#I get asked this question every time I talk about nuking the blog

[fratboykate]

Ok, I am very confused with all this talk of nuking the blog. Like I get that you want to, but do you HAVE to?? Is it like bad PR to have a tumblr blog? I mean from what I know plenty of people do, even lesbian Jesus and TS... and now there's people coming back to it.

I've had Tumblr since like 2007. I've grown up here. We've had plenty of discussions here, some really smart but also some really fucking idiotic ones. Some that you can sum up in a single ask, some that you need 50 asks to get the full context and that if you screenshot only one of the 50 asks and isolate them it's very easy to twist and turn it into something that it's not.

Also, again, been here for like half my life at this point. Over the years I'm sure in one ask or another I'm bound to have said something stupid or have phrased something in a way that could be twisted into something that's not. You also change, mature, and learn but the internet has zero fucking critical thinking skills and we all know that. We've seen the hive mind at work. I've worked too fucking hard for too fucking long to make a difference in queer and Latin representation in media for some fourteen-year-old, holier-than-thou, keyboard warrior, with an under developed frontal cortex, no reading comprehension, and a bad case of celebrity worship to get butt hurt, twist a screenshot a conversation we were having back in like 2014, take it to twitter, twist it completely out of context, and ruin my life. It might not even be a fourteen year old. We know there's WAYYYY too many people who hate me already and are salivating at the idea of watching me fail. As if it wouldn't be great to destroy one of the few Black Latino women in media to ever maybe come close to getting a shot. Wouldn't it be great to fuck over a WOC over petty fandom drama from years ago??? What heroes they would be.

White women get fifty chances once they drop a few tears. Women of color barely even get a quarter of a chance to begin with. I'm not going to let that happen. The internet is a cesspool and all it takes is one ask.

I don't remember the exact context of the conversation at this point but, does anyone remember the ask where an anon mentioned Br0ck Turn3r and Blobbity in the same ask together and I didn't even address that point of their ask, I just answered another thing they said and for like TWO ENTIRE WEEKS the Blorkeys were losing their whole entire fucking minds insisting that *I* had called their boy a r@pist? My inbox and mentions were INSUFFERABLE for legit almost a month. Twitter was lit up in vitriolic rage. How dare I call an MOC that without proof?! How racist of me!

1) The anon was the one who mentioned Br0ck. It wasn't even me who typed the name. AND THEY WERENT EVEN CALLING BOLOGNA THAT EITHER. THE ANON JUST TALKED ABOUT THE TWO PEOPLE IN THE SAME ASK but it had NO insinuation that this dude was in any way assaulting people his stans were just doing Olympic level mental gymnastics to get from that basically generally innocent ask to "She accused him of SA" lol

2) I literally never even talked about that part of the ask once. It was just MENTIONED in the anon's ask at the same time as their King and that somehow got twisted into "CB called Bazinga a r@pist". That shit spread like wildfire and no one questioned it. No one cared to fact check it because that's just how the internet works. That statement was simply treated as a fact and to this day there's people who believe I called that dude a r@pist lol. That's a total fabrication. Never happened. Never even came close to being true. But it's out there. And there's people who SWEAR by it.

All it takes is one ask. I'm not about to give the internet like 15 years of free ammunition to take out of context lol. We've seen people get fucked for some tweet they sent out in like 2011. If you're a fucking N@zi...sure...get fucked. But hanging something over people's heads forever is stupid. It's never made sense to me. Like, what is the point of even being alive if you're not going to let people evolve? I'm not the same person I was ten years ago, five years ago, three years ago, a year ago, six months ago, a month ago. Isn't that why we pay our therapist a lot of money every week? Lol. Normalize letting people continuously grow. It's part of the human experience.

