#when you have no one but the people there to rely on and have your back and how you would do anything to protect them

[charredpages]

[Alt text] ten screenshots of text posts by the user themme_fatale on Instagram. The text reads:

(1/10)

Do you remember the exact moment that anti-masking stopped being a far-right talking point

And became advice you were willing to follow?

(2/10)

I try to make the ways I communicate about COVID as compassionate and non-judgemental as possible because I understand that we have all been failed in this and my primary anger is always upwards.

BUT

I also need you to understand - if you are not taking precautions, you are aligning yourself with eugenicists.

The person who actively says “fuck disabled people they deserve to 💀” and never masks, and the person who never masks because “It’s annoying and besides-no one else is” are BOTH devaluing people’s lives.

(3/10)

And that might feel confronting for some of you, and I know the knee-jerk reaction is probably going to be to deflect by accusing me of “shaming people” or whatever.

I’m not shaming anyone though - it’s just uncomfortable to sit with because if you’re the kind of person who follows me chances are you don’t actually want to be engaging in eugenics.

And re-engaging with the idea that COVID is not only still around, but still actively dangerous is asking a lot of you when the alternative is the comfort of denial.

Especially when so many of the tools to keep ourselves and each other safe have been taken away from us. But the thing is none of that is actually a reason not to act.

(4/10)

There are people IN YOUR COMMUNITY relying on you to take precautions so that they don’t d1e.

(5/10)

With love, and compassion for the fact that this shit is hard - ignorance is running out as an excuse. It’s time to do better, and help your mates do better too.

People in your community shouldn’t have to constantly remind you not to put their lives in danger. Surely you can see that’s a pretty fucked up dynamic, right?

(6/10)

We shouldn’t have to push so hard on “it’s good for you to protect yourself too!” Like it still absolutely is, but saving the lives of people in your community should actually be enough to motivate you to act.

It’s genuinely fucked up to be ok with a whole proportion of the population being either being locked in their homes indefinitely or at risk of 💀 on the daily.

(7/10)

It should be considered more socially awkward to engage in eugenics by k1lling and isolating disabled people in your own community than it is to put on a mask

The fact that it’s not should embarrass all of us until we change it.

(8/10)

It should be considered more selfish to put people’s lives at risk than to ask to be kept safe

Your choices can change or reinforce that culture.

(9/10)

Government inaction puts a weapon in your hand

Pretending it’s not there puts us all in danger

(10/10)

Why do you require a mandate to care about other people?

#it makes me nervous posting this #but the friends I have on here are some of the people I trust the most #like OP says #this is coming from a place of compassion #and as much as I want to be #we’re not don’t with covid yet #covid #covid 19 #long covid #covid conscious #covid is airborne #covid isn't over

[foreveralbon]

go ahead and smile - mv33

in which max is the only person who can bring her back to normal wc: 2k of straight yapping i'm so sorry

i really don't know if i like this or not but oh well

Days like these are the worst. The ones where it’s easier to stay quiet and closed off than feign smiles and laughter.

It’s not often that you succumb to these mood swings, but when you do it’s difficult to get out. Thoughts swirl around your head - everything and nothing all at once. Messages stay unread, unanswered and calls are declined by the first ring. The curtains stay shut and you move about the world, eyes sullen and lips downturned in a small frown. A ghost of yourself.

Sometimes all that you ache to do is to reach out and hold someone you love and remind them of it, and have everything as normal as it used to be before you shut yourself out.

But by then it’s become a routine, one where people know not to bother you because no matter what they do or what they say, none of them can break you out of your shell.

It’s only ever Max who can do that.

His smile, his smell, his touch, his presence is the one thing that can bring you back down to earth. Day after day, he reminds you that he’s always there waiting for you at the end of your bouts. You’ve come to rely on him to know what to do when you’re like this - God knows you can barely think straight, so caught up in your own head that you don’t realise what’s going on around you.

It’s hard for him to help you if he doesn’t know, though. It’s been ten days since you’ve seen him in person, and four days since you’ve spoken to anyone but him. The isolation has fallen like a blanket over you, warm and comforting but a barrier to the world you aren’t willing to remove. Except for Max.

See, it’s far more simple to fake normalcy over text than in person, and although Max knows you better than anyone else, even he can’t tell that you’ve closed yourself off through the messages you send back and forth.

Come Wednesday night and you weren’t expecting him home, but the click of the front door is a pleasant surprise. You’re swaddled in the warmth of your bed, an old movie playing softly in the background as you watch with hooded eyes.

He calls out for you, and you can hear the scuff of his feet as he slips his shoes off, making his way through his house in search of you.

“In the room,” you call back.

Max raps lightly against your bedroom door, peeking in when you don’t respond. His face lights up at the sight of you. He rushes to your side, grabbing your face to kiss you in greeting. “Hi, schatje.”

“Hi, bub,” you say. You hug him tightly, but your grip isn’t as strong as it usually is, to the point where Max has to tap out to breathe as he jokes that you’re suffocating him.

Instead, you burrow your face into his neck, inhaling the strong scent of his cologne, hands tracing the lines of muscle on his back. It's a weak attempt in grounding yourself, but the heaviness that weighs down your shoulders is still there after a moment in his embrace.

So you just groan inwardly, moving to brush your cheek against his. “Good day?”

He hums in affirmation as he rears back a bit, blue eyes mapping the slope of your face. One look at your withdrawn figure and he can tell.

The bed dips when he sits beside you. He starts to rub comforting circles on your back, big palm warm against your chilly flesh. In his mind, he’s already formulating the right plan, following an unspoken routine that he keeps for times like these.

He’s never been the best at reasoning with others, but for you, he speaks with the softest voices, comes to the most understanding solution if that’s what it takes to bring you back to him.

“How about we go out for dinner, and if you don’t feel like eating more than an entrée, we can leave?” He compromises. When he’s met with silence, Max pulls you in closer, his lips lovingly meeting your temple as he murmurs, “Please, I’ve missed you, I want to spend time with you. Just an hour.”

You relax into his touch with a resigned sigh. “Fine. One hour. Then we go home.”

—

Dinner is far from good.

You sit there, picking at the Greek salad you’d ordered, pushing the greens around your plate. Max is sat awkwardly across from you, forking pasta into his mouth in long intervals.

The restaurant buzzes around you, waiters bustling about with silverware and stacked arms of dirty dishes. A couple next to you, bouyantly joyful, clink wine glasses and talk with wide smiles. You can't help the spark of jealousy in your chest at the sight of them. It should be you who's as cheerful as they are, having a great night with the love of your life as you mark his return home.

And yet, you can't find it in yourself to speak.

It takes for you to drain your second glass of wine before Max tries to break the silence. “How has work been?”

“Good,” you mumble. “But I’ve called in sick for the last three days. Didn’t feel like leaving home.”

“You didn’t mention that to me.” Max frowns, dropping his fork onto his plate. He reaches out to grab your hand, your smaller palm fitting perfectly into the crevices of his calloused one. “You should’ve told me.”

You shrug dismissively. “I didn't want to bother you with it.”

“That's bullshit, you could never bother me. Not with things like this.” His eyes hold a pity that you can't bear to see. The carvings on the edge of the wooden table suddenly become far more interesting, and you waver under his gaze.

It doesn't take long for you to bite out a harsh, “Can we leave now?”

He inhales, like he wants to say something. But then he mutters a low fuck before calling for the waiter's attention. As the man starts to make his way to you, you stand abruptly, chair screeching so loud against the tiled floor that even Max winces at the pitch.

“I'm gonna wait in the car, yeah?”

You barely lasted forty-five minutes.

—

If you thought the car ride was going to be any better, you were greatly mistaken. If anything, it's been far more tense than anything you've ever experienced with Max.

Your fists are curled, nails pressing crescent-moon indents into the sofy skin, and you have your teeth clenched so tightly, your gums and jaw are beginning to ache.

Max’s demeanour, however, is the complete opposite of yours. The sleeves of his dress shirt have been folded up to his elbows (courtesy of you; he’s always been the kind of get his cuffs dirty while eating), and he leans back in his seat, one hand on the steering wheel and the other in his lap, calmness and relaxation personified.

The car slows to a stop as he approaches a red light. On any other day, red lights are his opportunity to sneak a kiss from you, a touch, anything. But now, you stay staring ahead, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Oh, I love this song!” He exclaims suddenly. He taps the steering wheel in succession to the beats of the song playing on the radio, whistling in a half-assed attempt to keep a proper tune. Normally, the sound of his broken whistles would be enough to crack a smile out of you, make you howl in laughter as you tease him even.

But now, you just purse your lips and reach to turn the volume down, the biggest reaction he’s gotten out of you since the restaurant.

“Come on, schatje,” Max mutters dejectedly. “Don’t do that.”

Your silence is your greatest virtue though, so he takes it as a sign to stop, the car ride quiet all the way home.

You’re out of the car the moment Max turns the off the engine, door slamming loudly behind you.

Max trails behind you into the apartment, lights flickering on when he steps in. He watches you busy yourself with turning all the lights on and opening doors to let Jimmy and Sassy into the rooms.

It's just before you enter the kitchen - to pour yourself a cup of tea, he's ready to assume - when he rushes up to you. “Wait, wait.”

“What?” You frown in confusion.

Max just rests a light hand on your shoulder, guiding you to the comfort of your room. It's the first step to his master plan: take you somewhere familiar, somewhere you feel safe. He pushes you down on the edge of the bed and crouches in between your knees.

He grins up at you as your frown deepens. “What're you doing, bub?”

His fingers press into your cheeks, pushing them back to stretch your lips into the closest thing he can get to a smile. “See? It’s not the real thing, but that there’s the girl I know. Smiley.”

“Stop, Max,” you whine as you swat his arm away.

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me,” he coaxes gently. “I know it’s one of those times but I can’t help make it better if you don’t tell me what caused it. I'm ready to talk about it when you are.”

Truth is, you really don’t know what caused it this time round. Sometimes, you can pinpoint the change to a certain event. Other times, it just happens. It’s so easy to stop smiling because it doesn’t feel like there’s a proper reason to. Because there’s no one to smile for, nothing to be happy about. Then the isolation turns you in on yourself, nothing to pull you from under that blanket of loneliness.

“I don’t know,” you admit. Your throat feels scratchy because of your prolonged silence and the words feel far too forced. “I just… wasn’t in the mood to be happy.”

His tone is soothing, raspy voice whispering with a care you’re more than familiar with. “Is it because I wasn’t there?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, shaking your head. Then you pause before nodding as an afterthought. “I don't know. Honestly.”

“Oh, schatje. It doesn’t have to be like that, you know. You don’t have to push people away.” He speaks to you softly, never falling into the cusp of condescending like how so many people have chosen to treat you in these times. He reaches over the console to brush loose strands of hair away from your face, pausing momentarily when you watch him with a desperation in your eyes. A look that pleads with him to help you leave this bad headspace.

“Sometimes,” you whisper, “it feels like there’s no point. I just want to stay home and stay silent and not have to do anything or listen to anyone. And I know I shouldn’t, so I don’t. But then it just happens even when I don’t mean for it to. I don’t know how to make it stop, Max.”

“I know you don't want it to,” Max laments, “and I know sometimes it feels like you can only find help here-” He taps your temple gently “-But it doesn't have to be like that. You don't have to shut me out or shut yourself out, and you definitely don't have to pretend that you're alright when I'm not here. So call me, text me. I'll answer, because I don't want you feeling alone. I don't want you to push me away. When I come home, I don't this version of you because it kills me to see you trapped in yourself. I want you. My smiley girl.”

His words tug at your heartstrings, a hurt that only comes about from caring too much. From loving too much. It's foolish, you know, to try and stop the tears but Max is more than consoling when it comes, brushing away your pain with the pads of his fingers.

“I'm sorry for being a bitch earlier.” But your apology needs no accepting.

Max rests your head against his shoulder, his shallow breaths calming your racing heart. He’s home and everything is right.

It’ll take a moment for it to go back to normal, though. For your home to light up again, for the messages on your phone to be answered and for your friends to become your people again. But it’ll happen. It always does.

Then with a soft kiss to your forehead, Max cements his place in your heart. “Now smile for me.”

—

author’s note: and if only i had a max for times like these lol i think i'd be a bit more sane

@namgification @lipringlrh @queen-aria-things @disneyprincemuke @demvnsriot @hiireadstuff @33-81 let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

#liyah writes #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen angst #formula one x you #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

[fairuzfan]

Sorry one more thing I wasn't going to talk about but if you had asked me about the binational state/land thing maybe... in 2016, I might have given a somewhat positive answer but I think that since then, Israeli society has become exponentially more racist and anti-Palestinian. Since then we had the Abraham Accords, Sheikh Jarrah, Massafir Yatta, the highest child martyr count in years, and now finally a full blown genocide. Many Palestinians who previously advocated for equality in a single state look at all this, especially in recent months and think "how can I live side by side with these people?"

