”

Crickets.

“Y/N’s here?” Jensen asked again.

“Yeah,” The girl looked through the crowd and pointed. Thankfully, it redirected some of the gaze to the back. “She must be sitting with my friend over there somewhere.”

Jared stood, but Jensen waved him away. “How do I know it’s really Y/N, and you're not making this up?” He asked skeptically.

Casey looked down at you as you were hiding your face between your palms. She nudged you with her foot.

The girl’s voice sounded throughout the ballroom. “I spy something yellow, clouds or mountains, the nasty-ass ball pit, Neil Diamond, or Bate’s Motel; any one of those should do.”

Jensen snickered and shook his head back and forth. “God dammit, Y/N. Do you want to try and make this work? Be more than friends?” He was still searching the crowd but couldn’t find you.

“Sign an NDA,” Jared sarcastically commented, believing Jensen’s previous analysis of your commitment to privacy was shockingly misguided.

“She says you can ask her face-to-face on a proper date.” Some of the crowd chuckled; others held a sadness that the window of his singleness was closing.

“I didn’t say that.” You snipped at Casey.

“We can’t make you seem too eager. Not after that baby comment.” She retorted.

Jensen chuckled again. “How does ten tonight sound? You pick the place.”

From a distance, he could see the door in the back crack open, light flooding the darkness momentarily, and he knew it was you. A small smirk escaped his lips.

The friend at the microphone continued to telephone Casey’s messages. “She left, I think, 'cause I embarrassed her and exaggerated certain details. But if I didn’t completely mortify her, I say it’s safe to change your relationship status.”

From the main lobby, you could hear the cheers and applause. This was not how you expected the day to go, especially almost getting arrested and working things out with Jensen over a panel. There was the sound of heavy footsteps and keys jingling as Clif rounded a corner.

“You keep making my job more and more interesting.” He jokingly scolded. “Come on,” He gestured with a nod of his head. “Let’s get you out of here before the panel ends, and people put two-and-two together.”

You stepped in line. “Let me make the record clear that Jensen was the one to kiss me and could have been more tactful in answering that question. I will only take the blame for momentarily losing it and breaking a few convention policies that may or may not be criminal offenses. I don’t know how this stuff works.”

He turned to look back at you and wiggled his eyebrows as if keeping you privy to a secret. “Something tells me I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.”

“Not when you should have both eyes on Jensen.” You teased back.

He laughed as you continued down the hall, and he parted a black curtain for you. “Oh, I like you.”

He led you to the holding room. It was nearly as messy as a frat house after a championship victory. Bottles of whiskey lined a TV stand, jackets and sweatshirts were strewn about, devices of all kinds were plugged into outlets, and piles of eaten and unopened food sat everywhere. You found a clear spot on the couch, and exhaustion finally hit you. Exhaustion from traveling non-stop, to restless nights, to hiking earlier this morning, to internally debating everything that was happening. You leaned your head back and shut your eyes.

The temporary relief was short-lived as the click of the door opening jolted you from the micro-nap. You stood up as Jensen and Jared entered the room. They looked equally exhausted but somehow maintained their brightness and energy. Jensen’s face glowed upon seeing you.

“Y/N!” Jensen exclaimed.

“Hi.” You greeted sheepishly.

He bounded over to you and took your cheeks in his hands, pressing his lips against yours. Jared went for another round of whiskey.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He pulled away and looked you over. “What the hell happened?”

You didn’t know where to begin. “I met a park ranger.” You said, accompanied by something between a laugh and a huff.

Jensen took in your scrapped-up leg, and his face grew stern. “Are you okay? We should get a doctor to come look you over.”

“I’m fine,” You promised. “The ranger did a thorough examination and knocked some sense into me. I should be back to normal in a couple of days.”

“Was he cute?” He asked.

You grinned. “Very.”

He pinched his lips together in a smile. “Well, then I better up the antics for our date tonight and really try and impress you.”

“Oh my god,” You giggled. “I never said any of that!” He gave you a questioning glance. “To be fair, not most of it.”

“So, no babies then?” He teased, and your cheeks turned ten shades darker. “Hey Jared, it’s time I officially introduce you; this is Y/N. Y/N, Jared.”

“Pleasure,” Jared stated coldly.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” You offered.

“Hey, we should order some food before autographs.” Jared bypassed you and spoke directly to Jensen.

“Yeah,” Jensen agreed. “I’m starving. You want anything?” He asked you.

You shook your head no. “What I need is a shower and clean clothes.”

Jensen smiled and dug through his wallet, fetching out a key card. “Room 912. If you need anything, text Clif. I’ll send you his number.” He handed it to you. “See you later tonight? Then maybe we will have the chance to talk about all this.”

“Yeah.” You bit your lip, accepting the key and trying not to get ahead by wondering if you would be sharing a room tonight.

Starting a relationship with him required a plan, including expectations and boundaries. As much as you wanted to rush into things, taking it slow was for the best. Waiting for him to finish autographs would give you time to make a list and develop some questions on what a relationship with him would entail beyond the normal stuff. This wouldn’t be as easy as it seemed, but you trusted he would be there to guide you. Before parting, he placed another peck on your lips, leaving you craving more.

Part 8

---

GHTTC Tags: @maggiegirl17 @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @ghostofjoharvelle

[emeowwww-blog]

I performed a social experiment today, and the results kinda lowkey shocked me:

TW for topics relating to violence, self harm and suicide, bullying/harassment, threats against personal safety, and adjacent topics.

Note: I refer to myself as a “good person” a few times here. I am not in any way suggesting that I am a model for people to follow. I refer to myself as such to show what I think a good person would do.

