#I don't know who this hypothetical person is by the way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crimson-rain-smoked-flower · 2 years

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I’m not trying to attack you, but do you know that proshipper means someone who supports and romanticizes pedophilia, incest, and abuse? Your reblog on that post seems to read that you think antis just hate on people for having ships they don’t like. But it’s completely different than that. Just looking on the proshipper side of Tumblr and the internet and you can see people happily shipping children and adults and making nsfw content of such things.

i appreciate that you're not being outright hostile, but i have to say, that on its own put you above basically every anti i've interacted with.

i understand where antis are coming from, i really do. there are a lot of things on the internet that make me deeply uncomfortable, including the minor/adult ships that you mention. i don't want to anything to do with those kinds of ships and i would be happiest if i never saw them again. which is why i'm proship.

nine times out of ten, if i see that kind of ship brought up on my dash, it's because i was following an anti without realizing it, and they brought it up unprompted and untagged, to talk about how bad it is that they exist. they are the ones putting that kind of content in front of my face and making it harder to avoid.

the thing about people who ship those ships is that they're generally very aware that not everyone wants to see that kind of content, and so they tag it. they make sideblogs to talk about it. they don't go out of their way to shove it in people's faces. that means i, and everyone else who doesn't like it, can avoid it.

what antis want is for it to not exist at all. they want the tags to be purged and blocked, and for anyone who uses those tags to have their accounts deleted. and sure, that might get rid of some of it, but do you know what would happen to the rest? it would stop being tagged. people who don't want to see it wouldn't have the tools to avoid it. this isn't just a hypothetical, that's what's happened any time a fan space has tried to do that.

that's not even getting into the rabbit hole of what should be banned and what shouldn't. obviously any content that depicts real children or real life abuse shouldn't exist and shouldn't be allowed to be posted, but basically any platform that people use already enforces those policies, and there's not much of a slippery slope to go down there. if it involves real living breathing people being abused, it's bad. end of discussion.

but the same can't be said for fiction. ask ten antis for a specific list of all the content that should be banned, and you'll get ten different answers. what about kink? what about roleplay? what about horror and murder and anything that involves fictional characters being graphically tortured? what about people using art to process terrible things that have happened to them? what about art that uses dark themes as a horror element? if you just want to ban anything questionable to anyone, that's the line of thinking that gets any mention of lgbt existence banned. and again, this isn't just a hypothetical, this has happened before, and that's generally where it leads.

i know, from personal experience, that antis do, in fact, send harassment to people just for shipping things they don't like. i've gotten accused of absolutely vile shit for shipping two fictional characters who were both consenting adults. i've seen ship wars turn into moral battlegrounds, over ships that an average person wouldn't bat an eye at.

the thing about "romanticization" is a whole other can of worms. the anti logic goes like this: if someone sees something (even if it's very obviously fictional) in a positive light enough times, they will start thinking it's okay in real life, and go on to hurt real people. the problem with that is that it's just. blatantly untrue.

if it were true every horror movie fan would be a serial killer, every person that studies dark media would be an unhinged psychopath, and everyone who is into ddlg would be a pedophile. but they're not. they just aren't. people have directed movies just as fucked up as the darkest shit on ao3, and are still capable of being normal human beings who know right from wrong in real life.

even if someone is that impressionable, scrubbing away the existence of every piece of questionable content isn't going to solve their problem, because they're still going to be vulnerable to con men, scams, and cultists. the only thing that would actually materially help someone like that is developing their own morals and critical thinking.

children are also more impressionable, and there's a lot of content that's not suitable for them, but that doesn't mean that content shouldn't exist. it just means that they should stick to spaces designed for them (which most social media sites, tumblr included, are not) or, if they're old enough to be responsible for their experience online, they, or a trusted adult in their lives, should block and filter out things that they aren't comfortable with.

which is what everyone on the internet should be doing. it's what i do, and it's made the internet a much more pleasant place to be. and it's why i sometimes worry for antis mental health, especially teenagers, because they're being told it's right and moral to seek out content that makes them uncomfortable and to engage with the people making it. and that's just. really bad. it's not good for the creators that they're harassing obviously, but it's also really bad for them! it's not healthy to seek out things that make you feel bad, and it's a terrible internet safety lesson to teach minors that it's okay for them to seek out and engage with people making adult content.

individual harassment and crusading is never going to succeed at removing dark content from the internet. it just isn't. at best you might get a small percentage of people who create that content to stop sharing it, at worst you're just going to make people stop tagging it, and either way, you're exposing yourself to things that make you feel bad, when you don't have to.

if you want to materially change the type of content you see, you can. the block button is your friend, use it liberally. same with content filtering and tag blocking.

