#while you shouldn't write for an audience

[mel-the-pirate-prompt-reblog]

Not to bring up "old" stuff, such as the OTW May Signal bit that was removed after some backlash, I wanted to see it. I threw the OTW into the Wayback Machine, went back to May 9th, and was able to see just what they pulled from the Signal after the community backlash to see what they regret adding to this month's Signal.

So I copy-pasted it, since I bet others who didn't read it wanted/want to, too. You can also read it directly from the OTW May Signal on the Wayback Machine here.

Quotes and etc are under the cut. All blue text is a link.

This is what they cut out of May 2023's Signal:

For Fair Use/Fair Dealing Week, the OTW’s Legal Chair, Betsy Rosenblatt, was interviewed about AI legal issues*. Betsy pointed out that having AIs learn from works such as fanfiction meant that they weren’t only using old works from the public domain to learn about the world. “That means that machines will learn how to describe and express a much more contemporary, broad, inclusive, and diverse set of ideas.” What’s more…

"I’m also intrigued by some of the expressive possibilities that AI may create. Will DALL·E or ChatGPT become characters in fan fiction? Surely they will. I want to read the fan-created stories where DALL·E and ChatGPT fall in love with each other (or don’t), get into arguments (or don’t), buy a house together (or don’t), team up to solve (or perpetrate!) crimes….

Will fans will take up this challenge?"

Thought it might be worth noting that the OTW did add this about AI and Data Scraping on the Archive on May 13th.

*The interview is still up, but just in case, I'll be pulling the link from the Wayback Machine instead of the actual link.

I will be highlighting a few important points (imo) in case people don't want to read the entire interview. For longer highlights, I will be adding bold/italics/underline to help people keep from jumping around the text and read out of order (I know I do, and that tends to help me).

Because I'm having Thoughts about AI scraping, I might make a Tumblr-esque essay and put my English major to use looking into some of this interview (If I ever do, I might add a link to this post). Highlighting things and reading through this interview makes me want to pull my stuff from AO3, and I've only just started posting there a year ago.

Highlighting phrases and sentences does not mean I agree with them. It means I think they are important to see and consider.

Here's the interview that Signal links to:

...Betsy Rosenblatt is the legal chair for the��Organization for Transformative Works (OTW), a nonprofit dedicated to preserving fan works.... The interview with Betsy follows.

Katherine: When you think about AI technology, fan works, and copyright, what excites you? And, what keeps you up at night?

Betsy: One of the things that excites me—which is probably a bit off to the side of what most people are talking about with AI and copyright—is that AIs are reading fan fiction now. For a long time, machine learning relied almost exclusively on data sources that were known to be in the copyright public domain, such as works published prior to 1927 and public records. The result of that was that machines were often learning archaic ideas—learning to associate certain professions with certain races and genders, for example. Now, machine learning is turning to broader sources from across the internet, including fan works. That means that machines will learn how to describe and express a much more contemporary, broad, inclusive, and diverse set of ideas.

I’m also intrigued by some of the expressive possibilities that AI may create. Will DALL·E or ChatGPT become characters in fan fiction? Surely they will. I want to read the fan-created stories where DALL·E and ChatGPT fall in love with each other (or don’t), get into arguments (or don’t), buy a house together (or don’t), team up to solve (or perpetrate!) crimes….

As for what keeps me up at night, I remain mostly optimistic. I think it would be a very sad turn of events if some of the newly begun litigation about data crawling and scraping ended up preventing machines from building contemporary, inclusive, broad-based data pools to draw on. I think it would be very sad if people turned to AI-created works instead of finding, exploring, and making fan works of their own. But I don’t think either of those things is very likely to happen. Fans make fan works because they love doing it. They feel compelled to tell the stories they imagine, and they want to share those with communities of other fans. They use fan work creation to build skills and find their own voices. I don’t think that the emergence of new technologies will stop them from doing that.

Katherine: Artists have filed a class-action lawsuit alleging that AI companies violate copyright law when they create databases of copyrighted images to “train” their AI image products. At least one of the companies in the suit, Stability AI, says that this is a fair use: “Anyone that believes that this isn’t fair use does not understand the technology and misunderstands the law.” What questions would you like to see a court ask when analyzing whether ingesting copyrighted works to create AI-training databases is a fair use?

Betsy: I tend to agree with Stability AI’s statement. I would like to see courts consider the “training” process separately from the process of generating works. It is, of course, possible that a machine could generate an infringing work. But the process of training that machine involves something very different—turning expressive works into data and creating relationships based on that data collection. We call it machine “learning” for a reason. A well-trained machine won’t generate an infringing work, but it needs as large a pool of data to work from as possible to do that. The mere fact that an AI can create something infringing doesn’t determine whether the gathering of information is infringement. Consider the classic Sony v. Betamax case: The VCR can be used to infringe, but it has noninfringing (fair) uses, and therefore the VCR does not inherently infringe. I recognize that the analogy isn’t perfect, but I find it persuasive. In general, courts have found that “interim” copying isn’t infringement—that is, copying isn’t infringement when it occurs inside a machine and does not, itself, make copyrighted works perceptible to people—and I think courts should continue to follow that logic.

Katherine: Will the Supreme Court’s 2021 Google v. Oracle decision have any bearing on this case?

Betsy: I hope so. That case highlighted that we shouldn’t be locked into one definition of “transformative” work, and that copying for the purpose of engaging in a different technological use can be transformative copying.

Katherine: What would you say to online creators who might be discouraged by AI technology?

Betsy: You will always make your work better than an AI can. What matters about your work is that it comes from you. That makes your work irreplaceable, and it will always remain so.

[lovecolibri]

Oh I am *cackling* at the producers trying to claim the show was driven by Loki and Sylvie's relationship when she refused to lift a finger to help multiple times (while platonic bestie Mobius was living out romcom moments by the dozen with Loki), and honestly they could have not had her in the season at all and barely anything would change. Like, I don't like that ship but it's still SO deeply disrespectful to give them NOTHING on screen all season while giving all the cute classically shippy moments to Lokius, and then come out after and claim it was some grand, sweeping romance and also there was nothing intentional about giving all the shippy stuff to Lokius. 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

Also, as I said in some tags, the "we can't get into Loki's head" like is just....peek absurdity. My brother in Christ, YOU'RE the writers! This character has been in the MCU for like, 14 years, played by Hiddleston who is *obsessed* with Loki. Getting into Loki's head should have been a cake walk! And even if it wasn't, IT'S LITERALLY YOUR JOB TO GET IN THE CHARACTER'S HEAD. Maybe this is why shows are so shitty? Instead of letting the characters drive the plot by getting into their heads and making choices from that perspective, showrunners instead twist the characters into a storyline.

ANYWAY.

[edwardshundredyearoldspunk]

stumbled across a ballad of songbirds and snakes critique video and I couldn't even watch it because the person so did not get what the book was doing and saying and the comments were complaining about the unnecessary romance when it's super obvious it's not intended to be a romance. suzanne collins is, yet again, ahead of her time because I remember the hate mockingjay got when it came out for killing prim and having katniss vote for new hunger games when those plot points are crucial and are meant to act as a commentary

[sudoscience]

Third Scarlet Nuzlocke attempt is going better, but I lost my Sprigatito, Stan Getz, before he had the chance to evolve into Floragato because someone decided to Leer at Klawf when the next hit would have KO'd it. Thanks, buddy.

Well, he did say he wasn't very good at battling, so I guess I can't be too mad...

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

The winner takes it all

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Scarlett Johansson x fem!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: Scarlett Johansson just hit the peak of her career, she had everything: money power glory. One thing was missing, the Oscar. After she finally won the award she found a special way to celebrate her win with her perfect little girlfriend as a helper.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, dom!scarlett, sub!reader, alcohol use, oral, object insertion, recording of sexual activities, Oscar in places they shouldn't be, degradation

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

𝐀/𝐍: I swear | was drunk while writing this l'm not a weirdo okay 😭

𝐌.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Third times is the charm, right? That’s what Scarlett thought when she sat in the audience of this year Academy Awards. She was nominated for best actress for her latest movie, last time that had happened her award was stolen from her, but not today, she thought.

She sat in the big theatre room you, her younger co- star turned affair sat next to her, nervously she tapped her fingers over the armrest of the seat. “Scarlett” You called out the older actress had her eyes fixated on the still empty stage. “Scarlett?” You tried again hoping to reach through to her. “Huh? Yes, what’s the matter?” Her fingers still tapping the soft fabric of the armrest. “You’re so nervous” You slip your hand over hers “How couldn’t I be? Have you seen the competition this year? There’s no way I win against Emma Stone”

You chuckled intertwined our hands, it was dangerous you knew that, but luckily no one way paying attention to you. The fact that you shared so much more than just the screen was intoxicating to you, sneaking around the crew to share a few passionate minutes with the older actress. She made you feel the things none of your boyfriends ever could. How she touched you, loved you. But everything had to come to an end, and so did the affair you two had. “You blow them all out of the water” You assured her.

The alcohol did it’s job pretty well in Scarlett’s eyes she had had her faire share of expensive champagne glasses to calm her nerves. And then it got time for the category of best actress. The announcer had the all telling red envelope in hands opening it in exactly that moment. “The Oscar goes too” she slipped out the card “SCARLETT JOHANSSON” The theatre broke out into loud cheers and claps, Scarlett however didn’t even register her name being called she was still in a state of pure shock.