Idk why it continues to surprise me, but I did a social experiment today and I still find it so weird how outright fucking MEAN people are.

I was simply talking about my likes and dislikes, and I say a few things about a game I like (that gets a lot of hate for no reason). I expected backlash for liking the game, that’s normal and I get that no matter where I say it. Suddenly, I am getting death threats and suicide guilt trips for liking said game. I am told that i should kill myself, I should die, I should never have been born, my parents were right for starving and neglecting me.

Over a game.

The social experiment I performed was to create an overemphasized version of my current life, and to slip up and create loopholes to see if people would find out I was lying. I joked around and tried to copy the behavior of other people, while also subtly attention seeking and dropping hints that I was faking my life. I also did my best to get peoples social media for later purposes.

I was being serious when I was talking about liking the game, and THATS when people snapped. Suddenly they brought up all the evidence of why I was lying and how, which I found odd that they hadn’t before. I played up my argument and pretended to be one of the people that guilt trips and gaslighted others to win the argument to make them react more.

I did expect “kys” jokes and other mean comments. That is what I set out to find. I did NOT expect to be sent death threats, doxxing threats, threats to harm my irl family, etc.

I eventually revealed that it was an experiment, and that I had screen recordings and screenshots of the hate messages and messages proving whose social media belonged to who.

Now, I don’t have social media besides Pinterest, Tumblr, Ao3, and Discord. I purposefully did not ask for or share these things. I made burner Tiktok, Twitter, Snapchat, Facebook, and Instagram accounts, and followed the members with those.

After I revealed the information, I thought it would be a good idea to tell them (jokingly) that I was going to leak the screenshots to their family and friends that followed their socials.

And guess what, they IMMEDIATELY started apologizing and begging me not to. People were even advocating to ban me and erase all message data relating to me (as though that would do anything).

My experiment set out to show how humans, especially younger people ( <22), act when they are behind their online identity. And how they change immediately when they realize that someone they know in real life will find out.

I am not going to send screenshots to their IRLs, nor on and of my socials, as I am not petty and I respect their privacy as minors (and humans) like a good person would and should.

My complaint is just asking why people are so mean? What do they gain? Absolutely nothing. I keep being disappointed for being surprised, over and over again.

Please be a nice person, to anybody who read this long post. I have made huge mistakes in the past, in the same way that this experiment shows.

You do not have to like someone. You do not have to agree with their opinions. But imagine if this wasn’t an experiment. Imagine if a younger person with a little out of the ordinary life joined this group, and got treated this way.

They wouldn’t be prepared for this. This could harm people. This DOES harm people. There are countless, and I mean COUNTLESS news stories about cyber harassment and bullying leading to teen suicide.

Be a good person, both IRL and online. You can and will harm people by your negative actions. I don’t expect you to like everyone. I expect you to be kind and respectful. If they become angry or mean, that does not indicate that you can react harshly.

Cut off your connection. Block them. Report them. We have measures on the internet to essentially get a restraining order on people you don’t like.

Be a good fucking person.

Have a wonderful day/night. I am sorry for the rant.

[demivampirew]

For someone like me who never cared about a celebrity's personal life and never will, I feel this is the best time to be a fan of Henry. Finally he's free from DC studios and their cgi faces, he's free from Lauren's tw and the vast majority of the fan base is with him (100% of the comments on the official trailer are just praise for him and hate for the writing), he is working with talented directors and he's preparing his own universe not to mention that he looks better than ever (love these curls and stubble).

On the contrary, I feel we're at the worse time to be fans of Henry.

-I don't enjoy the arguments about whether he was fired or not (he was) and people questioning his acting skills

-I don't appreciate the rumors about why he left people talking sh*t about him (it makes my blood boil but I don't have the energy to argue about that)

-And mainly, I don't appreciate the way he's been treating the fandom. He ignores us and blames it on us because he's sh*t at keeping his private life private. Don't want people to talk about your personal life and speculate about it? Then keep it private! Don't share information about your girlfriend, don't follow her instagram (you didn't do it with the others, Henry). Tell your girlfriend that for privacy reasons it should be best to make her Instagram private, instead of getting a verification and start acting like an influencer, posting personal stuff, like doxing the rentals and the new house. And she should stop posting the hour she's living in to let us know she's in the Uk, when her job is in LA, so we confirm she's abusing her privilage to work and probably Uk work visa indications -she's not there because is needed for her job, she's there because she needs to be with him to be important. Without Henry she's a nobody, just another high executive for a company (if you doubt me about this, ask yourself how many TV Vice Presidents for entertainment companies do you know and how many have verified accounts?)

(Go to her social media and you'll see almost every post since April 2021 is somehow related to Henry)

She's acting like an entitled *sshole and we just have to be quiet and let the influencer wannabe influence. And even if we just let her do her f*cking influencing, we're still punished by him because a loud minority just can't stay quiet, when the problem wouldn't be a problem if he at the start of the relationship would've just said to her "Look, some fans are very, passionate and, some of them might attack you, like it happened with my exes, so the best thing would be for you to go private on social media so they don't harass you and your friends and family. Just that, just private your social media so people won't find information about you." But of course, he didn't, because deep inside he knows that's the real reason why she's with him. It took her only a few days after articles about their dating were published for her to get her verification checkmark (in order to get verified, she needed to provide three links to articles that talk about her). And after verification, she started to share fanart like an influencer.