#oops this got really long #cd.ask #proship #disk horse #tw pedophila mention #uhhh what to tag #tw shipping discourse #this doesn't even get into the antis that i've seen proudly professing that they care more about fictional characters than real people #because i don't know how to explain to someone that real humans matter more than cartoon characters #or how to avoid content on platforms other than tumblr bc frankly thats a lot of the reason i don't use them #i don't trust an algorithm #also im turning anon off after posting this so if you want to send me hate you cant be a coward about it #also be prepared to get blocked and ignored #the only reason i answered this person is bc they weren't being hostile

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aromantic-diaries · 1 month

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Thinking about the whole "cishet aromantic men" thing and I just think it kind of sucks that we see the words 'cishet' and 'men' and think "aha, there's someone who has absolutely nothing in common with us and it's us VS them" and it gets paired up with the shallow perception of aromanticism as just not wanting to date and staying single. I don't think alloromantic people can really understand what it actually feels like to be aromantic and just how alienating it can be sometimes.

So who is this hypothetical cishet aromantic man that we're so upset about? I mean labels aside he is a person with his own thoughts, feelings, goals, interests and perspective. And despite being cisgender and heterosexual, he is still outside of the norm because he is aromantic. This hypothetical person has probably wondered "why don't I feel the same way everyone else does?" He probably looked around to pick someone to have a crush on. He probably watched a movie or read a book with a love story in it and didn't think people actually felt those things. He probably feels guilty about wanting sex but not wanting the romance part of it. He probably wondered why he can't find the right person. And when he learned that he was aromantic he probably felt alone. He probably feels rejected by heteronormative society because he can't fall in love with the women he has sex with and feels rejected by the lgbtq+ community because he still wants to have sex with women.

Again, this is a hypothetical person. I don't know any cishet aromantic men personally. Probably because a lot of them either don't know what 'aromantic' even means or they know what it means but don't know it's what they are, or they know and they don't feel like they can be open about it. And all this aside, if anyone has any example of these big scary cishet aromantic men inserting themselves into queer spaces and causing problems, I would love to hear it because as far as I know this isn't a real problem

#aro #aromantic #arospec #you can say i took the bait but it actually made me think without raging over some dumbass opinion and yeah #i for one have some sympathy for the person you made up to get mad at

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unproduciblesmackdown · 10 months

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speaking of speaking of Abuse it's like hey it's helpful to remember to not think of it like "whoa. an extreme word broken out to make people feel bad" but rather "an identification of a type of situation where an oppressive system is being continually established / maintained and something needs to be done differently to counteract / dismantle this" Just Like With approaches to other labels created for describing the external manifestations of [there is an oppressive system here] and going "someone is saying so b/c in identifying it it's also recognizing the crucial 'so something Else external needs to manifest to improve this reality' of it all, not just like 'whoa that's a big word for extreme things that we'd all definitely recognize & all definitely even be motivated to acknowledge in the first place rather than being potentially vested in it continuing without it even being a challenge to put any description of it into words to start to communicate about it'"....just like how we all totally know that [autistic people existing] is so Extreme and must be so Abnormal and we'd all Know It when we saw it, and when someone goes "i'm autistic" what matters is that people feel weird and then it's threatened that they might be obligated to do anything differently, so that person's probably exaggerating and trying to disrupt the norm, which is as good as trying to Elevate themself. kind of like when people break out the "abuse" A-word, right....always more important that no one could potentially feel bad via someone directing [and that's bad] language at them rather than asking "but like, Are they doing this thing? Are they having this effect?" which may still be answered with "no." and certainly will be if someone's committed to feeling above other people & positioned to act on it