The vast majority of Israeli society is not against war for the sake of the Palestinians, they're against war for their own safety. They say as much. Hell, look at standing together. The founder guy says "our security is tied in with the Palestinians'". So if it wasn't tied with the Palestinians', you wouldn't care? And I get sometimes you need to introduce people to ideas gently, but their entire organization language emphasizes "shared pain" when there is an oppressor/oppressed dynamic they aren't even hinting at. How can anyone achieve safety if you won't even admit you have power over your Palestinian org members?

Even Brothers in Arms claims to want to "strengthen democracy" but they completely ignore Palestinians have never experienced democracy in "Israel". So what's the point strengthening your own standing when the most disadvantaged still are at rock bottom?? Plus your whole group represents the IOF reservists/members, you have no intention of helping Palestinians when you are the primary oppressors. And this is not an insignificant group in israel!

Not many Israelis are willing to put themselves on the line to protect or even advocate for Palestinians. I mean 7+ months into a genocide and what did israeli society do other than protest *netanyahu*? Hold up flour bags during the flour massacre??? The people serving in the idf are your friends and family and community. Tel Aviv is an hour away from Gaza. Surely you can do *something* physical!! They had people at their Gaza borders starving Palestinians on purpose and people just... watched it happen. Not to mention the IOF, which many Israelis are a part of, participates in the genocide and has been lauded for their "heroism". I look at that and I think "how can I expect you to seriously consider my rights as a person? How do I know you won't miss your old status and reclaim it?"

We've seen Israelis *celebrate* and *ridicule* our martyrs and people. So like where us the good faith in all this? Where can we work with some of these people and think "Yeah I believe they'll respect my inherent dignity as a person"?

Which binationalism relies on this. You need to have good faith between communities for this to actually happen. But when one community won't even acknowledge it's status as an oppressor at the height of oppression? Then what?

Israel as a country has never faced any retribution for its actions for 75 years. No one is holding them accountable. The country teaches propaganda in its schools about the Nakba. There is not serious consideration for Palestinian rights in Israeli society. Why would they suddenly decide to participate in a project that puts Palestinians as equal to Israelis when they learned all their lives that Palestinians are ruthless, unreasonable people who can't be reasoned with, and Israelis are logical, poor victims who are actually the ones who need protection from the Palestinians!

It just is mind boggling because I see people constantly complain about the way they hear things from Palestinians these days like "all Israelis need to leave". And they go on to say "why would you be so hateful/why would you say that" and don't think for a minute they're experiencing a televised genocide of their people (which they could have ended up in their shoes! People forget that Gaza has multiple refugee camps! Any one of us could have lived there!) And conversely are looking to Israeli society for them to do anything and they see nothing. At least think for a moment why they would say these things given the context of the situation. There's a genocide going on! And you're worried about what the people who are experiencing their people's genocide are saying because you're worried for the society conducting said genocide?? Let's deal with the matter at hand first!!!!!!

#palestine #palestine discussion

[corollaservant]

Night in the Net // Shigaraki x f! reader (18+)

⟡ Synopsis: You find yourself stranded in one hell of a sexist environment: the small town's internet café. Shigaraki's on the night shift. (3.6k)

⟡ Warnings: sex with Shiggy basically, mild degradation and misogyny from our fav incel, dom!Shiggy with a twist (no quirk obviously), use of “dollface” (i like it)

⟡ A/N: No dark themes here, peace n luv. Also..yeah he is always linked to some gaming/electronic business ik!! but I like the trope/hc/almost canon.

You'd never imagine this was how your night would end.

Why are you there again? Right, your friends wanted to go to that after party, as if the club wasn't enough. What was supposed to be a night out ended up with you in the local internet café (the only after hours spot) while your friends decided to go to a house party with loud techno music, which definitely wasn’t your vibe. You and your friends lived close and would often call a taxi on your way home, money wasn’t enough for you to ride solo today though—you prayed in times like these that you at least had a job; you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone then. 

You knew pretty much everyone there, it’s not like the town had more than ten thousand residents and considering the age group and schools you’d all gone to, the internet café only had a few unknown members. On today’s shift was none other than Tomura of course, that guy was taking up as many shifts as his body would allow him to, apparently there was this rumor a family member was in crucial condition and they were in need. Tomura Shigaraki was one of these people you had branded as incel. Though hardworking (he kept a house of his own, cleaning and doing all chores by himself while providing for whomever he had), you still considered the guy as one. Now—you know the term is heavy, matter of fact, quite offending and serious as an allegation but it’s not like there weren’t rumors. Rumors he’d bash women and call them prostitutes, try to sleep with girls and trash them to his friends a day later, hating them for anything they did and claiming true love didn’t exist nowadays because “all women are sluts, who need money and validation.” Plus, he worked at the local internet café (should be enough reason), engaging in heated conversations with his friends and fellow streamers. God, one look in their chats and you'd get as violent as possible— (not much, you'd discovered it the hard way). Thus, it was no surprise that when you enter the place, you hear whispers and scoffs.

‘’The hell are you doing here?’’ A voice was heard from within, the café had the computer screens up front, a bar and a couch with TV in the back. Tomura was occupied in the designated bar the place had (you often wondered what kind of needs these people had—all they ever consumed was energy drinks and pre-packaged meals, takeouts were for reasons of competitive market prohibited). You take a deep breath.

‘’Just dropping by for a couple of hours, will leave soon.’’ You sigh as you take a seat on the couch, not bothering to talk to anyone, it wasn’t like they cared anyway. Loud noise and laughter can be heard all around, a couple of guys swearing and some younger boys excitedly standing above their screens. The store had a 16+ policy, but of course, no one ever checked so kids could practically stare unattended. Tomura also encouraged younger boys to play, such a piece of shit, you think, getting them to learn young. 

‘’Oh my fucking God, a slut just joined!’’ You hear from the front, some guy swears, presumably because a girl had joined their online server. These guys were so disgusting, you cringe, it was no wonder they were celibate without wanting it. You stand up, you need to kill some time and you're feeling bored, you think about starting a fight with Tomura, how else could you have a little bit of fun?

You weren’t ever necessarily afraid of the guy, even though you have to admit, he looks intimidating. Quite tall with a pale complexion, ashy dull hair and scars across his face; no one actually knew much about him and whether he was troubled, it’s not like he ever showed to work beaten up or high and usually kept a low profile. The only frightening thing this man had was his smile, it terrified you sometimes as it looked downright evil. 

‘’Getting them to learn young, huh?’’ You ask him, he’s washing up some cups from the previous round of gross gaming guys, who have now left.

‘’What?’’ He responds, not bothering to look up. 

‘’How to not get women, I mean.’’ You sigh as he huffs  in annoyance.

‘’You should be grateful I let a female in my store in the first place.’’ He retorts, but doesn’t seem very angry, just ironic. Usual.

My store (you decide to skip over 'female') sounds funny but you choose not to comment on it. 

‘’So how long until you guys close?’’ You ask, not bothering to fight his vocabulary—it’s routine at this point. It also never ends well and you had a great night so far, why ruin it now?

‘’Two hours.’’ 

‘’Mind if I sit on the couch? I’ll be quiet I promise’’ You ask—technically beg, as you see no other options.

‘’Ugh.. yeah I mind. There’s some guys wanting to use it, I have a group for GTA on the PS5.’’

‘’Seriously? People still play that?’’ You whine but force yourself to continue.

 ‘’Can I sit with you then?’’ It takes strength—but you say it regardless. You came to terms with the fact he was your last resort minutes ago.

‘’Sure. But you need to make yourself useful. Here, take this.’’ He hands you a wet sponge, ‘’Wash these up—carefully, while I go clean the floors.’’ He orders, as if you’re part of the staff (and new on the job apparently.)

‘’Do you actually want me to wash freaking dishes? I just came here to chill, I don’t even bother anyone!’’ You start feeling annoyed with the chores, you aren’t 16 and he isn’t your mom.

‘’You can always leave.’’ He simply states, the running tap stops and he turns to you, practically shoving the wet gloves on your chest. 

‘’Or...you can stop being a brat and be of use during your stay, I have two hours left.’’ He smiles, that same smile that makes your skin crawl and blood boil as he moves away.

‘’Fuck! My dress, you asshole!’’ A wet patch is now covering the too short dress as you glance at the time on your phone. 

Two hours. Two hours until your friends leave and he closes up anyway.

-

Tomura was at least true to his words. Within two insufferable hours of having to listen to appalling conversations between men (hardly to be considered as such), plate washing and the toilet being constantly occupied, the last customers get up to leave. 

You dry your hands and plop down the couch exhausted.

‘’Finally.’’ You exhale checking your phone, your friends hadn’t given you any life signs in the meantime, so you decide to patiently wait, they’d message eventually. Tomura is done sweeping the nasty floors from crumbs and dried Monster remnants, which he still has to mop (for the fourth time, you note and you've only been there some hours). You notice how restless he seems—the guy has been running the whole night after ignorant customers, who had not once shown basic respect for the order of the place yet never complained. Truly a shame he has such a misogynistic mindset, you think. He could get women, if he wanted to. 

It’s around 6:30 AM, when he presses a button to close the store's roll-up shutters halfway. Small light outside makes its way in but the place is still relatively dark, as he places the mop near the wall and takes a seat next to you.

‘’Fuuck, I’m so tired.’’ He sighs, making sure to spread his legs on the couch as much as he can, not caring (of course) about you also sitting on it. 

You always branded Tomura as an incel, that you knew about. But despite that, you now can’t help but feel for him, not knowing much about him at the same time. Sure, he technically isn’t the nicest guy but a look around would show you that he tries enough for a job kicking his ass. You find yourself sympathizing with a man, whose ideals you hate and try to brush these thoughts off.

‘’And why the fuck am I an incel anyway?’’ He asks, his head rests on the couch and his eyes are closed, he is scrunching severely—almost threatening to fall down. And he manspreads. A lot.

‘’W-well– I..’’ You never thought he’d caught on to that, stammering to stand your ground as you continue. ‘’Well, there have been rumors about you.’’ You say, but it doesn’t come off as confident as you’d hoped for. You also realize, it sounds kind of stupid.

‘’Reaaally? And you made sure to believe them, right?’’ His tone’s laced with irony but the way he talks—like he whispers in a raspy voice doesn't annoy you anymore. It makes you more... uncomfortable? On the edge? Excited?...what?

‘’It’s not like you don’t claim it yourself.’’ You retort, finally finding some courage. You notice him looking at you as you awkwardly shuffle in your seat.

‘’All I’ve ever said was that I think women are good for nothing. And I still believe that, but I wouldn’t waste more of my time on that.’’ The statement makes you roll your eyes.

‘’How can you generalize a whole group of people, who are literally in no way inferior to you, you can’t tell me you’ve tried—’’ 

‘’Listen dollface, unless you want to change my mind there’s no reason to fuss that much, my opinion won’t change.’’

Unless you want to change my mind?

‘’I-I don’t.’’ You stammer, because the answer and pet name (dollface??) takes you by surprise and he laughs.

‘’Relax, you branded me an incel.’’ he jokes, ‘’don’t want the rape allegations on me too.’’ 

The more he talks, the more your mind races and you curse yourself. He seems..funny? He has a mole under his lips—fuck, it looks cute...and he also looks good so (stupid as it was, yes!) you’d lie to yourself, if you say you don't want his attention. Why can’t he just look you in the eyes more?

This is so wrong. He must've noticed your lost gaze as he speaks up.

‘’Wanna watch a movie?’’ He proposes and you silently nod, anything is better than the silence hanging in the air. Silence you caused. For thinking... things about him. 

Of course Tomura ends up choosing the most depressing film anyone can possibly watch in an internet café at 6 AM, Fallen Angels, and the dramatic cuts make it hard for you to concentrate. He at a certain point leans closer to you but you justify it, how else would he be able to see?

During this one scene, the woman pleasured herself with her legs closed, rubbing together and that’s when you felt a soft hand touch on your thigh. The dress you wore rode up, because your legs rested on the table ahead so it gave him the space he needed. The movement made you tingle and your core involuntarily contracted. The smooth fingers teasingly trailed up and down your leg, from your knees to your inner thighs. You didn’t want to look at him—he was too close and the scene seemed endless. But…he went on about it as if nothing was happening. 

Without saying a word, he carried on. A pad of his finger tip was dangerously close to your now heated entrance, the images flashing before your eyes lewd, his hand tempting and threatening to reach your already soaked cunt—all this while the two of you hadn’t even shared a kiss. But he didn't stop, looking ahead and acting like everything’s fine, until he touched your lower lips and you hissed, his finger traced the wet spot over your underwear while you tried to move and speak up. 