And to the people who didn't interact with her social media (or his when he was posting things related to her, which is all he posts now, aside from trailers, posters, or ads) but complain on our freaking blogs or fan spaces, we're gaslighted to believe is OUR FAULT that he's always because we're not acting like the good girl daddy wants us to act like...we're brats so daddy is punishing us until we behave properly. And the ones who do what daddy wants us to do, when they don't get the reward for acting like a good girl, blame others when in reality this is all his own fault, for not keeping things private like he knows he should, and because he doesn't suck it up that some fans will always treat his girlfriends badly (it happened with Tara and Lucy and other and at the time it wasn't a problem for him to interact with fans)

So, to sum up, no it's not the best time to be Henry's fan. It's because of Kal and the hope someday he'll be back to the man he was before this sh*t show that keeps me in the fandom.

[mithliya]

Imma be honest with you, I consider myself a radfem, have been raised in a muslim family, my father is Lebanese (pro hezbollah type), I'm a febfem and have been repeatedly outcast for my gender non conformity (I'm highly masc) and my sexuality by my Arabic family. So we are somewhat similar.

I dont post anything about palestine on tumblr. I post on Instagram, Facebook (lost many Jewish friends doing that btw) but on tumblr because it's terribly limited for things that are not informative. I guess I'm sending this message to tell you you're not alone, there are radfems that are not pro genocide, there are women that care. Don't lose hope ❤️

thank u for the msg kind anon ❤️ i’ve been following more women who are speaking on the issue and unfollowing the ones that have only talked about israel while ignoring what is going on to palestinians. i had had enough of it. i even saw a mutual talking about how criticising jkr for only speaking on israel means ur antisemitic and support terrorism.. i’m tired of it and i just need to curate this space to fit what i prefer to see. ultimately the way i’ve seen western white women treat this issue has made me question why i should waste my time advocating for their issues when they will never spend any time doing the same for MENA women. they didn’t do it with iranian women, or afghan women, or anything else. their solidarity for us seems only to extend as far as calling muslim men horrible animals and muslim women brainwashed class traitors. my posts criticising islam get lots of notes, yet i’m an islam shill bc i draw the line at discriminatory and racist rhetoric from them. my posts about what MENA women face that reject the notion that our issues were invented (rather than reinforced) by religion are often overlooked or lead me to face harassment, my posts about racism woc face from white women gets me harassment and ppl falsely claiming i would support white women getting raped, etc like. why should i waste my time with posts about how karen is misogynistic or how the hate of pumpkin spice products is misogynistic or whatever else that is specifically used to mock white women, when more serious issues woc face are overlooked by white women? they can go focus on being called karens like it’s the most pressing problem in the world and ignore our plights and actively even be racist against us, they’re hopeless, i’ll focus on our issues the way they focus on their own. that’s been what i’ve been telling myself to cope at least lol

sorry i ended up rambling!! it’s a bad habit of mine. but point is, thank u i appreciate it

[basilepessoart]

Fucking Fuckery

Hi to all, As said when my computer broke "by magic" last Friday, I can't work on photo anymore (except with a camera ? Well there's also something - nevermind) nor post on sites with images that appear with ten levels of overexposure and all colors pale as an ass that hasn't seen the sun for 20 years on this fucking Hewlett Packard.

Artists working on Microsoft, if you have this problem and you keep these shitty comps, YOU have a problem. This is valid for galerists, museum staffs, art journalists, etc. Gates has created a sick world which is clearly NOT for us, in spite of his permanent "philanthropic" declarations - and this will take you to one of my last French texts about another "huge philanthrope". This computer stuff is literally unbearable as it's available - not available - I understand myself and the interested too. What is the panorama of my websites ?

-Instagram : Has been unavailable because of a technical problem since November 2 021. 500 followers lost, you know, when someone is not here anymore even if somewhere else, people act like that. I'd never think of doing this, but people are people. -YWAMag Fb : unavailable, as our shared Fb with Anne, which was largely used for the Fb Choice of the Day of the mag, since Anne's kidnapping (August 2 021). Yes she's free now, but the boxes are full of forced prostitution stuff and she refuses that I see this. -YWAMag Tumblr : unavailable since a technical change by Tumblr (last September). I don't know, as explained there, how to change the template that Anne had installed, and she's not able to do this for the moment. Anyway what will the mag be with about 50 of the best photographers of the mag having been clients of Anne as a forced prostitute, the gang's goal in this field being to destroy the mag ?

-Flickr : fine, just waiting for my computer to be gotten back -My Fb : writing, information, shared art, etc. Don't go there if you hate facts and are a collaborationnist with zero desire of getting out of your psychosis.

-Twitter or X : same as my personal Fb, though, not very used except on some periods as the current one, but always essential informations in several languages. Very few personal posts by me. Again, not interesting for collaborationnists.

-My Lens Culture : currently unfed but you have a part of my bio (half of the photo one), reduced by half by the staff without consent

-My Cargo Collective : a high level selection of my photo work, stopped ten years ago. I was more spectacular and accessible then.

Brilliant text about me by David Gibb Smeaton

-My Fine Art America : again, a collection (larger than the Cargo one) which is more spectacular than my latest production. Published between 2 013 and 2 014, for works (or photos, call them as you want, it doesn't matter) between 2 011 and 2 014, which is to say the start of my pro photo career.

The site is sale cheat - contact me for prints, not the site. Because, yes, I sell photos outside the exhibitions, I love and need it. -My YouTube : gathers a collection of the tunes broadcasted on my sites for years, currently about 700 songs or pieces. A single look by the shitheads who say I'd be "racist" and "anti-Semitic" to these collections should calm them - or not, we're speaking about fanatics -Our ISSUU : some of the mag's interviews, plus some before the mag - Graphic design Anne Pangolin Guéno under my supervising

Thus, this Tumblr, which is the only one technically available as long as I don't get my computer back (another technical reason linked to a mailbox), has become a writing one. I'm hoping to get it back, but when the fucking fuck ? And little by little put the texts on my main Tumblr so that this one is "lemmings' adapted". Indeed this 2nd Tumblr has for only goal to be a nice, ideas-free, truth-free cocoon for lemmings. I care for lemmings. They are nice. Or not. Basile Pesso, Land of Somewhere, 11 July 2 024 The Beatles, Get Back Modification 28/08/2 024 : 1. No forced prostitution, nothing of the kind. It was a strategy. The facts are about paedo-satanism, Anne having been hostage. I'll tell more later. 2. Lens Culture bio fine again now. As said in French on Fb a few days ago, thanks.