#not like abuse apologia is New. evergreenly ''reinvented'' & cycling back around; like say; transphobia; All Bigotry; etc....#but really if it's like ''whoa whoa....isn't it a Problem ppl may say 'Abuse' Too Easily Nowadays. what if they could say it. to you'' etc #like that's not a ''correction'' that's just The Norm as it always was. that's just the [there can't be Too Many Victims]#it's just the [but what if ppl who can just Sayyy they've experienced / are experiencing Abuse....are too Empowered] of forever....#and always involves assumptions of someone's Inherent Entitlement to something from other people like #oh no ppl are so sensitive riled up abt Abuse nowadays what if they ghost their friends :(#what if they do??? They're the ones who'll hypothetically end up isolated. & also You Can Just Do That for any or no reason #and it may be unpleasant & it may be unideal but who is Entitled to hold on to a relationship w/someone? who is Entitled to a Guarantee of #communication? how Would that be guaranteed?? if they're not comfortable talking to you / if they choose to stop doing so then like #how amazing was that friendship that was so cruelly ruined by ''ugh i can't believe anyone could think poorly of me? of Interacting w/me?#and if they can do that What's Stopping Them From Calling Me Abusive'' like guess what: Nothing #the way that words work means that anyone can Just Use Them however. you absolutely Can point to anything & use the word Abuse #which is why words also have meanings so that this can be recognized as absurdity / irrelevant Or it can be genuinely considered #which; either can be done regardless of the intention or amount of thought or hypothetical correctness of someone using w/e words #ppl who are abusing others Sure Can & Do use language against their victims which can include; or imply/conflate with; ''abuse''#which then doesn't mean ''guess we give up on Words / it's too easy to say sm shit'' b/c Ppl Can Look At The External Situations #and like you don't Lose by anyone having more material support. like ''ughhh it's so easy to Sayyy you're Disabled / describe NORMAL things #as DISABILITY (weird; extreme; bad; I'd Know It When I Saw It & Instantly Judged Its Legitimacy)'' like okay & then What If accommodation &#support that May Be needed is freely available to any & everyone. ppl who Are in a situation of abuse; even from Just One Person; are #already lacking for support / resources. oh no what if they got those but they were exaggerating. What Then #the real tl;dr here is ''yeah it's Politics w/abuse not just Vibes''#going ''hm well even when there Is abuse i guess third parties can throw up their hands b/c anyone could darvo that shit huh'' like.#that's why there's further Contexts & Patterns & Info that is relevant beyond ''who is literally capable of invoking the word Abuse or sm''#the eternal & instant classic Angle To Consider that is ''whose life is getting smaller''#meanwhile [the feelings of the person abusing other/s] & [the feelings of theoretical third parties] aren't actually what's most important #the goal isn't ''make the abuser Feel Bad'' or ''make someone go 'ok i guess i don't like them anymore then''' the goal is interrupt abuse #the victim needs support in what improves their situation / diminishes their harm; much less what might get them Out of it #(& into a broader world where abuse is super common & ''normal'' & inherent in bigger systems / structures. but still an improvement than #Also happening to have this additional situation of abuse they're now out of...)#& again if Everyone has all the support / resources they could want or need? epic. no problem

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bayjaruchel · 6 months

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Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

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Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

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It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation.

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation.

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness.

Yeah. Heads, plural.

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself.

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis.

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks.

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both.

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste."

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement."

"Expensive wine?"

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it."

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?"

He snorts. "Too classy."

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights.

"Cheap beer it is, then."

Clapton's grin is back.

"Unfortunately."

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks?

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in.

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in?

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse.

"Four minutes," he echoes.

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead.

"Yeah."

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet.

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time."

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows— you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left.

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?"

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up.

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check."

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?"

Clapton raises his eyebrows again.

There's a shift in the air.

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though.

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do.

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it.

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?"

He definitely already knows the answer to that question.

"Yeah, you don't."

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor—

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat.

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half—

"Just do it," you breathe.

And he does.

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient.