Both you and the director leaned in to give her a quick peak on the cheek and a small “You did it” before she made her way up to the stage to finally accept the thing she never thought she could get.

“You did it” You smiled at her when she made her way into her hotel room. You had sneaked off the after show party to surprise your older girlfriend. Nothing special really just a bit of champagne and lingerie but just seeing you spread out on the sheets made her crazy.

“Now what do we have here” She smirked she was clearly intoxicated and so were you. “Fuck baby girl” She groaned upon seeing your promiscuously clothed body. Later that night she had changed from the big dress to an expensive pantsuit. She slipped of her blazer placing it on to one of the hotel room’s chairs.

“You’re playing with the fire little girl” She chuckled her eyes never leaving your body. She sat her pretentious golden man on the bed side table. “I know what I’m doing” You breathed out. Your eyes meet and she down to kiss you.

Her hands slid over your exposed skin going onto your back. With skilled fingers she unclasped your bra slipping it off your shoulders only to throw it behind her. “Fuck you little slut, I’ve barely done anything and you’re nipples are already hard” Her degrading words forced a moan from your throat.

Her thumbs rolled over your hard nipples, she enjoyed seeing you squirm for her, under her. She chuckled before kissing down your stomach licking over the soft skin of your tummy.

She pressed her nose against your pubic bone taking in a deep breath. She tugged your panties from your legs tugging them into her pant pockets. She kissed your clit kitten licking the bundle of nerves. She paid extra attention to the spot because she knew how needy it made you.

She gave your cunt a few more bold licks bumping the crock of her nose against your over sensitive clit. She pushed her tongue inside your tight heat enjoying not only the taste but also the feeling of your muscles clenching around her.

“Fuck Scarlett” You moaned out your hands gripping tightly into the pillow behind your head. She kept on working you towards the edge of ecstasy until she pulled away letting you huff in annoyance all you wanted she just chuckled.

“Aw” she mocked you “Was my little girl just about to cum?” You shook your head still whining. Her eyes darted to the trophy next to you and a mischief grin was planned on her lips. You knew exactly what she was thinking about.

“Scarlett no” you said with urgency “What? I’m not doing anything” She reached out for the golden man upon closer inspection it had the right shape, you had taken bigger after all. “Well” She started her hands stroking over the stature “don’t you want to make me happy”

“I do but” Scarlett stopped me “No buts baby now spread your legs” You applied to her wishes spreading your legs for the older woman. She hummed in approval her fingers stroking through your slit collecting your wetness on her fingers.

She covers her trophy in your juices on her lips there was still this shit eating grin. She was more excited than a little kid on Christmas.

She held the cold metal against your entrance pushing the head of the stature past your hole, watching in an awe how your pussy ate the metal man.

“Fuck” She groaned as she heard the mewl sounds growing in volume the more the man disappeared. “That’s so hot” She shifted to her knees to reach out for her phone taking it from the nightstand

“I need this for my personal collection” She mumbled pointing the camera to where the Oscar was connected to your body. You both had agreed to her being allowed to videotape you, if she didn’t release it. You both knew that a leak of this video would make it onto every cover of every tabloid magazine. Did you care? Absolutely not. Scarlett even less

The feeling of the cold metal against your walls was intoxicating, you mewled and whimpered. She moved the stature in and out of your tight heat bringing you close to your release. With her skilled fingertips she played with you overstimulated clit loving how your body squirmed under her.

The camera was still on your glistering cunt the camera panting to your face twisted in pleasure. “Fuck I’m gonna cum” She smirked again throwing her phone away to pay more attention to your desperate body. “I know baby” She kissed your nipples with a few more thrust she made you see stars. She let you ride out your high before pulling out the award again watching in an awe how the cum dripped the golden man. “Scarlett” you breathed out still catching your breath “What the fuck”.

:)

Taglist:

@badbitchrebequinha @notaloserjustasnoozer @misscaptainchaos @tashakink @strawberrynatsstuff

[swanlikely]

Current Nanami Brainrot: Husband Nanami!

TW & Content: Sexual Harrassment, Violence (barely), Cunnilingus, Penetration, Usage of she/her pronouns, and bad writing?

Thinking about Nanami watching his pretty little wife sway softly to the suggestive music that hummed over the audience in the club. His eyes followed every sultry move, a small smirk playing on his lips as he nursed the whiskey in his strong palm. Nanami, being the ever-so-sweet husband he was, agreed to accompany you on your night out with your girls, ensuring your safety while secretly enjoying the view. Chuckling, he couldn't help but trace every curve of your body with his eyes, reminding himself how lucky he was. The way you moved, so effortlessly seductive, captivated him completely.

The mood and your fun were immediately ruined when a man, barely a few inches taller than you, sauntered up against you. The horrible sensation of his front pressing against your rear drove you to swivel quickly around, your face plastered in disgust. As the event unfolded, Nanami was already downing the whiskey and approaching you, his instincts kicking in.

"Please don't do that. I'm married," You yelped over the blaring music, fighting back the bitterness in your voice. The man with no manners cocked his bushy brow, appearing to be enticed by your attitude, and placed a rough hand on the side of your waist. His hold was unwanted and aggressive, causing dread to flare up in your chest.

"I don't see your husband here, do I? Besides, what's a married woman doing in a place like this, wearing that?" he spat, his eyes raking over your body with a predatory gleam. The anger surged through you as you realized he was referring to the black, tight dress Nanami had lovingly picked out for you. The dress that made you feel confident and beautiful, now tainted by this stranger's leering gaze.

"He's right here," Nanami's voice uttered reassuringly as he swatted the stranger's hand off your waist. Relief washed over you as your mountain of a husband placed his large hand on the small of your back. He wasn't just rubbing little circles or patterns; he was tracing letters, grounding you with each gentle touch.

"Sorry." He traced, so courteous as always.

"Ah, well. Maybe you shouldn't let your wife out looking like that. Gonna give someone the wrong idea," the rude stranger mumbled, swiping at the back of his hand where Nanami had gripped so tightly to pry him off you. Nanami was like a tree, towering over the pathetic man before you, both in sheer size and presence.

"Looking like what?" you scoffed, taking a step forward. Nanami still kept his hand on you but didn't intervene. He knew you were capable of handling yourself. He knew better than to stop his wife in the moment. "Like a slut," the stranger laughed, the sound actually nauseating to Nanami's ears. He rolled his eyes, knowing only a child would call a beautiful woman in a designer dress that. Only he could do that, though under different circumstances.

You rolled your eyes at the insult, mirroring Nanami's earlier gesture. With a swift pivot, you grasped Nanami's hand with your right, feeling the comforting strength in his grip. Using your left hand, you boldly flipped the bird at the stranger, your heart racing with a mix of defiance and satisfaction.

But before you could completely walk away with your kind husband, the stranger grumbled and reached out to pull your hair. Except, you didn't feel a thing. Instead, you felt your husband shift, and your eyes followed suit. Nanami was gripping the man by the back of his neck. God, did he look delicious, his arm flexing through the thin fabric of his button-up. His eyes were cold and fierce, a stark contrast to the warmth you always felt from him. You couldn't help but ogle at the way his muscles tensed.

"We shouldn't put our hands on pretty ladies, now should we?" Nanami asked the man, his voice dripping with a disgustingly sweet tone. He tossed the man onto the floor, and he landed on his rear with an "Ugh." Nanami tossed him like he was nothing. Good lord.

Nanami began to gently fold up the sleeves of his dark blue button-up, revealing forearms that could probably make angels weep. He was the living embodiment of "sex on legs." You couldn't help but notice the club's collective gasp as several eyes locked onto the scene, some surprised, others blatantly undressing Nanami with their eyes. Join the club, you thought with a smirk.

Nanami silently squatted down next to the man who was still recovering from the fall, bringing a hand up to grip his collar. Nanami whispered something to the man that you couldn't catch, but whatever it was, it made the stranger's eyes fill with panic.

"I-I'm sorry, ma'am," the man stammered out, bowing his head like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You didn't even respond to the stuttering fool as you just looked at your husband, half-lidded. You were mad, originally. But who could stay angry when your husband was defending your honor, his chiseled jaw clenched and his eyes burning with intensity, making a heat stir in your stomach?

"Are you alright, sweetness?" Nanami asked as he stood up from his position, walking towards you. Towering over you, again. He was just so big.

You nodded and glanced at your girls, who were raising their eyebrows knowingly. They recognized that look on your face—it was the same one they gave their husbands when things got, well, interesting. They waved you off with giggles and a few exaggerated winks, clearly enjoying the show.

"Kento," you grabbed his hand, weaving through the sea of people like a determined woman on a mission. Despite his towering size and rugged masculinity, Nanami always listened to his wife with a smile. Little did he know, you were about to make him the happiest man in the club.

As you pulled him through the exit and toward his car, he started to put the puzzle together. He couldn't help but chuckle, his eyes glued to your ass sashaying in the dress he bought you. "Well, someone's in a hurry," he teased, knowing full well you were about to make his night unforgettable. "Need you," was all you could manage before yanking your husband down to your level with his spotted tie. His lips met yours in a hungry kiss, leaving you breathless. His hands found their way to cup your cheeks. His fingers traced down your neck, each touch causing your skin to ignite.

Your tongue danced on his bottom lip, and he politely allowed you to delve deeper, exploring the heat of his mouth. He tasted absolutely irresistible, a mix of rich whiskey and mint. The flavor was intoxicating, he was intoxicating, making you crave every bit of him even more. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, so close that you could feel everything.

