#TO THINK I WOULD KNOW SO MANY TALENTED FOLKS!!!

[onyxonline]

Another lovely message

I just want to let all of you know how greateful (grateful? thnaksful. WIRHBGHRBGWR) i am at how much all of you guys are super into the Space Riders AU, like it brings me absolutely great joy and glee seeing all of you just go absolutely apeshit with your own creations. The fact i was able to create an open world and seeing you guys find your way to contribute in your own way makes me extremely happy!

I look forward to more interactions and losing braincells with you guys! (or we can always bully Gilded simps/j/j/j/j/j/j/j/ platonic pats qxuru)

#LIKE I KNOW THIS IS THE SECOND TIME I TALK ABOUT HOW MUCH YA'LL MEAN TO ME #BUT LISTEN #IVE BEEN IN THE INTERNET SINCE 2016 TRYING TO CULTIVATE MY OWN COMMUNITY #AND I FIND IT RN AND IM KINDA HAPPY!!!! #TO THINK I WOULD KNOW SO MANY TALENTED FOLKS!!! #Ramblings

[abnerkrill]

fantastic rebuttal to "writers don't deserve better pay because the stuff they write is terrible/unoriginal", full thread here

(to explain, the "Unknown" under his name is from a add-on bot detector; it usually can assign a percentage likelihood that a user is a human being and not a bot, but I think the blue check system disrupted the add-on so it says "Unknown" underneath his name now.)

[image id under the read more:

May 7, 2023 tweet thread from Tom Vaughan @/storyandplot

With #WGAStrong rightfully in the spotlight this week, I've seen some less-than-sympathetic comments focusing on the lack of originality in our projects. This is a fair criticism of the system, but not the writers. A quick history of how we got here (thread emoji)

The first thing to understand is that Hollywood has NOT run out of new ideas. The studio’s preference for I.P. has nothing to do with regurgitating ideas and everything to do with MARKETING.

The late 60s-70s is generally considered the artistic high of the studio system. Ironically, many contribute this to corporations buying up the studios! The corporations knew they had no idea how to run a movie studio, so... they put creative people in charge.

This is how you got the run of so many great films the studios would never make today. They also took bigger chances on young, promising talent (the first "film school generation" of filmmakers.)

But with the success of JAWS and STAR WARS, the corporations demanded more of those kinds of hits. The creative folks insisted such things were unpredictable, and the business folks said let's make them less so.

(Sidenote: This was also the same time a completely different phenomenon was happening. A/C was becoming the norm for theatres, making summer movie-going much more attractive.)

Over the next decade, more and more MBAs and marketing people gained influence in the studio system. Being business folks, huge hits were not a creative problem as much as a product/marketing problem.

The 80s is when the “high concept” became pre-eminent because it narrowed a sales pitch to one sentence, a trailer, and a poster. This made everyone a marketing agent for a movie because everyone could explain what it was about!

In the 90s, marketing became just as important as the film itself (reflected in their respective budgets) when Hollywood discovered they could profit from fifty years of pre-existing awareness for old TV shows and movies.

This allowed the marketing department to move away from pitching a movie and convincing you to go see it (lower success rate), to simple “audience awareness” and building anticipation. (higher success rate.)

The audience knew what THE FLINSTONES the movie was. They just needed to know the casting and when it opened. No one needed to have the remake of GODZILLA explained to them. They just needed to know when it opened.

The marketing department prefers AWARNESS over SELLING because awareness is something you can throw money at. Selling is harder, and it’s less predictable. This is why franchises are so valuable.

Whenever someone says, “That’s something I can sell!” It’s usually something that can sell itself. What they mean is, "I just have to let people know about this!"

Hollywoods's reliance on property the audience is already familiar with is 100% because... the audience is already familiar with it. It is easier to market the product and this increases its chances of success.

This focus on I.P. has become so pervasive, many, including executives themselves, have forgotten WHY it's valuable. They'll option an unknown comic BECAUSE it's I.P., forgetting that it's unknown and lacks the main asset of I.P.

Writers do love writing on an I.P. that means something to them. Every Star Wars fan who became a filmmaker would love to work in that universe. But we do not love it more than our own original work. We would always rather work on that.

So when you see another remake, or reboot, or adaptation, and think, "Can't they come up with something new?"

Remember, the answer is yes. Yes, we can. And we want to. You can blame the market or the marketing, but either way, the widespread production of truly original content is just not the studio business model we're in right now. #WGAStrong

end ID.]

#wga #wga strike #NOW WITH TRANSCRIPT PEOPLE REBLOG THIS ONE

[goldustwomun]

bite the hand (e.m.)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader

summary: things come crashing down around you when you watch eddie from the sidelines of the stage. you know you shouldn't leave but you beg eddie for forgiveness anyway.

warnings: (unedited) more angst folks i think i'm going through something, established relationship, swearing, tears crying sobbing (for eddie but you too babes x), i use face and features too many times but we move

wc: 2.0k+

note: short and (not so?) sweet :) :( i'm really struggling to sustain my writing for very long but oh well xoxo

Here’s the best part distilled for you But you want what I can’t give to you Your hands are gravity while my hands are tied

He should’ve known it’d get to you eventually. The screams and cries of thousands for him and only him, because as much as he stood, awestruck, by the talent of the others, it was always his name the crowd went hysterical for: Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. They’d chant and sway and go all but rabid when his black mop of hair would peak from around the stage, teasing in that very ‘Eddie’ way that you were all too familiar with when he’d feel a little more playful in bed. His mischievous eyes and quirked lips, tattooed skin and leather-clad thighs. He was the embodiment of a devilish smile, dripping, oozing, even, with sex appeal and charisma.

But it wasn’t just you, now, who noticed those things about him. The two of you weren’t perched on a bench outside of Wayne’s trailer anymore, smirking into the other’s mouth after a particularly strong joint he had rolled from his stash, legs resting on top of him as you were all but sat in his lap. Neither were you the sole body in the crowd of the Hideout, the only one out of the tens of patrons to be hanging onto every rasp of Eddie’s voice, every strum of his long fingers against the guitar.

It wasn’t just you, now, who noticed those things about him, and you knew because of the hundreds of letters he got, every other week on mail day, from adoring fans and sycophants and a few stalkers. You knew because of the way the crowd stretched so far into the distance that you couldn’t see where it ended, the countless bodies moving like a singular mass of pure, unaltered adoration for the man who assured you it’s you, it’s only ever going to be you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” And his voice broke you from the road you were beginning to travel down. You tried your best to force the smile on your lips, and really, you think he knew you were faking it but the giddy energy from the show he was soon going to be playing had already begun to fizzle through his bones and so he ignored it. He took it, instead, for something genuine despite the way it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Only a penny, Munson?” you scoffed at an attempt of playfulness. “I know for a fact you could offer me a lot more than a penny.” He laughed and your belly dipped, even all these years later, when he pressed his lips to your cheek. Eddie Munson might have been a kind of lust personified but he was also the sweetest human being you’d ever known.

“Ah, you’re right. My girl deserves much, much more,” and his lips began their slow descent from your face to the crook of your neck, fixated on that one spot that would have you shivering in mere seconds. He stopped for a moment; face still buried into your flushed skin— “Two pennies then?”

You groaned – “Eddie” -- at his pitiful attempts of humour (but really you loved it), shoving him away even if you didn’t really mean it.

“I’m only kidding, sweets, I’m only kidding!” he cooed at you, soothing your pout until it melted into that smile of yours that he loved to be the cause of as his fingers traced meaningless patterns into the exposed skin at your hip. “Forgive me?” he begged, his turn to pout now.

And it was comical, really, the way you gave into him, whatever doubts you had crumbling at the very feel of him against you, his words forcing whatever walls you were beginning to build-up only moments before to crumble into nothing at your interlaced feet.

“Always, Eddie,” you promised, voice leaving you at barely a whisper. And when you continued, heart thrumming as you waited for his answer, your words wavered: “Do you forgive me, too?”

He watched, confused, as the question left your lips, head tilted like a puppy unsure of his surroundings. “What would I ever need to forgive you for?” he asked, soft.

“Just—do you? Would you? Forgive me?”

He stared into your eyes, a penetrating gaze, begging you for an answer and explanation for your behaviour, but when you remained quiet he acquiesced. “Like you said, sweetheart: always.”

You nodded, that same, tight smile appearing on your features. The sound of a knock on his dressing room door pulled the both of you out of whatever daze hung, limp, in the air, and Eddie moved past you to answer.

“Five minutes to go, Eddie. Need to get you mic-ed up.” You couldn’t hear his answer (probably something along the lines of ‘Be right there’) over the roaring in your ears. The door clicked close again as a warm hand traveled to your waist, turning you in-place. Eddie’s hand moved to cradle your face in his palms, touch cautious like he always was when it was just the two of you. Like you were splintered glass, on the verge of breaking.

“Going to come watch outside, yeah?” And how could you say no to him and his big, brown eyes. So you nodded, followed him through the corridor leading towards stage left. People rushed around, gathering wires, plugging amps and checking cables with the kind of frenzy you’d never get used to despite having been there for almost all his shows.

Gareth, Jeff and Doug were already huddled in a corner, cheeks split into nervous grins. They waved Eddie over who gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before joining them, face dipping as someone came in to swipe some powder over his face.

You don’t remember what happened after that because the next thing you knew, the band was rushing onto the stage, the arena blacked-out, and the moments the light switched on, a deafening roar erupted from the crowd, bright lights carving out their bodies from the darkness. You edged closer to the stage, only just visible from behind a curtain, when the crowd came into view.