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower—

There's a loud series of knocks at the door.

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips— but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet.

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open.

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s.

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper:

"Wanna go upstairs?"

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree.

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles.

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times.

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him.

"You think?"

He grins. "Sure do."

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in.

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough.

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted.

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—"

"Go ahead," you interrupt.

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time.

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt.

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles.

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops.

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?"

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna."

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever.

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?"

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?"

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry."

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that."

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements.

"In your—?"

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you.

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?"

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright."

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off.

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips.

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do —

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —"

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time.

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but—

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter:

"Don't hold back."

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard.

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — "

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this.

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— "

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"

"Fuck— " You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom— but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes—

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato.

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh.

He mimics it, and you glance down at him.

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not.

"We should get cleaned up or something."

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something."

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine."

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states.

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway.

It's silent, before he interjects:

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?"

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection.

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want."

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … "

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds.

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you."

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause.

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind.

"You wanna get out of here?"

He beams.

#clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #clapton davis imagines #clapton davis smut #josh hutcherson x reader

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fairuzfan · 3 months

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I have concern that I may still be technically zionist despite claiming to be pro-palestine. This is because I knew very little about Palestine when October 7th happened, so in the time since I have been reluctant to have a stance on a two-state or one-Palestinian-state solution. I know now that almost all of Isreal is stolen land and recognize Isreal only exists due to colonialism, it took me a long time to learn that but I know it now. Before I knew that, I knew that regardless of the prior history that in current day Palestine is being subjected to a genocide. However, I struggle with politics and therefore struggle with understanding how a one-Palestinian-state could be achieved and have concern about what would happen to any genuinely innocent people who live in Isreal. To be clear, Isreal as a whole is guilty and I just have concern about what will happen to the portion of people in Isreal who are just as horrified as the rest of the world at what their government is doing. I do not personally know any Palestinians, so I have not known who to talk to about this especially since I do not want to overstep in any way. Theres more context I could provide but I wont because this is roughly the gist of where I am currently at when it comes to my concerns about whether or not I am still zionist. Do you have any reccomendations as to what I can do about my concerns? I am not sure whether or not I am overstepping right now by asking you this, but I do not know any other Palestians on a personal level that I can go to.

hey thanks for sending this in. i think we all have zionist biases that we have to unlearn, even i catch myself falling for it sometimes. so it's not necessarily a moral failing if you're trying to undo the zionism you've been taught. thanks for trying to undo it!

i do want to correct you a bit thought, in that *all* of israel is stolen land because israel is a settler colonial society. until it is relabeled as "Palestine" it can't not be stolen land.

I guess my advice is that you read scholarship and perspectives on palestinian thought and heritage. i can't tell you what a free palestine will look like but i can tell you what i imagine it to be. but what i can tell you is that the state of israel is fully intent on erasing all traces of palestinian life no matter what.

i guess i can tell you why "two state solutions" don't really work because there is no.... prevention of settlement building in the west bank and they'll never really promote *not* settling in the west bank. like i really cannot imagine a world where there aren't settlers on palestinian land no matter the case. and that's even not allowing palestinians the right of return to their homes and expecting them to give up what they dedicated their lives to. many palestinians in the west bank and gaza are themselves refugees because they were displaced in '48. so no matter what, palestinians will always get the short end of the stick and told to "just deal with it."

plus, why are we concerned with the supposed future danger towards israelis when the current, very real danger towards palestinians exists? shouldn't we prioritize actual events over hypothetical ones? why should we concern ourselves with the future when for palestinians its not a guarantee? i have no idea what's going to happen to gaza, for example.... shouldn't we prioritize that gaza lives on today?

i think i would question why you think israelis are inherently in danger in a one state solution? like do you assume that palestinians will all universally commit violence on all israelis? is it because you believe that hamas wants to kill every single israeli jew no matter what? if so, i think that's where your problem lies — in the assumption that peace can only be achieved through segregation just in a lighter form (because the state of israel relies on segregation as a principal of its existence as a jewish state). what about the palestinians who fear living side by side with the same people who raped, tortured, and murdered them for 75 years, or advocated for their deaths? aren't they inherently in more danger?