You could feel his heavy cock pressing against your thigh, the cool metal of the car contrasting sharply with the warmth of his bulge. He was overwhelming. "What's got you so eager, sweetheart?" Nanami mused as he pulled away, just a little, your forehead still pressed against his. His breath fanned against your swollen lips, his chocolatey eyes dark with want. God, he was perfect.

"Can't a woman just want her husband?" you purred, your voice like honey. Husband, oh how he loved when you called him that. It sent a rush straight to his cock, lighting a primal desire that made his breath hitch and his grip tighten on you.

"I guess I'll have to be a good husband and please my wife, huh?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with promise. His eyes never left yours as he reached into his pocket to unlock the car. Like the gentleman he was, he opened the car door for you, his touch lingering just a moment longer. The backseat of his car never looked so good.

Nanami and you slipped inside, and in an instant, Nanami was nestled between your thighs. He was electrifying. His teeth gently tugged your panties to the side, and his tongue working hard on your cunt. He was both sloppy yet precise, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through you. Nanami's big hands roamed your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin, grounding you in the moment. His tongue worked magic, alternating between slow, deliberate strokes and quick, teasing flicks. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel the tension building within you.

Every now and then, he'd glance up, his eyes locking with yours through his glasses, a mischievous glint in them that made your cunt clench around nothing. His dedication to your pleasure was evident, and the way he moved and responded to your reactions showed just how much he loved you. You were dripping, almost sopping at this point.

"Kento, no m-more. I want you," you groaned as your delicate fingers tugged at his neat blond hair. Nanami paused for a moment, his eyes darkening as he looked up at you. The sight of you, needy and breathless, clearly affected him. He slowly rose, his lips brushing a trail up your body, leaving a path of tiny bruises in their wake. You'd scold him for that later.

"God, you're such a good wife," he murmured, his voice deep and husky. His right hand found your waist, while his left undid the zipper of his slacks, tugging them down just enough to reveal his heavy cock. Even in the barely lit car, it was mouthwatering. He was rock hard and throbbing, all seven inches of him.

As you reach to grab him and pull him into your slippery cunt, he stops you with a tut. "Be patient, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?" His voice, low and commanding, added an extra layer of excitement to the moment. You pant, "Yes sir," as you bring your hands to claw at Nanami's strong arms. Your hands looked so tiny in comparison to him.

Something in him seemed to awaken at the sound of your petname for him, ramming into your cunt. The stretch was overwhelming. His strong arms that you loved so much held you tightly, as he fucked you dumb, completely consumed by the raw walls of your cunt. Your thighs were pushed against your chest as your husband kept pounding into you, his groans and grunts sounding like a symphony.

"So good for me, so perfect," Nanami groaned into your neck, his words vibrating against your sweaty skin. As your climax approached, Nanami continued to sing praises into your ear, telling you how good you were, how much he loved you. "Gonna be a good girl for me? Gonna make a mess all over your husband's cock?" He spat as he nipped at the side of your jaw. You could barely answer, your mind already slipping into ecstasy. Nanami was completely pussy drunk, his cock dragging in and out with a pace you couldn't comprehend.

"Y-yes! Yes, oh god, yes!" you screamed, certain that everyone on the block could probably hear you. But you didn't care, because your husband made your walls gush and clamp around him. Nanami's own high wasn't far after yours as his pace somehow quickened, his head kissing your cervix. "Gonna cum," Nanami groaned.

"Gonna get my pretty wife pregnant," his voice dripped with desire as he continued. His seed was thick and warm, filling you to the brim. As he pulled out, he gently massaged the area above your cunt.

"So perfect." ________________ i need him biblically.

If any of the grammar is bad, I am so sorry. I wrote this while I was ovulating.

[arenee1999]

This renewal fight isn't just about Our Flag Means Death. The cancellation is part of a broader problem that has multiple arms.

Original content is being canceled, shelved and pushed to the shadows while remakes, reboots and endless sequels that can be milked well past their expiration date take precedence.

Lgbtqia+ and diverse content is being canceled, shelved and sidelined in favor of more of the same homogenized stories that have been being done for 100+ years.

Shows that have absurdly high ratings are being canceled. If a show that was being considered a flagship show for the network, that had the highest ratings for 14 weeks, that has a 94% rating on Rotten Tomatoes with a 95% Audience Score, is being canceled what hope does any other show have?

Streaming services and Networks are doing a 180° on they type of content they're interested in. Just a handful of years ago they started pulling away from the long season shows that could be endlessly renewed in favor of short contained stories that could be told in 1-4 seassons with 6-14 episodes per season. Creators have given them those stories but are still having to fight tooth and nail to get the renewals that should have been a foregone conclusion because these are the exact type of shows that were asked for. And audiences were more willing to take chances on these shows because with such a tightly wrapped story with an ending decided on before it started there's no reason we shouldn't be getting the whole story. No reason for premature cancellations when the number of seasons needed to tell the entire story was part of the original pitch that the network agreed to. No need to cancel it unless it actually does have atrocious viewership numbers. But now, these stories that were specifically asked for by the networks, that have ratings well above what's needed to justify keeping it on the air, are being canceled or shelved in favor of going back to the idea of endless seasons and spin offs and reboots of tired franchises.

You want to keep getting good, original stories that aren't just endless reboots and sequels of a once good idea that's lost it's soul? Join the email & letter writing campaign to MAX and other streamers and networks. Tell them you are interested in seeing more original content. Diverse content, lgbtqia+ content. Help save OFMD and in the process save your own favorite shows. No, one letter, one signature can't change anything. But thousands can. Be one of the thousands.

@renewasacrew

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Regarding the post about Marinette being punished for trusting people and the response to it, this is something I always have trouble explaining because it sounds callous? But fictional characters aren't people. It's not that their lives just so happen to get in the way leading to something bad happened the writers decided that should happen, and it's important that you stop and ask WHY this happens. If the camera is "on" per se, people assume it's relevant and will tie into something larger. So like if the camera is on and all we see is Alya revealing her identity and then the result is she's outed in the same way she was in Heroes Day, the audience naturally concludes it's connected and thus realizes the lesson is either "Alya learns she shouldn't share her identity" OR "Marinette learns she shouldn't trust people" or both.

Secret identities are a great example of this phenomenon. We're NOT shown every time a villain's plan is foiled because they didn't know the heroe's identity, we ARE shown every time a heroe's identity causes friction in their lives. As such, large parts of the audience think of secret identites as inconveniences because that's what's shown (not just in Miraculous Ladybug, in tons of other shows)

Like you are supposed to make connections in Television about what's being shown to you that no one would make in real life (or at the very least no one SHOULD make in real life) because there's a limited space to tell the story and the audience is assuming the writers aren't wasting our time.

If these were real people it would be unreasonable to say because people have their own lives Marinette can't trust them, but in a story where Marinette is the main character who is explicitly always supposed that's. An accurate way to read the story!

And I also understand that this is a very boring construction if you're making headcanons or thinking about these characters! But that's a different lens, it doesn't make the broader writing lens invalid. You're speaking different languages at that point.

Anyway I hope that helps someone, that's my two cents

You summed it up perfectly! There's a ton of valid criticism to be had of Miraculous, but you can tell from the narrative framing that almost all of it comes down to writing choices and not things that are supposed to be seen as in-universe issues even though a lot of fans treat them as such. It's really weird to see things like people complaining about everything revolving around Marinette as if it's a personal flaw of hers and not the result of her being the main character in a fictional world. "Main Character Syndrome" literally pulls its name from the fact that this is how main characters work in a lot of media. It's a flaw when a real person does it, but in terms of story telling, it's extremely normal - and often good story telling - to have everything revolve around your main character or a core cast.

The issue with Miraculous is that they chose a lot of poor conflicts if they wanted Marinette to be the one and only main character, but that's not her fault. She didn't decide to have the rules around identities make no sense. The writers did. She didn't decide to make the main villain Adrien's dad while also keeping Adrien from being involved in the story. The writers did. The list goes on and on and, because none of it reflects badly on Marinette in the writers' eyes, the show doesn't act like Marinette is in the wrong. Remember, these are the same writers who think that Derision was a great episode that added depth to Marinette instead of destroying her character and making her look unhinged. Their judgement is clearly a little skewed.

While the writers love to make bad plot choices, they are generally using proper story telling language to make those choices, which is why I can tell you how characters' actions are intended to be read. The Rena Furtive and Nino example is a great one because it allows me to show that the writers do understand how to set things up. In fact, once they've decided that they're going to do a thing, they pretty much always set it up at a basic level. It's rarely spectacular and often frustrating, but it's never shocking.

In Rocketear, Alya promises Marinette that Nino will never learn about Rena Furtive. The episode then ends with her breaking that promise via the following exchange:

Alya: (sighs) I'm still Rena Rouge. (Nino gasps.) But now I'm in hiding and that's why Ladybug asked me not to tell anyone. Nino: But why are you telling me if no one's supposed to know? Is Ladybug cool with this? Alya: I can't hide it from you, because I love you, Nino, and we share everything.