And you hated it, the way your gut twisted, mind reeled. You know if you had just said something, anything, to Eddie when it had begun, weeks ago on the first night of the tour. Someone had slipped a note into your back pocket as you and Eddie pushed through a crowd, security walling you in. But you had felt it, and you just knew what it was going to say.

It wasn’t the first and it wasn’t the last, but you had to applaud its author for the precision with which their words sliced at your very core, holding a mirror up to every insecurity you had ever had (and more you hadn’t even considered) until your hands were shaking, fierce.

When you stared out into the crowd, when your gaze connected with someone right in the front, and a look of disgust overtook them, you felt that lest tether inside of you snap free. The air knocked from your lungs, that same cold feeling of fear dripping down your back.

Eddie must have seen it, he was watching you the entire time, having tuned into your every move since the two of you had left his dressing room. He knew you were acting odd, skittish, like a petrified cat getting ready to flee. So when you retreated, he motioned to Jeff to keep the crowd busy before running off on in search of you.

He called after you, having bulked up enough since high school to catch up with you with ease. When you moved faster at the sound of his voice, he did too, finding you pacing in the haven of his dressing room. He shut the door, locking it, before approaching you, slow, cautious, like the floor was uneven and you on a precipice.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked, unsure.

You weren’t facing him so when your shoulders began to shake, he wasn’t sure if you were crying or laughing. But when you turned, face splotchy and chest heaving, he rushed forward, gathering you in his arms.

“What is it, my sweet girl. What’s wrong?” he murmured into the top of your head, holding you tight so that the pressure of his embrace might calm you down enough to talk, to explain or clarify or at least quell the rapid thrum of his worried heartbeat.

“I can’t Eddie, I just—” you hiccupped, voice muffled by the sound of his t-shirt— “I can’t do it.”

“It’s alright, love, just try, yeah? Just—whatever comes to mind—”

“No—You don’t get it—” and you pulled away, the distance between the two of you growing with every moment in more ways than one. “I can’t do this. This thing—” you motioned between you, and he froze.

“You can’t do what?” his voice hardening, on the offensive, and his face contorted to prepare him for the worst.

“Eddie. It’s too much. It’s been too much for so long and I know I should’ve—” a sob ripped from your chest and all he wanted to do was reach for you, his body yearned for it, but he knew better. “—I should’ve said something ages ago. Not let it go so far but it’s too late and you can blame me for—”

“—for what! Us? This? Is that all we are? Some vague abstract of now? Just come out and say it.” he was exploding, erupting, Vesuvius and Pompeii. “Go on. Say it.”

And it was your turn to yell and shout and hurl until your lungs seized. “It’s killing me, Eddie! I feel like I’m fucking dying here. I can’t compete with them, not anymore. I’m exhausted and I feel—I feel fucking heavy.” You were panting from the force of your words, the weight they carried, and you had been carrying.

“There’s no competition, sweetheart. There will never be a competition,” he pleaded, stumbling a step closer but you pushed back.

“I know you feel that way, Eds. I know you do—” his heart squeezed at the nickname. “—I know this is irrational in so many ways. It shouldn’t matter that your fans fucking despise me,” and he flinched at the crudeness of your words. “But there’s one of me and millions—holy shit, there’s millions of them, Eddie. They’re suffocating me and I just—I want to breathe, again. I need to breathe.”

The walls were crashing and crumbling and nothing he said would help to rebuild them, not this time. And he must have sensed it because it was like the air was knocked out of his lungs, too, and he fell to his knees in front of you, clinging to you like maybe if he held on tight enough, he could stop you from leaving.

“Please. My love. My sweet girl. You’re it. You’re always it,” and it must have hit him, what you had meant earlier, because he couldn’t stop rambling, stop repeating: “I forgive you. I forgive you, always, my love. It doesn’t matter what you do, you’re mine and I forgive you.”

Your heart cracked open then, your hand cradling his tear-soaked face to where he was burrowing himself into the pillow of your stomach. You couldn’t bear it anymore, to hear him, see him, touch him, whilst you cut away the pieces of your love. You brushed the hair from his forehead, your own tears falling on him and he cursed himself for making you cry.

You still don’t know if what you did was from a place of strength or weakness, if the way you went about it, with thousands still waiting for him mere feet away, was cruel or kind. But you needed to do it, or at least, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself in your head.

That and Eddie, Eddie, Eddie -- your mind chanted.

You were the only audience he ever needed. If only you knew.

As always, reblog + comment if you enjoyed this or want more! Requests are opennnnn :D

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #bite the hand #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

[thefandomdirtymind]

Please a OPLA Sanji x fem shyreader magic user? The crew caught them making out ☺️☺️

A/N IMPORTANT:  Hello Anon ! Thank you for your request, I admit it gave me some kind of problem since I'm the exact opposite of shy, but I had fun trying to wonder how it look like and how Sanji would succeed to make himself understand without scaring the reader. I hope you will like it !

The Magic of a Kiss

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji series : SFW Shiny Offering - NSFW The Small Favor - SFW The Mermaid Dream

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.  

—

From as far as you could remember, you're always been able to make the object around you levited . A power who had created a lot of fun games and yes, a few childish misfits. But, it was your family heritage and you couldn’t be more proud to have inherited it. 

Based in a small village near the water, populated mostly by other magical folks, your family had a small shop you never truly learned to love. Your interest was more in the water and the many ships sailing on it. It's why one day, after a heated argument about your lack of implication in the family business, you decide to leave for the city.  

Shy by nature, you weren't the kind to show off, even if as a magic user, your power would have opened many doors ordinary people couldn’t even dream of reaching. But, after a few disastrous interactions, when even meeting the gaze of the Captain was above your force. You finally meet Luffy and his straw hat crew. 

Their warm approach toward you and your power made you quickly feel more comfortable. But, as they tried to get to know you more, you could stop yourself from feeling nervous to open up and bore them. You usually end up silently smiling,fidgeting your fingers, listening to their fantastique adventure and executing the heavy duty since gravity isn't a problem for you. As the time passes, they all accept your shyness, still including you in their conversation and other activities. 

Sanji was by far your favorite member of the crew, to not say you had a pretty hard crush on him. Things who’s even more complicated the task to answer him as he asks you the simplest question or tries to make you happy by cooking your favorite dishes. Of course, the blond chef would never make fun of your betterave red cheeks and often stutter, but he couldn’t help himself to flirt with you. He never had seen something more cute than your reaction as you enjoy his food and he had to admit that nothing makes him more proud than the way you look at him when you thought nobody saw you. 

It’s why one evening, as you were helping Usopp to repair the mainmast, effortlessly sending him the multiple parts of wood he needed. Sanji took place at your side, lighting a cigarette nonchalantly.

“ It amazes me each time watching you use your talent Madam“ He confessed, watching absently the plank of wood gaining altitude. “ Isn’t it exhausting to keep control of the object ?” 

“ No…I just think of it and…then they float…” You replied, already feeling the tips of your ears warming.You would for nothing share with anyone, the humiliated time it takes you to learn how to push them in the right direction and stop before reaching your face.  

“ Oh, so you have to think at every separated item to make them fly…But what happens if you aren’t in a situation to think, like say overwhelmed ? “ His tone, serious, but clearly flirting. Even if you could feel a trap, you couldn’t think of a single time when you could become so self absorbed that you couldn’t even think. “ Like let's say we kiss, will all the objects of the room start to levitate or just our heart ? “ 

The loud “ BAM “ of the plank slamming against the lower desk makes you jump, you face bright red. Up in the air, Usopp asked what happened, worried that something had occurred to you. It push as well Zoro and Nami out of the own preoccupation, concern if it was a normal noise of a sign of a near danger.With the warrant on Luffy head, your Captain who’s right now was snoring somewhere, they didn’t take any  chance.  

“ Sanji ! Don’t tease me like that…please ! “ You plead, your gaze fixed on the floor, embarrassment clearly making you want to disappear on the floor.  

“ I’m not teasing, I’m truly curious to know…We should try one day” He proposed, a smile playing on his lips as he finished his smoke before heading back to the kitchen “ I make your favorite breakfast tomorrow don’t miss it please”

That conversation spined in your head for at least a few weeks before you accept the meaning of it. Sanji had in his smooth way, confessed his affection for you and waited for you to be ready to do the same. Meantime, he didn’t push you further more, dosing his usual flirt and neither talked about it in front of the others, knowing clearly how you would be mortified. 

Until that day. 

The crew had stopped the ship alongside an island reminding you of pictures of jungle you often saw in exploration books. Each taking a different path to explore the village and his surrendering, you quickly become bored and decide to come back to the ship, certain that you were alone aboard. 

It was why the sound of metal brushing against what seemed to be the same component took you by surprise. Making your way to the kitchen, you discover Sanji, already busy cracking eggs in a bowl. Lifting his head, he smiled as he discarded the empty shell. 

“ Already back ? Are you hungry? I am planning to make an omelet for dinner, but i’m not sure if the other will be back so I will make small ones. “ 

Nodding slowly, watching nervously around you, you decided that if you had to respond to his previous invitation it was now or never. 

“ Sanji I…I...You remember that…you know that conversation...about...my talent and...Kiss…” You succeed to say, your hand sweating against your pants.

“ Yes, I remember” He replied, careful to not scare you away.

“ I would like to try…” You finally quickly confessed, your whole body burning like if you had a fever.

Washing his hand with the rag hanging on his shoulder, Sanji gently smiles contouring the kitchen island to place himself in front of you. Putting delicately your chin between his thumbs and his index, he lowered his head trying to meet your evasive gaze. 

“ I would like to see your pretty eyes Madam before kissing you “ He demanded, as you nervously turned your gaze to meet him. “ Much better” He smiled. 