[messybouquetoflilies]

Some about me! Pretty please read this before you message me! including the "keep reading" button. Thank you! ❤️

So first things first, this is a very nsfw blog, so if you're under 18 or anyone who thinks the age of consent is arbitrary, please gtfo. (also please please put your age in your bio if you're going to interact with me)

My old blog is @decadentbouquetoflillies. I’ll probably keep updating it. i just want this one for more customization, and to try to not get flagged again.. we’ll see. But if i really want to post something risque, it’ll be on there. 

Terfs, swerfs, racists, homophobes, transphobes, haters of pronouns in bios, and chasers, please dni. i'm an anti-capitalist, progressive, intersectional sex positivite feminist, gender abolitionist, and i will annoy you greatly.

Second, my posts range from innocent, amazing, wonderful romantic things, to harder kinks such as somno, and cnc. If those things can be triggering to you, please block me cause i don't always tag my posts. Mostly due to tumblr nuking any post that has useful tags such as those... sigh. If there's anything else anyone thinks i should add to that list, please let me know.

Third, i'm trans, but please please pretty fucking please don't sexualize me in that way. Chasers, i'm talking to you. i'm not a hentai character, and i have awful bottom dysphoria. This is also a super limit for me in general. Right now my brain can't handle being touched, or even thinking about being touched anywhere below the waist. i just shut down and feel horrible.

Fourth, feel free to ask me anything! As long as you follow rules one and three. i'm even fine talking about trans stuff, as long as it's educational, and not sexual. i've had to debate my existence my whole life, so i've been come quite knowledgeable about the topic. Most other trans people don't want to answer questions, (which is fine. it's not their job to, and they shouldn't be expected to) but i enjoy it, so ask away. My asks and DMs are open, and i enjoy being flirty, just as long as it doesn't become too sexual.

With that out of the way, some about me:

i'm a 22 y/o pan girl living in the US just outside of Salt Lake City. Pronouns are she/her. i play a lot of video games.. like a lot of video games, and i love love love music. i play the piano, and i have awful trust issues with myself and other people, so i'm keeping myself single for now.

understand that nearly all of the things i post about require a large amount of trust before i'm okay doing them, or even talk about specifically doing them for you. Talk to me like a person before you ask me to do awful horrible things for you please ☺️

my kinks include and may or may not be featured on my blog:

big big oral fixation

Denial (4 years bb)

cnc

tpe

somno

knife play

i just hate decisions tbh, so anything that takes that from me

and i really like being good

(some) degradation

(some) praise

very machoistic

bondage

tbh, just anything that makes other people happy at my expense

and makes it so i don't have to think

(some) pet play. i like collars, some cages, and leashes in some contexts.. uhh yeah..

i don't have a lot of experience exploring kinks, i just know the things i definitely wanna try.

Hard Limits:

Age play (i'll call you mommy/daddy if you reeeeeeeeeally want me to, and only if i really really like you, but that's as far as it goes)

anything related to rule 4

tickling

nothing below the waist. nothing below the waist. NOTHING BELOW THE WAIST.

detransition

degradation related to appearance

food control? (this might be a soft limit, i just have a history of eating disorders so it would have to be done with great care)

beastiality

scat

RP (idk why it's so hard for me but every time i try in even vanilla settings i have mental breakdowns. i literally cannot find an explanation as to why)

and i'm sure there are other things buuut, eh, i'm lazy.

Everything i write, i try to keep as gender neutral as possible, because i really don’t believe the way people physically present matters at all, and i literally don’t care. i just wanna kiss everyone, but also no one at the same time, so hopefully my blog will be inclusive to everyone! Though reblogs are a different story 

anything with me or about me will be tagged #me and or #personal. You will find many dog pictures in those tags. (some) of my posts will be tagged #mine when i'm not lazy about it. Other than that, this blog is mostly just a diary i use to cope. Nothing less and nothing more. :)

[thefloofartist]

So I was curious as to your opinions on Lilith Fairen aka Team HLRT?