Look at how this confession is presented. Look at what the dialogue focuses on. When Marinette confessed her identity to Alya, it was all about the confession and supporting Marinette. There was no discussion of this being a problem for Chat Noir or anything like that because - in the writers' eyes - that wasn't a problem for some reason. This is why Chat Noir almost instantly absolves Ladybug of blame once he finds out about the identity reveal (see: Hack-San.) The writers didn't want it to be an issue so it wasn't:

Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right

But when Alya confesses her identity to Nino, the conversation is not just about her confession. It's about her confession and how she's not supposed to do this. That's why Nino's response is not loving support. Instead, he asks if this is a good idea and if Ladybug knows.

These things are getting focused on because the writers are telling you that this is a bad thing. It's supposed to feel ominous. When I first watched Rocketear, I assumed that the season was going to end with Gabriel getting the fox off of Alya due to Nino because that was an obvious way to raise the stakes and they'd just heavily implied that Nino knowing would be a bad thing. I was, unfortunately, right. The only on screen consequence of Nino knowing is that he outs Alya to everyone in an incredibly forced series of events (see: Strikeback):

(Ryuko successfully prevents the Roue de Paris from hitting them, yet, it flies to the direction where Rena Furtive is. This causes Carapace to panic.) Carapace: Rena! (takes out his shield) Shell-ter! (Carapace's superpower successfully prevents the Ferris wheel from hitting Rena Furtive on top of the Tour Montparnasse. But the information of Rena Furtive's active status shocks the heroes, as well as Shadow Moth.) The heroes: Rena?! Shadow Moth: (from the top of the Eiffel Tower) She's still active?

Of course the Ferris Wheel goes straight for Alya's hiding spot and of course Nino screams her name before casting his power and of course the villain overhears it. It's all so forced and unnatural, which should make it glaringly obvious how much the writers wanted this to happen. This wasn't something they were kind of forced to do because it made sense for the narrative and they wanted to tell a good story. Instead, they wrote an awkward series of events because they really, really, really wanted Nino knowing to be a bad thing that outs Alya so that Marinette loses all of the miraculous even though none of this makes much sense.

How the hell did Gabriel hear Nino's shout from so far away? Is he able to overhear everything the heroes are saying? How does Nino even know that Alya is hiding there? And since when was a Ferris Wheel a threat to these guys? Your girlfriend is a magical girl and she's in her magical girl form, dude. You could drop a building on her and she'd be fine, a thing you have to know because this scene literally goes on to have Chat Noir go flying into a building, hitting it so hard the cement literally cracks, and no one really cares. I guess it's fine if Adrien is a punching bag, but Alya must be protected at all costs...

Anyway, while the above series of events was annoying, none of it was surprising. In fact, it would have all be perfectly predictable even if Alya outing herself was that treated as a more neutral event. Her choice leading to bad things falls perfectly in line with a truly bizarre running theme in the show: outing your identity to the person you love romantically is a bad thing that leads to bad consequences. That's why Chat Blanc and Ephemeral ended the world and why Nino knowing cost Ladybug the fox and why the character they call Joan of Arc has to give up her miraculous to be with her love and why the Kwami's have this absolutely asinine dialogue in Kwamis' Choice:

Plagg: Sugarcube! Having to force them to choose between love and their mission is just awful! Maybe Master Fu was wrong to choose them. Tikki: No, they’re made for each other. Love is what gives them their strength. Plagg: But the impossible part of that love is destroying them, and I know a thing or two about destruction. Tikki: (sighs heavily) What can we do? Plagg: We must free them of that impossible choice. We must… free them of us.

This is the voice of the author telling you that outing the identities is not and never will be a good choice for the love square. Never mind that Alya is allowed to know Marinette's identity or that Gabriel finding out is what actually ended the world in the alternate timelines or that Felix outted himself in public but is still wielding or that freaking Gabriel was allowed to know half of the temp heroes' identities while they were still actively wielding. For some reason, those things don't matter to the narrative, probably because romantic love wasn't involved. The "identity reveals are a bad thing" rule only seems to apply when romantic love is a key element to the point where it's a reoccurring theme in this supposed power of love show.

[thebibliosphere]

Am I reading this right? You have been beating yourself up for not 'working more' and not 'doing enough', but, the mere act of being AT YOUR DESK is extremely painful? Sitting at your work station, just SITTING THERE, caused you PHYSICAL PAIN, but you were still under the impression that you should be able to just 'power through that' to do, what? How much more are you expecting out of yourself? A book a month? Its not like you've STOPPED WORKING. What time table were you holding yourself to???

Here's the thing, my body has always hurt.

Even when I was a child, I was in a lot of pain that was dismissed as either "growing pains" despite the fact that I never got past 5 feet tall at the age of 11 or "attention seeking." So, I learned to stop talking about it. (The trick is now getting me to shut up about it.)

And for most of my teens and twenties, the pain didn't really stop me too much. It was bad, and it sucked, but for the longest time, everyone kept telling me that "everyone" felt that way, so I just sort of learned to power through and hide it under the assumption that "everyone" feels this way.

Well, turns out that was a mistake because my body hit its breaking point, and what might have been a mild genetic disability that could have flown under the radar is now a severe one that greatly impacts my daily life to the point where sitting at my desk causes me pain (because everything causes me pain).

Couple that with some new-age religious trauma about willpower, positive thinking, and whatever the fuck else my parents thought I was capable of as an 'indigo starseed' and the fact that I was trained to mask my ADHD by being a hyper-competent workaholic-- I really don't know what a healthy baseline is.

(I mean, heck, I wrote the first book of Hunger Pangs while literally dying. I assumed it would be edited and published posthumously. Jokes on me because now I've got to edit the rest of the fucking thing.)

I didn't, obviously, and ever since then, I've been trying to learn what a healthy baseline looks like for me post-recovery, and I think I'm doing quite well at it and enforcing my boundaries when people ask too much of me.

But none of that makes up for the shrieking frustration I feel that I can't do the things I want.

I want to be creative and do fun things, but I can't because my body won't let me. I want to write more, but I can't because I'm swimming in brain fog most of the time. Yes it hurts to sit at my desk, but I also need to earn money so the financial burden of everything isn't solely on my partner. (Something which he argues I shouldn't even be worrying about right now, but it's hard not to worry as I watch him work himself to the bone taking care of everything because I can't.)

I promise you, I'm not hustling my ass into an early grave. There is, in fact, zero hustle about how I work. I am very, very slow these days compared to how I used to be. There's no timetable for one thing. I get done what I get done, and that's it.

I'm just perpetually frustrated that my hyperactive brain is trapped in a malfunctioning meat suit. And my blog is where I talk about it and work through my emotions because, well, that's what I've always done long before Tumblr was even a thing. It just so happens now I've got an audience.

[userautumn]

Please. Tommys helicopter crashing while him and Buck are still broken up? That would be such great drama.

You know what I want? I want Buck to get mad. He has yet to actually get mad at a love interest. He's been hurt and confused, but I want him to get angry. I want him to go out and fuck like he's getting revenge on Tommy, even though he's the one who got left behind again, and I want him to convince himself he's absolutely fine. Eddie can see it, of course. Bobby and Maddie and all the people who love him can see that he's not fine, but I want Buck to pretend he is like he'll die if he doesn't. He deletes Tommy's name from his contacts and dumps all his stuff in the trash and erases his existence from his life like he's nothing more than yesterday's news.

I want this to continue through the rest of the season, long enough that both the characters and the audience start to think that maybe Buck is fine after all. Maybe this whole thing with Tommy was just a mistake, a hiccup. Maybe Tommy was right and saw writing on the wall that Buck didn't. Maybe he was smart by getting out when he did because Buck doesn't cry. He doesn't vent to Eddie, or show up on his doorstep like a kicked puppy. He lives fast and vibrant, and shows up to work covered in hickeys and lipstick and other people's cologne, and if Tommy really was as transformative of a love as he believed he was, shouldn't he be devastated?

Anyway.

Fast forward to the season finale. Athena has been following a case of corporate corruption where an auto and aeronautics manufacturer has been exposed for using faulty parts in their vehicles that have resulted in auto collisions and deaths across the country. None of this really concerns or interests Buck at all, if he's being honest. He fixes his own car for the most part (Tommy showed him how) and that which he can't do, he takes to his usual mom-and-pop mechanic for them to work on. Which is to say that, his life consists of sex and work, so news reports of [Same Company] being responsible for a Cessna crashing in Northern California don't really filter through.

Not until the 118 is called to a helicopter crash just outside of Los Angeles.

Even then, Buck doesn't think about Tommy. Why would he? Tommy Kinard is barely even a memory at this point, just an idea on the edge of his brain, an almost that was quickly buried. Helicopters crash all the time, so he has no reason to believe there's anything out of the ordinary about this one. But then when they're en route, Maddie's voice comes over the radio, tight with emotion and forcibly professional in a way that makes him immediately nauseous: Captain Nash, please be advised that the helicopter in question is one of our own. It's an LAFD chopper. Then, Hen and Eddie and Chimney and Bobby all turn to look at him, and Buck has nowhere to run from their gaze. Even if he did, he couldn't, because he feels paralyzed. Bobby's voice asking if there are any survivors, and Maddie's voice saying she's unsure get lost to the thrum of his heartbeat in his ears. Every repressed emotion, every memory, every bit of desperate longing and grief and love and anger comes rushing back in full force and all Buck can do is sit there while the engine weaves through Los Angeles traffic.