i mean palestinians have consistently been painted as the villains for more than 75 years. like in every aspect. i think to really truly be antizionist you need to prioritize palestinian concerns and worries over israeli ones because of how.... unwilling much of the world is to even consider them.

approaching zionism from an idea of an inequality structure is also necessary — rather than assuming its a one off system, we examine it as a perpetuation of multiple types of systems of inequality embedded into one. i recommend the institute for the critical study of zionism (click) for more information on this. There's also this book by Ismail Zayid written in the 80's (click) about the longtime violence the ideology of zionism has done to multiple communities, not just palestinians.

Here's a great reading list by palipunk about different aspects of palestinian thought and culture (click). i suggest looking through them to help decolonize our way of thought.

i might add on to this later if i think of something else to say.

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jewishvitya · 6 months

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[This post was originally written in response to someone tagging me and claiming that a free Palestine would mean all Israeli Jews will be kicked out and where will I go, and how they can't understand why I'm so against Israel being our ethnostate. OP blocked me, so I'm reposting with a few edits, because I already wrote this and I might as well.]

Look. I understand your mentality. We're traumatized by a history of violence against us. We were shown that so many in the world want us dead, and so many others won't stop them. I get it. But I refuse to let myself silently become the face of similar oppression for other people.

Israel benefits from antisemitism and maintains myths that got Jewish people killed in the past, like double loyalty. It weaponizes it for propaganda reasons. It's supported by antisemitic Christian zionist organizations with terrifying motivations. It started out with violence not only against Palestinians but against Jews too. Israel isn't motivated by our safety, it abuses that idea. It manipulates and weaponizes our trauma to make us feel justified in causing so much suffering to innocent people.

You're right that I'll have nowhere to go if I'm kicked out of here. This is where I was born. My parents come from other countries that I won't feel safe in. But all of this is hypothetical. The ethnic cleansing and genocide of Palestinians is not hypothetical, it's REALITY. It's happening RIGHT NOW. And I don't understand how, as a Jewish person who knows what this kind of suffering and loss of life means, you seem unable to prioritize that. I tell you I'm witnessing a genocide happening right next to me and you keep telling me "but what if they hurt you instead."

The assumption that Palestinians will pull some sort of reverse ethnic cleansing against us is racist. This assumption is the reason Israel feels comfortable calling the carpet bombing of a civilian population "self defense." Killing them based on a this is not self defense, it's a racially motivated crime against humanity.

And I'm calling it an assumption because I'm not willing to pull from the Hamas charter that they've since replaced. Hamas isn't Palestinians. The only reason they became this powerful is Israeli funding, and Israeli violence giving Hamas free PR as the only ones who will stand up to the state that will keep them trapped and dying.

We control every aspect of their lives. Israel created a place that breeds radicalization. No group of people, living under the conditions forced on Palestinians, would be peaceful. They would fight back. Because peaceful attempts to have the human rights that Israel denies them got nothing. We stomped on every single one. We blocked all other routes and left them with only violence, which Israeli politicians have been using as an excuse for over 15 years to make a show of force with military campaigns whenever they wanted a boost in popularity. We created living conditions with such low life expectancy that half of the population is children because so few adults survive. They don't deserve this. No one deserves this.

Palestine was a land with people living in it. One plot of land can create multiple groups of people, especially when we've been separated for 2000 years. Our connection to this land does not cancel out theirs. Removing them to create our own country could never be right. It's not an argument saying that our connection to Israel gives us the right to move here to live ALONGSIDE Palestinians. That's not what we wanted. We wanted a country that enforces Jewish majority and legally prioritizes Jews. You're justifying this when I repeatedly state that the only way for it to exist is through ethnic cleansing and genocide. There's no way to make this concept into a reality without killing, displacing, and oppressing whoever's left in various different ways, from apartheid to other kinds of discrimination.

I'm not against safety for us. I want to be safe. I want my children to grow in a safe world where we can be openly and joyfully Jewish. I'm not willing to pay for that with the lives and freedoms of other people.