His lips meet yours with tenderness, as his other hand makes himself a home on your hip. Slowly, you closed your eyes, making yourself melt in the multiples sensation of his soft mouth against yours, followed after a certain time by the teasing of his teeth nibbling your bottom lips. Your tongue quickly follows his invitation, brushing against each other, as you hand find their way to his broad shoulder. 

Inclining your head slightly higher to accommodate your difference of height, you instantly reach again for his lips, not wanting to let him go yet. 

Lost in the moment, you didn’t hear the rest of the crew come back, dinner being an abstract place in time way ahead of the feeling of Sanji against you. 

“ WOAH Y/N you can make people levitate now, that’s so cool ! “ You heard Luffy exclaim as Nami, knowing how embarrassed you should be, tried to drag him out. 

Feeling the floor meet your feet, as the cacophony of gravity regain his control of every none fixed item in the room, you promptly separated yourself of Sanji, who’s for once, was as much blushing as you do. 

“ I guess that means dinner isn't ready, “ Zoro said, unmoved by what he just saw, already taking his place at the table alongside Luffy. 

“ Guys we should maybe go eat somewhere else “ Nami tried, eyeing you hoping that it wouldn't push you to close up yourself more. 

“ No need Nami,  dinner almost ready just, give me just a minute “ Sanji protest regaining his composure before clearing his throat, whispering gently to you “ Now since we know that you make float everything around you and everyone you kiss…please Darling, let me be the only one to fly with you” 

Blushing even more, you couldn't resist laughing in front of the embarrassing but joyful event.

“ I swear “ You promised, already excited for the next time.

#opla!sanji x reader #sanji x reader #one piece netflix #opla #opla sanji #vinesmoke sanji x reader #one piece #one piece sanji #opla vinesmoke sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #Request #Sanji Request

[stationintern]

Hello all!

This month was, truly, a beautiful month for me reading-wise. The birds were chirping, I found smut that made me sweat, and I revisited some old favorites. Let's jump right in. I am so excited to share these with you. (Hence why I am posting this a day early.)

Strap in!

Dwelling On Dreams by @the-sinking-ship for H/D Big Bang 2021, 135k, E

I reread this fic this month, and it was just as delicious as I remembered. There are aspects of this fic that felt burned into my memory, so it came as a shock to me when I realized that the last time I'd read this fic was over a year ago. Everything about it feels so vivid. Harry's magic, his raw sexual energy. Draco's ability to make me scream at my phone and throw a mini temper-tantrum. I love flashbacks, and this fic has them in abundance. If you're looking for a thick read with complex characters and an interesting case to solve, look no further!

Hear Me Out by @rainstormradish for @dronarryfest 2024, 5.2k, E

I am pleased to announce that I have officially bought my ticket and jumped on the Dronarry train. You've all convinced me. This fic, in particular, is what really got the ball rolling. This was... immaculate. When I said I found smut that made me sweat, I MEANT IT. I had to, like, physically reconnect with my limbs after I read this. A bit of fake dating to start you off, and it only gets better from there.

The Way You Say My Name by InnerLilith 5.3k, E

Ya'll ever just bark at your phone? Sometimes, a girl just wants to read about Harry Potter going absolutely bonkers over Draco Malfoy calling him sweet little names. Very hot, very important to me.

Please hold. Your call is very important to us./Bloodlust and Bureaucracy by @goblinmatriarch 5k, T/8.5k E

DOUBLE FEATURE! I love the smell of wizarding bureaucracy in the morning. What a little world you have built! Authors who can create a new little piece of the wizarding world to explore mean the world to me. Very interesting in regards to how the medical system in the wizarding world relates to its real-world counterparts. Also, some biting action. Very smart, very hot.

Crossed Wires by @skeptiquewrites 11k, E

Critics are raving. "Literally ripping up the wallpaper in my home," says one reviewer. "Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure," says another. Bureaucracy lovers win forever and ever. Also, Draco gets to wear many suits. Harry Potter the reluctant politician. I couldn't have wished for more.

Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses 46k, E

BOATS, REPRESSION, MORE BOATS, EDGING (for sports purposes), EVEN MORE REPRESSION, AND WILL YOU BELIEVE ME IF I SAY THERE'S MORE BOATS. I don't know how you've done it, but you've managed to parallel the epic highs and lows of college rowing with the literal wizarding war. If that isn't talent, I don't know what is babe.

Truth or Dare? by @lettersbyelise 3.4k, E

There is truly nothing more intimate than jerking off your childhood rival while a party goes on around you. THAT, my friends, is the key to post-war, inter-house unity.

Borrowed Time by @the-starryknight for @dronarryfest 2024, 7.6k, E

Oh this was fire. What do you know about body swapping threesomes? Would you like to know more? Yes. Yes, you would.

Alrighty, I think that's all for now, folks. Very thankful to be in a fandom with so so so many talented people. You all blow my mind. Here's to another month of fantastic fiction!

See ya!

XX, Moon

#drarry #draco x harry #drarry fic rec #drarry fic #moons monthly fic recs

[thecolorblockcurator]

I want to talk a little more on this topic of TERFs in art history.

Back a couple of years ago when I came out as trans on here I was surprised at all the hate messages I received. From terfs calling me the usual gender traitor, a confused woman- too old to be trans lol & a lot of other worse things. & a bunch just flooded my inbox announcing how they were disappointed in me & were unfollowing. 🙄

And I was confused why there were so many following me in the first place - after all I was queer- I loved & supported trans folks like how could they have found a home here?

But I unknowingly had been entrenched in terf & radfem ideology in art history I couldn’t see through it. I realized very quickly that Art History is home to a ton of TERFS.

My beloved professors (a few but not all) told us without a doubt that women artists were abused, they were denied, they were ignored, because they were women. They women artists were innately better artists, they had more complex things to say in their art and were more talented at saying them. They were pure, perfect, their stories mattered more than male artists. And history forgot about them so it was our duty to learn and share their work.

These professors would also say that male artists were innately violent, and their art could only ever objectify women. That you could tell an artists gender from heavy aggressive brushstrokes (if they were cis male) or if they were reclaiming their feminine voice with powerful strong brushstrokes (if they were a cis woman) - despite looking like the same exact brushstrokes

How women in art had an almost mystical like understanding of color and form in ways that her male colleagues couldn’t understand

One of my professors who was the loudest radfem taught feminist art history, art in the mid-century, and a couple other classes I forgot. (It’s been like 10 years now) She gave lecture after lecture that the art world was a boys only club. And therefore innately bad and malicious towards women artists. She worked for Helen Frankentaller!! Of course I was going to believe her!! I was paying to learn things from someone who should have been a trusted source why would I have to question them

It wasn’t until I critically listened to what I was repeating that I understood how wrong her views were. How deeply seeded terf ideology was in the art history world.

So those of you persuing art history- think critically & know that the field has unfortunately been a magnet for terfs for a while.

#art history

[hana-no-seiiki]

I’m watching kardashians new season (i guess i dont have enough drama in my life💀) and i was thinking…

What about yandere family x reader BUT they have same kind of reality tv show?

I just think it would be interesting to see how they would act/how fans would like y/n and the family🤷🏻‍♀️

And the family can be as big/small you want.

Ps.i really love your stories. Keep up the good work🫶🏻

You. You don’t know how much I’ve been having a brainrot over Yandere rich family / Yandere platonic kardashians (mostly as a young teen). How dare you send an ask like this when I’ve moved on? How dare you-

But yeah this is a great idea OMFG WHAT IF YANBOYLOSER (AND BY EXTENSION AMIR) (YANTSUN FOR NEW READERS) IS FROM THE FAMILY-

TW/CW: Yandere and Toxic Family themes. Abuse/Neglect. My capitalisation Is EverywheRe. Horny Siblings. Stepcest(?) Adoptedcest(?) Pseudocest(?) transphobia (not from characters but from society)

The Qasem Clan was notorious to say the least. They used to be known for churning out talents, changers of society and the industries they so choose to venture into. Now they were just a bunch of hopeless, talentless folks with too much money in their hands.

All of them except you.

Granted, you’re an adopted child. The matriarch of the family thought you to be ‘too cute to be in an orphanage’ and stole you away during one of her various charity events she’d attend for the sake of face and bragging rights.

The paternal grandparents didn’t like you too much at the beginning. After realizing that they spoiled their children and grandchildren too much too late, they have grown to be tired and soulless creatures. Often throwing you to lessons because they were much to apathetic to bother with a child that wasn’t of their own blood. It was only when you excelled in literally every single class that they suddenly started pouring love and attention all over you. However the Yandere (and I mean the unhealthy part of it), comes when you realize that all this newfound attention will crumble the moment you fail — not to mention how creepy it is when they started to erase whatever made you look different from the family. The only people stopping them being the yan! matriarch who didn’t want them messing with the reason she adopted you in the first place.

but yeah because of them you’re known as the “qasem’s saving grace” and many people worship the group you walk on. it’s great and all. expectations of being completely perfect aside.

yan! siblings range from being horny to being absolute degenerates towards you. the eldest loves to grope you all over and absolutely despises it when your attention is not on them. but whenever it is, they’ll be off fucking some random stranger in front of you just to make you jealous. they’re completely in it for the chase, and get turned off when you show even the slightest hint of reciprocation. they’d be rich from the amount of sex tapes they have alone. though platonically speaking they’re pretty great actually. a lot of fans made compilations titled “[y/n] and [eldest name] being normal siblings for once” or [eldest name] being [y/n] biggest fan” for when you they show genuine love and interest in what you do.