Tommy is fine, of course. He codes on the way to the hospital (Buck performing CPR on his boyfriend while begging him to stay alive is my drug), but once all is said and done, once he's come out of surgery with a little more metal in his body than he went in there with, he's okay. Buck isn't, not by a mile. He's full of too many emotions that he doesn't know how to sort through, chief among them being love, followed closely by anger, and then, guilt, of all things. But after Tommy opens his eyes, after Buck breaks down spectacularly, and after they finally confess that they love each other, Buck makes Tommy look him in the eyes:

"You don't get to run from this. Not again. I mean it. If you get scared, you talk to me. If you need to slow down, you talk to me. You don't make decisions for me, for us, and expect me to be okay with it. That's not how this works."

"Okay."

"I mean it, Tommy. I can't -"

"I mean it too. I promise. Okay?"

"Okay."

Anyways. Yeah. That's how I would do it.

[heliomanteia]

While the changes done to Odysseus' characterization within the musical set him far aside from the Homeric Odysseus, I feel like there was no way to write the musical in the way Jorge wrote it while keeping Homeric Odysseus' characterization entirely intact.

Jorge's Odysseus functions in a different layer, a different medium of media. He's part his own character, part Jorge, part the viewers' self-insert through which you can feel the events of the musical as if you are, as well, Odysseus to some degree.

There are a lot of moments of "Odysseus would not fucking say that", but I think they are justified because it's not Odysseus saying that, it's the audience. Jorge is very generous with the range he gives to Odysseus' emotional/moral frame because, yeah, Homer's Odysseus wouldn't even think about adopting Scamandrius for a number of reasons. It would never happen (especially happily) within the logic of the myth. Jorge's Odysseus voices that desire as a modern (in his morals) character inserted into a situation of ancient logic. The conflict of the "little man thrust into the world of bigger things" which isn't entirely inaccurate to the Homeric source is more prominent within the musical because Jorge's Odysseus is a child of modern morality.

I'm guessing the same reasoning can be given for how Circe is treated with the coercion narrative being switched up for her characterization in the musical: it's easy for Jorge to justify her caution with wariness but it wouldn't be possible to justify the victimization of Odysseus (very true to his myth counterpart) while under Circe's control. I expect similar lighthearted narration for Calypso as well. Musical morals are not morals of the initial text; neither of them are better or worse, you just shouldn't mix them up.

Jorge's Odysseus and Homeric Odysseus are different people, ultimately, but they are also products of their time and space and creative medium.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Master List

This page is geared towards an 18+ Audience. Please read through any warnings at the start of fics as they are there for a reason.

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Who I write for: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, other Marvel Women

What I will write: Smut, fluff, angst, g!p, au

Wanda Maximoff

Oneshots (All 18+)

New Neighbours- After meeting a beautiful woman in a store, you soon discover that she's your neighbour and she's single.

Devil In Disguise- Wanda isn't as innocent as everyone thinks she is.

Break Me- Wanda needs you to be rough with her and give her exactly what she wants.

Detention- Your Professor keeps you behind after class as you were distracted.

Take Control Of Me- You ask Wanda to use you as she wishes.

Are You Interested? -  "I'm very attracted to you, would you be interested in having an affair?"

Heatwave Fun- You and your girlfriend find a way to cool down during a heatwave.

Dirty Thoughts- While babysitting the twins, Wanda is left to listen to all the sinful thoughts of the older woman flickering through your mind.

Listen To Mommy- Your Mommy teaches you a lesson after being a brat.

Focus- Wanda tests how well you can concentrate while her hands roam your body.

Can't I?- "You can't control me the way you do them." "Can't I?"

Teach Me- After tutoring the twins, their mother decides to give you your own personal lesson.

Touch Me- You beg Wanda to give you what you desperately want.

Protective Girlfriend- Wanda gets worried when you hurt yourself in training. You find a way to convince her that you're perfectly fine.

Boyfriend- Inspired by the song by Dove Cameron

Please...- An affair that turns into more.

So Wrong- How can something so wrong feel so right?

We're Going To Get Along Just Fine- You go home with a mysterious woman from the bar.

Attention (G!P Reader) - You're girlfriend thinks you're spending too much time focussing on work so you give her the attention she wants.

A Workout To Remember (G!P Reader)- Your Gym crush makes a move on you.

Trick Or Treat (G!P Reader)- Loosely inspired by WV ep6 and the phrase trick or treat.

Lingerie (G!P Reader)- Wanda surprises you in a new lace set.

Series (All 18+)

The Babysitter (WIP- Currently 144k words)- In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

Good Luck, Babe! (WIP- Currently 33k words)-

Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Secrets (Completed- 23k words)- DARK FIC- "Do you swear on your life?" She lets her fingers trail up your arm, moving to your drag along the side of your neck and your jaw before resting on your chin, holding your face to look at her.

"I swear on my life," you whisper, unable to look away from her.

"Would you be interested in having an affair?"

This fic also includes relationship with Natasha Romanoff in which the reader is not faithful in.

Enemies With Benefits (Completed- 16k Words)- You hated her. She hated you. It was just sex. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

Miss Maximoff (Completed- 8k) - After strange circumstances, you find yourself falling for the married woman next door.

I Don't Hate You- After going too far in training, Steve makes you check up on Wanda. Upon hearing a groan, panic fills you before you hear your name falling off her lips in a desperate moan. Oh.

Natasha Romanoff

One Shots

I Wanted You- "We tried so hard not to be torn apart. But at the end of it all, we both wanted something different...I wanted you. And you...you didn't want them to know."

Daddy Issues- TW for Abuse. Inspired by the song Daddy Issues by the Neighbourhood

Warm Us Up (18+)- After your reluctance to work together causes you to be stranded in a safehouse, You come up with an idea on how to stop the two of you freezing to death.

I Kissed The Scars On Her Skin- You comfort Natasha after she starts to feel insecure about her body.

Series (All 18+)

The Soldier Of Death (WIP- Currently 32k words) Warning of graphic depictions of violence. - Soldat Smerti. The Soldier of Death. You were the perfect weapon: loyal, obedient, and merciless, or so Hydra thought. What happens when these traits are put to the test? Your captivity in the Avenger's tower and the presence of a redhead makes you realise you didn't have to be a monster. The question was though; Did Hydra make you the monster or were you always one?

Secrets (Completed- 23k) Dark Fic- Same fic as the one mentioned in the Wanda Series section.

Love Is For Children (Completed 43k) - "You love her, don't you?" "Loved. I loved her."

Bad Idea (Completed 4.7k) - A friends with benefits story that turns into lovers.

You Need Me- Natasha should hate you. You're the enemy. But she can't lie and say you were wrong. She did need you.

Miss Romanoff- What happens when the mysterious woman you went home with turned out to be your new professor...

Wanda And Natasha X Reader

Should Have Knocked- You accidentally walk in on Wanda and Nat in a compromising position. What you didn't expect was for them to ask you to join them.

The Devil And An Angel- Your girlfriends tempt you to sin.

Alone In The Compound- Thinking you were alone, you and Wanda take advantage of the emptiness of the compound. What you didn't expect was for the Black Widow to walk in on you two.

Kinktober

Kinktober 2024

Kinkmas

More posts with links to be added soon, all of posts are on my other accounts so check them out if you want to read them before I post them on here :)

[gin-juice-tonic]

Talking about a single bill book page under here

The thing about this page is, for something that was supposedly ripped out, it doesn't really contain anything that strikes me as needing.... to have been... ripped out.

Sure, he talks about being lonely here and maybe that could be embarrassing to him, but it's not like he hasn't talked about being an outcast before, his entire about page has a section dedicated to his trials and tribulations with his peers when he was younger.

Additionally, there's many times in the journal where he seems to have written something he feels he shouldn't have. Though ripping that thing out isnt usually his method of choice. He much prefers to scratch things out.

Why couldn't the page have existed like this? Or even, if the entire thing truly is too embarrassing to have in your journal, why did you write it there in the first place?

It seems to me that the only reason this page was included with the other Bill pages was to set up the narrative of Ford's loneliness. (That within Journal 3 proper isn't really needed, because one can already ascertain that...). Doyalist reason? Sure, Alex is trying to set up his story. Watsonian reason? Naturally you turn it around and see it as Bill trying to set up his own story.

This page's existence in general isn't the only beef I have with it though. While we're meant to accept it on the basis that he ripped this out, Ford engaging with personal feelings, especially negative ones like this in such a blatant way is... unusual. I'd say he's much more prone to distracting himself away from that sort of thing with his work.

For the journal especially, this page would have to take place pretty early, as it's supposed to be pre-Bill. Which is weird, considering a later page in the original J3...

Of course, like I said, we the audience can understand Ford is lonely. And I'm not trying to say he doesn't know it himself, but he does not engage with it.

The thing about this page though, is that it's much more than just a single spot where Ford's own loneliness is mentioned. It's a turning point for the way Ford writes. Prior to Fiddlefords arrival, Stanford takes a few pages to introduce himself, then everything following is either an anomaly page or the occasional muse page. Like I said before, it's all very work-focused.

After Fiddleford comes to town, Ford is forced to feel the full extent how lonely he's truly been, and he starts to write a lot of pages of his and Fiddleford's adventures together, including his feelings during. (insert everyones favorite lines here:)

But he also starts to write about something else...

Over

and over

and over

again...

Fiddleford's renewed presence in his life really opened some mental-block floodgates in Ford's mind. From experience, sometimes you really aren't faced with how truly lonely you are until you are provided with some respite from it.

Again, I would like to say, it's not that I think he wasn't lonely before. He definitely was, and it's certainly part of why Bill was able to target him. But would he have written it out like that at that point in time? In the journal no less?