So I will be loud about this: Palestinians deserve to be free in every part of their homeland, even if it's our ancestral homeland too.

If safety for us means we're the ones committing the genocide, maybe we should rethink what safety looks like.

I'm terrified for the lives of millions of people in Gaza. Right now, all I can think about is this, and it baffles me to see people so willing to transfer the horrors of our history to other people.

I had a lovely conversation in DMs in response to the first post, about how zionism encourages us to isolate rather than build bridges in the places where we live all over the world. We can't ignore the way antisemitism saturates culture, but we should also remember the places where Jewish communities thrived for centuries, the places where our neighbors protected us. We're hated, and we're loved. Each form of oppression is unique, so no other group experiences what Jewish people do exactly, but we're not alone. We have a long and rich history of solidarity with other marginalized communities and involvement in liberation movements. We're actively working to make the world safer, and we have people fighting with us. I'm just participating in this fight where I am. The struggle for liberation is a human struggle. You can't use the trauma of antisemitism to silence me about other kinds of bigotry.

Never again. To ANYONE.

#riki babbles

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dawndelion-winery · 2 years

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"Would You Still Love Me"

"If I was a worm?"

Ft. Dottore, Kazuha, Xiao, Scaramouche

Dottore:

"Of all the stupid things you could ask me..."

Stares judgementally at you, expecting you to revoke the question

Pinches the bridge if his nose and sighs when you don't

His scowl crumbles a little when you seem upset

"So you wouldn't love me if I suddenly turned into a worm."

Comes to the sudden realisation that if you're upset with him, you'll be less compliant...for science

C'mon, he's not gonna admit he's in it for the cuddles, not even in his head

Brings you a set of blueprints and a glass enclosure

"This is where you'd stay if you were a worm. I have three different design plans, so choose wisely because that's how your worm home will look for the rest of your life. You'll have a little worm car after four months if I haven't found a cure, however unlikely that is."

He will tell you all of his plans on what he'll do if you become a worm and you can't stop him because you started it

Your hypothetical worm situation is now fully prepared for, whether you like it or not

Wouldn't recommend because the diet he has planned for worm you doesn't look very appetising

Kazuha:

"You'd travel on my shoulder on in my pocket so I can share poetry with you."

Ruffles your hair and pinches your cheeks

If you swat him away he'll insist he was only checking if you were becoming a worm

Carries on like it was nothing after that

If you ask again he'll remind you that he'll love you regardless of what form you take

This does, unfortunately, spark some odd terms of endearment

You are now his "precious worm", "beloved wormy", "sweet wriggly", "fleshy straw", etc

They get progressively worse

But he swears it's all affectionate

"I'd love you if you became a leaf."

"That wasn't the question-"

"Every leaf has it's own tune when you play it like a flute, I wonder what yours would be."

Xiao:

Stares at you for a good while

"Why would you ever be a worm?"

You don't need to elaborate, because he'll eventually sigh and give in, intertwining his fingers with yours as he assures you he would

Still confused on why you'd be a worm though

But rest assured you would be the safest worm in the whole of Teyvat because nothing can touch you so long as Xiao is taking care of you

You're his little wormy, and he'll carry you in his palm when he's high up so you can have a nice view

Always worried he might misplace you or accidentally step on you

You've given him intrusive thoughts and now he's worried about a hypothetical that may never happen

Scaramouche:

"Would you love me if you were a worm though?"

"Scara what-"

"How do we know your worm brain has the capacity to comprehend that you're in a committed relationship with me? There's no telling whether you'll find some new worm lover who can give you that wormy connection I can't."

He's going off about how a worm couldn't possibly have any lingering feelings for a person

Mildly offended at the implication you might expect him to become a worm for you to live your worm lives together

"Me? A worm? How could you even entertain such a thought?"

You didn't, he drew his own conclusions and started overthinking

This is clearly your way of hinting that you don't feel loved enough to trust him (it's not, he is once again overthinking)

It has now been flipped on you to explain to him that you'd love him even if he became a worm because you'd adore him whether or not he loved you back

Taglist: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @lovers-on-the-eiffel @cxlrosii @miss-fantazmagoria @lychme @o91wo @lemonswriting @eowinthetraveller @ajaxstar

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kafkaesque22girlfriend · 2 months

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The Damned P.1

Toji Zenin x fem! reader

Synopsis: forced to get in with the Zenin clan by your parents as a servant, Toji Zenin seemed to damn you more than himself….