middle child aka boyloser supreme here is the current heir to the qasem riches. why? because he’s a masochist- okay not really because of just that- he’s a hardworker despite his title and often gets high grades but because that wasn’t really extraordinary in the clan he never got attention for it. what he did get attention for was being depressed and being ‘not presentable’ or ‘filthy’. even then he’s still pretty smart and hasn’t impregnated half the town like the eldest so he’s been entrusted with the riches (also he can’t exactly impregnate since his cock is non existent… yes he has a bussy)

reality tv show wise he was kind of forgotten and/or only known for being somewhat smart until he transitioned and society being society made that a controversy and his only personality trait. until people realized that he’s just so much hotter all of a sudden as a boy? gender euphoria does things to people. a lot of edits between you and him feature the man staring at you from afar. or hiding his arousal that he gets from your existence.

there are many more siblings and other fam members in mind (particularly screeching over the maternal grandparents, I’ll add them if I get more asks to this) but i need to go sleep soon so we’re skipping to youngest child.

you know him, you love him.

it’s yan! tsun!. yeah the boy is spoiled to the max. he somehow spends a million bucks per week (probably on Taylor Swift merch). he swears he doesn’t want to fuck you but he already has a million sex toys modeled after your pp or pps if you’re intersex, whatever it is. the only reason he hasn’t commissioned an accurate wax doll of you is cause he’s afraid it’ll suddenly fall out of the corner of his walk in closet through all those designer clothes and into the eyes of the camera men (he doesn’t care much about his fans/the viewers cause they’re faceless as far as he knows). like eldest he has his wholesome moments when tells you not to worry too much about the show or how you present. though it’s mostly off camera, a lot of fans see how close you are. he also shows his support subtlely when it comes to scandals, like boyloser’s for example wherein he started wearing “feminine” clothes and slaying in them just to slam on those people with paper thin, fragile as glass masculinity.

…but yeah there’s a clip that went viral of him sniffing your clothes.

(will definitely add the women of the family one day….) (most likely if I get another request for this or if this goes big yuh)

#hns.txt💬 #hns.ask💌 #hns.amir #hns.qasem #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere imagine #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #Yandere family #Yandere tsundere #tsundere Yandere #Yandere boyloser #Yanderecore #Yandere concept #Yandere scenario #rich Yandere #Yandere harem #Yandere various #various Yandere

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Heeeeey, y'all!! I'm so, so, so excited to introduce this new story to everybody! I've been having a (horny) cowboy fixation for THE LONGEST time now after seeing a fanart of cowboy!Geto by the amazingly talented @sanjisblackasswife. Please go support a fellow black woman & go check out her work! I hope y'all enjoy the first two chapters! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen PT I & PT II. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

ONE: BUSINESS AS USUAL.

Another day, another face.

Another dance for a man trying to lift your dress up to get to your panties at this trashy saloon in the town of Blackwater. 

You try not to turn around and smack the customer sitting behind you reeking of whiskey and tobacco as he plays with the skirts of your short, short ruffled dress that you only lift up somewhat to show off your nylon stockings and garter belt as you wind your hips to the music playing on the piano downstairs. 

The sounds of the smooth piano tune and the miscellaneous chatter from the saloon are the only things keeping you from losing your cool on the guy who just can’t keep his hands off of you. Touching the dancers is forbidden according to your boss (and boyfriend) who owns the place that so many drunkards, business folk, and locals frequent. 

You would think that he would be less flashy with his whereabouts due to his illegal “side hustles”, but that isn’t any of your concern. If anything, it makes your life a lot easier. You look at the timer beside you on the nightstand near a bottle of empty moonshine and immediately stop your lapdance when it dings.

“Time’s up, sir!” you more than happily announce. 

The man, older with meaty hands and bad teeth, makes a sour face under his low-brim hat. “Damn, already?” he whines. “Ya can’t do that thing ya did with your hips just one more time, darlin’?” He gives you a sheepish smile that nearly makes you laugh. Is this guy serious? 

You shake your head, playing the part of the sweet but professional Southern gal just trying to make a dime. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got other customers waitin’ on me.” You put out a hand to him for your coin. “That’ll be $15, please.” 

Since you danced clothed, it is much cheaper than a lingerie dance which is $25 while a naked dance is $30. Many of the high rollers who come in here are able to afford the lingerie and naked dances, mostly to jerk off to the dancers as they watch them. You’ve had a few do so to you, but your boyfriend doesn’t mind as long as there is cash flow. 

But your customer doesn’t hand it over right away which is another normal occurrence here: bums who can’t pay or want to finesse you for a free dance…if not get you to have sex with them. You can already tell this one is looking for more than just a dance judging by the lecherous look he gives you.

“That was some dance, y’know,” he dreamily says. “I bet you’ve got all kinds of moves in the bedroom, dontcha, darlin’?” 

You do your best to resist the urge to roll your eyes from under your long lashes and instead perse your red lips at him that match your short red dress with its low bodice that shows off your cleavage and the slit at the thigh. “None of which you’ll be findin’ out about,” you firmly say. “Now please, sir, just give me the–” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he chuckles, putting up his meaty hands in mock defense. “Ain’t no need to get defensive…but unless you’re offerin’, I could give you way more than just $50 if you show me how good of a little dancer you can be on top of me.” He gives you a wink and you damn near vomit. You need to get out of here before you let the chopper sing. 

“Have a good night, sir,” you say, appalled, and turn on your heel to leave, but his hand on your wrist stops you. “What the hell are you doin’, you creep?” you snap.

The man yanks you back by your arm, trying to get you to come onto the bed with him. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that,” he cackles, pawing at your wais. “Just gimme what I’m askin’ for and we can–” 

“Get the fuck offa me!” you yelp, immediately snatching the bottle off of the nightstand and smacking him upside the head with it.

The man lets out an “oof” as the bottle smacks against his skull, bursting into pieces of glass that you jump away from to avoid getting cut. You watch as he falls off the bed and smacks facefirst onto the floor with a thud that will no doubt alarm the saloon. 

And it does. The door barrels open and in runs Todo, the big, buff guard that your boyfriend put in charge of keeping the saloon safe. “Get your hands off of…” His rage subsides when he looks down and finds the man at your feet. “Her,” he finishes. His eyes tick up to you worriedly. “You’re okay?” 

“Yeah, now I am,” you huff. You bend down to check the man’s pulse, finding it pumping. “He ain’t dead––just unconscious.” Todo looks like he wants to ask you what went down, but the sound of boots stomping up the wooden steps stops him. Your boyfriend and boss stand in the doorway, shoving Todo out of the way despite him looking like an ant compared to the guard. 

Kenzo, the owner of the Blackwater Saloon, is an older, lean man with cropped, black hair, a beautiful face, and a goatee that only makes him prettier…except for his anger. “What the fuck is goin’ on up here?!” he hollers. “I’m tryin’ run a business here! Why am I hearin’ all this noise?”

Todo nods at you while shuffling into the room, acting as a wall between you and Yuri. “Why don’t you ask her?” he suggests. 

Though you appreciate Todo’s protection, you know that there isn’t anything Kenzo can do to hurt you…not unless you want him to turn him in to the sheriff and his men that are for sure sniffing around for him. “What the fuck, Y/N?!” he hollers. “You killin’ my customers now?!” 

“He ain’t dead, Kenzo,” you sigh. “He’s just unconscious and drunk. He tried puttin’ your girl on the bed and usin’ this bed for more than just sleepin’.” You give a Todo a subtle nod to leave and he does though he doesn’t look happy to do so. 

Kenzo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Babe,” he groans, frustrated, “this is the second time you got into it with a customer. The last one nearly got us sued!” You gape at him, pissed that he still blames you for that. “I didn’t even touch him,” you argue. “All I did was bump him when he kept gettin’ in my way and tried to corner me for a blowjob!” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “Or would you rather I had done it for more business?” you hiss. Kenzo looks at you with those unnaturally blue eyes, the contacts he wears allowing him to conceal with natural eye color. “Baby, come on,” he whines, moving toward you. “You know that ain’t what I meant.” 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, willing you to look at him. “You just could’ve done it in another way,” he says. “All my other dancers don’t do shit like this.” You glare up at him, even more irked. “That’s because they’re afraid of gettin’ fired,” you snap. “Kenzo, the guy tried to force himself on me. What else was I supposed to do?” 

But Kenzo doesn’t look the least bit concerned with that, as usual, only thinking of himself. “Just call me or Todo next time, alright?” he sighs. “Besides, isn’t this a nicer job than workin’ at that whorehouse I found you in?” He smiles at you but it’s sharp and has a deeper meaning to it. 

You resist the urge to sock him. He knows damn well he wouldn’t fire you is the fact that you not only give him pussy but you also bring in the most business because of your pretty face, “exotic” skin, and body. He cozies up to you, taking your chin into his hand.  “Ain’tcha my girl?” he whispers. It is what he always asks you when you fight; something he thinks gets your panties wet when all it does is make you want to barf. 

But you bite your tongue and look up at him with a smile. “Yes,” you sigh. “I’m your girl.” He smiles too, showing you all of his gold teeth, and plans a wet, tobacco-flavored kiss on your lips that makes you sick. “Good girl,” he hums. “Now back to work you go. No bein’ mean now.” 

You do as he says and leave, earning a hard smack on the ass as you walk past him. You giggle fakely as you exit, finally losing your smile when you walk down the wooden steps in your black pumps to the saloon drenched in cigar smoke, whiskey, rum, and sex. Music and laughter explode from the crowded bar as you make your way to the bar where Shoko, your bartending friend, and Yuki, one of the other dancers, sit conversing.

You sit down on the stool next to Yuki with her long, blonde hair pinned up to elongate her gorgeous face and seductive eyes. “Handsy customer?” she says from behind her fan. 

You nod, huffing. “Shoko!” you yell, slapping the bar. “Gimme a shot.”