I dont really think so. I think he was doing everything in his power not to think or feel it.

And writing it down isn't really what I'd call conducive to that.

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 7 "The Iceberg"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, Feyd-Rautha's big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse ❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts ❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable!Feyd, Emotional!Feyd, Possessive!Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism ❗, implied/referenced murder

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

A/N: I had to use my entire brain cell to write this one 🧠 Hope you're ready for some ✨LORE✨

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Giedi Prime, Day 1, later

This shouldn't feel so awkward.

Two hours after her arrival, Feyd and her are still in her room, seated on the couch. The cushions are wrapped in squeaky leather and her gown is too tight at the waist. She yearns for trousers and a shirt but doesn't dare open her coffer and change into her old sleeper clothes, because should she ask Feyd to turn around? Or simply undress?

The room with its black within black interior strangely reminds her of an insect burrow, molded out of plastic.

They've had a meal delivered to them half an hour ago by female helpers (slaves) without a personality and the empty plates are stacked on the coffee table. It had been nice while they were eating, giving them both something to do with no pressure to think of topics.

What would she even ask him? So, what was it like growing up on this planet I've never heard about? What do you even do here and please tell me anything about your culture, because I have no idea?

What would he even ask her? So, what was it like on old Earth, your old home that's lost forever? What kind of horrible war was that that made you flee to space and how exactly did you end up with the Bene Gesserit and survive for 24,000 years?

It's astounding how they've spent half a year together in their dreams and loved each other, yet managed to avoid anything that might give away their identity, hiding dirty secrets from each other.

Whenever she looks at him, new heat rises to her chest and her heart hammers like crazy. It obscenely feels like meeting your long distance boyfriend in person for the first time and the person you've known so well is suddenly a familiar stranger.

Every once in a while, Feyd takes a deep breath, head twitching forwards to close the distance between them and kiss her on her sweet lips, but the longer he waits, the greater the force that holds him back. She seems different, frightened and overwhelmed and like half of her mind is someplace else when he should be the center of her attention right now.

Every once in a while, she glances at Feyd's hands longingly, imagining to just reach out and hold them, but the longer she waits, the more difficult it becomes. He seems different, reserved and anxious, like he's weighing every word and action ten times before executing it.

There is also, naturally, a bed in her room and its mere presence has been making her flustered and nervous. They've both been looking at it in secret this entire afternoon and pointedly acting like it isn't there, pretending not to think about how they've already touched and explored each other everywhere. And yet they haven't. Not really.

She takes a deep breath, striking up a conversation. "What was that creature in the corner of the audience chamber?"

"Oh. That was my uncle's pet." Feyd's tone is apologetic. "I'm sorry you had to see that. Did it scare you? It's not dangerous."

"Didn't you say you… Killed it?"

"That's a longer story, I'm afraid." A muscle in Feyd's jaw twitches with a thousand thoughts and stories untold.

"But you did kill a pet of your uncle?" Horrified, she thinks, what if we did not actually have the same dreams? What if this reality is not quite like it should be?

But Feyd calms that worry quickly. "Oh yes, I did. More than once." 

Shouldn't he have said 'more than one'? 

"That's the joy of having a genetically engineered pet," he says without a trace of joy.

"Is that what Tleilaxu-fashioned means?"

"Yes." Feyd tilts his head curiously. "Aren't you horrified at all?"

"We did have a fair bit of genetic engineering at home, though that's not exactly my field of expertise." She briefly looks over her shoulder to where her cryo pod lies. The rectangle of sun has moved a fair bit. "But I've never seen anything like that creature."

The fact that Old Earth was capable of biological engineering is astounding to Feyd, but she keeps looking so longingly at the bulky, coffin-shaped thing and he fails not to become jealous of the inanimate object.

"What's up with that thing?" Feyd finally asks, finding a bit of his bravery and scooting closer to her. Her head snaps back to him, finding him less far away than he was before and her gaze drops to his lips and the tempting curve of his cupid's bow. Her breath hitches.

"It's just…" She takes an even deeper breath, perhaps her deepest one yet. Feyd watches her mouth as she speaks. "Would you help me with something?"

"Of course," he frowns. "Anything."

She hesitates for a moment and then bravely slips her fingers into his hand. "Are you… as afraid of technology as everyone here?"

"No," Feyd declares immediately, despite not being sure if that is actually the truth. But he wants to be his woman's confidant, more than anything.

"Okay, then…" She stands and tugs on his hand. Feyd follows her obediently towards the vessel which had preserved her for 24,000 years and released her unharmed. She kneels down in front of it and so does Feyd, warily. The stiff military uniform he still wears is uncomfortable at the knees.

She prompts: "Could you please shave my hair just over the ear right here? I'd do it myself but it's a tricky spot. I can't see it properly. Just a small stripe." She indicates with her fingers over her right ear. Feyd had expected many things, but not this. She bends to her little coffer and unclasps it. "There should be a multi-tool with a blade somewhere in here- Oh!"

Feyd has whipped his kukri from the holster under his jacket, presenting it with the sharp tip pointing upwards. One pale, blue eye regards her proudly from behind the curved blade that had been polished and whetted in the morning.

"That w-works too." She offers the side of her head to him, trembling when long fingers brush tenderly over her scalp, sectioning the area she had asked him to shave. He finds the hair in that area to be shorter than the remaining hair.

Her Feyd will be careful and not cut her. She suppresses the shiver that runs down her spine and into her core, nervous like it's the first time he's touching her. Silver glints at the corner of her eye and the whirring sound of strands being cut so close to her ear is momentarily louder than her heartbeat. Severed hair pelts softly on her shoulder.

Meanwhile, she deftly twists the cuboid capsule attached to her necklace and a tiny mechanism sussurates. The capsule comes apart and reveals a slim, shiny plate.

"What's that?" Feyd murmurs, brushing the pad of his thumb softly across a tiny slit he's found beneath the millimeter of hair that's still left.

"My port."

Jittery, she brings her hand up, shooing Feyd's away so she can trace the slit. Feyd notices her undone capsule pendant and the tiny rectangle in her hand.

"And what's that?"

"My chip. I had to take it out for the cryogenic sleep." She frowns, fingering around the area some more. "The port is overgrown. We had to have it sealed to protect the electronics."

"Are you a computer?"

She bursts out laughing so brightly that Feyd can't help but grin and his cheeks do the thing that they haven't done in so long.

"Oh dear, no! Where and when I'm from, everyone had one of these. You're technically only half a human without it. I've felt so naked…" She looks at him earnestly. "Could you cut it open for me, please?"

Feyd nods slowly, lifting the blade. The invitation to cut her elicits a twitch of his groins. He hasn't felt anything like his in so long, no enticing spark, not even when he tried to touch himself... His woman trusts him, so he will trust her chip.

She flinches when the blade tip comes close. "A-Are you sure you don't want to have the multi-tool for that?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Feyd moves closer, nose only centimeters away from her head. The pointy tip of his kukri tickles her scalp. "You need to keep still."

"I know, I'm just- Agh!" She flinches again.

"I haven't even cut you yet." He tries once more.

"Ouch! I'm sorry, I can't control it." Feyd nearly cuts where he isn't supposed to cut.

"Stop jerking around, my darling!" He determinedly reaches around her head with his free hand, stabilizing her and utilizing the fact that she's momentarily dumbstruck by the nickname, finally uttered in reality. She hisses when the blade precisely penetrates her scalp, just one millimeter deep. The skin is thin and bleeds only a little. Feyd is tempted to rasp his tongue over the cut and suckle her blood off the electronics inside, but he withdraws.

"And this is… safe?"

"Yes, don't worry. Most people don't remove their chips for several years, so the port has to be cut open when they need a replacement." 

Her face is so full of elation when she lifts the chip and slots it into the port that Feyd can't help but hold his breath, excited with her. His hand slides around her back, coming to rest on the crook of her arm. He scans her for change, unsure what to expect. Perhaps the soul of a machine flickering to life in her eyes, but she remains entirely the same.

Only her face brightens like she's seen paradise.

A virtual interface flickers into existence in front of her eyes, looking at the cryo pod. The world used to be so full of these interfaces, but now she looks into an electronic void that makes her feel lonely and empty. It's just her and the pod. The only surviving  human and piece of technology from Earth.

"What, what is it?" Feyd urges, scanning her face alertly.

"I used to communicate with the world with this," she murmurs. "Now there is… Nothing. I can only communicate with my sarcophagus."

"So, it's a transmitter?"

"It's a transmitter and so much more. With a  little bit of fiddling, perhaps I could link myself up to your satellites someday. This chip used to give me access to everything. Communication, information, entertainment, data processing, calculations. It's all virtually displayed in front of my own eyes. I can read, watch films, work... It has an in-built hard-drive, so not all is lost, at least." A piece of home. 

"So, you're no computer, but that chip is?"

She weighs her words, head swaying left and right. "It is a small computer, if you will, but it has nothing on the processing power of-"

"That's heresy," Feyd hisses, moving right in front of her face. She notices the tight set of his jaws but also the glint of temptation in his eyes, scanning her like she's a sweet poison apple.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"I won't. It'll be our secret. I swear it on my honor." She knows so many secrets of his, he will keep all of hers in a silver cage in his chest, twice locked. Feyd reaches for her face, softly grazing his fingertips against her jaw, but her gaze is faraway, drifting downwards diagonally.