[shutterlens]

I will be moving my DeviantArt activity to my Instagram account

-

[tw: zionism, antisemitism mention, genocide, apartheid, financial abuse, emotional abuse, potentially distressing content]

-

To preface this post, I do not want to hear any argument about this from anyone. This may be an outright dangerous thing to because I am a complete financial dependent on my emotionally abusive father who will not let me donate money to any cause without his direct approval and has complete control over all of my essential information to the point of being under his insurance and him having total access to my bank account information, but it is something that I have to do anyway to prevent further platforming such a heinous website.

The link to my Instagram account:

However, I will not be advertising my Tumblr account as a main art account in any way because I do not want my emotionally abusive family to find out about this more personal account at any cost.

I will be moving all of my art, including series like Windows Humanized, to my Instagram account to protest DeviantArt's ongoing pro-genocide propaganda campaign and will no longer be posting any more art on my DeviantArt account.

I know that I will get a lot of hate for saying this (albeit as someone who's legally recognized as Roman Catholic but still looking for a way out of Christianity), but I am completely against the promotion of Zionist (colonialist promotion of a "Jewish homeland" in Palestine) apartheid genocide towards the Palestinian people that DeviantArt and its Israeli parent company Wix have done, especially in its recent propaganda campaign to get the users of DeviantArt to side with this oppressive regime.

In fact, Amnesty International, "a global movement of more than 10 million people who are committed to creating a future where human rights are enjoyed by everyone" (Amnesty International), considers Israel to be an apartheid regime in the following article:

My support towards the Palestinians, despite not being allowed to donate any money due to living in a very financially-controlling and staunchly pro-Israel family (despite trying to reason with them), should not be conflated with antisemitism or hostility of any kind towards the Jewish Community. In fact, there are countless amounts of members of the Jewish Community who are completely supportive of the Palestinian cause to the point where they have lost their jobs, been blacklisted, and more.

Examples: https://jewishcurrents.org/a-hebrew-teacher-called-herself-an-anti-zionist-she-was-fired https://lesbianchemicalplant.tumblr.com/post/636673678451605504/politicalsci

To conflate the condemnation of Israel's genocide of Palestine with antisemitism is dangerous promotion of propaganda.

Another example of an openly Jewish person who is in support of Palestine:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by matt bernstein (@mattxiv)

For those of you on here who are also in support of Palestine, I will also link a website made by Palestinians called "Decolonize Palestine", which educates about both Palestinian culture and their ongoing occupation and struggles, in addition to debunking popularized anti-Palestine propaganda.

The link to Decolonize Palestine can be found here:

I genuinely do not care if this post is deleted, if I get nastiness of any kind on this website for this post, or even if my DeviantArt account or other socials are deleted for this. I am completely in support of Palestine despite not being allowed to donate any money to the cause due to living in a financially abusive household and I refuse to hide it.

For those of you who follow my DeviantArt account, I will now be posting to my Instagram account every Sunday.

[livingbythewords]

I just looked through your recent asks from today and I personally think everyone trying to inform you of stuff you’re already aware of are wasting their time, while I’m not right-wing, I have the brain capacity to realise not everyone is going to follow my views and I’m capable of dealing with that fact, unlike many others I’ve seen you replying to.

Actors are normal people just like everyone else, just because they’re in the spotlight more than the average person shouldn’t mean they instantly conform to whatever views their fanbase desires, it’s unrealistic for people to hold that expectation of others.

If you as an individual choose to not engage with content relating to this person, then do so as you please but keep your mouth shut about it, not everyone keeps to know nor cares. I’m a FTM guy and I will personally choose to continue engaging with his content as I enjoy him as an actor, have consumed his content for years at this point (namely his role as Mark Hoffman in the Saw franchise) despite any transphobic things he’s said (nothing of which I’ve seen proof of).

To anyone saying the same shit about past posts, things that have apparently been said etc.. please learn that the world doesn’t revolve around you and not everyone cares about what you have to say, each person is their own and has their own views. Consume his content or don’t, you don’t need to vocalise your thoughts on the matter.

I'm just in awe than someone was able to draw such strong conclusions and write him off as basically the worst person in the world based on two very vague instagram posts from years ago and the fact that he follows some right wing accounts, which doesn't really mean anything.

Did he ever actually say "I hate women and LGBT people"? Did anyone actually ask him about his worldviews and opinions, or reasons why he follows these accounts? Or is it just projection, and people just want to feel better about themselves by being internet keyboard warriors and giving themselves the false sense of actually doing something and fighting the 'good fight'?

If you want to understand what fascism really is and how to fight it, read Hannah Arendt. Read Viktor Frankl. Read some testimonies and accounts of the actual Holocaust victims. Read Strangers in Their Own Land, to draw parallels, to understand how it happened that fascism is currently rising in the US and what should we do about it. Don't get riled up by some C-list actor's instagram account, which doesn't even have that much influence. Even if he does have opinions leaning right, writing angry messages to strangers on the internet won't actually change anything. Neither will writing 'whore' and 'tits' under every post of the character he plays. It says nothing about him and everything about the person posting it.