The bob-haired woman with the cigarette dangling from her lips nods, bumping Choso, one of the cuties Yuri hired a month ago that Yuki has got her eye on, out of the way. 

Once finished, she passes a whiskey smash–a cocktail with whiskey, mint, and plenty of cherries–to you. “Here ya go, missy,” she says and giggles when you down it. “Looks like you needed that…someone else too.”

She juts her chin at Kenzo hunkering down the steps, hollering at Maki and Mai, the dancing sister duo that the men adore so much, to end their break and get to work. 

“You know, the boss has been a bit on edge lately,” Yuki says, blocking her mouth with her fan to avoid anyone eavesdropping. “I wonder if he’s havin’ money issues still. Y’know, the word is that he can’t pay for this place anymore.” 

You and Shoko share a look. ‘Yeah,’ you think. ‘That’s why he’s got all these side hustles.’ Money laundering. Prostitution. Trafficking alcohol. Kenzo does it all. Hold habits die hard, you suppose. You’re the only one who knows who your boss really is. 

You’re the only one who knows that he escaped prison a year before he met you and invited you to join his saloon he only opened five months ago after hiding out last year. 

You’re the only one who knows that he only opened this saloon as a way to lay low from law enforcement. 

You’re also the only one who knows that he pulled off one of the biggest heists ever with the help of a certain gunslinging duo that you know will show up here one of these days to collect their coin. 

“Well, he gets enough business here,” you say, playing the role of the clueless girlfriend and employee. “I can’t understand why he wouldn’t have the money.” Yuki looks like she wants to respond, but a high roller sitting down next to her, much to Choso’s dismay, stops her short and she puts on the charm. 

Shoko leans across the bar to you, pretending to wipe the surface down with a rag. “I can’t understand why you don’t just take the money you made and leave like you planned,” she whispers. “You’ve been at this for five months, Y/N. You’ve gotta be sick of it.” 

You shake your head, passing her your shot glass for another hit. The whiskey has left a warm feeling in your gut and a buzz that you need more of. “No,” you firmly say. “Not yet.” 

Shoko only thinks you want to leave this dead-end job and Blackwater for a life somewhere else. She doesn’t know your real plan or why you’ve chosen to stay for so long. ‘And it’s only a matter of time until they get here,’ you think to yourself. 

That’s the only reason you decided to wait to kill Kenzo: to get to Geto and Gojo the Gunslingers. The duo that everyone across the wild, wild West seems to know and is afraid of. And you know that it is only a matter of time until they show up looking for your boyfriend who you’ll serve on a silver platter. Anything to have Geto and Gojo finally within your grasp. 

And when the doors to the saloon suddenly open with a loud slam that emits startled gasps from the saloon’s customers and employees, including you, you know that they have arrived: your targets.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my fic shit #black writers #jjk smut #cowboy gojo #cowboy geto #satosugu #satoru gojo x black!reader #suguru geto x black!reader #cowboy!au #cowboy!geto #cowboy!gojo #poly smut #poly love

[felassan]

A former BioWare Design Director has tweeted his take on the recent BioWare and SW:TOR news. tweet compilation, as it's interesting and illuminating insight:

"My take on the SWTOR/BioWare split For SWTOR: This is a Good Thing For BioWare: This is a Big Loss A thread:

My point of view is someone who worked for BioWare Austin on SWTOR from 2009 as an Assistant World Designer through 2022 as Design Director (with some Anthem, Shadow Realms, and <NDA> years sprinkled about).

BioWare Austin (BWA) was its own studio for many years, founded in order to make that game. MMO’s are expensive, y’all.

We didn’t really collaborate with BioWare Edmonton (BWE) on the dev side much, because there was no need to (with some exceptions – they had built the original on-rails space shooting component, for example).

As a business, in this model all revenue and expenses roll up into the greater whole (BioWare), which then roll into EA’s Group, and so on.

After many years, this model shifted and changed, for a large variety of reasons I won’t get into. BWA would no longer be a separate entity, but under the same core leadership as BWE – One BioWare (BW).

What this meant realistically was you had a boxed product business that had been tried and true for years, combined with a live service MMO business that wasn’t really understood by the boxed product folks. Arguably by EA either, to be fair.

You see, MMO’s can be fairly predictable if they run long enough. We knew the SWTOR business very well. We knew how to turn every dollar invested in the game into several more. SWTOR was (and continues to be) a very profitable business, with loads of heart behind it.

But an older game isn’t sexy. It’s not new. It doesn’t get marketing orgs excited or social media teams jazzed. It’s a ‘legacy game’, despite the mountains of income coming in that other franchises are built off of.

And you FELT it, as a member of the team. It’s a fantastic dev team, filled with incredible talent. How then, with such a close-knit team, did you always feel less-than?

Well, just take a look around. Look at BW’s social media posts and count the proportion of SWTOR game/fan/anything posts compared to ME or DA. Remember that BioWare 25th anniversary book? The beautiful 328 page recollection of BioWare’s history, and celebration of all franchises?

For a game like SWTOR that had been live already for 9 of those 25 years at the time of publication, how many pages, dear reader, do you think had any SWTOR imagery or content at all? Ten. Teams notice this. They feel it, and it feels like shit.

Does BW despise SWTOR? I don’t think so – they don’t understand it, and it was someone else’s game. Does EA despise SWTOR? I don’t think so – it’s a legacy live service, and again, was someone else’s game.

As a dev on SWTOR, you feel like your game is a burden to all of the layers above you, but you persist. You put so much heart and passion into the game, and you thrive on the fans and tremendous partnership with LucasFilm.

So to bring us back to current news, imagine a team excited about a game, with incredible plans, that have felt ‘less-than’ by their own studio and company for years, being unleashed.

Being part of an org that KNOWS the MMO business, and understands those player communities and the incredible stories and connections they form.

This feels like an exciting new chapter to me, and I’m optimistic about what this means for that team and the game. SWTOR is, to the best of my knowledge, the longest-running Star Wars anything, ever. It’s a special game and I’m so happy to see where the team takes it.

As far as BW, it would have certainly be in their best interest as a business to maximize exposure and support for SWTOR publicly over the years, since the SWTOR revenue has allowed for the…unusually long…dev cycles to continue for the last several games.

But now without SWTOR, there will be less places to hide heads, R&D, and time. You’ve got blockbuster single-player experiences hitting high Metacritic scores with…2-3 year dev cycles? And the BW pattern has been…double? Triple that?

I think it will be interesting to see how the EA/BW relationship continues to evolve in this new world. /end"

[source]

#sw:tor #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #mass effect #next mass effect #anthem #video games #long post #longpost

[nzia-writes]

•{Speak life unto me}•

RATED SLUTTY 18+

Sums: Riri let’s you practice a majorette dance routine in her garage while she remodels her prototype.

I feel like Dom would channel Riri in this manner. It’s a sappy little something that’s heavy with dialogue. You have been warned. Enjoy.

Interact please and thank you

(tagging a couple folks I seen under riri fics: )

@donewit51life @mysticalmarss @shinsousliya @c0cac0laguns2 @mlmilani @melodykisses @doms-fav @verachii @luhreen @zayswriting

Riri Williams

You draw a breath, trying your hand at Coach’s complex combination once more. You fail with ten steps off count, ten seconds off beat, and ten milliseconds from freaking out.

This is the 100th time and disappointment has been the only result. Come on man. Seems as if fuck-ups is what you run into and a fuck-up is what you are. What else do you call someone allergic to consistency within performance in life and in art?

Coach is gon’ tell me that my efforts ain’t worth a damn again.

Skylar, the captain, gon’ call me all sorts of expletives again.

Maybe they are right. You are not the dancer you presumed yourself to be. You aren’t exhorting enough passion. You aren’t going to succeed with a dancing major. You aren’t going to dethrone Skylar from her rank as captain. Not with all of this lack. So much lack.

“Imma failure, man,” you grit.

The shrill of Riri’s hand-held power tool spurs the cacophony all the more. There is too much going on. There is too much not going on. Failure. Tears. Doom. It is an incessant thought.

You have had enough.

A reverberant scream rattles every solid item within the garage. “Fuck! Fuck Fuck!” Your vocal chords give a roiling wave of heat.

A startled RiRi flips up her welding helmet and lays her tool on the floor. By the time your hollering simmers down, your big brown eyes leak with the pressures of failure and your edges coil from sweat; a newly installed thirty-six-inch buss down gone with the speed of light.

“Y/N.”

A boisterous scream again.

Riri jumps in fright. Damn.

You labored pants follow thereafter.

“I keep on and keep on failing! Busting my ass day in and day out. Still coming up short!” You yell. You yank up your duffle, lodging your belongings inside as aggressive as your body allows. Surely it allowed just the right amount. It wasn’t offering much in many other departments. Useless, it was.

As she powers off her prototype, Riri hesitantly speaks. She’d be damned if she triggered more rage and hurt. Then there’s two bitches arguing and one leaving. “Sugg.”

“Uh uh I’m leaving. I can’t keep doing it, Ri.”

“And what you plan on doing after?”

“Ion know! Lord knows these folks don’t wanna see me win. Lord knows I ain’t got the talent in me to win!” You zip your duffle and turn to Ri, face stricken with defeat. “I’m just tired. I’m not cut fah this shit, ya heard meh?”

“Rest. You need some,” Riri says. She’s so calm, you have no other choice but to be.

“Rest? You think the world gon’ let a nigga like me rest?! Outta’ yo’ damn mind. I’m out.” You turn to go.

“You need cooling and I got it for you. Come talk to me real quick.”

“Ri…”

“Come here, boo. Please.” Her eyes plead beneath fanned out eyelashes.