‘’W–what are y—’’

‘’Shh..’’ is all he says. 

You want to tell him no. But no to what? You like the feeling of his two fingers against your folds. His palm moves your panties to the side and he stuffs them inside—they dampen from the fluids. How is he that quick? You can’t form a response but you’re about to ask him why—

‘’All that and I haven’t even kissed you.’’ He murmurs, gaze still fixated on the television ahead as you moan, when he slowly pumps them within your walls. Fuck, are you turned on by this?

‘’P-please..’’ You whisper, turning to look at him and for the first time, his eyes are removed from the stupid TV, a sly smile on his features as he tears away his hand.

‘’What is it? Want the incel to kiss you? Maybe even fuck you to prove a point?’’ He says and you frown.

‘’I—no, I have to go.’’ You get up, fixing (lowering) your dress—you have nowhere to go but you’ll figure it out eventually. You think staying longer only plays into his cruel intentions and whilst you can’t deny the pleasure he could give you, your pride’s in the way.

‘’You’re not going anywhere.’’ A wet hand clasps around your wrist and brings you on his lap, as he grins— you seem confused at the sensation. You are hiding the TV screen but he couldn't care less, he never paid attention to the movie.

‘’Feel the stain you left, too?’’ He says as he brings your face closer with the sticky palm grabbing you by the hair. You softly moan, noticing the small mole up close and feeling a bulge poke where your bodies meet. You sway your hips in a silent effort to have him initiate a kiss—you feel desperate and curse yourself again internally. He can only smile.

You were so clueless, prancing around in that slutty dress earlier—making him hard like that, did you even know it?

He’s quick to kiss you, eager for more already, as mouths clash, teeth collide, the need you both have for each other exceeds proper manners. You sloppily grind against him, the friction from a long outline beneath you makes it hard to think.

‘’I’m guessing, you’re really fucking the incel then.’’ He half smirks as he grabs you and repositions you to sit on his now fully hard cock that throbs in his pants; he lifts your dress above your ass and guides your hips sluggishly back and forth— he’s tormenting you and he enjoys it to the fullest.

‘’T-tomura..p-please.’’ You mewl, the urge to have him inside you makes you blabber.

‘’Please what?’’ He slides a hand behind your waist, lowering it to find your slit from behind, his fingers pet your cunt and you moan. Loudly. He is tugging at your panties, the fabric annoys him and he wants full access and the words. The words to prove his point.

‘’P–please.. fuck me already!’’ You breathe out and he groans to the sound of your voice. 

The ironic remark he’d prepared evaporates as he quickly pushes you back, just enough to not fall off his lap and quickly unzips his pants, thanking God for not wearing a belt. 

His pants and underwear are sloppily moved down his knees, as his cock jumps with a pop on his lower abdomen, stiff with a weeping tip. Pretty veins throb around it as your eyes widen.

Shit, he’s big, can you take him?

‘’I’d ask for a nice blowjob, dollface, but wouldn’t want the feminists after me.’’ He says as he brings you close, kissing you yet again, a string of spit runs down your jaw, as your hands roam his tangled, uncombed hair. 

He positions you on his cock, one hand snakes around your waist while the other one clings to the back of your scalp and you’re swiftly lifted by the head and pushed down on him, as you let out a scream.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ He hisses, quickly looking around, the sensation from almost his whole length makes you tremble, he feels too full, too painful..too good.

‘’Shit, c’mon now you got this.’’ He encourages as you hesitantly move up and down his cock, gripping his shoulders and looking at him—he seems more concentrated on the sensation than your body, staring at you while you wrap around his length.

‘’Fuck..dollface, this too much for ya?’’ He tries not to grunt and you give your best not to cry, each moment that goes by turning the initial pain to pleasure—your cunt adjusts slowly and bit by bit to his girth. 

‘’T-tomura.. y-yes..it’s too much!’’ You whine, sweat forms in your forehead as his hands find your swollen clit and circle it while your nails dig deeper in his shirt.

‘’You can take it.’’ He says, he feels your cunt squeezing him in, you bounce with dedication on his legs, making the couch squeak as if on some sex tape—you want to bring yourself even closer. So nasty, aren't you? Acting righteous, only to fuck yourself on his cock like a desperate whore.

‘’I-ugh-p-please..’’ You try to speak but he secures his hand around your torso and sinks (lower than before) down the couch. Two strong hands force you to stay still in the air while he drills himself into you at a steady pace—kind of sloppily too. Both of you moan, the position gives equal pleasure, your clit bumps on his groin and his cock reaches your g-spot with ease.

‘’S–Shit, you’re squeezing way too much, haven’t you been fucked like this before?’’ He sounds annoyed but the stammer in his voice betrays him.

Not like this, you want to say but can’t really speak the words. Your weight falls entirely on him, he doesn’t mind one bit—he loves it actually, this skin on skin contact as he guides you on his cock, it feels surreal. He hits soft and spongy spots inside while you slowly fall apart. 

‘’T-Tomura right there..I ugh—I'm close!’’ The sensation overwhelms you, his eyes are still fixated on your face, yeah I can tell, he thinks. He gets off on your desperation, mouth parted all for him? Your eyes threaten to spill by the way he tears apart your cunt and your morals bit by bit.. it’s—

‘’Tomura, aren't you closing yet?’’ Someone asks from outside, interrupting the moment. The shutters only show a pair of shoes. 

‘’Yeah, I’m on it.’’ Shigaraki stops composed, cockwarming you in a funny way, while a hand—his hand covers your mouth. Your eyes widen as slick trickles down his thighs in silence.

‘’Alright, see you then.’’ The man leaves and he cusses him out. (''Cunt.'')

‘’We’re not done.’’ He turns his attention back to you and seizes your face, bringing your mouth closer.

‘’Open up.’’ He orders and you do—clenching around him in anticipation.

He spits in it and closes the gap with his index finger. 

‘’Swallow or I won’t continue.’’ You quickly gulp down.

‘’So obedient all of a sudden, aren't you?’’ Sarcasm laces the words as he gives your ass a solid hit, before starting to get back on his pace, only more rough this time, he longs for your release on him. You’re moving up and down his length, trying to grab anything accessible really, his hair, the back of the couch, under his shirt and you feel your orgasm resurface stronger—the delay has highlighted all of your senses.

‘’T-Tomura—’’ You shudder, as his cock hits your g-spot expertly–fuck, this guy wasn't some incel–and your swollen clit has to brush one last time past his groin before you feel an overwhelming orgasm take over. You clamp down his length and moan embarrassingly. (Fuck Tomura! I–I'm.. too good!) This time..he lets you, he needs to hear this.

‘’Fuuck—agh– look at you dollface.’’ He hums, a feminist creaming herself on my cock, he wants to add but it’s too many words and your orgasm has just coated his shaft so he wastes no time. He brings your neck close to his mouth and bites on it, teeth sink into your flesh and hands force you all the way down. He cums inside, groaning and trying to stifle his moans by biting down the sensitive skin even harder. 

And fuck if that isn’t hot.

He keeps you on him, arms fastening your waist, cum dripping on his lowered pants but neither of you bother to care, ragged breaths and the sounds of the film still playing as more light enters through the rolled shutters.

God must’ve been on your side that day because a message appears on your screen moments after you both wordlessly got up and cleaned yourselves in the bathroom. Tomura would have to clean again, you think, as the message on your phone signals your time to leave.

You turn to look at him, he has removed his shirt and small nail scratches decorate his pale back and you..smile. What the hell? Was this..? Oh no—You try to find an appropriate goodbye.

See you soon? Thanks for the mind blowing dick? You aren’t the incel I thought you were? Everything seems embarrassing at present time. 

‘’I-I’ll be seeing you soon.’’ You opt for that, stupid as it is, you still look at him in anticipation. He turns to you, hands on the mop cleaning near the couch and nods. 

Great, you think, that was a disaster. You defeatedly walk (actually stoop to get past the almost closed door) feeling like a hooker after a client, miserable and kind of used. This is always the worst part. 

You feel an arm touch your shoulder, you’ve only taken a few steps in the daylight.

‘’Take this in case you revoke your incel statement.’’

Tomura hands you a piece of paper and quickly disappears behind the store’s shadows.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x you #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura x reader #mha x reader #tenko x reader #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura x reader #tw degradation

[starlight-bread-blog]

It's Zutara Month 2024 So I'm Gonna Discuss (See: Fangirl) Them and Emotional Labor

Katara cooks, sews, but most of all: she gives unconditional emotional support for her brother, and later the rest of the Gaang.

Illustrated after Appa was stolen, the Gaang got stuck in a desert without much water, food or any means of transportation besides their legs. Katara gave everyone her bending water, without drinking any herself, responded to everyone with compassion, and by the end she helped bring Aang back to himself while he was out of control in the Avatar State.

Even after the episode is over, next episode and she helps delivering a baby, and still makes sure to look after Aang.

Sokka too testified that Katara did a lot of labor for him:

Sokka: Actually, in a way, I rely on [Katara's bossiness].

Toph: I don't understand.

Sokka: When our mom died, that was the hardest time in my life. Our family was a mess, but Katara, she had so much strength. She stepped up and took on so much responsibility. She helpwd fill the void that was left by our mom.

Toph: I guess I never thought about that.

And appropriately, Katara is the one doing the vast majority of the emotional labor in her relationships. She takes care everyone, comfrots them, and protects them. Take "The Deserter" as an example: Aang was being extremely careless with his new found fire bending ability, to the point where he accidently burns Katara's hands.

Katara herself never express her anger at him, she ends up healing her own wounds. Sokka does the scolding. A\ang felt incredibly guilty, but still – by the end, Katara is the one comfroting Aang when he wants to give up on fire bending.

Katara takes care of everyone in the Gaang, making sure they're well, helping them heal their scars. Moreover, Katara often brings up her own grief to empthize with other people's loss. It's a pattern of sorts:

1) A character talks about their past with the Fire Nation

Haru: Yeah. Problem is ... [Close-up, earthbends two stones in a circle above his hand.] the only way I can feel close to my father now is when I practice my bending. He taught me everything I know.

Jet: The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever.

Hama: I'm sorry. It's too painful to talk about anymore.

2) Katara brings up her own grief, sympathizing with their loss

Katara (to Haru): See this necklace? My mother gave it to me.

Katara (to Jet): Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.

Katara (to Hama): We completely understand. We lost our mother in a raid.

A\ang is a bit of an exception, given that she brought up her grief to prepare him for the loss of his people. (Ad they all respond sympathetically). Still, she brings it up to sympathize and help. There is nothing wrong with that, of course. but here is how it went with Zuko:

1) A character talks about their past with the Fire Nation

Katara: You have no idea what this war has put me through! Me personally! The Fire Nation took my mother away from me.

2) Katara brings up her own grief, sympathizing with their loss

Zuko: I'm sorry. That's something we have in common.

It's Zuko who responds to her grief this time. It's him empathizing with her. It's him doing the emotional labor for her. And it's this sympathy is their first real civil conversation, establishing that in their relationship, Zuko will do some of the labor needed of him.

In The Southern Raiders, Katara opens up to Zuko, compleyely unprompted, while she is yet to forgive him, about the precise events that led to her mother's death.

A thing she has never done with anyone, and is doing now with someone she considers untrust worthy. Zuko responds with "your mother was a brave women". She, once again, is on the reciving end of the emotional labor – and in a way that is deeper than any other intance of her in the show.

In rest of the episode, Zuko is the one thinking of her and taking care of her.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Exhibit C:

Katara takes care of everyone, but it is with Zuko that she recives the help she deserves.

She put herself in danger to help A\ang, she helpped him after he'd burnt her, and she stepped up when her mother died. But with Zuko, he is the one reaching out. He's the one taking care of her needs.

#zutara #zutara month 2024 #zutara month #zutara meta #pro zutara #anti anti zutara #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #zutara analysis #zutara evidence #zutara forever #zutara nation #zutara should have been canon #zutara supremacy #zutara was robbed #zutarian

[fuck-i-love-october]

"Sunkiller doesn't even make any sense as a duo!"

Barty Crouch Jr. Could relate to James potter more than ANYONE and you cannot convince me otherwise. Barty would know how insecure James truly was, even when most people wouldn't look past his confident facade. Barty knows what it's like for James when he's so overwhelmed by his perpetual people pleasing that he can't eat or speak or think much. Barty sees James and he doesn't care enough about his status to confront James about it. James is awfully quiet the first time Barty inquires him. He's avoidant. He's awkward and replies with a dry cough as he glanced around away from Barty.

Over time it builds. Barty asks him more and more frequently, approaching him more often at parties and socials. "How's your week been, James?"