The messages folder in the lower right corner of the interface taunts her with the promise of memories. Messages received from friends and family, the echo of her old life. Suffocating sorrow threatens to overwhelm her when she realizes this folder will never blink again with new messages and the contacts of loved ones in there are nothing but husks of the past.

"What do you see there?"

"Nothing," she replies earnestly. "Just memories."

"Look at me…" She follows the prompt of his soft voice. "What does it say when you look at me?"

"Hmm." Shyly, she focuses her attention on Feyd's face, lifting her hand and splaying her fingers across his soft cheek. Immediately, his lids drop halfway and she feels the weight of his head against her hand, relaxed. "First of all, nothing, because you don't have a chip." The tip of her index finger rubs over the smooth skin above his ear.

With the electric current of a thought skipping across neurons, she selects an application from the vast array. "But it has a tool that allows me to scan the environment. It's helpful for identifying flora and fauna."

"So, what sort of fauna am I?" Feyd mumbles, cheek still against her palm. A half-transparent box flickers to life in the virtual space above his head. 

"Human," she declares and smiles. "See, no fucking Bene Gesserit torture test required to find that out."

That causes Feyd to stir and he snatches her wrist with one hand and cups her face with the other, pulling their foreheads close. "They tested you?!"

"You know about the tests? Are they… A common thing?" Her heart pounds loudly in her chest.

"I don't know how common. But they tested me too, last week. Said I couldn't have you unless I passed the test." 

For a brief moment she catches herself wishing Feyd had plunged his daunting blade into the Bene Gesserit sister after the test. Feyd seems quite content with the vitriolic expression in her eyes, exhaling softly against her mouth, lashes half-lowered. His heart pounds quickly and he wonders if this is the right time to sleep with his woman and cover every inch of her body with himself, explore her real flesh until every square inch of her is covered with his handprints.

"Why are we sitting on the floor in front of this pod, my darling?"

"Because now that I've got my chip, I can finally get my things."

Feyd regrets that he said anything, because now she pulls away, attention diverted to the metal behemoth of a coffin. "What about your-?" He points towards the small coffer.

"Only odds and ends in there. My old cryo suit, the multi tool, couple of necessities the sisterhood gave to me. You know, a toothbrush and such," she rambles while establishing the personal area network between herself and the sarcophagus. The batteries have been holding up well for 24,000 years in space. She must have grazed the gravitational periphery of multiple suns which have fed energy into the cryo pod's solar panels. The pod was at 20% when she exited it on Wallach IX, puking and shivering after being woken. In Giedi Prime's unforgiving sun, it has already climbed up to 50% within a few hours.

The tethering is complete and the CryoSysTM system (evil tongues will say it pronounces like crisis) immediately recognizes her chip and her as the occupant of this pod and a rank 3 member of the International Spacing Cooperation of Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia, America and Luna, short ISCO.

On the virtual interface, she enters the passcode which she remembers by heart and completes the triplicate identification process by pressing her thumb on one of the four, small scanner panels.

Welcome, Astronaut M2-84.

Feyd flinches when the sarcophagus buzzes to life with a heavy, electronic sound and a segment in its lower half clicks open along what he had thought welt joints so far.

The relic reaches into cargo compartment 2 which had obediently opened upon her command. Feyd squints his eyes, frowning at the strange item she removes. A fuzzy thing with plump arms and legs which she squeezes against her chest. 

Is it delusional to think it still smells of home? But somehow it does and she can't help the tears that burn in her eyes.

"What is that?" Feyd tries to pry the thing out of her arms, but she fiercely resists.

"That's mine!" She flinches away, then adds more softly: "That's my stuffed animal."

"Oh. Ah. What can it do?"

"Nothing." She looks up with surprise and Feyd's eyes widen a smidge. "Have you never had one?"

Feyd thinks: Maybe. But he says: "This must be something we don't have anymore… nowadays."

"Hmmph." She highly doubts that. But she can imagine a childhood on this planet must be extremely different. "Well, it's mine and it's very personal to me, so please don't do anything that would damage it or I'll never forgive you."

"Okay!" Feyd reassures her quickly, taken aback. Her voice sounds so tearful all of a sudden and it puzzles him that one can be so attached to an object. It almost makes him jealous. Not directly of the stuffed animal, but of the fact that there was happiness in her old home. Happiness acquired through soft and useless things. How badly he wants that. But he doesn't even dare request a softer blanket for his room. Perhaps if she asked for him, he could have one…

Feyd will not touch the stuffed animal, even though it looks very soft. He touches his woman's back instead, sliding his arm around her so she leans against his side.

"Thank God I placed him in the high-security compartment." She looks at the fuzzy thing. "And my diary. The Bene Gesserit put my pod through its paces, but couldn't get past the outer shell." She taps the slit above her ear. 

If Feyd had such emotional objects, he'd keep them in the high-security compartment as well. Which is why the security for the palace has been doubled and the guards for this corridor alone tripled since her arrival.

"So, what would you have done if the witches had found and touched your little… friend there?" He grins, face conspiratorially close to hers, hoping to see maybe a sliver of that pretty violence again.

"That's not the problem," she shakes her head, squishing the plushie in her hands. Her heart pitter-patters from the closeness of Feyd's mouth near her cheek.

"Obviously, I don't only keep useless items in here." The look she gives him then is sly and Feyd's hairless brows shoot up. "I stopped asking for my necklace when I realized that computers are… Demonized. These pods were meant to preserve my people on our way from Earth deeper into the solar system, letting us sleep in a frozen slumber to skip the time. But each pod is also a fully equipped emergency capsule with all the necessities one might need as a stranded astronaut on a foreign world."

"Astronaut," he repeats the word uttered in a foreign language which sounds ancient to him. "How many like you were there?"

"We were twelve ships, 100 sleeping astronauts aboard each, all headed  to new worlds. Mine was the Magellan II, headed to Mars. Do your aircrafts have names?" Feyd shakes his head. "Ah, well. Traditions do change within 24,000 years I suppose."

"So, you left Earth to colonize the solar system, is that what you were trying to tell me on our last night?"

"That's right." She shivers at the memory. Her family and colleagues hadn't understood why she was crying so hard the whole morning before climbing into her sarcophagus to sleep. "I wasn't sure if I could dream in cryo sleep. The journey to Mars would have taken three years." Pleadingly, she turns to Feyd, startled by his proximity. "And how could I have told you I was leaving when you were doomed to die on earth? The program was scorned by the public, they said we're worse than terrorists."

So, she did leave him deliberately, Feyd notes almost matter-of-factly. But he isn't hurt, because her departure is the cause for his woman being here and he can convince her of his love every day for the rest of their lives, so that if the opportunity arises to leave him again, she will choose to stay with him.

A suspicious thought overcomes her. "I dreamed of you the months leading up to our departure. When did you dream of us?" He looks exactly like in the dreams, only a bit more tense around the edges. And no scar on his neck.

"The dreams stopped two years ago. And until one week ago, I had no idea if I'd ever see you again." He exhales deeply, eyes flitting across her face.

A frown spreads across her forehead. "Two years ago, the Bene Gesserit thawed me after receiving my cryo pod from the Guild. So, you've been dreaming while I was… asleep."

How odd. The timing seems to make little sense.

Feyd can see it in her eyes, how intrigued she is, already trying to understand and unravel the mysteries like back then. But Feyd has bigger concerns and looks only at her lips.

"And why are you here with me now, and not on Mars, 24000 years ago?"

"That's what I've been dying to find out."

Again, she pulls away from him before he can kiss her and Feyd silently curses himself. A muscle across his jaw tenses. It bugs him that he can't see what she can see, makes him feel excluded. Her eyes dart about, then squint as if she's reading. Feyd manages to keep quiet for a minute.

"What?" He eventually snaps, staring at her from the side.

"Well…" Her voice sounds small and disappointed. "It's what I expected. An emergency protocol released my pod after critical hull damage." 

Pensively, she kneads her own palms, staring at the virtual interface. Perhaps the others are still out there. Perhaps by some miracle they have survived the cryogenic sleep for much longer than what should be possible as well, and the folder in the corner of her interface will someday blink again.

The truth is, death has most certainly found everyone she's loved, embraced them with silent arms in their sarcophagi, cells turned to ice and withered away in the cold, endless night of the universe. A lonely and peaceful death, much more peaceful than the life that awaits her.

It was the program she was a part of that sparked the human advance into the universe. And she lives to see its terrible fruit.

"Why were you on that pod?" Feyd murmurs from the side. "What made you so special?"

Finally, she turns her head to face him again. "Because I helped build them."

"You?" A subtle frown crinkles the milky skin between his brows.

"Oh, yes. Where I'm from, women aren't just slaves. I'm a trained engineer."

And as the smart ship grew In stature, grace, and hue, In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too. - The Convergence of the Twain by Thomas Hardy

A/N: Yes, hello, I'd like to have one helping of Neuralink meets Cyberpunk 2077. To everyone who's not a trained engineer, myself included: We've got this! And also: Who is the ship and who is the iceberg here? 🤭

TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @charmingballoon,

@minedofmoria, @flower-frog, @welliah, @coastalcowgirl35, @sebastianswallows

Do let me know if you'd like me to tag you for this series or for Feyd fics in general 🫶

[sulumuns-dootah]

Can I request a headcanon of wbh kings reacting to a gn mc who's a actress/actor and watching a horror killer movie mc played in (mc is the final person to die)

WHB kings w/ MC acting in horror movie

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Hi! Sorry for the wait, Fall is always kinda rough on my mental health U.U

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When you told Satan that you're in a horror movie, he was super excited

Certified horror movie enjoyer right there

Oh and when he found out you were on the poster of it?