She removes her welding helmet and places it on the table congested with her quantum technology and hammers. Once she shakes out her box braids, she waves you over. Maybe..just maybe..entertaining what she has to say will end with weights being lifted.

Your bag slumps to the floor and you make your way to Riri. She keeps herself true to her concern and wipes away your tears the moment you are in arm's reach. She reeks of oil and burnt metal but her aura is sweet enough to mute the most unpleasant fumes.

“I can’t stand seeing you like this..” She leans against her work table while you stand before her. Her hands work with caution to fix your disheveled appearance. “Worryin’. Stressin’. You too pretty for that.” She then laughs a bit inwardly. “Got yo’ minks lifting like they got something smart to say.” She simply peels them off and sets them aside.

You persist with a hardened mug, ever the one to cradle rage until everyone feels it.

“Come here,” she sighs, inviting your rigidness into all of her softness, raising on her tiptoes to wrap the parts of you in need of double love. “Let that shit out, sugg. You owe yourself that much.”

She is right. You do. Your rage has cracked a series of dams, but Riri’s love has cracked many more. You whimper and squeeze her small frame tight. “I love you, girl.” The words shake as you inhale. “I love you s-so much.” You squeeze tighter, rocking from side to side.

When the tough battles are fought, she’s the only man standing, willing to fight with you no matter who the enemy may be. She’s going to step about her Sugg.

“Imma always be here when everybody else ain’t, you understand me?”

“Yeah,” you exhale. She coaxes with back rubs and encouraging words until the sniffles are no more. You both soon separate to lean on the table side by side. Her fingers brush yours.

“Whatever rage you feelin’, you entitled to feel. Let it all out, much as you can.”

“Tell that to my mama. To coach. To that doghead bitch Skylar.”

Their hatred and high expectations have silenced your innermost parts. The Y/N you strive to be. And you keep silenced to keep safe, for life has become something that needs to be survived. Not lived.

Riri frowns. Your strength is admirable. You were forced to the bottom at such a young age, unheard and treated unfairly, yet here you stand with the dignity of a knight. She has sworn to sit for hours if it means you are being seen and heard and validated. She will be the change you need to see if no one else will.

“The only way out of this hurt is into it. You gotta face it.” As harsh a truth it is, life will not progress until it is experienced.

“Please… ion know the first thing about facing life. I’ve hid from most of it.”

“It ain’t something you know how to do, it’s something you learn to do. I’m here to help you find your way back. Always.” She slides her hand in yours. Squeezes softly.

“Thank you..so much.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to do. Now go ahead. Tell me how you feel. I wanna hear your heart.”

“I just got too many folks praying on my downfall. Especially back home where my mama swears my dance major ain’t worth it. No support from them unless it’s to flaunt their lavish lifestyle.”

That’s that shit right there, Riri thinks. Makes her want to disrespect your entire bloodline. But she holds back for your sake. You love them, after all. “Listen here.” She turns your face toward her, eyes locked.

“We are two young black women who made it out the slums with what we had. Talent and brains. Your ‘mama nem’ can’t take credit for that shit. You got out and did the work. That’s truth. Don’t let nobody tell you no different. Not even yourself.”

You nod. It is hard to believe, but is isn’t impossible to believe.

“Now as for the dancing. What’s up with that? Had you saying you not talented enough and whatnot. I don’t want you talking about my girl like that again, alright?”

You cheeks flush. “I don’t see nothing untruthful about it, Ri. I’m last…always. Coach and Skylar make sure of it. I’m trying for captain but… as you saw earlier I ain’t got it in me. I fuck up more than anything, ya’ know?”

Riri lets that process. She then gestures to her prototype. It’s a polished transformer looking thing. “From one creator to another, the best work is produced during our moments of strife. I’ve failed more times than I have succeeded, but that’s what makes a legend. You are a legend in the making. Don’t give up.”

“I ain’t say I was allat na’. I’m just dancing to somebody else’s shit, ya heard meh?”

“You are always so wrapped up in all you lack that you don’t take the time to see how blessed you truly are. Mama, you got it good. Real good. You shine bright and you have this remarkable essence. That shit changes people and I need you to see it for yourself.”

The more one disregards their gift the quicker it is lost on them.

Riri continues. “Hear me out..if you ain’t invited into somebody else’s circle, form your own. You were co-creator of some of the most viral dances in the loop. You got the smarts, the talent, the moves..” her eyes drink you in from toe to head “the body,” she smirks. “You can do it.”

You lick your lips and look away. Forming a dance team? Hell no. Impossible. There will be too many odds: people willing to sabotage, your own self-esteem, and the pressures of adulthood. It wouldn’t work.

“Nah I’m good on that. I’ve hid from the spotlight, cast as a shadow all my life. I’m fine where I’m at.”

“Did you hide in the back? Or were you forced to the back?”

“I um…”

You are sent on a voyage of memories that were to not be seen again. Now here they are demanding you see yourself for who you are. You have existed so long in this world as nobody. How would it feel to actually be somebody?

“Gotcha,” she laughs.

“You did,” you chuckle. “Look at you being a ghetto monk and shit.” You tug her to stand between your legs.

“And look at you flodgin’ like it ain’t making you feel something good inside. Let yourself feel it, boo. It’s what you deserve.” She flattens her palm on your abdomen, teasingly trailing it up your chest. She outlines the swirly ink sheathing your neck, acrylics lightly scraping brown skin as her hand curls around it.

“You think so?” You bite your lip, fighting the inner-princess.

“Mhm.” She knows it so. “You cool with the backseat?”

“But you all dirty and dusty.”

She tilts her head, braids falling to one side. “Under these clothes I ain’t.”

“I-“ Eyebrows raised. “Girl go head, hea’? Lemme get in this backseat.”

She laughs like the goddess she is and removes her fire-proof apron with the rest of her gear. “On your back for me too.”

“Yeah, mama.” The words melt off your tongue.

Yes, you feel as if you are gliding on your toes, carrying your heart with less strain. It is the Riri effect so it seems. You are truly grateful for a friend with a lethal mouth.

~¥~

The back of Riri’s car is humid and smells of sex. You lay across the seats, thighs forced back into their plushness, pussy spread open for her filthy onslaught. She is situated in a sniper's position with her small feet dangling out of the open car door. Her devious eyes bore into your own. This has surpassed casual sex long ago. This is love-making.

“Damn girl,” you gasp as she jerks your thighs open the moment they close in on her face. She hums against your bundle of nerves, wagging her head for a deeper dive into your oasis. You sweep her braids into a makeshift ponytail, gyrating lusciously. She eats it like she’s starving; so precise and sloppy.

“Riiii. Just like that.” You nearly force your face to become one with the seat cushion as she swiftly slides her favored fingers inside, stroking your gushy walls, twisting deliciously. She had made the quick decision to pop those acrylics off before the escapades began.

She comes up for a breath, licking her lips slathered in your nectar. “Come on, mama,” she whispers sweetly. “Don’t close up on me. I need you to take it for me, okay?”

“Okayyy. fuuu…uhhn.”

“There we go,” she whispers, glancing down. “Look at you.”

It takes all the strength in you to open your eyes to look down on command. “Shiiiit,” you whine. You didn’t feel yourself creaming.

“She’s creaming like this for me?” Riri bites her lip.

Your response sounds scrambled. You were sure it was a stammered, “all for you.”

“That’s my sweet girl.” She means that in a myriad of ways.

“My god,” you cry softly, “Baby.” You use two fingers to widen pretty brown folds, the back of your head sinking into the seat as she plunges her fingers deeper. Wet squelching noises and breathy moans surf the wind. Your brain is shoved into a mind-bending utopia, it feels so fucking good.

You glance down again to see a string of arousal dribbling down the valley of your ass only to be slurped up by the very lips milking you out. Fuck. The lick is long and ravenous, from the crack of dawn to the peak of your mountain, pouty lips suckling as if it were a dreamsicle in sticky heat.

The more speed she exerts the lower your moans drop. You are now whimpering and whispering incoherent babbles, trying your hardest to fuck back, but you consistently run up the length of the seat from Riri’s freak nastiness.

“That’s it, beautiful.” She hooks her fingers, submerges them to their deepest, and holds still. Her thumb flicks your nub deliciously. Your sharp inhale churns her brain in the best way there is, smooth skin prickling in awe of your slick muscular body and your contorted faces. So beautiful, she moans.

There is a pause in time. A hitched breath. A stuttering heart. Love. So much of it it spills over the both of you.

Riri transmutes it powerfully, keeping the pad of her fingers rubbing that raised sensitive spot inside. Your eyes cross and roll back. “Oh yes yes..” Your hand comes down to plunge her fingers in deeper so she can get in that. “Fuuck…..gonna cum. Cum…” You whine in melody, pushing out a river of glistening slick. It drizzles down Riri’s fingers just as promised. “Uhh my god.” You exhale deeply.

“There we go. Feels good to let go?”

You nod, moaning uncontrollably. She crawls up your body to enrich your lips with a salacious kiss. It’s a moaning mess clouded with a tenderness neither of you will choose to acknowledge until your hearts see fit. You spread your cheeks as she slides her fingers in and out of your creamy canal, white fluids oozing out as you clench and unclench.

“You so…” you hiss in pleasure as she slips her fingers out with care, gathering all of what you spilled with an idle circle of her fingers.

“Talk to me nice,” she hums. “Unless you want it again.”

“I can’t do it again,” you exhale, eyes heavy. You palm her cheeks, kissing her lips sweetly. Her long braids fall over your faces but you don’t care to move them.

She brings her fingers up and plunges them in your mouth. You leave not a drop leaking as she slides them out and leans in to suck it off your tongue. You both pull away to stare. You see it. She sees it. Feels it. Smells it. It’s there and it’s mighty.