[hesitationss]

fb+/meta or whatever is one severely unfunny joke. i know i am mostly a hater of social media, but i don't see how threads is going to be better for usability and reach. especially given how shit numbers are on IG (i get more noted "per capita" of followers on tumblr and twitter for untagged posts). i already made a small thread of zucc apps being shit which I'll copy paste here. i don't know how people are thinking threads is going to be better than any of the twitter alternatives when it's most likely the WORST option out there. anyway-

the reason why the other twit replacement apps aren't as insidious as threads (zucc/fb owned) should be obvious, but i'll list some things:

• infamously on zucc platforms you can get reported for saying "white people" which is why so many of us say yt now (a bit of poc social media history for u from the 2010s)

• private messages are sold/given to police no warrant: this could be anything used against you, could be protest info, where you've been, etc.

• right wing propaganda/misinfo is lucrative for facebook. this is something that heavily affects the global south btw.

• they lie about views and growth for business accounts to keep you on their platform. the case i know best is that they inflated college humor's analytics to compete w youtube. this resulted in so many businesses throwing money and labour at facebook w out much return.

also zucc sucks, he's pure evil... like u don't need me to get into *that* hopefully

addition:

omg 🙄 so shocked 🙄 that zucc is further propelling nazism on his latest app that has the exact same content moderation as all his other fucking apps lol 🙄 who would have guessed ?

Far-right figures, including Nazi supporters, anti-gay extremists, and white supremacists, are flocking to Threads (Media Matters)

Adding sources:

Point 1 - i can't find any formal articles that document the particular insidiousness of this, but I and many others who were in BIPOC only "leftbook" groups had either our accounts or groups we joined completely nerfed for using language against white people. hubs that had been for info dissemination, discussing theory, and organizing were marked as hate speech or reported by white reactionaries (even "leftist" ones)

Point 2 - Has been apparent since Michael Brown's murder by police in 2014 and the protests following, but was esp apparent in protest following George Floyd's murder and subsequent protests.

FBI trawled Facebook to arrest protesters for inciting riots, court records show (NBC News)

Point 3 Links - Facebook Admits It Was Used to Incite Violence in Myanmar (NY Times) | Whistleblower: Facebook is misleading the public on progress against hate speech, violence, misinformation (CBS) | How Facebook and Google fund global misinformation (MIT Tech Review)

Link for point 4 - Adam Conover talking about College Humor's inflated FB numbers (plus many other articles have been written about this)

more on the privacy shit - sex workers who have used fb AND ig on burner emails with fake names, had their emails and real names auto linked bcuz of how much a little bit of information goes. how fucked up is that.

How Facebook Outs Sex Workers

BTW i have been preaching this for years but if you want to learn why our internet is fucked up, learn about what happened with net neutrality cases in the US, and then later, SESTA FOSTA (primarily targetting sex workers but is the reason why everything is censored now). ppl online have been warning everyone about this for years, but you are just now experiencing the consequences. but again, nobody listens to things that target primarily sex workers.

plus from a functional standpoint, if you want to delete your threads account, your instagram is deleted as well. like it really doesn't seem worth it for people who are desperate to find the social media that will stick. i don't have anything nice to say about any of the other social medias except that some Mastodon instances do a great job at keeping nazi's out and using alt text, but the bar is extremely low and everybody else is even lower ^_^

[chipotle]

You're So Vain, You Probably Think This App Is About You: On Meta and Mastodon

Those of you not plugged into the Mastodon community may not be aware of the predominant reaction to Instagram Threads. This started when it was merely rumored, reaching a crescendo with reports that Meta had been talking to a few of the larger Mastodon instances under NDA, presumably to encourage them not to “defederate” with Threads when it came online.1 Let me describe that reaction for you, with only mild exaggeration:

Meta is coming! If Threads is allowed to become part of the Fediverse, it will destroy it! It will steal your data! It will inject ads onto your timeline! It will corrupt Mastodon into being everything you hate about Facebook and Twitter combined!

Let’s stipulate that Meta has a long history of doing demonstrably bad things, and that the argument I’m about to make—that Threads is not what people on Mastodon believe it is—should not be mistaken for an argument that Meta is just here to give everyone free cookies. Daring Fireball’s John Gruber has written extensively about how Facebook wanted NSO spyware to monitor iOS users, produced their own spyware VPN and pushed it within their mobile app, and how Facebook’s “unknowable megascale” created “societal harm…as easy for anyone to see as the respiratory problems caused by smoking.” Threads is a product of that data-tracking, spyware-installing, society-harming Facebook, and it is not joyless unreasonable alarmism to keep that in mind when we evaluate how fun and interesting it otherwise may be.

Having said that, Threads is not an attack on Mastodon to subvert it for nefarious purposes.

How can I say that so confidently? Because Threads is not a Mastodon instance. It is its own self-contained, centralized social network with plans to let its users follow Mastodon accounts and vice versa.

The difference is not mere semantics. Mastodon doesn’t care what client software you use—or even what server software you use. Threads does. Threads needs you to use their app. It’s baked into the business model. Facebook and Instagram never killed their robust third-party client ecosystem the way Twitter and Reddit recently did, because they never had one. They understood their business model from the get-go.

When push comes to shove, Threads is Instagram. That’s how, as of this writing, it already has over 100M accounts created. If you have an Instagram account, you have a Threads account. If you get a Threads account, you get an Instagram account. Threads has zero-effort access to over one and a half billion users who, by definition, tolerate Meta’s privacy policies and Instagram’s monetization strategies.