And it spirals. James eventually breaks and can't help but begin to share with him. He tells Barty about his weeks. He rambles and he rants and he takes all of Barry's advice because Barty knows. Knows what it's like to feel so much without seemingly anyone who knows how to feel back. And this became a routine. A ritual. The one-sided conversations became a mutual exchange and the two of them gradually fell into an understanding. James could be honest with Barty. And Barty could be blunt with James. Something tucked away into the hours of the moon, on secluded balconies or amidst blaring party music and blinding lights. Away from anyone's notice. They ordered it that way. Less complicated less, important.

So it certainly came as a surprise to the lot of the Marauders when James came into the dorms gripping at his chest in choked sobs and the first words he could muster were "Barty. Get..Barty."

And be damned, they did. And he actually followed. Sirius was sure on his way to the Slytherin dorms that the whole idea was a waste. That Barty might actually laugh in their faces. But Sirius was none the wiser when Barty threw his shoes on and practically ran out the door back to the very room James sat in.

And Sirius wasn't any more than confused when Barty talked James through his panic attack. James calmed down fairly quickly, not in Bartys arms but a hand on his shoulder, easing him through his breaths.

And a month later when Barty was having one of his off days, an incredible low after one of his highest highs, that James was able to, by the grace of good, get Barty out of bed. He got Barty showered and fed and he walked him through his day. Evan felt utterly useless, but what was he to do when James potter was the only thing Barty could rely on? What was Sirius to do when James said the very same?

They know each other. They are each other.

A sun and a campfire, forever parallel, forever together. The sun wished it could be so small and secluded and the campfire that wishes it could be so bearing and apparent.

Forced apart. Sewn together.

#marauders #james potter #peter pettigrew #regulus black #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders era #james fleamont potter #the outsiders #jegulus #james x barty #barty x james #barty crouch jr #sunkiller

[cenittxnadir]

A little fever (Nightcrawler x Reader)

Okey, so this is my very firt story with Kurt. I´ll be posting more soon about him, for the moment I will only write about him. So please tell me if you like it or if you some ideas. You know the drip, english is not my first lenguage... nor german...

Having free time was something new within the mansion, now with Magneto in charge of the institute and reorganizing the activities among the inhabitants of the mansion, he left several mutants without many responsibilities other than taking care of the minors and ensuring that they complete their tasks and training. Because yes, Magneto may be a terrorist and a murderer, but he will never be irresponsible towards education, especially towards the youngest members of the house. So every day he personally made sure that each and every one of the young people attended their classes.

Very responsible on his part, but it does not take away the feeling of discomfort in some of the members, especially the X-Men like Wolverine or Scott, -the only thing they have agreed on since Professor Xaver died-

However, this didn't bother you that much, since you shared the idea with Rogue of giving Magnus a second chance. Because if life had given you a second chance to do things well and help others with your powers, why would you be the one who would deny it to someone else who in the end only seeks to continue with the Professor's dream. Maybe a very innocent or naive move on your part in wanting to see the best in the worst situations but they couldn't blame you either, that's what happens when you live for a long time with a certain blue ex-priest.

Kurt Wagner or better known as Nightcrawler is famous among the mansion even though his humility does not allow him to recognize it, but he is very loved within the mutant community, both at the institute and in Genosha. Since his arrival at the mansion, Kurt has been the echo of the people who continue their struggle and the voice of those who cannot raise it due to the impunity that lives in a world where being different was wrong.

But for you, more than a spokesperson or a faithful follower of God's teachings, he was a man, a very good one whom you had the fortune of calling boyfriend and sharing life with him for a couple of years now.

Unfortunately, being someone who was too influential within the community, Magneto relied a lot on him and his professionalism to deal with complicated issues within Genosha. He was recently offered the position as Faith Group Mediator in Genosha and it was definitely not an opportunity he would pass up, there was so much to do and learn. But Kurt is still one person against the hundreds of problems that a nascent nation can have, the poor man was exhausted but his determination to help was greater than his physical or emotional ailments.

You had been living apart for a couple of months now, the problem was not the distance, Megneto was kind to you and gave you access to the Jet as many times as you wanted so you could go visit him, but like Kurt, you were also someone important among the X-Men, you were a very good teacher and guide for the younger ones who were just awakening their abilities and Magneto needed you in that area. It was not an easy decision for the two of you but it was a good opportunity to explore new areas in your lives, you as the one in charge of guiding and educating the new generations and him as a founding member of the nation that would accommodate those new generations.

Lately due to both of their workloads it has caused communication to be minimal, but this would soon change for you since the holidays were approaching and you would have more free time and the possibility of visiting him for a couple of weeks but the problem is that Kurt was not answering your messages or calls, worried you went to the person you least expected to go to discuss a topic of this type.

It was the 5th turn you had taken in the hallway that led to Magneto's office door. You didn't know how to start the conversation or how to ask him, maybe Kurt was very busy and going to visit him would only delay him in his work and you didn't want that to cause him problems with Magneto, even though he now plays for the good guys you are still afraid of him. Whatever the reason Kurt wasn't responding, you had to make a decision right then and there.

A couple more turns and you almost left marks from your shoes on the carpet.

"Come on, you can do it. It's just Magneto, the greatest mutant ex-terrorist in history, what could go wrong?" You started to encourage yourself "Come on, don't you want to see Kurt?" You counted to three, it's now or never. You barely touched the wooden door when it opened.

"I was just going to look for you" "Me? Why?" You were more confused "You might want to sit down." He said something serious as he offered you a seat. "It's about Kurt. He's not okay, there was a flu outbreak on the island recently, nothing alarming, but, he hasn't stopped working since he arrived in Genosha, I've trying to talk to him, he needs to rest and recover from the fever but he doesn't listen to me"

You didn't know what impressed you more, Magneto's concern or Kurt being sick. No one knows if it's part of his mutation or if he just has a good immune system, but it's extremely rare for Kurt to get sick. "I need you to go to Genosha and stop him, it seems that he only listens to you."

"Well... that explains why he doesn't want to talk to me. He doesn't answer my messages, much less my calls. I just hope that after this you give him a break from so much work, Erick." You were a little upset with him, with both of them actually, Erick for making Kurt work too much and Kurt because he is not good at asking for help. "I'll leave right away"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It only took you a few minutes to get everything ready to go, you thought Hank would be more reluctant to lend you the Jet but as soon as he found out what was happening with Kurt he didn't think twice. After a couple of hours you finally arrived at the mutant nation of Genosha, everything was very different from the first time you visited just a couple of months ago. Everything was very beautiful, the lights, the people so colorful and friendly, children being free and happy. It was a dream.

Quickly got out of your thoughts and focused on finding your blue boyfriend who is most likely hiding away working. It was not difficult to find it, Magneto gave instructions on where to look and sure enough. Inside a large window in the main city building was Kurt... well, part of him, you could only see his pointy ears behind a pile of paper towers.

You slowly approached to knock on his door. Silence. Suddenly there was only the sound of a chair being dragged and something moving inside the room. A few seconds later the door opened revealing a rather tired Kurt. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, which didn't shine like they usually did.

"Meine Liebe?" You couldn't help but smile as you listened to Kurt, he sounded overly impressed to see you. Although the smile did not last long since Kurt sounded very bad, he was hoarse and if it were not for the light from the hallway that illuminated his face you would have ignored the color in his cheeks and the sweat on his forehead.

"You're not okay, Krut, you need to rest" was the only thing you could respond, opening the door completely and revealing the office, there were hundreds of papers scattered all over the place. "You haven't stopped working since you arrived. You had me worried" Kurt didn't say anything, just hung his head in some shame. "It's true, I didn't tell you anything because I didn't want to worry you, I wanted to finish work so I could return to the mansion with you as a surprise but work just keeps piling up and this flu won't leave me alone" He sounded really fed up with the situation.

"Come on, you have to rest. I'll take you home and prepare you something to eat." You took him by the arm carefully. "You probably haven't eaten anything useful all day."

"Of course I have eaten my love! Here in Genosha there is a lot of variety of food and delicious dishes" He said with his circus voice, he always uses it when he is happy or wants to show you something that excites him very much. Or well, with a voice attempt, it really sounded very hoarse

"Dear, candy and desserts don't count as food." You pointed to a pile of wrappers on the side of his desk. "I'm surprised you've never actually had a toothache or something at this point."

You approached his desk to arrange the papers he was working on. "Well, take your things, let's go get something to eat and let you rest."

"But Mein Schatz, I still have a lot of work to do. I can't leave, but you can go ahead and make yourself at home" He gave you the keys to his room

"Kurt, I came here to check on you and make sure you're resting and for God's sake that's what I'm going to do. If I have to take drastic measures or even if I have to drag you to your room I will do it. Don't make me go to extremes Kurt Wagner" You wanted to sound serious but it was almost impossible, you were too happy to see him.

"If you continue to be reckless, then I will have to leave and there will be no cuddling sessions for at least a whole month, anyway you are very busy with your work. I think I better go" You said with a fake sad tone as you walked towards the exit but a huge gasp stopped you.

"You wouldn't dare do that! Saying that is like blasphemy." Kurt looked at his desk for a second. "On second thought, going to rest doesn't sound so bad." He looked at you with concern, he really thought you were going to leave him without his sessions. They were sacred to him.

"Well, let's go. It's still early, if we leave right now we'll have more time for ourselves." You didn't even finish speaking when Kurt was already on the side of the door ready to leave with you.

When you got to his room you could see Kurt better, his face was tired and the fever was still there.

"Why don't you take a bath while I'll take care of the food?" you took his face in your hands, caressing his cheek and then leaving a kiss on his nose.

The bath took effect and soon his temperature began to drop but he still had to eat something before taking his medicine. They were both sitting on the couch eating some hot soup while watching something on television, although it was just background noise.

Kurt was telling you what his days had been like since he arrived, you were paying attention but you couldn't help but see how he rubbed his shoulder constantly.

"Love? Are you okay?" you pointed to his shoulder

"Ah, it's nothing, it's just that I haven't been able to sleep well lately and well... sitting for hours is not very pleasant" He said with a sideways smile showing one of his fangs.

Without saying anything you took him by the hand and led him to the bed, asking him to lie face down while you took some oils and creams from your backpack. Kurt initially refused because he knew he was going to fall asleep and wanted to spend the night awake with you talking. Not a very smart plan considering his state of health. The complaints were short-lived once he felt your hands on his back. Almost by magic, Kurt remained silent and soon you only heard small snoring due to his congestion. You couldn't help but laugh a little, he looked so adorable. You took his blanket and tucked him in, giving him a kiss on the head.

You quickly cleaned what was used during dinner and changed your clothes to lie next to Kurt, who almost as if it were a magnetic force moved until he was lying on your chest. You were definitely going to wake up with the flu but that didn't matter.

"Please don't go," Kurt said in his sleep.

"No, my love. I'm going to stay here with you"

#nightcrawler #kurt wagner #x men 97 #xmen #comics #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #fluff #please i need this

[the-catboy-minyan]

I’m tired of people telling me who and what to boycott.

Like okay i can boycott this country for said actions. But it doesn’t mean i hate the people. I feel bad for them.

I hate their leaders for dictating said action. The people living under the leaders are victims too for all the targeted hate online.

Idc if my friend’s Russian or Israeli or whatever. I support all my friends. But they will have to accept my opinions as much as i do their opinions.

Sorry. I just had to vent and you seemed like nice person

That being said. You seem nice and fun!

I understand what you mean, but when you boycott, do you actually look at what the company or business had done before you decide if to support it or not?

sure, McDonald's gives a discount to IDF soldiers on uniform, and donated meals to soldiers when the war started because a lot of people had to be drafted without notice and they weren't prepared, if that's enough reason for you to boycott their restaurants then sure, technically, your money can go to support the IDF in a roundabout way.

most Israeli companies have no relation to the government, and potentially employ arab Israelis and Palestinians, they're also one of the main sources of kosher food for diaspora jews, since most Israeli companies market to israeli jews. boycotting them for being from Israel will only harm the workers and the customers who rely on them. there was an incident where an Israeli company was boycotted so hard that they had to lay off a large amount of Palestinian workers, though I can't remember the name to look up a source.

companies like starbucks, who only took down a political statement their employee made on their company accounts, aren't actually related to this issue at all, so boycotting them is useless. they aren't funding the government or the IDF in any way.

and small Jewish and Israeli businesses in the diaspora would also most likely have nothing to do with the Israeli government, and even if they made a statement in support of Israel (not their government) before, they're not big enough to personally fund the IDF in any way.

there's a small problem with boycotts atm, and that is that because of capitalism, this will harm the workers first and the company second. so unless you have proof the company actually funds the IDF or Netanyahu or something, like how there's proof KFC(iirc?) funded lgbtqphobic bills or something like that (i have no clue tbh we don't have kfc here), then boycotting them just means you're punishing businesses for having any and all contact with Israel and Israelis, as if the people themselves are personally responsible for genocide.

yeah, there are dictatorships where the leaders control the companies and boycotting said companies actually does something because they're affiliated with the government, but most Israeli companies are not like that, and if there are, then by all means boycott them.

idk I'm rambling, I can't tell you who and what to boycott, I just personally don't think it's an affective strategy when it harms the employees more than the business itself and when the current goal is to punish anyone who interacts with an Israeli in any positive way.