Being a servant in the Zenin household was not for the weak-willed or the weak-minded, it took strong foundations of a strong mind to survive within these endless, lavishly adorned walls of the Zenin Compound. One of the three big clans in Jujutsu Society, blossoming the pure, clean bloodline of the strongest sorcerers in the modern and past Jujutsu eras.

Your parents pushed you into being here, young but not ditsy, focused yet polite. The Zenin really didn't care, they just wanted the free labour, but you did get a roof over your head when the Zenin took you in as a servant. Little did you know that your parents literally sent you off to serve strangers and live with them for God knows how long. Your cursed technique was strong and your parents wanted the Zenin to know that and get in with the family, even if you started as a lowly servant. To infiltrate? To gather information? To be married off? To destroy from the inside…? You didn’t know, nor did you care at this point.

The clan leader, Naobito Zenin, sent you off on your way as if he didn't give a single thought, as if he was washing away the dirt on his hands. You were young and inexperienced and you didn't deserve the reward of the bigger duties so you were sent Toji Zenin's way, the black sheep, the damned one in the Zenin clan. You would be the personal servant of Toji Zenin.

Which leads you here now, standing by the foot of his bed, ready to wake him up like you usually do. Late. It was nearing 11 am and the clan needed to be in the training quarters in about half an hour. You glanced at Toji, seeing the drool escape from his mouth, his hair roughed up, and the sheets that barely covered his naked chest. These were the only times you felt Toji not be intimidating. You opened up the curtains and the windows, letting the fresh air ventilate the room. He grunted when the light hit his eyes at the most perfectly uncomfortable angle.

“Get the hell out.” He groaned angrily as he covered his eyes with his bulky forearm.

“Rise and shine, Master Toji.” You say with a faint warmness, anything to keep this civilised and polite knowing he could lash out quickly. The light seeps through the room and bathes it in the sunlight. He looked peaceful lying there, it's shame you had to wake him. He never looked so peaceful while he was awake, and, sadly, we all know the reason why. Toii grumbled and groaned, lifting his arm from his eyes.

“Can't even fuckin' sleep in this damn house.” He opened his eyes and was met by the sight of the sun hitting against your silhouette. He then looked at your face and rolled his eyes, a sour expression filled his face once more. “And do me a favour, and don't call me 'master' if you don't want your teeth punched in.” Toji fucking hated that, fucking hated it all.

You immediately frown. “It's not like I want to call you that, you are my superior. I work for you, I have to refer to you as that.” You explain to Toji as if he didn't already know it clear as day. “Would you like me to bring in a gong and wake you up like that?” You say, a small smile tugging at your lips at the insane hypothetical.

“I don't give a damn if you have to call me that, just drop it.” He growled against his pillow, glaring at you in the process. Toji then sat up from the bed, resting his head on his right hand as he looked at you blankly. He couldn't help but believe that there was some charm to you in how you were so polite. Your expression had an innocence to it that he had never come across in the cesspit that was the Zenin compound. “If you dare bring a gong in here, I'll break it and then your ribs.”

You knew that he was very much capable of doing that, so you didn't push further. But your mouth ran faster than your brain.

“Well then Toji, if you break my ribs...who will be making you breakfast every morning? Speaking of which, if you want food, I'm making some. So get up.” You say a little more firmly this time, you've never been this challenging towards your superiors, part of you wants to take it back, what if the clan deject you for being disrespectful? You frown slightly and leave the room to head back to the kitchen and finish preparing his breakfast.

The first thing he did when you left the room was let out a groan of frustration. It was always like this, you were being too much of a pushover to him. Always too kind. That was what irritated him the most. Maybe he was projecting. He needed to stop thinking that. Toji got dressed into his montsuki and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and freshen himself up, he hated how every day started the same.