By contrast, Mastodon is maybe two and a half million users on a network explicitly positioned as “social networking that’s not for sale”. The users are much less receptive to monetization strategies. And as Mastodon founder Eugen “Gargron” Rothko notes, the design of the network makes it effectively impossible for Threads to collect personally identifiable information on Mastodon users merely interacting with Threads users.

So, on one hand: a billion users who accept Instagram showing them ads, algorithm-jamming their timelines and hoovering up as much personally identifiable information about them as they can. On the other: two or three million users on an explicitly anti-corporate platform engineered to be highly resistant to leaking private data. I dare you to make a convincing business case for Facebook spending a single cent trying to capture a fraction of the second group, when it’s less than a percent the size of the first group.

Threads is not now, and never will be, about Mastodon. It’s not about embracing it, extending it, or extinguishing it. It’s not about it at all.

So if Threads isn’t trying to overwhelm and destroy Mastodon, why have ActivityPub support at all? Two answers. First, “Look, see? We’re open!” is not only perceived as a great talking point these days, it’s perceived as a regulatory relief valve. Look, see? ActivityPub! We’re open!

Second, remember that the business model for Threads is keeping you on Threads. If 95% of your friends are on Threads but 5% are over on that weird Mastodon thing, now you don’t have to use Mastodon to follow them! Just follow them from Threads! Woo! Will Threads be a good Mastodon client? No, but it just has to hit “good enough.” Will any Mastodon client be a good Threads client? Fuck no. They don’t want you accessing Threads from Ivory or Tusky or Elk, they want you accessing it from the Threads app, guaranteed to show you as many ads and gather as much data as possible.

The argument Mastodon is collectively mustering against Threads is, at the end of the day, “but Facebook is evil!” Again, no argument. But Mark Zuckerberg is evil in the way of a greedy, privacy-flouting tech bro, not in the way of Sauron.2 Not only would the “extinguishing” part of “embracing, extending and extinguishing” Mastodon be extremely difficult at a technical level, the plausible <abbr title="return on investment">ROI</abbr> on doing so would be minimal at best—and probably even counterproductive.

Yeah, but should people defederate?

The aforementioned John Gruber is bullish on Threads’s chances, and he wrote “Threads is the most fun, most interesting new product of the year” on Mastodon (while taking a swipe with “have fun over here in the library,” as if libraries are terrible sad stern places, a weird dig for a professional writer to make, John). Seriously, while I love the estimable Mr. Gruber’s writing, when I look at Threads what I see is an influencer-infested, brand-driven, algorithmically-jammed-up crapfest. A lot like, well, modern Instagram, without the silver lining of pretty photographs.

My point is that Threads and Mastodon are already really different culturally. Even when-slash-if the ActivityPub bridge exists, I don’t think many Threads fans will rush to follow us Mastodon users over here having fun in the library, nor will many Mastodon users be rushing to follow their friends on Threads through the Mastodon client of their choice. I predict the vast majority of people who want to use both networks will maintain separate accounts to do so.

Instagram has thousands of content moderators, and while they’re already making decisions that will make everyone mad, they’re clearly making decisions. While I doubt Threads will officially follow the Mastodon Server Covenant, in practice I suspect they’ll be more strict in some respects. Instagram has a puritan streak that Threads will carry through—there’s a non-zero chance that Threads may refuse to federate with your instance because, I don’t know, you allow titties and people who say “fuck”. The chances of Threads becoming a conduit for harassment on Mastodon are slim.

Personally, I would federate with Threads in “silence” mode: my instance’s users would be able to follow Threads users and vice versa, but posts from Threads would not show up in any public timelines on my server. I think, though, this should be a choice each instance makes with input from their users, and it is a little dismaying how many instances are perfectly happy making that decision unilaterally.

The truly toxic idea, though, is that Mastodon instances should not only refuse to federate with Threads, but they should refuse to federate with other servers that do federate with Threads. In other words, users should be punished for decisions they have no control over and may not even be aware of, made by the administrators of servers they don’t belong to. I am dead serious when I call this toxic. The default position must, must, be that breaking your users’ social graphs is a last resort against clear and present danger. A server explicitly welcomes Nazis, child porn, TERFs, and serial harassers? Block that fucker. But it’s absurd to insist that federating with Meta’s general-interest server presents the same threat level.

Look. At the end of the day, I’m a Mastodon partisan. But I don’t love its collective tendency toward self-important dogmatism. I’ve seen more than one friend get set up only to pull back, worrying there are dozens of unwritten rules about content warnings and alt text and linking and boosting they will constantly be put on blast over. I have never seen so many self-identified queer leftists reflexively drop into well, actually mode.

New users frequently get stuck on the “pick an instance” part of Mastodon’s signup, and we always say oh, it doesn’t matter that much, which is just not true. Some instances seriously up the unwritten rule count; some suck at moderation, and the admins go tinpot dictator when they’re called on it; smaller ones get their plugs pulled with some regularity.3 How much worse will it be when hundreds of small-to-medium servers decide they won’t federate with the largest servers—the ones new users who took our “don’t stress about picking your instance” advice ended up on—because those servers have chosen not to block Threads? That level of fracture won’t preserve the Fediverse, it will mortally wound it.

The truth is, Threads is not about Mastodon. It’s about Meta and only about Meta, and Mastodon isn’t important enough to them to spend the considerable effort that would be necessary to destroy it. It’d be awfully damn ironic if the Fediverse decides it’s become necessary to destroy itself to stop them.