Suddenly it's all over Gehenna and many screenings are scheduled in pretty much all the cinemas

Before, however, it is shown anywhere publicly, Satan wants to watch it with you alone

During the movie he'd joke that he's expecting your character to be one of the first ones to die since it's a rule that hot characters die first

But then he realizes there's only about 20 minutes of the movie left and your character is still alive

Maybe you're one of those final survivors who don't die?

Nope :)

Just as the final credits start to roll in, the killer jumpscares the audience by surprise lounging at your character and kills them as the credits roll list all the names of everyone who took part in the production

       ༺☆༻

Similar to Satan's reaction, but Mammon only has a screening in a handful of cinemas of his choosing

Obviously,as the star you are, the screening also has a meet and greet with you included

Bimet was the one to organise everything, so you can imagine how expensive the tickets are

Mammon will also want a private screening before letting anyone else watch it

And since for example Texas Chainsaw Massacre did it: If there's a scene with your ass all over the screen, Mammon will be obsessed and make it his personality for the next century :)

Now, getting back to the end of the movie and seeing your way too suden death, you sneak a peek at Mammon to see his reaction and he, to be fair, looks unmoved

But then you notice him being more clingy than usual

When you ask him about it, he'll give you, honestly, the best answer:

"Seeing you die made me realise I don't ever want to loose you in reality"

       ༺☆༻

Exact opposite

Nobody except for you and him are allowed to watch it

Now, Levi will be happy to tell everyone that his partner is an actor/actress in movies, but will never say which ones

What's it to them? They can't appreciate your presence on screen correctly

The next thing you know they'll be making fan edits and write fanfics about you and either the killer or some random self-insert instead of Leviathan - your ACTUAL partner

The movie will kinda become shadow banned in Hades bc the people will fear their king will find out they watched it and hang them to death for it

The only one to openly talk about it is Glasyalabolas bc of course

He's hoping he can catch some other demons while they pretend to not know what he's talking about despite secretly watching it

(Oof, I can even imagine: You know how are those videos like 'Top 5 movies you shouldn't watch'? Your movie will be every no.1 on those lists :D)

       ༺☆༻

When you told Beel about your new found stardom, he tried acting surprised but you both knew his act was bad

He knew even before you knew and accepted the offer from the casting director

And you could swear you think he was there during the shoot

Or at least you thought you saw him for a flash by the catering table, moments before someone started raising all hell because someone ate all the pizza again

So when you suggest a movie night with your movie, he already has some stuff prepared at some secret location

Maybe he might even send some pics of you cosying together to Bael just to piss him off

       ༺☆༻

Belphegor just to happened to be half-awake when you came excitedly running to his room

He had half the mind to just fall back asleep, but then you started talking about some movie you were in, so he decided to give you at least some of his time

"Oh, and you want me to watch it now or...?"

Sure, you can join him in bed and watch it with him, but he can't promise he'll stay awake the whole time

Maybe only until your character dies, because after that you won't mind, right?

Oh boy, did he not know...

To be fair, he does watch the whole movie until then, but might not be awake long enough for him to give a review of your performance

       ༺☆༻

"Oh, you're in a movie, my pretty little bitch? Sure, let's watch it."

You know where this leads to...

By the time the first kill happens you're already folded in half, taking Asmo in and screaming louder than the poor victim in the movie

But Asmo actually is interested in your character, so whenever you're on screen, he slows down and shushes you so that he can hear the other you

By the time your character dies, you've already cume multiple times and are about ready to pass out just like in the movie

After the movie's over, Asmo will actually give you a good review and ideas on what to work on (including your stamina ;))

       ༺☆༻

You didn't even get to be the one to tell Lucifer

Of course Gamigin had to accidentally let it slip while begging Lucifer to partake with the rest of demons in a movie night

You wanted to surprise Luci by putting the movie on and seeing if him or any other demon catches on to recognise the bad-ass final girl/guy as you

After that Luci hears you scolding Gamigin for the slip up so he decides to act like he didn't know you'll be in the movie

He's not really convincing, but it's the thought that counts, right?

After the movie's finished, you anxiously ask everyone for the opinion

Everyone has nice things to say, except for the SFX team and the many inaccuracies they noticed

But... Luci is silent

At least until everyone's gone to bed for the night

After that he'll have you sit on his lap and whisper so much praise into your ear

[olderthannetfic]

sorry it didn't entirely occur to me that race play wasn't inherently racist. Guess I literally should've just googled that to see, flew over my head. Wasn't intending to be bait or whatever, I was genuinely confused what goes too far in fiction or not, since you could write practically anything including immoral stuff. It was hard to wrap my head around and entirely forgot POC could write stuff that would be considered racist if a white person did it. My bad I understand the reasoning now. Again sorry was genuinely just curious cuz I'm not a "professional" in what's right or not (I usually follow the majority to determine what's right, I'm a sheep, my biggest fear is to be offensive in any way so I try to listen to people who know their stuff and follow), terms and complicated words (at least complicated to me) tend to go over my head. Perhaps I should've used a tonetag to show I was being genuine in my response and meant to be curious and not to harm. I apologize sorry for making you mad have a nice day/night afternoon :) I really appreciate the work you put in this blog, it's very informational for me

--

Oh god. You're in earnest? Well, in that case, you were doing a pitch-perfect imitation of the people you've been reading, and those people are annoying.

--

It's fiction. Who cares what's in it?

The thing that makes it matter is how the fiction is disseminated and the whole context around it. For example, media aimed at young children is held to higher standards because four-year-olds often aren't that competent at telling fiction from reality or understanding that depiction isn't endorsement.

Mainstream US TV shows have millions of viewers. If they reinforce mainstream unconscious prejudices, that tends to encourage the audience to continue unchecked in those beliefs.

Weird niche porn or fanfic on AO3 have tiny audiences, often deal with things that are already contentious, and are labeled as non-mainstream in the first place by their very nature.

"But what if people write immoral fiction?" is itself an unethical position. It is the domain of the religious right, radfems, and other assholes who believe in thought crimes.

Yes, sheep do follow these people. This is an unethical behavior, but it is common.

The tyranny of the majority is not a good thing. The fact that a large number of people on social media say that such-and-such makes them feel gross is not an excuse for them to tell a smaller group with "gross" tastes what they're allowed to do in their own circles. Lots of people are horny over weird shit. This is fine.

The fear of ever offending anyone is a prison that will cause you to make bad choices.

Genuine harm is bad, but lots of people are offended at the drop of a hat. Yes, this goes for nonwhite people too, and it definitely goes for idiots white knighting in fandom spaces and going "You can't write X about characters of color! You can't write Y! Everything is problematic!"

As has been discussed on here many times, a lot of fans, including nonwhite fans, find that kind of behavior stifling to the point where they can't write about those characters at all. The response is often a huffy "Well, they shouldn't feel like that." But they do feel like that. It's not on purpose. Most people feel like that, to be honest. Living in a fishbowl has a chilling effect on art just like being afraid of offending paralyzes you yourself.

Offensiveness is highly dependent on context. Not only will it vary with your cultural background, but a great writer can handle material and make it feel nuanced, while a crummy writer will fall flat on their face with the same material.

If we are too precious about "Nobody should ever offend anyone", we're calling for all fans to publicly disclose their demographic and for all fans to be extremely skilled. Pity the poor, dumb teenager who just wants to write about their black blorbos because they are black themselves... and a shitty writer... who likes sex pollen.

If you look again, you will notice that a lot of fandom drama around offensiveness boils down to "You have a rape kink and that's not okay".

The bottom line, anon, is that fandom has a bullying problem. The internet has a bullying problem. People who are too scared to have their own stance on what's offensive or what's correct behavior are easily weaponized in bullying campaigns. This is the problem with being a sheep. You'll reblog shit saying "Well, I'm not sure, but this sounds important..." and then it turns out to be a smear campaign. Or maybe you personally won't do that, but you will stay silent when you should speak out.

Doing the right thing often involves offending people.

Look, anon, I've been canceled before for supposedly being "fandom's worst racist", and yet there are a bunch of fans of color in my comments section because they're tired of prissy jackasses who won't ever expose themselves by having an opinion, think it's more important to never be wrong than to have a conversation and risk changing their minds, who think only one very specific, very American, and very era/platform/fandom-specific standard is okay, and who hate on kinky fanfic day in and day out.

--

To interact with other humans is to risk offending someone. Yes, I think it's on all of us to at least recognize extremely blatant racist stereotypes, but that doesn't mean agreeing with every single moron who walks up and goes "I had a yucky feeling, and now that's your problem."

A lot of this pearl clutching makes one think of that line from Cold Comfort Farm:

"I saw something nasty in the woodshed!"

The matriarch of the family took to her bed years ago, claiming to have been prostrated by the sight of some unnamed horror (in context, probably people fucking). For years, she has used this supposed ~harm~ to bully and control the rest of the family.

Fandom is also full of this behavior lately. "Other people's fiction made me shake and cry!!!" is not actual harm. It is, at best, people who are genuinely upset but who need to take it up with a mental health professional. Very often, however, it is shitty, manipulative, abusive behavior that is entirely intentional. Do not fall for it.

Some people are just children and need to be told "No."