#asks #boycott #israel

[vickyvicarious]

Then seizing the shaving glass, he went on: "And this is the wretched thing that has done the mischief. It is a foul bauble of man's vanity. Away with it!" and opening the heavy window with one wrench of his terrible hand, he flung out the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pieces on the stones of the courtyard far below. Then he withdrew without a word. It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave, unless in my watch-case or the bottom of the shaving-pot, which is fortunately of metal.

.

He has a curious habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to read one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. Do you ever try to read your own face? I do, and I can tell you it is not a bad study, and gives you more trouble than you can well fancy if you have never tried it. He says that I afford him a curious psychological study, and I humbly think I do.

Several of us pointed out last year how the timing of Dracula Daily juxtaposes these two lines/scenes, with Jonathan's mirror being taken from him just before Lucy talks about looking into hers. I'm going to try not to retread the same point too much, but instead I'd like to note the contrast between the way Lucy and Dracula speak of mirrors.

Dracula calls mirrors an agent of man's vanity. Essentially, he's dismissing them as promoting excessive ego. Looking in the mirror too often leads one to think too highly of themselves. And the image of a beautiful young woman spending time staring at herself in her mirror plays right into stereotypes about exactly that. It suggests self-absorption, obsession with beauty over substance, etc.

But that's clearly not what Lucy is doing. She links her mirror to self-knowledge, not self-praise, and in fact specifically points out the difficulties involved. She is flattering herself a little here as she says, but only in the context of realizing it can be hard to figure her out from appearances alone. Her doctor friend says she's a curious study, and despite looking her straight in the face cannot figure her out. Even she has trouble telling from her mirror. This could hint at her deliberately putting on a false front, or perhaps at feelings of uncertainty about her own identity, or difficulty expressing herself in the ways she wants. Regardless, her time spent looking into mirrors isn't vain, it's inquisitive.

And while that doesn't match up to what Dracula says about mirrors, it fits very well with the reality of what mirrors mean to him. He has no mirrors in his castle. Not because he's humble; he's obviously got a very inflated sense of his own importance and superiority. But he doesn't keep mirrors because they reflect what he is by failing to reflect him at all. It's a curious mix of being unable to see or know himself by looking at his own reflection... but also being known/revealed in a way that cuts past any examination of his actual face. Jonathan looks very closely at Dracula when he meets him, but despite spotting various unusual features* he doesn't realize his monstrous nature. But when he sees him in the mirror - or rather, nothing where he should be - he finds his first real proof that Dracula is inhuman. And that's why Dracula gets rid of Jonathan's mirror; he hates being known, unlike Lucy who enjoys the struggle of trying to figure herself out.

Mirrors as a window to knowledge also connects back to Jonathan. With his mirror stolen and destroyed, his ability to assess himself is hampered accordingly. Perhaps it would be a difficult study regardless (as Lucy says) but no mirror makes that even harder. He will have to rely on sub-par reflections in tools not made for that purpose. Not just to shave, but to be able to see himself. This coming when he realizes there are no other people around cuts him off even from seeing himself from the outside, so he can't see a human face... only Dracula's face. But also, Dracula is outright trying to deny him knowledge, and Jonathan is in a position where he's having to try and maintain his faith in his own sanity. The inability to look at his own face and examine his appearance might make that harder... although it also cuts him off from comparing his current appearance to how he used to look, and I suspect the lack of that comparison might be better than the alternative at times.

* This also ties in physiognomy. An inherently racist "science", of course, but one that was popular at the time this book was written, and engaged in by a couple characters. I don't think Jonathan outright says he's examining Dracula's features for that purpose, but I believe readers could be expected to take that description and use it to 'figure out' aspects of his personality. It's possible that Lucy is hinting at using a similar process on herself here, but if so then she seems not wholly satisfied with the results. She isn't saying that studying her face reveals her true character - closer to the opposite, if anything.

#dracula daily #lucy westenra #count dracula #jonathan harker #dracula meta #my meta

[theresattrpgforthat]

any ttrpgs for spooky dark boarding school stories? gotham academy, the boarding school: las cumbres, wednesday, that kinda thing?

THEME: Dark Boarding Schools

Hello there, at first I felt like this overlapped with all of my magic school recommendations, but once I did some digging, I realized that there's a lot of big differences! That also means that there was a good number of games I haven't recommended before, so I hope there's something here that fits what you're looking for.

Tangled Blessings, by Cassi Mothwin.

On the eve of your final exam at Brackroot Academy, what mysteries, secrets, dread, and drama will you recall from your last four years of schooling?

Tangled Blessings is a solo journaling or two-player RPG inspired by dark academia media, ghost stories, and graduate school. Featuring a wizarding college, wandering specters, assigned houses, curses, devils’ bargains and more supernatural flavor, Tangled Blessings blends horror and the fantastical to help players craft a story that spans their time at the academy — culminating in one final showdown against their rival.

If your favorite stories ever involved sneaking around an ancient building, uncovering dangerous secrets, studying in a dusty library, practicing spells on the lawn, or making perilous deals with creatures lurking in the darkness… This game is for you.

Tangled Blessings is a game about discovering the dark secrets hidden behind the allure of a secret magical world. You use a tarot deck to determine your character’s placement at the school, the nature of their rival, and the ghosts and creatures that will emerge throughout your years at the school. Each year is represented by a series of card draws, which will represent events that you have to decide how you respond to. If you play this game using the 2-player variant, each of you will play each-other’s rivals, comparing your results to see how the school year affects the both of you. The game culminates in a Final Exam that will determine whether you or or rival comes out on top.

St. Hornbeck, by belsaas.

Welcome to St. Hornbeck College/

Atop a small hill in the woods just outside the small town of Southfield, WI sits a College. Old, copper-rimmed limestone buildings huddle together against the harsh winters, while herds of students wander between them in search of wisdom, kinship and the occasional party. Soon, those herds of students will include you. There are two main reasons for enrolling at St. Hornbeck. Firstly, they have a leading program in the field you want to major in (yes, whatever you may choose). Secondly, there are only a handful of colleges that accept monster-teens in America…

This game relies on traditional teenage tropes to inform your character background, and leans fully into the allegory of monstrosity being a metaphor for young adulthood. Gameplay occurs over a series of scenes, marking various days in the calendar of the school year. In each scene, you can roll for or choose complications related to your monstrosity as a way to invite tension and obstacles for your characters to overcome. If you want to see something that’s a bit darker, you might want to check out this game’s inspiration, by snagging Midnight Oil from Jay Dragon’s Patreon.

Lost Years, by Summerwood Games.

The boarding school in this game is any boarding school, every boarding school. The walls are old stone or red brick, the dormitories are filled with young people going through the agonizing process of becoming themselves, classrooms retrofitted with ceiling tiles and modern lighting.

There are spaces of this school that belong only to us students, sacred rites performed in them that mean nothing to others and everything to us. We smoke cigarettes in the basement, make out in the tack room, make meaningful eye contact across the cricket pitch. I will tell you two truths and a lie: no one can take these years from us, none of us will be the same when we leave, no class will teach us more than we learn from one another. Can you see now which one is the lie? We couldn’t.

Lost Years is a Belonging Outside Belonging game set in a boarding school menaced by a mysterious force that threatens to empty the students of everything that makes them themselves. Meant for 3-5 players, it can be played as a one-shot but is most suited for multi-session play. 

Lost Years looks to be a game that focuses on the emotional highs and lows of being a teenager trying to survive in a strange environment away from the eyes of their parents - but still under the control of some form of authority. Your characters will fill the roles of various tropes from boarding school media, such as the Sporty One, or the Witchy One.

Because this game is BoB, the school itself will fill the foreground, with various locations such as the Attic and the Greenhouse being fleshed out by different players around the table. If you want a game that focuses on the themes of dark academia and how they affect the relationships of these students, you might want to check out Lost Years.

Never & More, by Small Stories.

NEVER & MORE is a quick-play roleplaying game and Edgar Allan Poe-inspired hack of John Harper's Lasers & Feelings.

You are the newest recruits of The Society of Ushers, an occult secret society. Your mission is to prove yourself to your superiors, master the rituals required to move up a rung, and learn how to talk to ravens. Your direct superior and teacher, the Belfry-Devil, has finally deemed you suitable to circulate by yourselves amongst greater society, trusting you to remain faithful to the Ushers in the face of attempted poaching, targeted seduction, and superior parties.

This isn’t necessarily a game about academia, but I think it carries similar elements of learning, dark secrets, and hierarchy. Lasers and Feelings games balance your characters between two qualities; in this case, you are torn between your desire for safety and your hunger for knowledge. You can play this as a one-shot or draw it out if you like, just keep in mind that these types of games usually don’t have resources for character advancement, so your characters won’t gain any new abilities - although whether or not they learn from their mistakes is up to you.

Precarious Prep, by Seaworks.

Welcome to Precarious Prep.

Something dark is going on at Precarious Preparatory School, and one detective - your GM - needs somebody on the inside. In the daytime you'll take classes, get to know the students and faculty, figure out who you can trust. The better you do in class, the faster you'll level up. At night you'll investigate the campus, search for clues, and unlock puzzles. Report your discoveries to the detective to gain points.

Instead of having 6 universal stats, Precarious Prep uses a curriculum - the stats your character takes on are determined by the course load you pick up each trimester. The better you do in classes, the more firepower you’ll have in your investigations. Classes can be fully relevant, partially relevant, or irrelevant to the checks you need to make throughout the game, so coordinate with your team and round out your education with a variety of skills.

Precarious Prep uses something called Discovery Points to indicate how close your students are to revealing what exactly is going on at this preparatory school. Your characters use the things they are learning in class to investigate the mystery, while trying to avoid generating enough suspicion to get them kicked out. Many of the rules strive to generate a number of different gambles that the players can take while trying to gather information - will you do something that increases your chances of success while also increasing your chances of getting expelled? Can you get enough information before the school year ends - or before one of you gets killed?

This game is still in open beta, which means it’s free, but also that it might still have some kinks that need to be worked out. The designer is very eager for feedback, so if you take a look at this game, you might be able to contribute to the final product!

I’d Also Recommend….

The Gardening Club, by Wizard of Ox.

#dark academia #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg

[drdemonprince]

CW: suicide, commitment, psychosis

My sibling is someone who unequivocally says being committed saved their life and was not inherently traumatic outside of the extremely traumatic mental health crisis that led to it. (However, our local psych ER/psych inpatient is probably one of the better ones and does not use any kind of restraints or force medication. They seem to have an okay track record explaining what the pills are and asking if the person can try them, which I get can still be coercive in some cases, but worked well with my sibling. Also, I was visiting them as much as I could every day, which they found really helpful, and I could keep my eye out for any issues.)

My sibling (~30) had a severe psychotic episode that doesn't quite fit any current DSM diagnosis. They went 0 to 100 from no suicidal ideation to actively attempting suicide in front of me due to delusions about being hunted by supernatural entities who would torture them. They finally could not sleep for days, and therefore I could not go to sleep because they'd try to kill themself. They were not dangerous to me intentionally, but one or both of us could have been hurt by me trying to take a weapon from them. They could not think at all outside of panic and delusions and had no short term memory, so they describe themself as having been incapable of understanding their condition. They weren't able to engage with any social interventions, because how would you have the time or bandwidth if you were living in terror of demons about to torture you and couldn't remember conversations from an hour ago?

They went to the hospital voluntarily after being stopped from attempting, but then they were committed because of aforementioned memory issues when they shortly informed the doctors they had to leave and kill themself. In a moment of lucidity, they were glad to be there, but they just couldn't stay lucid from moment to moment. Trying to get outpatient help in the weeks all this was escalating had been fruitless, with a lot of dismissive assholes, but these particular inpatient docs actually cared and asked how they were doing and figured out a dose of antipsychotics that made it all just... stop like a switch had been flipped.

Once they weren't operating under the terrifying delusions, they 100% did not want to die and were so relieved I stopped them and got help from others when it was becoming too dangerous to us both for me to intervene alone. I get that this kind of crisis is really different from living with chronic suicidal ideation or depression, which is something I personally deal with on a low level, but it was a genuine, terrifying situation where someone's expressed wishes were the opposite of what they wanted when they could understand their situation more fully.