“Thank you fah that, baby,” you grin. You pronounce it as beh-beh. That ‘nawlins’ never left.

“You know how deep my love runs for pussy. No need to thank me.”

“Mhm. Cute ass.” You press another fat kiss to her lips, running your hands down to her ass to grip her up. She bites her lip and breathes through her nose. She loves that shit.

“I need me a cold drink,” you chuckle.

“Guh you and me both,” Riri laughs.

End note: Imma eat every single time. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Fun fact: I write the smut quicker than the story itself.

#riri williams x black!fem!reader #riri wiliams x reader #riri williams x black!reader #riri williams x reader #shuri x riri #riri x shuri #riri williams black panther #riri x reader #riri imagine #riri smut #riri williams #wakanda forever fic #wlw love #wlw lesbian #wlw literature #smut minors do not engage

[hihoace]

Athis wasn't really the person who seemed to be found of other humans. Eversince they got on the ship they were very helpful, kind, but quiet. Not the type humans usually are. Athis was not loud, although they liked to sing, and their voice was kind of nice to listen to, so no one had a problem with it.

They seemed to know a good variety of folk songs of a specific region on earth. Oftentimes the crew found her gazing out one of the windows of the cantina instead of talking to the other humans or the other members of the crew.

Not that they were specifically asocial or hostile. They were kind of nice to talk to. On rare occasions they even talked a lot.

I took the time to talk to them as often as possible. I liked them. I asked them about their life... She opened up slowly. One time we started talking about their home.

"Ah... Gaia is a cesspool... It has so many good things but god awful politics and the people... Fuck the people. Honesty they are so brainwashed. You'd think with the universe open to them they would finally let go of these silly things like... Them being weird about same sex relationships. Why? The whole ass universe is open to us, we literally see interspecies relationships but they get weirded out by two women holding hands? And your own relatives chew you out for not agreeing with them on politics. And the lack of spine people have there... No offense Xebie... they are awfully two faced." they seemed stressed as they hid their face in their palms.

"It really does sound horrible... I would understand if you'd never want to go back."

"Ah that's my biggest problem... I cannot tell you how much I hate it but also... I miss it. I wish to go home I want to see trees and flowers I know the name of, I want to sing toghether with people who know the songs of my region... I miss speaking the language of my mother. I really miss it. And the food is great and the people can be so nice. And the Sun is such a pretty star. The evening sky is prettier than any painting or photo of it... Oh and I love people. I hate my kind but I also love them. We go to war, we hate for such ridiculous things, I cannot stand how prejudiced we are. And even like that... People help each other for no personal gain, make art, write poetry that makes me cry, create songs that make me smile... I love that side of us". their face lit up with something I rarely seen in her. I didn't understand human expressions well enough to decode it, but my interpreter program recognised it as something between admiration and disgust... "What I really love that we are not all that different. Not even from the other species. But that doesn't mean we are great. I think humans, though strong, have a lot to learn from species like yours. You never had wars! How much more intreeging that is."

Athis smiled at me than shook their head. "I talk to much." they said as they covered their mouth. "I am so sorry."

"Oh don't worry about! It was intresting. And I think I understand your feelings a little bit. I had a friend who was very talented, but turned out to be a horrible person overall. It was a very confusing feeling." I replied.

Athis wasn't that different afterall. Soon I learned most humans on our ship seen Gaia similarly. Humans seemed to carry a type of guilt with themselves. Learning the history of their homeworld made me understand why.

#humans are space orcs #space australians #humans are weird #humans are deathworlders

[mixelation]

In the new AMAZING au, what does Kakashi think about obito? Is Kakashi....okay?

i think it's more fun if by the time tori's around, they're like.... friends. they have fun banter. kakashi is actively relieved when obito shows up to stressful situations when the stress is someone threatening kakashi

this time around obito is ~technically a genius~ but he's even worse at following orders. so early team 7 kakashi views him as a rival and respectable opponent but also as like... a fuck up. like what is obito even DOING 90% of the time. he's late all the time and he talks back to authority and he ignores orders and ugh ugh ugh

obito 4D chesses his way around the kannabi bridge incident so there's no singular moment of "and now we are bonded FOREVER" even though obito has considered just sticking a sharingan in kakashi to force that moment, and also like, offered it to kakashi a couple times. so i think it's a process of many years of forced into close proximity by shared missions where kakashi very gradually comes around to him. he gets used to obito being.... obito.... and sometimes views obito's hinge-free lifestyle as a boon. like, yeah kakashi WANTED to do something horrible to the guy who hit rin in the face with a kunai, he's not going to complain if obito hunts him down and sets him on fire even if the platoon captain said no??? sometimes he has to talk him down from doing something completely insane (like giving him his eyeball) but it's been ten years and obito hasn't hurt anyone kakashi actually cares about. so by the time they're both 22 kakashi is like "actually sometimes being a troll gets you want you want" and "yeah obito is a violent unhinged freak, but he's OUR violent unhinged freak" bc being violent and unhinged is MUCH less of a red flag for ninja. like no obito is not allowed to babysit naruto solo but also kakashi would trust him with his life

he IS kind of concerned about obito's interest in team 4? like, um. sensei...... do you know obito is uh........ like that................

(minato has been VERY CONCERNED about obito's sanity several times. but also obito is, you know, comically OP and Minato has spent over half his ninja career at war. he's not going to do an intervention, because why would you do anything to nerf one of your best guys? but obito's file does have seven thousand notes on it, and rin and kakashi's files also have notes about obito. for example that one time with kiri taught them that rin's safety has to be a priority on field missions because otherwise obito will go insane as our resident ultra talented medic-nin, just normal policy about saving the medic first folks nothing to see here)

#reborn au #reborn au au: it's gotten sillier #obito: uh OBVIOUSLY konoha's best and brightest get special treatment. why do you think you get away with half the shit you do? #tori: ??? because i am very clever and sneaky and charming?? #obito: LMAOOOOOOOO no <3

[derseprinceoftbd]

I realized I should say this first before my actual thoughts on the book; Please send me your favorite fanworks! Music, art, anamatics, fics (especially those), you name it! I'm ready for everything and immune to spoilers, and I'm getting this way before uA! Hahahahahahahahahahahaahhaahahahahahahahahhaahahah!!!!!!!!

So: Nona.

Certainly the one with the biggest, most fundamental, and most annoying flaws; slow pacing, too many characters with too little personality, convoluted plot (I still understand nothing about the convoy). And yet the highs were not just the highest of the series, but *21st century literature*. Seriously, the moment Nona clicked felt like turning the page and seeing the imprint of Tamsyn Muir having ripped her heart out and pounded it, still beating, into the page. And may I remind you, *I'm* using the *audiobook*!

Man, I *really* disrespected this series. Like in hindsight without my lenses there is genuinely not one TLT character that accurately maps onto any one Homestuck character, and TSG has just fuckall to do with anything, but I'm a fucking jackass who wants to feel like she knows everything.

On a similar note, *not YA*. I am a moron and should not be listened to. This series is not appropriate if you are under sixteen. Certainly I don't really think you'll *get* it.

Interesting that John is, at once, environmental destruction, death, child predation, imperialism, and religion, but not really actually *patriarchy*, and *explicitly not* capitalism. I'm the kind of person to be grateful for that last bit, even if it does seem out of place with the whole ethos, but really, am I just missing a dimension or should there be more gender commentary? I guess maybe it's an AFAB thing I'm too non-passing to have any social understanding of what Muir's trying to say.

EDIT: REDDIT EXPLAINED EVERYTHING I WAS MISSING TO ME, VERY SLOWLY AND CAREFULLY, BECAUSE I'M GENUINELY A STUPID PERSON.

Anywho, I don't have great confidence in Alecto-that is to say, in the idea that it will come next. I'm almost certain, in fact, that what would once have been Act 2 of Alecto will *also* be spun into its own book, to be released no sooner than 2025 and no later than 2030, and that this will be a 5-book series; I know not whether 4 or 5 will be Alecto, but the other will definitely be Kiriona. I'm willing to put good money on this. I'm not really willing to make any predictions beyond this-I might honestly jinx it if I do.

(Also John was wrong and the rich folks were 100% going to take everyone in later waves.)

So, yeah. Thank you for everyone who read along with me; I'm going to do The Unwanted Guest next, and after that, I'm thinking either Lolita or the Torah and Gospels, then the other, then The Magician's Apprentice, then a reread.

Oh, and I can finally actually subscribe to the fucking tags! Wooooohooooo!

Let's hope none of the talented people have blocked me.

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #john gaius #tamsyn muir #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #griddlehark #alecto the ninth #alectopause #alecto predictions #alecto theory #urbananchorite #the unwanted guest

[dystopicjumpsuit]

DJ's Follower Celebration!!!

Hi friends! I recently hit a follower milestone that absolutely blew my mind; I never really expected anyone to be particularly interested in my work, let alone this many of you. I am constantly blown away by your talent, insight, and creativity. I'm so grateful for every single one of you, and I want to celebrate YOU!

With that in mind, I'm going to be opening requests to create Datafiles like the one I made for Cerra for your Star Wars OCs. I've created three different versions: a Grand Army of the Republic Personnel Datafile, a Jedi Archive Member Record Datafile, and an ISB Suspect Datafile. Here are some examples of what they look like:

Transcripts in alt text.

Here's what you need to do to participate:

Submit an Ask with your OC's name and the artwork you'd like me to use. The artwork should have either a plain or a transparent background, and the filesize needs to be smaller than 25MB.

Fill out this form to tell me what information you'd like included in your OC's datafile.

Reblog this post to spread the word so other folks can participate, too.