Soon, you heard his footsteps walking towards the kitchen, a few seconds later his hulking figure appeared at the doorway, leaning against the frame as he crossed his arms.

“I can make my own breakfast.” He declared in a low and husky voice.

“No, you can't.” You say politely but your words carry some weight to them that resounded throughout the whole room.

Each clan member had a specific section of the compound to themselves, so you had an entire kitchen to yourself to prepare food for Toji. He couldn't make his breakfast even if he tried, servants were solely assigned that duty.

You glance up at him leaning against the doorway, you finish plating up his Teishoku and serve them, you place it on the kitchen island in front of you. “Coffee sir-? I mean Toji..” You say softly, fumbling over your words but correcting yourself.

Your words irked him like nothing else, you were so nice to him. He loathed it. What made you so kind in the face of someone like him? “Quit this 'sir' bullshit.” He was trying to play it cool, his eyebrows slightly raised as he spoke. Internally he was confused by your ongoing kindness, you were like this from day one. He didn't like the fact that he had to work around your kindness.

“I apologize. Bad habit.” You let out a nervous chuckle, trying to ignore the burning green gaze zeroing in on you. Your expression was trying to hide the fact that you were uncomfortable with his presence. Toji was a little more than impressed by how you were handling him like this still. After all, most people would be scared shitless already.

As you hand him his coffee, Toji notices the band-aids on your fingers. The skin looked red and brittle and it made him raise an eyebrow. “What happened to them? And don't say 'nothing' or 'it's nothing.” Toii muttered under his breath, trying to distance himself but still be curious at the same time.

“Oh, I burned myself by accident, the stove was too hot.” You respond a little curtly, turning your back and starting cleaning up and clearing away. It was clear you didn't want to talk about it, the real reason was rather daunting as Naoya Zenin threatened to break your fingers because you didn't do a task correctly.

Toji watched with intent simmering eyes as you turned your back to him. The first thing was that your reasoning behind it was obvious bullshit. You were lying through your teeth but quite frankly he didn't car enough to pry even further. "You're really clumsy, aren't you?”

Your shoulders relax as you sigh out, thankful he wasn't reading into it. “I am...I am. ..quite clumsy.” You breathe out.

You both know damn well you were the opposite but for now, it'll do. You turn around and take his empty tray once he finishes eating, giving him an agreeable smile. “Your training starts soon.”

Toji raised his eyebrow as an unamused look was engrained on his face. Why was his rudeness not affecting you in any way? Maybe you weren't listening to a thing he said, which made him even more annoyed. So he decided to try another approach. He just...didn't like how you...talked to him. “Can you stop being so polite to me? I never understand why servants are like this to their masters. Just do your job and stop acting like this.” He grunted.

You turn around and glared at him, annoyed that he didn't realize that you’re just doing your job. Anything less than perfection and obedience would be punished. But then again...who the hell were you to argue with a Zenin? “If that's...what you prefer.” You shrug your shoulders. You thought maybe he would appreciate some form of kindness considering the way his family actively despised him.

“Good...because there's no reason to be nice to me when I'm anything but.” He warned me you lowly. Toji was expecting you to break and lash out at him. Yet your reaction and expression left him feeling a little off-put. Why? Why weren't you saying anything? Why aren't you letting him walk all over you? He didn't like those thoughts.

Reluctantly, you nod your head, lips thinning into a straight line, and you try to stay as neutral as possible. If this is what he wanted, who the hell were you to argue? After finishing cleaning the kitchen, you make a move to leave the room. As you made your way to leave, Toji couldn't help but notice that your back was as straight as an arrow. Your body looked so proper and elegant, unlike others. Just your simple back in that tight-fitting kimono was enough to make him stare a few moments longer than necessary. That's when he called out to you and spoke with a neutral expression: “Do you always have to be so proper and respectful?”

Yet his voice was...softer.

You stop in your tracks. “I'm just doing my job.” You reply quietly, trying to get him to grasp that you're just doing what you're supposed to do. You walk away and leave him wordless from the kitchen, letting your words linger in his brain a lot longer than he should have.

pt 2 coming soon, get ready for angst and sexy times in the near future.

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji angst #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu toji #toji fluff

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