I am allowed to share this, but if this is somehow not on anon, please delete it. Stigma about psychosis is REAL.

Yo this is super helpful, thank you for sharing. One of the trickier aspects of upholding disabled people's autonomy and taking a harm reductionist approach to suicide and self-harm is the fact that people in a state of psychosis may temporarily want something they would otherwise never want.

Though with some experience working through it with a caring and informed support network, it is possible to stand in for the person's stated desires and help them get through the period of lacking lucidity -- and of course psychosis can become a lot less destabilizing with time. i know someone who relies on a close friend to help ground them when they're having delusions and hallucinations -- a quick phone call is now enough to convince them they don't need to kill themselves, but that's after years of getting used to having psychotic states.

glad you and your sibling found solutions and made it through this okay.

[i-cant-sing]

Me (an atheist) : Damn how am i gonna explain this one now

see i dont think i could ever be an atheist because I rely very HEAVILY on God to do miracles to solve my problems. Like I cant count the amount of times I've been pulled out of trouble when I had ZERO hope or chances of coming out alive, and then just a quick prayer to God/Allah and Im all set :)

Like this is not me trying to convince anyone to be religous or something, but like i dont think i could possibly function without God because i just need HIS HELP every single day.

Im sure if most of you sat down and recalled moments in your life where things just seemed to fall in line out of nowhere, when deep down you knew that this was more than just a random coincidence, that one problem you just couldnt find any solution to, and then BAM! Its done. Your issue is solved. Youre out of trouble. Your secret is safe.

Personally, I think that having a relationship with God is important for your mental health. Like Allah doesnt need me to praise him, thank him and stuff. I need to thank him for all the He blesses me with, because well- if I'm more grateful, wouldn't I be more blessed? Wouldnt He give me more?

Ofc its not like God hates those who arent grateful to Him, or that he takes away His blessings from people who dont thank him. There have been times that I hadnt been praying to Allah, hadnt been a good muslim, but... Allah didnt take away His blessings. He didnt punish me, He didnt even lessen His gifts. And yet, deep down, despite having everything in my life, I still felt... abnormal. Anxious. Depressed even. Maybe I felt so restless because I didnt have Allah with me. Which is weird, because why dont I have God with me? Isnt God supposed to love all his creations, his beings?

And thats when it hits you- Allah has always been there. He's still in the same spot, waiting for you- for me, to return to Him. It is me, you, the human who gets lost in worldly pleasures and moves away from God. And you know, Allah guides who He wills, so maybe thats why some of us feel restless even though we have everything. Sometimes Allah sends some trials our way, just to remind us of Him, to make us call Him for help, to run and return to Him. Sometimes Allah sends more blessings our way, so that we become more thankful, return to Him and ask for more- as is human nature.

And some of you may ask, as i did, "so if Allah only guides who He wills- if Allah has already planned everything, if He already knows everything, then why should I make an effort to do better? Maybe He made me this way? Maybe I was meant to not be guided?" and I think the answer to this is that the very fact that you're reading this post, the fact that you have such a dilemma about your relationship with God, the fact that you question your current belief system, maybe its Allah's sign for you.

I think that to do something, anything, we must first desire for it to happen. So... if you and I have this question about our relationship with God, and then develop a desire to improve this relationship, then maybe it is God's will to guide us.

Nothing happens without His will, so this post reaching your dashboard, you reading this despite knowing by the first two paragraphs that this is not a fic, this was Allah's will, hm?

#i would like to know everyones thoughts on this #atheist or not everyone can reply

[pin-k-ink]

vision // edogawa ranpo

tw ⇢ mutual pining, sexual tension, teasing, slight angst if you squint, wet dreams, public sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names, nipple play

wc ⇢ 5.8k

You had known Ranpo for as long as you could remember. The two of you were inseparable from the moment you became coworkers together at the Armed Detective Agency. His brilliant deductive mind and your keen intuition made you an unbeatable team on cases. More than that, you shared an effortless camaraderie that went beyond the workplace.

Ranpo was your closest friend, the person who knew you most intimately. You could spend hours together without uttering a single word, simply basking in each other's presence. He could read you like a book, preternaturally attuned to the subtlest shifts in your moods and thoughts in a way no one else came close to. Likewise, you took pride in being one of the few people who could cajole genuine smiles and laughs from behind Ranpo's typical affectation of eccentric genius.

In truth, you had come to rely on the warmth of Ranpo's companionship more than you cared to admit aloud. His humor, intellect, and strangely caring soul turned out to be curiously addictive sources of comfort and joy in your life. You never felt more understood and accepted than in Ranpo's presence.

Which is why his recent behavioral transformation had been so jarring and difficult for you to process...

It had started with a series of oddly averted glances and awkward fumbles for excuses to exit your company sooner than usual. You tried to brush it off at first, assuming Ranpo was merely sweeping into another of his eccentricities. But the distancing only increased, to the point where he was now actively dodging any attempts at casual conversation or even making eye contact when circumstances demanded you be in the same room together.

Puzzled and more than a little hurt, you found yourself riddled with self-doubt. Had you somehow committed a social transgression severe enough to make even your closest friend recoil? You wracked your brain but could find no rational explanation for why Ranpo had suddenly started treating you with such stilted formality and emotional distance. All you knew was that you ached for the lack of his easy presence and playful teasing.

Finally, after nearly three weeks of such inexplicable strain between you two, you could bear it no longer. You cornered Ranpo in the quiet study he had appropriated as his makeshift office den, where he jumped nearly a foot in the air upon your unannounced entrance.

"Ranpo-kun..." You fought to keep your tone calm and even rather than berating as you might have preferred. "We need to talk. About what's going on between us."

The brown-haired detective blinked owlishly before visibly attempting to smooth his features into a more insouciant mask. Still, you caught the fractional wince and throat-clearing before he responded in that deliberately arch lilt, "Whatever could you mean? Nothing at all is amiss between us, my dear friend. I've simply been preoccupied with an especially vexing case as of late that has demanded the entirety of my mental faculties, that's all..."

You leveled Ranpo with a deeply skeptical look, refusing to allow him to deflect and dissemble so easily. Not when it came to the sudden, painful rift forming between the two of you.

"Don't give me that, Ranpo," you stated, taking a few steps further into his private study so you could properly face him without obstruction. "We've known each other too long for me to buy such a blatant attempt at feigning nonchalance."

You watched the glass-smooth mask Ranpo tried so hard to maintain develop the barest perceptible fracture at your reproving words. His emerald gaze skittered away from your probing stare, adam's apple bobbing with an audible swallow as his fingers toyed agitatedly with the spine of whatever book he'd been pretending to read.

A tiny, insistent kernel of hurt took root in your chest at his obvious discomfort simply being in your presence these days. What had happened to your once-effortless rapport? You found yourself yearning with almost physical desperation to call back the easy camaraderie and playful teasing that had become such an ingrained, cherished part of your daily life.

"Ranpo..." You tried again, allowing a slight huskiness of pleading to unmask your voice this time. "Please, just tell me what's wrong? Why are you shutting me out like this? Have I...have I done something to offend you somehow? You know I would never intentionally—"

"No!" The explosive syllable had your teeth clicking shut in surprise as Ranpo abruptly dropped all pretenses, his countenance suffused with unmistakable anguish. "No, you've done nothing wrong at all. This, this distancing...it's entirely my own failing I'm afraid."

Despite the perdurable reassurance, your frown only deepened at the haggard edge clouding Ranpo's expression as he spoke. You waited with a weighty pause, sensing there was more the brilliant detective wished to divulge. And indeed, after toying with the pen in his hand for a few tense heartbeats, Ranpo seemed to come to a resolution.

"Tell me..." His gaze finally met yours again, and you felt your breath hitch at the sheer, unguarded molten heat searing through his irises. "Have you ever been, ah, afflicted...by a truth so paradoxical and compelling that it becomes nigh impossible to properly puzzle out or ignore, no matter how deliriously one might wish to do so?"

The words were so quintessentially Ranpo - profoundly cerebral to the point of near-incomprehensibility. And yet, you found yourself intuiting the deeper, infinitely more visceral layer of suggestion roiling just beneath his flowery prevarication.

Arousal, white-hot and illicit, licked through your veins as you held Ranpo's smoldering stare. Your throat worked convulsively against the desire to clear it while he watched you with that smoldering, leonine intensity further reducing your higher reasoning functions to cinders.

Finally, after what felt like an eon of crackling tension, you managed a faintly croaked, "I... I think I understand what you're trying to say, sort of..."

Surprise and dark approval warred over Ranpo's expression at your ambiguous acknowledgment. His free hand clenched at his side as though restraining the base prompting to reach for you, and you held your breath at the burning promise contained in that simple, abortive movement.

When Ranpo spoke again, his timbre was rendered low and husky with undisguised yearning. "Deduce this for me then, my dear friend...what sort of 'affliction' has been plaguing my thoughts and compelled me to shamefully withdraw from your brilliant presence as of late?" His eyes held yours as though they could convey all the scorching, ravenous desire and conflict roiling through that peerless psyche.

You swallowed thinly as your overheated senses catalogued the overall picture Ranpo was suggesting - his tormented avoidance, his thinly veiled innuendos about tantalizing, impossible truths, his mercurial shifts from anguish to intensity to open temptation as he devoured you with that ravenous stare. So much began to make a dizzying, dangerous sort of sense, unlocking new, forbidden dimensions in your relationship that you had never allowed yourself to fully acknowledge until now.

Still, more than anything, you craved to unravel this mystery laid before you in all its salacious, intoxicating totality. So you met Ranpo's burning look with one of your own guileless yearning and uttered in a breathless rasp:

"Very well...challenge accepted. I'll deduce the desire you've been so tirelessly trying to deny, Ranpo. For now."

Ranpo's eyes glittered with undisguised relish at your bold acceptance of his cryptic challenge. You could practically see the gears turning behind that peerless intellect as he avidly drank in your rapt, guileless expression of determination.

"Excellent," he purred in that effortless baritone of his, somehow rendering the simple affirmation into a darkly evocative caress. "Then allow me to start providing you with some...initial clues to unravel this deliciously paradoxical conundrum I've found myself in."

With casual, unhurried grace, Ranpo circled behind you so his presence was a scorching imprint against your back. You stifled a small shudder at the overwhelming mahogany and clove essence of his cologne that always managed to leave you just a touch light-headed.

His palm came to rest at the elegant curve of your waist, his deceptively slight frame radiating banked heat that seemed to scorch straight through the thin material of your blouse. You felt his lips, plush and soft, brush whisper-light against the sensitive whorls of your ear as he murmured in a molten undertone, "Tell me, have you perhaps noticed any...changes in my typical patterns of behavior beyond the distance? Any indications that something preternatural has been plaguing my restive mind as of late?"

Despite the innocuous phrasing, the timbre of Ranpo's words leaked unmistakable layers of carnal suggestion that had your skin prickling with gooseflesh. Coupled with the torturous graze of his breath fanning over your throat and the possessive drift of his fingertips drawing nonsensical patterns along your side, you felt utterly suffused by his masculine presence in a way you had never fully appreciated until now.

You struggled to collect your scattered thoughts enough to consider Ranpo's cryptic prompt. Had you noticed any peculiarities in his behavior aside from the unexplained avoidance that had sparked this entire situation? Now that you focused, casting your mind back over recent observations while firmly ignoring how Ranpo's thumbs had begun tracing feather-light, searing circles over your hipbones, you recalled a few...instances.

"Well," you finally managed in a slightly husky tone, proud that you only stuttered minutely over the words, "Now that you mention it, I do remember a few times recently where you seemed...distracted. Flushed, even, despite the room being perfectly temperate. And your breathing would become rather unsteady at seemingly random moments."

You felt more than heard the quiet rumble of approval against your back as Ranpo hummed his affirmation, his exhalations drifting hot and damp over your pulse point in a way that threatened to completely unhinge your powers of concentration.

"Very good, very astute deductions so far," he praised in a voice gone low and heavy with undisguised wanting. "And did any other...physical tells accompany these momentary lapses, I wonder? Some sign of burning distraction, perhaps? An inability to fully conceal certain aspects of my usual disciplined control?"

The words were cloaked in academic impartiality, but the sinuous inference lacing every syllable made your thighs squeeze convulsively together as you pieced together the image Ranpo was so delectably, dangerously insinuating. You sucked in a sharp breath, heat lancing riotously through your body.

"I...I believe so, yes," you whispered throatily. "There were times where your pupils would dilate unnaturally, your breathing turned shallow, and a faint sheen of exertion gleamed over your brow despite an obvious lack of any taxing mental or physical stimuli."