TL;DR: Fairen is not a good person. Block on sight, do NOT engage. I'll be honest, I don't know much about Fairen herself outside of how I've seen her treat other people and myself. From my own experience and the posts she's made, Fairen loves getting attention and does so by any means necessary. This usually means levying the worst type of internet accusations at other people she doesn't like, because on the internet, inflammatory language and causing problems will garner attention and views. The only reason I know Fairen existed to begin with was because when Celtic's Fixing RWBY Volume 5 was airing, she made several posts about it. Every one of them was a lie designed to get RWBY fans riled up and shit on the project. I was initially going to write the details for each of Fairen's lies on this post, but many of them involve other people and artists I respect, so I don't want to speak on their behalf. I will say however that Fairen's posts can be easily debunked just by watching the episodes. Fairen is not a source of trustworthy information. This is a reminder for people not to trust everything you read on the internet. Look up other sources, or better yet, look for the direct source before retweeting or reblogging a post that could contain false or harmful information. If you have questions, just ask the source or people who are informed about it instead of people with no relation to the source who gain attention from spreading misinformation. When skimming posts about or by Fairen, much of what I've seen Fairen do is call someone or something racist, sexist, misogynistic, and homophobic with little to no evidence for it. In the event she has "evidence", it's usually so misconstrued and warped by her response to make her argument that context is completely lost. More often than not, her source for her arguments are practically something she made up herself to have an artificial argument over. Fairen will also mock anyone who responds in kind to her inflammatory posts, taking their comments which she then finds a way to weaponize against them even more. From my viewpoint, Fairen doesn't appear to know how to speak normally with other people outside of insulting them. Much like CanonSeeker, Fairen also employs the use of sockpuppet accounts to bypass bans and blocks. She's been blacklisted from just about every Magical Girl fandom spaces and banned from Sufficient Velocity for where she, again, just accused people she didn't like of being horrible sexist bigots before the mods over there had enough and nuked her account. If you block her, she will stalk you across social media platforms, almost but not quite to the same degree as CanonSeeker. Fairen's already demonstrated this behavior with myself and the few posts/comments I barely make on r/RWBYcritics, even one instance of Fairen responding to my comments on Reddit on her Tumblr in realtime in the moment of me making them on Reddit. My thoughts on Team HLRT? It's nothing more than Fairen's harassment blog. Fairen is so proud about her behavior that she documented it for her audience... at least before it got nuked. The way the blog was run was reminiscent of a high school clique. The entire blog was nothing more than unacceptable behavior. There's no reason for her to treat or talk to people the way she does.

What I find most depressing about this whole thing is that Fairen doesn't appear to ever truly talk about why she likes these shows she's so keen on defending and being insanely aggressive about. From my viewpoint, she's only interested in using these pieces of media as a crutch to justify bullying people. There's nothing productive about wallowing in negativity all the time, and believe me, it took myself a long time to get out of that hole I dug myself in. It's a lesson that takes time to learn. I'll be direct: Fairen needs to get a grip and learn that this behavior is unhealthy, horrible, and much like CanonSeeker, I would recommend that Fairen take a lengthy 2 month break from social media. She should try finding something like a hobby that she truly enjoys doing, especially if it's away from any kind of digital screen. I can't stress how important it is for people to take a break from social media because of how it can impact people and their behavior. I do know that Fairen has been pulling this behavior for over half a decade now, so I don't believe she'll change, but we'll see.

[shadowsong26fic]

Untitled BSG Ficlet

So, this is a bit that’s been sort of Percolating in my head for a while--there was a tumblr post about the relationship of redemption and forgiveness, and so on, and while I do have an essay building on that topic which will probably at some point make it to my meta blog, I also have this.

Which has a lot of other things going on, too; and it’s also very rough and I’m not super sold on how I opened it and also it just. sort of. trails off, rather than ending, lol. But there are some bits in here that I’m proud of, and continuing to pick at it is Frustrating me, so while I might at some point revise this/clean it up/post it elsewhere, I figured I’d go ahead and share it here now. (...honestly it should probably be two different scenes/two separate conversations And Yet)

Anyway, here’s a little one-shot with Gaius and Caprica, a bit over a month post-series. CW for discussion of/reference to abusive relationships and genocide.