An “instance” in Mastodon parlance is one of the many distributed servers that comprises the network; Mastodon users have accounts on individual instances. Nearly all instances are “federated” with nearly all other instances, e.g., they allow their users to follow one another, but any instance can choose to “defederate” with any other instance. [return]

Peter Thiel, however, is evil in the way of Sauron. [return]

And let’s not get into how many asterisks there still are to “moving between instances is easy”: sure, as long as you remember to export the right things first, do everything in precisely the right order, and oh yes, don’t care about losing your entire post history. [return]

[dirtyglitterr]

ꜰᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

Neymar Jr x Original Character Summary: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ᴡᴀꜱ ɪᴛ ʙʏ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ꜰᴀᴛᴇ? ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴀᴛʜꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.

Warnings: Mature Language

Previous Chapter

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ + ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴍᴇꜱɪꜱ

After the game, which they won—and of course, they did PSG had the best players in the league at the moment on their team. Anto wanted to wait with me, but seeing how tired Lio was from his performance on the field, I'd feel bad keeping them any longer. So here I was waiting outside of the locker room for Neymar, casually pacing back and forth due to the stressful phone call that I was currently having with my other mischievous best friend. "I'm going to murder you, Georgina."

"I have a right to plead my case." She argues playfully, but I'm not buying it. I can't believe I let Anto talk me into this scheme. While my other friend is pretending to be me and leaving God knows who on read. I know I should have said no, and now here I am, waiting for Neymar while keeping this big secret from him about Charles. It's not like I'm doing anything wrong, right? It's just a harmless trip to Monaco with a friend. But then why do I feel like I'm betraying Neymar?

"When were you going to tell me about me finally joining Instagram?" I sarcastically asked her,

"After I got you to one million followers, who squealed?" I rolled my eyes and shook my head at her response.

"I don't know Charles Leclerc maybe."

"Leclerc, why does he sound familiar?" She asked, pretending not to know who he was.

"Oh, come on, you know who he is, Gigi," I replied with a laugh.

"You fucking should you gave him my Instagram without even letting me—the person for who you created the account for—know about it."

"Ohh Charles," she finally said, "he's the Formula One driver you've been obsessing over for months now. Girl, he's sweet; you should've seen the message he sent you. Talk about a crush." I couldn't help but blush at her teasing.

"Yeah, he told me. He said he got nervous about the fact I never responded, so he called me, inviting me to Monaco for the weekend to see the race."

"Look at my baby girl; first she gets married, and now she already has a side piece. I'm so proud." I couldn't help but laugh at my friend's playful teasing. At this point, I decided it would be better to laugh it off because if I didn't, I'd be too crippled by my anxiety to process it all.

"Between you and Antonella, I don't know who to strangle first." I sighed and said, "Send me the login info, please."

"Why?"

"I'm gonna delete it, that's why."

"Please don't; that'll make me really sad." She whined,

I know what you're probably thinking—you're a thirty-year-old woman who needs to join society and enjoy the world—yeah, well, guess what? I'm sure I'll be able to enjoy it just as much without it. "You know I hate social media. I hate having people who don't know me pick me apart." It's not like I'm completely isolated from the world. I have friends who I don't have to worry about fucking my boyfriend, and family who I spend time with and enjoy meaningful conversations with. Plus, there are plenty of other ways to stay informed and connected without subjecting myself to the toxicity of social media. And from the post, I saw today from that Instagram blog, this was the right decision.

"You're the strongest woman I know, babes. Trust me when I say that no one is picking you apart."

"What are they saying?" I asked, curious. "I change my mind. Send me the login info, please."

"Fine." I heard her huff dramatically, "Only if you give me the gossip on your side piece."

"Georgina." I groaned.

"Mia." She mimicked,

"Fine, I'll call you later." I gave in hearing her squeal happily as we said our goodbyes.

"You must be Mia." I turned to see a male figure approaching me, his eyes fixed on mine.

"It depends on who's asking," I confirmed, curious as to who he was.

"I'm asking," he said with a sly smile.

"And who are you?" I knew exactly who he was: Kylian Mbappé—he's also the ass who had a hard-on for giving my husband—I mean, my boyfriend—fuck!

"I thought my face would've given me away."

"Oh, so I'm supposed to know who you are. You're full of yourself, aren't you." I took a deep breath and tried to keep my cool.

"Maybe," he smirked, "or maybe you already had your eyes on another player." And if I did, that wasn't any of his damn business.

"I came to watch Lionel play as well with his wife, Anto," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, I see," he said with a nod. "I noticed you before, but never in his jersey. So you're his girl then."

"Lionel is very married."

"I know I meant Neymar."

I rolled my eyes, feeling annoyed. "Why should it matter to you?"

"He's a lady's man, so it's not common for his plaything to have front-row seats and a jersey."

"Why are you telling me this? Look, I don't know what your problem is with him, but I'm not interested in getting involved in any drama. So unless you have something important to discuss with me, I suggest you leave." Kylian smirked and leaned in closer.

"Because he has a type-short, brunette with pretty eyes and a nice smile." I raised an eyebrow, not sure where he was going with this.

"And what does that have to do with me?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even.

Kylian chuckled and replied, "Well, you fit the description perfectly. You seem too genuine to be in his company."

"So I should be in your company and wearing your number?" I retorted, feeling a hint of irritation.

Kylian simply smiled and said, "At least you wouldn't have to worry about me ever cheating on you."

"W-What?" I stammered, taken aback by his sudden comment.

Kylian chuckled softly and added, "His ex Bruna dealt with a lot but only got half of the story. But me being his teammate and all, it's easy to spot a man whose main priority will always be himself." My heart sank as I tried to process the information. I wanted to always know that whatever was between Neymar and me, I could always trust him. But now I couldn't help but let the doubts creep in. Would he really cheat on me?

⇊ Read Full Chapter Below ⇊

Thanks for reading!

[tacto02]

I hate uncles who want approval

My Twitter account was suddenly frozen on February 3rd.