Ranpo released a shuddering exhalation against the slender column of your throat that had you reflexively arching with tangible yearning. His fingers traced back up your sides, tantalizingly close to the swell of your breasts, before reversing their path almost punitively. You bit your lip to stifle a desperate whimper, and felt the distinct twitch of reaction against the rigid plains of his abdomen pressed to the small of your back.

"Oh, you are good at this game, aren't you?" He growled with clear, undisguised approval and answering desire flooding his tone. "What other salacious conclusions can you intuit from these lascivious hints I've been providing? I beg you to exercise that matchless intuition to its fullest, because I absolutely crave to hear you give proper definition aloud to the desire rapidly becoming my undoing..."

The challenge Ranpo issued proved as maddeningly elusive as the brilliant detective himself over the following days. You found yourself utterly consumed by the delicious vexation of attempting to unravel the inscrutable riddle Ranpo kept dangling with teasing hints and loaded innuendos.

At times his clues came in the form of brooding stares that lingered a beat too long, his silvery gaze drifting over your form with a heavy-lidded promise you couldn't quite decipher. Like he was committing your every line and curve to the ruthlessly methodicalprocessings of his formidable intellect through those mercurial depths. You shivered at the thought, uncertain whether it thrilled or unnerved you more.

Other times, Ranpo's provocations took on a more overt, sensual tilt. You'd catch the Detective Prince's throat working subtly as you laughed and joked together like old times, feel his eyes track the reflexive motion with raptor-like intensity. More than once, he seemed to drift closer until the clove-and-mahogany richness of his cologne threatened to utterly intoxicate your senses.

"Ranpo?" You found yourself murmuring on one such occasion, very much cognizant of how his dilated pupils followed the rise and fall of your chest. "Is everything...okay?"

Rather than answer directly, he simply hummed a low, rumbly acknowledgment that vibrated straight through to settle liquid-hot in your lower belly. You tried not to squirm beneath the laser focus of his rapt regard, feeling somewhat like a specimen being ruthlessly catalogued and deconstructed for careful study.

"You seem..." The words caught in your suddenly dry throat as Ranpo leaned fractionally closer, his thumb grazing over the thundering leap of your pulse point with maddening suggestion. "...distracted."

The only response was another indecipherable, baritone rumble, but this time the heat in his eyes unmistakably spiked. You finally regained enough of your faculties to stammer a hasty excuse and retreat from the powderkeg of tension sparking between you both. But not before catching the bare hint of a smug, knowing smile ghosting over Ranpo's sensuous lips for just a breath.

Much later, in the quiet, still hours before dawn, you found your restless mind replaying that freighted moment over and over again. You tossed and turned, highly aware of the burn of arousal slowly simmering through your system as it gradually dawned on you.

All of Ranpo's veiled remarks, evasions, and simmering looks over the past while - they added up to a single, heady conclusion too illicit and tantalizing to fully credit even as it pulsed through your thoughts. As preposterous as it seemed, the weight of the detective's heated stares and suggestive innuendos hinted that his much-vaunted deductive logic had somehow become...consumed.

With thoughts of an increasingly intimate, fevered bent centered entirely around your most elemental reactions and fantasies.

Images unbidden began to assault your whirling mind then - Ranpo tossing in his sweat-soaked sheets, utterly assailed by improbable visions of deduction taken to its carnal limits. You pictured his quickened breath catching on a moan as he imagined uncovering every hidden, shameful secret of your body's deepest wants. His graceful hands wandering over heated expanses of bare skin as he sought clue after clue to chart the gasping pathways that led you unraveled and shuddering beneath him...

You awoke with a strangled cry on your lips, rendered tacky with sweat and near-delirious with need in the aftermath of that torrid fantasy. As improbable as it seemed, some part of you couldn't reject the notion that Ranpo had been pursuing a more...intimate understanding as of late. And based on the relentless tensions sparked between you, he seemed resolutely committed to achieving nothing less than your complete surrender so he could study the matter exhaustively.

The thought alone made a shudder of yearning convulse through you, leaving you profoundly unsettled and burning with a gnawing, thirsty curiosity. Just how far would the Detective Prince pursue the sublime riddles your body seemed to present him with?

And could you truly find the willpower to deny indulging whatever fevered, fastidious measures Ranpo wished to exercise in unraveling those delicious mysteries for himself?

With each passing day, Ranpo's smoldering looks and heated provocations descended into brasher, utterly unsubtle insinuations. While you had initially deduced that the incandescent Detective Prince was wrestling with scorching visions of an intimate, carnal nature centered around you, it gradually became apparent there were even more profoundly illicit dimensions to his forbidden reveries.

He wanted you to extrapolate the embroidered details, the lush sensory fantasies plaguing his unconscious mind with visceral need. Ranpo wished for nothing less than your complete discernment of every sordid image and dark craving that had awakened his body thrumming with desperation upon daybreak.

The evidence came in the form of lingering, assessing glances that drifted over the exposed lines of your throat and collarbones with shockingly rapacious heat. Ranpo made no attempts to conceal the undisguised wanting that flooded his expression whenever you unconsciously wet your lips or arched your back in an absent stretch, emphasizing your feminine curves before his hooded, devouring stare.

"Got a clue yet as to what's been tormenting me?" Ranpo would murmur on such occasions, his voice rendered low and husky with banked intensity. You'd freeze in instinctive response, feel your pupils blowing wide as your senses became hyper aware of the whisper-light scratch of your shirt fabric over your nipples, now peaking betrayingly under his incendiary scrutiny.

All you could manage was a strangled hum of acknowledgment as he stalked closer, seemingly to emphasize the added inches of height he held over your suitably disheveled form. The mahogany-and-clove tang of his cologne was heady in the minuscule space separating you, searing the insides of your nostrils, the latent promise in the set of his broad shoulders and tautly corded forearms as they twitched infinitesimally with the obvious effort of restraint.

"Do be more specific, won't you?" He purred, smooth as velvet and just as rich in the underlying implication. "I require your observations in extraneously vivid detail, so I can fully immerse myself in the...depraved scenery unfolding through that peerless intuition of yours. Don't spare me any of those delicious, poetic descriptions."

And like an iridescent vision pulled directly from the lurid seance haunting Ranpo's unconscious, you began to glimpse the full breadth of longing and forbidden temptation tangling his preternatural deductive mind in frantic knots.

You saw him shuddering awake in the dead of night, sheets clinging damply to his sweat-slicked, naked torso as he desperately sought to cling to the receding remnants of dreams that stirred with your every moan and shudder undulating against him. Imagined the searing stroke of his fingertips roaming over the mental topography of your quivering, splayed form as he catalogued every slick, trembling inch.

Dexterous hands methodically divesting you of all adornments before his singleminded, deductive focus. Elegant, kissable lips tracing a scorching path over your most intimate secrets, no possible shroud or compunction left to conceal the scope of your body's rapture from his ruthless, unflinching regard.

You found yourself utterly undone by these incendiary visions bleeding over into your waking reality in shockingly lurid detail. Your breaths grew shallow and uneven, nipples straining against thin fabric as Ranpo continued his relentless study and your imagination showed no signs of yielding.

Finally, he leaned in so unbearably near that the brush of his lips against your heated cheek felt like a brand. "If you're going to provide me with a thoroughly immersive reconstruction," he rumbled with dark bedroom timbre, "Then I desperately require a first-hand account your rapturous undoing made as the full thrust of my interrogation bore down on you..."

A whimpery moan nearly broke free from the cage of your constricted throat at those words, your entire being flashing alight with the visceral understanding of what torrid fantasies held Ranpo so completely transfixed as of late. He craved the consummate panoramic of ecstacy warring over your naked expression as you surrendered every filthy, lewd revelation scrap by scrap in delirious fealty to the unflinching intensity of his carnal inquest.

And based on the fevered look scorching his features as he drank in your guileless realization, Ranpo meant to allow for absolutely no evasions or half-measures in the pursuit of such lurid deductions.

"Enough dancing around it," Ranpo growled, his eyes blazing with undisguised hunger. "I want you to know exactly what kind of filthy dreams you've been starring in night after night."

You felt a full-body flush at his blunt words, trembling slightly as he closed the distance between you with predatory intent. His hands settled dominantly on your hips, thumbs stroking possessive arcs over the jut of bone.

"I wake up absolutely soaked, aching and painfully hard," Ranpo rasped against the heated shell of your ear. "All from visions of stripping you bare and tasting every single inch of your pretty little body."

A shocked whimper escaped your lips at the unvarnished carnality of his confession. You could feel his erection pressing insistently against your abdomen as he rolled his hips with dark promise.

"That's right, baby..." he purred in a tone made husky and seductive with naked want. "I've spent night after night imagining burying my face between those soft thighs, lapping up your sweet cream until you're squirming and mewling on my tongue."

You were panting harshly now, your body utterly aflame at the vivid, filthy descriptions tumbling so casually from the normally unflappable detective's lips. Ranpo seized the back of your neck in a dominant grasp, forcing you to meet his darkly salacious stare.

"And that's just the start," he promised in a gravelly tone that made your core absolutely throb. "Once I've loosened you up nice and sloppy, I'm going to bury this thick cock so deep inside you won't remember your own name."

Your eyes fluttered shut in a dizzying wave of wanton arousal at the absolutely indecent images he was invoking in such frank, explicit detail. You could practically feel the delirious stretch and burn from his impressive girth claiming your body so dominantly, so unrelentingly.

"That's it, sweetheart..." Ranpo's voice dropped to a gruff timbre of pure sin as he guided your shaking hand down to palm the rigid, throbbing length straining against his trousers. "Get a good feel for how hard I've been for you, how badly I'm gonna rail that greedy little pussy and stuff you absolutely full of my cum."

You cried out shamelessly at the graphic promise, hips jerking in mindless need against his calloused fingers now rubbing searingly over the damp crotch of your underwear. This was far beyond any provocation or innuendo - Ranpo was utterly unfurling the darkest, most depraved and sordid temptations that had gripped his subconscious night after night.

"So tell me..." he rasped hoarsely against the sheen of perspiration beading over your collarbone. "Now that I've properly educated you in the true nature of my lascivious dreams...are you going to be a good girl and let me live them all out in vivid, unrepentant detail?"

You could only whine and nod frantically, utterly transfixed and inflamed with unrestrained yearning to make this profane reality. Ranpo answered with a feral growl of approval.

"That's what I like to hear..." He yanked you harshly into the scalding brand of his lean musculature, teeth scoring biting kisses up the fevered line of your throat. "Now be a good little pet and start undressing...because I'm not stopping until I've explored and defiled every single one of your most shameless erotic mysteries."

Ranpo's ravenous words and commanding touch left you utterly undone and compliant as warm putty in his capable hands. You found yourself frantically divesting of clothing at his guttural urging, fevered desperation thrumming through your veins at the promise of experiencing firsthand the lurid fantasies that had plagued the brilliant detective's unconscious.

Soon you stood flushed and quivering in just your underwear, breath catching at the sheer heat and intensity blazing through Ranpo's lidded gaze as he drank in the sight of you revealed. His tongue swept deliberately over his lower lip as his eyes roamed with undisguised possession and longing over every newly bared inch.

"Exquisite..." he husked in a voice rendered gravel-rough from the strain of his carefully leashed desire. "Though perhaps we ought to remove these last scraps as well before indulging in the real main event, hmm?"

You bit back a shuddering moan at the blatant implication, fingers already hooking into the flimsy lace to comply. But Ranpo's hands seized your wrists in a punishing grip, halting your movements as he stepped in to loom over your suddenly diminutive frame with dark promise.

"Allow me," he growled in a tone that brokered no argument as he brought your hands up to bracket his shoulders instead.

The first intimate brush of your heated skin against his clothed chest and arms left you dizzy with acute sensitivity and gnawing craving. You shivered and swayed instinctively nearer as Ranpo leisurely trailed his fingertips in a feather-light glide down over the swell of your breasts and along the feminine flare of your waist. His blazing regard remained riveted on the journey of his exploring hands, flagrantly studying your every reactive shudder and quickly becoming mottled flesh with raptor intensity.

"My my..." he tsked softly, voice gone dark velvet and rich with undisguised sin as he hooked into the flimsy elastic of your underwear. "How utterly responsive and primed you are already, my dear...and we've barely even made the barest start toward enacting the wet dreams I've been forced to endure night after endless night."

With one smooth, unhurried motion, Ranpo divested you fully of your last tatters of concealment. The humid caress of air over your newly bared skin made you suck in a sharp breath, hips jerking reactively in seeking of some relief for the steadily mounting ache between your slickened folds. Relief that Ranpo looked eminently prepared to provide as he took a measured step back, sweeping you from crown to soles with a look positively blazing with carnal appreciation.