That's it! Detailed rules are below the cut:

Rules:

Since this is intended to celebrate my followers, this event is only open to folks who follow me. I will be checking.

Each blog can submit a maximum of two requests.

Once I've created the Datafile, I'll answer your Ask with the PNG and the transcript. Feel free to share and repost them elsewhere, but it would be lovely if you could give me credit; I worked hard on these!

Requests will be filled in the order in which they are received; please be patient as it takes time to create the Datafiles.

I will not begin working on a request until I receive BOTH the Tumblr Ask AND the info form response.

By submitting your OC info, you agree to allow me to edit the text if necessary to fit in the template without consulting you ahead of time.

If you use a Picrew or similar to create your OC artwork, please include the link in your ask to credit the creator. By submitting artwork, you affirm that you have a right to share and transform/edit the artwork, and that you are giving me permission to share/edit the artwork as well.

Don't submit inappropriate images, please. I'm a delicate kriffing flower.

Do not submit hateful content.

I reserve the right to ignore a request for any reason.

Tips for success:

Keep it succinct; it's fine to use truncated, abrupt sentences. Sometimes they make it sound more official, and remember, I have limited space in the templates. I'll do my best to accommodate what you submit, but I might need to edit the text to fit (see Rule 6).

Think about whether the organization creating the Datafile would know/care to include the information. Examples of things to include: injuries sustained in battle (particularly if they were severe/debilitating); special/unusual Force abilities; an explanation of why a Jedi padawan switched masters; outstanding warrants. Examples of things that might be less relevant: petty crimes that the ISB wouldn't necessarily investigate (keeping in mind that they're more like the FBI/CIA/NSA than the local PD); minor injuries sustained outside of combat (like a black eye from a barfight at 79's); favorite snack when they were a youngling in the Jedi temple creche (unless they're STILL a youngling in the Jedi temple creche).

Remember that the ISB stands for Imperial Security Bureau, so they wouldn't have a file during the Clone Wars. Similarly, the Jedi Archive and GAR records wouldn't reference the ISB Datafile (though ISB certainly could have access to Jedi and GAR records).

Think about the perspective of the person creating the record; if it's ISB, they might accuse your OC of a serious crime that they didn't commit (or exaggerate a minor crime to look more severe than it actually was) for the sake of propaganda.

Have fun with it! "Arson, Murder, and Jaywalking" is a fantastic trope for a reason!

Thank you all so very much for being such a lovely, welcoming group! I can't wait to celebrate with you!

I used these picrews to create the OC artwork for the examples: GAR; ISB; Jedi Archive.

Ragu list:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly

#follower celebration #follower appreciation #dystopicjumpsuit's follower celebration #star wars #star wars oc #jedi oc #clone trooper oc

[hawkcoyote]

Let’s talk Tennis

Now this is the tennis fan in me taking things a little too seriously. But as I continue to think about Challengers and I have rewatched the film again, I’m kinda looking at Tashi a little bit side ways. One thing people always talk about is how Tashi coulda/shoulda/woulda been this amazing player had she not been injured. And it’s not to say she wouldn’t have been. But she’s never actually had to put her money where her mouth is. And her being a great tennis coach for Art does not mean she could have been a major contender in her own career. I mean how good of a player was Richard Williams? Honestly, most of these coaches don’t have anything to their name. It’s a little convenient she got injured right before she actually had to make the transition. We never actually get to see whether or not Tashi had what it takes. We are all supposed to believe that because someone she beat in the junior league means she would have been on top. That’s not how tennis works. But she can forever believe that she was robbed of greatness based on her results in the junior league and college. Like okay…. And it’s like sis could have been proven herself. She wants to be the goat, but the goats were out there winning slams or at least coming close at her age. While she was playing against players she can easily crush.

So my theory is that Tashi prioritized attention over tennis. She liked being the big fish in a small pond. She liked being seen as special. That’s why her fight with Patrick rattled her so much. The idea that she’s not special affected her so much it breaks her knee and ends her tennis career. Does she really have the mental toughness to actually be a good tennis player? Idk. Cuz to me, she prioritized her ego over tennis. It cost her dearly, which is why I feel like she can’t feel satisfaction over what she’s actually accomplished. Because when she was playing tennis, her main focus wasn’t really tennis. She didn’t want her only skill in life to be tennis. She chose going to college over her tennis career because of education and branding!! To me her commitment to the sport only really showed its head after her accident. She was even being dodgy about going pro when she was playing at Stanford. Tashi is too stuck on what’s she’s lost, and she allows it to overshadow the fact that she did want other things. There were other things that were important to her and might have even been more important than tennis.

Also as much as what happened to Tashi breaks my heart, I wished folks stopped downplaying what she was able to accomplish. Only Tashi is allowed to do that, and it is very much a character flaw of hers. Because as a tennis fan, I don’t think y’all understanding why Tashi can be right alongside Art in the Aston Martin campaign. Because you have this 20-something year old girl coaching her boyfriend into winning titles and slams?!? Are you kidding me?!? Women don’t even be having female coaches like that! Please!!! A young biracial/black woman coaching her white husband into being one greatest American male tennis player’s we’ve seen since Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi?!? The last American man to win a grand slam was Andy Roddick! Especially when you factor in her story. You think folks wouldn’t eat that up? Hollywood would be making a movie about her!!! She’s gonna be the one making book deals!! She would be the reason why the GP would even know or talk about Art. And the best thing about it is that Art would completely feed into it and hype it up.

And folks be disrespecting Art too much. Calling that man a mediocre player. First off, he was a finalist in the junior grand slam alongside Patrick. There’s also nothing mediocre about winning six grand slams guys. And who even knows how many titles he has. So why folks acting like he wasn’t a great tennis player is crazy to me. Only Art gets to believe that he’s not as talented as Tashi and Patrick. This is very much a character flaw. He is a great tennis player, he just struggles to believe it because he has such a low self esteem. Tashi from the jump thought he was a good player. Art just didn’t have the confidence because he’s bisexual and hates himself. He just assumes people are better than him because they have what he lacks within himself. The idea that he couldn’t be a big tennis star without Tashi’s coaching is silly to me. Congratulations, he has a great tennis coach! Most athletes need great coaching to get them where they need to go especially when performing at that high level. I don’t think Tashi is so singular that Art couldn’t find someone else to coach him to grand slams, the only reason why he couldn’t win is because he needs Tashi in order to give a damn. So all folks are really saying is that man was able to win all those titles just to please his wife. Y’all that’s absolutely nuts. Seriously imagine the monster Art would be if he did care? So in conclusion, we are kinda feeding into both Tashi’s and Art’s delusions. We have no way of determining if Tashi would have been a great professional player. Just because her junior league rival is a tennis star four years after the fact does not mean Tashi would have been huge. We are being a little bit delusional. And Art is not a mediocre player. Because even if we like to pretend that the junior league is a measure of talent, Art was literally right along side Patrick. Like he was the second best player in that tournament, that’s not mediocrity…. Art just deludes himself into thinking he’s not great because he hates himself.

#challengers #art donaldson #tashi duncan

[thesungod]

So I've been reading toa and I'm nearly done with the burning maze and one thing that sticks out to me is ... All the characters HATE Apollo 😭 I genuinely can't think of a single character who seems to like him or enjoy his company or has been nice to him so far. And in the beginning it made sense because he was honestly insufferable but by this point he seems to have learned a lot of humanity. I mean he literally sacrificed his life for his friends about two or three times in this book already and absolutely no one cares 💀 maybe it's just me but I feel like no one likes him and that's sad

anon i totally get what you’re saying and I think TBM is the worst offender when it comes to Apollo’s happiness and health and friendship. Rick Riordan was sooooooooo wrong and will not see the pearly gates for not making a bigger deal of Lester sacrificing himself. But you must remember that:

1) Apollo is a very unreliable narrator and, despite pretending to think everyone adores him, he is actually very insecure and anxious about being liked. He takes any and all reactions that are not a 100 thousand % happy and joyful as annoyed and antagonistic. If the people that he seems to think dislike him actually disliked him, he would never get anything done: I can’t think of a single character who got as much help as him. Considering how much of an asshole he used to be, that’s a pretty big deal, and he does have a talent for earning the loyalty, or at least the allyship, of people who used to resent him pretty easily (Leo, Calypso etc).

2) I know it’s brutal out there, but don’t forget some people canonically and explicitly like him! Leo, Meg, Rachel, Nico (okay, I’m pushing it with calling it canonical, but I really do think so), his children, Chiron (somehow), Harley, Crest. Keep in mind that you have two books left to go and you’ll get to meet some really nice folks. Even Piper, before the mess happened, seemed to enjoy his company. It’s not so bleak :)

3) Demigods just have a different way of showing love and are hardened, sarcastic people who also happen to be middle schoolers and teenagers (the meanest motherfuckers you’ll ever meet). For example, it’s canon that Meg ADORES him and would die for him yet she treats him the way she does almost all the time (you will get too see occasional moments of honesty and vulnerability from her as you go on). I just don’t think they hate him because they poke fun at him or tease him, even when it gets a bit mean. Which brings me to the last point.

4) Demigods and magical creatures have big, legitimate reasons to hate and resent the gods. I do think some of them are mean or dismissive towards Apollo as retribution, and as much as I’m defensive over him and I wish they STOPPED, it’s realistic. If anything, we should focus on how impressive it is that Apollo manages to survive so much shit and earn as many allies as he does as a mortal when he literally acted like The Worst Person Ever for so long. It speaks to his real character, and shows how much he really is a People Person even when he’s not trying hard.

Sorry for the essay anon (🫣) and I hope my answer satisfied you!!

#i love getting apollo asks 😭😭 #trials of apollo #apolloposting #lester papadopoulos #ask