All accounts were frozen without warning account ban.

At midnight on February 3rd, the account update suddenly stopped, and in front of me was the message "Your account is frozen and cannot be used."

I immediately filed an objection in Japanese and English.

But it's been 3 weeks without any contact.

Uncle who wants approval says it's AI's fault.

There have been funny updates so far, but the AI's intelligence is too low. No, the human being to control it is "too bad"

Even if they plan to freeze spam accounts all at once, how about a company, let alone a student, if they don't learn about spam in each country and leave it to AI based on their own sensibilities?

Japan had a large freeze in January before February.

In either case, there is no effect on spam accounts and it is a freezing act that can be said to be terrorism against harmless creators.

Meanwhile, the uncle who wants approval who bought Twitter asks me to reply to the problem that is happening on Twitter now..

Even if you don't reply like that, as a CEO, you don't even check the actual situation of the company you bought yourself, and the uncle who wants approval recommends his own tweet just for his desire for approval. He is an uncle who wants approval with money and fired an employee who made a point about his tweet not being seen. If you don't like it, get fired immediately. Well, people who work at Twitter right now can't even tell the truth. because they are repressed.

What the uncle who wants approval is doing now is no different from the Russian controller.

Twitter saved us during the 2.11 earthquake. I'm sure some people remember the server down at that time. I am a citizen of Fukushima Prefecture and was in Fukushima at the time. In such a situation where TV and phone are not properly connected, Twitter can be used to check the safety of friends as well as useful information, and as a Japanese information tool, Twitter has the power faster than Instagram.

Thanks to Twitter, we have been able to support each other with our followers who don't even know our real names, even when we feel uneasy. It was all taken away.

Lost all followers and community for over 10 years.

Uncle Desire for Approval should be commendable for dismissing and fixing some Twitter managers who were controlling speech, but now Twitter has become an SNS that can't be used as much as it is. Is it right for SNS with anxiety that everything may be frozen even if you can not DM or give illustrations drawn by yourself? No, that's not freedom of speech. If you want to promote freedom of speech, all you have to do is avoid using words you don't like. It was a story. The uncle who wants approval is trying to force a meaningless update, make Twitter shoulder his debt, and even try to make a scapegoat for his position as CEO. I'm so angry with people who have put a sense of responsibility in their womb.

My anger and amazement will not stop now that neither the contact from Twitter nor the uncle who wants approval will give a proper explanation. I don't want to rely on unreliable tools that don't unlock accounts that I accidentally frozen before starting a new job, but most of the information in Japan is done on Twitter, which is frustrating. I wish I could go back to the early days when I could casually tweet. I want you to return the place where you muttered your own words without any reason.

i'm not spam I have not violated any rules. I'm sorry to my followers even though I was only uploading illustrations. Thanks to everyone who read my rants this far. wishing spring to harmless users all over the world

[bllsbailey]

Whoopi Goldberg and Sunny Hostin Criticize Brittany Mahomes' GOP Support, Citing Her Interracial Marriage

Whoopi Goldberg, along with her co-host, Sunny Hostin, attacked Kansas City Chiefs football wife Brittany Mahomes on the talk show “The View” after she indicated support for GOP presidential candidate Donald Trump on social media.

The most recent dialogue contradicts Hostin’s previous assertion, where she said that it is “despicable” that at least 10% of Americans would be in support of using violence to stop Trump from retaking the White House in the upcoming election. She cited a survey directly on the show.

Nevertheless, Hostin changed her tune and criticized Brittany Mahomes’s perceived support of the former GOP president, arguing that she “should know better” because she’s in an “interracial marriage,” bizarrely insinuating that White people who are married to people of color (POC) should only be voting for Kamala Harris.

Soon after, Hostin’s statement was mocked on social platforms, with conservative commentators asking how Hostin was ever capable of achieving a law degree with her ignorant, divisive point of view.

“It just seems to me that since she is in an interracial marriage, she should have known that to support a racist is problematic, her children are biracial and her family is one of the families, that in the ‘70s could not have lived in any of Donald Trump’s buildings,” Hostin stated.

The backlash for Brittany Mahomes, wife of NFL superstar quarterback Patrick Mahomes, followed after she liked an Instagram post promoting Trump, as well as when she liked pro-Trump comments on her own posts, indicating support for the former president.

“It just seems to me that maybe she’s just not that politically savvy or maybe she’s just not read in. But it’s problematic,” Hostin continued.

Another co-host on the panel, Alyssa Farah Griffin, then chimed in during the segment, stating that they don’t know for sure if Brittany supports Trump, only that she liked a post indicating that she may.

Additionally, Brittany Mahomes has been reportedly rethinking her support of the former president after Trump wrote “I HATE TAYLOR SWIFT,” in a post on Truth Social, as Mahomes is best friends with Swift and has been seen with her on multiple occasions at Kansas City Chiefs games.

“She is questioning her support for Donald Trump after he lashed out at Taylor, saying he hates her,” sources close to the Daily Mail report.

Trump wrote the declaration for his disdain for Swift after she threw her weight behind Vice President Kamala Harris, following the most recent presidential debate.

“We’re being really good about it because some could say, because he’s mad at your best friend, now you’re mad?” Goldberg pointed out on the show. “It didn’t bother you that he was being a racist and being a misogynist? That didn’t get you going? But we’re not gonna bring that up.”

Meanwhile, Patrick Mahomes has decided to opt out of the political conversation altogether in order not to ruffle any feathers.

“I don’t want my place and my platform to be used to endorse a candidate or do whatever either way,” he stated. “I think my place is to inform people to get registered to vote. It’s to inform people to do their own research and then make the best decision for them and their family.”

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