"Just as spectacular to apprehend in the flesh as my unconscious recreations dared dream..." he rumbled in a tone of quiet rapture, flexing his hands at his sides as if warring against the urge to touch. "But perhaps we ought to take things a bit further before I utterly ravish you, hmm?"

You were trembling oxygenless pants by the time Ranpo made languid, methodical work of stripping away his own concealing layers, unveiling the taut, lean musculature of his naked form to your prey-whetting inspection. By the time he finally stood fully and gloriously undressed, his substantial arousal stood flushed and iron-proud from the nexus of his thighs, you were an utter shuddering wreck of anticipation and need.

With smoldering intent, Ranpo stalked forward until all you could see, hear, and taste was the banked promise of his raw masculinity consuming your senses entirely. His motions were those of a jungle cat unhurriedly cornering its hapless quarry - controlled and weighted with imminent danger.

"I want to hear you..." he commanded in a hoarse timbre of pure sin. One large palm flattened scorchingly over the frantic kick of your pulse while the other boldly cupped and kneaded the soft weight of your breast. "I want to hear you moaning and crying out like you do in my dirty dreams. Don't hold back any of those delicious little whimpers when I finally get my hands on this body that's been driving me crazy with need."

Then his mouth was on you, claiming your lips with an utterly shameless and unapologetically greedy kiss that sent you reeling. Your mind stuttered to a halt as his tongue swept over yours in a slick, velvety glide that had your knees buckling beneath you. Only the firm band of his arm across the small of your back kept you upright as his other hand continued its sinful exploration.

Ranpo's palm felt searing hot as it traveled over the smooth expanse of your belly and down to cup the curve of your ass. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and groped shamelessly, fingers dipping in the crease and teasing just shy of your dripping entrance. He swallowed down your gasp with a rumbling purr, his mouth continuing to ravage and dominate yours until you were clinging weakly to his broad shoulders for support.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were left gasping and dizzy, utterly boneless in the wake of his masterful touch. Ranpo's lips skated a scalding path down the side of your neck, pausing to nip and suck at the hollow where your pulse thundered. He pressed open-mouthed, bruising kisses over the tops of your breasts, the edge of his teeth and tongue rasping against your nipples until they were tight, aching peaks.

Your body burned and yearned, reduced to a molten, incandescent puddle under his expert attentions. When Ranpo finally lifted his head to fix you with a dark, lust-blown stare, his breathing was harsh and unsteady, his skin flushed and shining with a fine sheen of sweat. You knew you must look an utterly debauched, wanton mess, and the knowledge had something primal and savage igniting in his eyes.

"Tell me, sweetheart..." he growled low and hungry, the pads of his thumbs grazing in maddening circles over the sensitive inner skin of your thighs. "Have you figured it out yet? The reason why I've been so damnably, insufferably restless and agitated as of late?"

You could only whimper, your mind utterly scrambled and addled from the onslaught of his touch. Ranpo chuckled darkly, his hands moving inexorably upward until they were ghosting feather-light over the feverish, slick heat of your pussy.

"The answer should be simple enough for even you to deduce, my dear..." he purred in a honeyed timbre that vibrated straight through to your core. "The fact is, you've been plaguing my waking thoughts and unconscious desires with an infuriatingly relentless persistence. So much so that I'm absolutely compelled to explore and satisfy each and every one of the torrid scenarios that have been playing out through my subconscious as of late."

Ranpo punctuated his claim with the slow, deliberate glide of two fingers along your slit, gathering the slickness pooling at your entrance. He swirled the tips in a lazy circle over your clit, making your hips jerk uncontrollably as your body sang in ecstacy.

"But more than that..." he continued in a voice rendered rough with naked, visceral wanting. "I'm utterly compelled to indulge in the filthy, depraved fantasy of you being spread out and helpless before me, allowing me to do whatever I want to this pretty little body of yours. Allowing me to completely defile and deflower you."

The words alone had your walls clenching, desperate for the thick, hard stretch of him spearing you open and filling you to the hilt. Ranpo rumbled a dark, approving noise deep in his chest, the sound resonating through you until your legs were practically shaking with the need to have him inside.

"You want it too, don't you, sweetheart?" he murmured with quiet conviction. "You want to feel the obscene, dirty, ungodly pleasure of me plowing this tight cunt with every inch of my thick cock."

Your answering moan was utterly broken, breathy and shameless. You were completely unraveled, ready to beg for anything and everything Ranpo could give. He rewarded you with another searing, open-mouthed kiss that left you seeing stars.

"So let's start making the illicit reality match the deliciously torrid fantasy," he whispered against your lips. "Every filthy fucking fantasy I’ve had about this tight, needy pussy has been a variation on the same theme. That you're going to spread these pretty thighs and let me fuck you absolutely senseless. And that starts with you bending over the desk, presenting this gorgeous little ass to me while I bury myself in this greedy, soaked little cunt."

The command brooked no argument, the unflinching dominance behind the words making your cunt positively throb. You were dimly aware of him steering you over to the nearby desk, maneuvering you into position with firm, unyielding hands.

Ranpo's fingers danced and teased, spreading the lips of your cunt and rubbing in gentle, teasing strokes against your entrance. He dipped in just enough to gather a few drops of slick, slathering them up and down the length of his thick cock. Then you felt the hot, blunt head press insistently against your folds.

"Remember what I said before, sweetheart..." Ranpo crooned dark and seductive, one hand splaying possessively over the small of your back as he lined himself up. "I'm not stopping until I've had you screaming and squirting all over this cock. Until you've given me the full, unfettered experience of your orgasm wracking this body, making you shake and shudder on my dick."

His free hand landed a stinging slap on the rounded curve of your ass, making you gasp and jolt. The slight shift of movement made the tip of his cock push past your entrance, stretching and burning as it slowly sank into the velvety clutch of your core.

You cried out at the delicious, agonizingly slow burn, feeling every inch of him impaling you as his hips rolled with measured control. He bottomed out with a low growl of satisfaction, his fingers digging into your hips as he began to slowly pump his length in and out.

"Oh yes..." Ranpo groaned, his eyes hooded and heavy with lust as he gazed down at where you were stretched and straining around his thick shaft. "Fuck, sweetheart, you feel even better than I dreamed."

You keened and writhed, struggling to take the immense, overwhelming pressure and stretch. Ranpo leaned down, pressing his chest against your back and molding your body to his. His hips never stilled their torturously unhurried pace, pumping in slow, deep strokes.

"You're being such a good little detective's pet for me," he purred against the shell of your ear, the praise making you whimper and clench involuntarily. Ranpo hummed his approval, his pace picking up incrementally as he drove you to the brink of madness.

"I'm going to make you come like this, sweetheart..." he murmured in a voice gone husky and low with carnal intent. "I'm going to fuck this sweet little cunt until you're screaming and gushing all over me. Then I'm going to bend you over and breed you so thoroughly, you'll feel the slick, wet mess leaking out of you for days."

You whimpered at the filthy promises, your cunt clenching greedily around him at the thought. Ranpo snarled and fucked harder, his cock driving deeper and harder with each snap of his hips. You could feel yourself hurtling toward the edge, your legs beginning to shake as the coil in your lower belly wound tighter and tighter.

"That's it, sweetheart..." Ranpo encouraged, his voice rough with the strain of holding back his own release. "Let go for me, let me feel that pussy squeezing around my cock. Show me how hard you can come on my dick."

You came with a wail, the coil snapping violently and sending you crashing over the edge. Ranpo fucked you through it, his thrusts losing rhythm as his control slipped.

"Oh, fuck..." he groaned, his grip tightening as his hips snapped forward, his cock twitching inside you. You could feel the warm, wet rush of his release flooding you, stuffing you full of his cum.

It was several long moments before you could catch your breath, both of you slumped over the desk, still joined together. You whimpered softly as Ranpo slowly pulled out, his hands immediately sliding over the round swell of your ass.

"Such a good pet," he murmured, his thumb dipping down to stroke your entrance. "So wet and messy for me. But I'm not done with you yet."

Ranpo straightened, tugging on your arm until you turned and faced him. "That was only the recreation of one dream. We still have many more to work through. On your knees."

#bsd smut #bsd x reader smut #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #ranpo x reader smut #ranpo smut #ranpo x reader #ranpo edogawa #bsd ranpo #edogawa ranpo

[beenbaanbuun]

vent post

i’ve posted too many of these over the past two days and i can only apologise. i will get back to writing or you soon but right now trying to be okay and feel okay is my priority.

for now i just need to talk about how i’m feeling. the people in my real life have their own things going on and i love them, but when i try and talk to them or vent to them they don’t seem to care. i can’t keep letting my thoughts out only to be met with a shrug and a request for me to suck it up and do something else. it’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to the people i’m dumping my emotions on because that’s not what they’re there for.

i feel very alone. i have one person i can rely on in real life and at the minute it seems like she has no time for me since she has issues of her own. it’s fine, i understand that sometimes she’s not going to emotionally available for my problems when i need her to be. it’s just a struggle when i have no one else to go to. the issue is, i have such an immense feeling of guilt all the time that i have a hard time reaching out for help. i shouldn’t burden others with my problems, especially when i don’t feel in an emotionally stable enough place to offer them help back? i shouldn’t ask for help when i can’t give it in return.

like i said, i’ll get back to writing soon! i’m sorry for putting this on your timeline rather than the usual bunny content, i know it’s not what you guys want and it’s not the content i’m here to provide. i was hoping i’d feel better by today, but arguably i feel worse and i’m not sure how soon it’ll be before i can get back to acting like my normal self. i can only offer a million apologies and whilst i know that doesn’t make up for content, it’s all i can offer right now.

i’m sorry

#bunny vents

[twilight-deviant]

Telling content creators it's wrong to explore artistic freedom and be independently funded by fans, and they should instead continue taking advertisement revenue from google* is

NOT

the anti-capitalism stance actually.

*(Yes, google owns youtube.)

#Watcher #This post is specifically and exclusively about the people who seem to have the capitalism bit wrong #It's almost fascinating how no one is hearing themselves speak #I feel like some of you don't understand WHY we support small businesses and are anti-monopoly #I've seen multiple posts saying “Shane is so anti-capitalism there's no way this was his idea.” #So... you think it's pro-capitalism to start your own business instead of relying on pennies from the exploitative mega-corporation? #Guys... we support small businesses KNOWING it will cost the consumer more #Stop thinking you're entitled to someone's product #That's what got us in this mess #I understand $6 is a lot for many many people but that is what makes certain things a luxury #Nothing used to be this way #Nothing used to be “free” so you can be monitored for your viewing habits and sold to advertisers #If you see a little guy trying to leave youtube/google and you paint them as the capitalist??? You. have. taken. a. wrong. turn. #I don't know how many more ways I can say it #It is better to support someone (if you can) than to pressure them into taking money from the trillion-dollar corporation #so that you can have what they put all their blood/sweat/tears into for free #If you want something badly enough you're going to have to pay for it #Them's the breaks #If you don't want it that badly then maybe it didn't mean enough to you personally #Thinking otherwise is how corporations like youtube take over and squeeze out small competitors #btw on monopolies: having almost every single video content creator (outside of tiktoks and video game streams) on youtube is BAD #You understand that's bad yes? #How tf are we going to diversify unless SOME CREATORS leave youtube??? #It's almost the responsibility of larger creators to do so #Ironically what I said is backwards #In its ideal state‚ capitalism is supposed to inspire innovation and new business‚ giving every person a chance to succeed #But I think we all know that's not the reality we're experiencing #I just went with what everyone means when they say it

[sweaters-and-vertigo]

i have a teeny, tiny superiority complex because i didn’t watch the atla live action.

#but i appreciate the ones who sacrificed their mind to watch the show and report back #y’all are so brave. thank you for examining the danger and relying the information back to me so i wouldn’t have to. #i have read so much about this show and i will literally never watch it #i actually intended to but got locked out of netflix when it premiered #then i heard all the shitty things about it and said “fuck that noise” #they took everything from me #they took away zuko’s character development for the sake of “time” not even gonna touch that it makes me so angry #they took away sokka’s character development for the sake of being “woke” #which was actually very very un-woke of them #they took away katara’s passion & anger and made her a flat boring person #i loved her anger so much???? #they took away our shock at the OG southern air temple ep #seeing monk gyatso in a room full of firebenders he had been forced to kill >>> seeing the actual genocide as if we didn’t already know #they took away aang’s sweet childishness and made him way too mature #it sounds like the only people who enjoyed it were zutara fans because of the scarf scene #y’all can keep it. it’s yours. i don’t want it. #atla original #avatar the last airbender #atla aang #atla zuko #atla katara #atla sokka #avatar the last airbender aang #avatar the last airbender katara #avatar the last airbender zuko #avatar the last airbender sokka #aang #katara #sokka #zuko