“I know who you are,” Gaius said, softly, without looking at her.

It was late; pouring rain; he’d had another nightmare, waking both of them up.

“I know you do,” she said, running a hand through his hair.

[Not because it had been easy or automatic for him; he’d admitted that he’d been confused more than once in the past. But he’d told her about his encounters with her sisters--the ones he’d slept with and the ones he hadn’t--and how he’d learned to pick up on the little details. So that, from the moment she’d walked back into his life, every time he looked at her, he’s seen her, and not any other Six.]

“No, I mean, I…” He took a breath, put a hand over his eyes. “I know you…I know you would never…I have never been…I know you would never...hurt me.”

It took a minute for that to sink in.

Her sisters weren’t the only ones out there that looked like her.

They hadn’t talked about them. The angels. Not in the six weeks since they’d settled here.

Some of that was probably habit--after four years of silence, even after Gaius had publicly admitted to what he saw, even with each other, it wasn’t easy to broach the subject. For either of them.

Besides, there were plenty of other things to discuss. Practical questions, building their house, just…getting to know each other again. Physically, mentally, emotionally...

So much of their relationship had been founded on half-truths and lies that they had needed that. Those glimpses and fragments of normality, of just being people together, before they even approached the question of their roles as God’s instruments.

He looked up at her, a dreadful question he couldn’t bring himself to ask out loud burning in his eyes.

And, suddenly, so many little things made sense.

…I think I was maybe a little harder on D’Anna than I should have been.

She shook her head, then kissed him--a quick taste of reassurance, she hoped--before answering.

“No, he never hurt me,” she said. “He mostly…talked. Offered advice, when I needed it, but mostly he just gave a running commentary on my life.” She paused. “He wasn’t always nice about it, but…”

She had deserved it, she knew that. Pointed and sarcastic, and often phrased in the most hurtful way possible, but everything her angel had said was true.

Yes, it’s magical. Pity you nuked it.

If only you felt this strongly about us.

Do you know how many people died in this park alone?

“…can you forgive me?” she asked, softly, when Gaius said nothing for a long moment; the silence only broken by the gentle drum of rain against the roof they’d built together.

Can you ever forgive me for what I did to your people?

What I did to you?

She hadn’t asked him before, the first time they’d come back together. When they’d reunited in hell. When she’d deluded herself into believing that it would be that simple, that it would be enough--because she loved him, because he’d welcomed her back into his bed and his heart.

When she had, even if she couldn’t admit it, sensed the hollow spaces between them, and dreaded what she might find if she opened that door.

I loved him, and I think he could’ve loved me, eventually.

Not that there hadn’t been things she’d needed to forgive him for, too. There was a reason she’d turned away from him. A reason she’d had room in her heart for Saul, for--

There was a reason it had taken him putting everything on the line, in the end, for Hera, to bring her back.

But his sins, however numerous--the ones where she was concerned, at least--had been petty and personal, compared to the ways she’d hurt him.

Maybe that was reflected in the way their angels had spoken to them.

“You know,” he said, “you know, I never…I never asked myself that? In all this time, I never considered the question. I suppose…I suppose I always knew the answer, deep down.”

He rested a hand against her face, pulled her in for a soft, gentle kiss. As if that was answer enough.

And it almost was. They had always communicated better like this, physically, than with words.

But this time, she needed to hear it. Not just feel it.

Maybe he understood that, too. He broke the kiss, rested his forehead against hers.

“Yes,” he said. “I can. I have.”

She smiled, and kissed him again.

This wasn’t the end of it. There was a lot of work they had to do still. There were still hollow places between them, and he was still so--so fragile in her hands.

But this moment was just as important as the one where they’d come back together in that hallway, sheltered behind a crate with angels watching over them.

Moments like this were the foundation on which they would build the rest of their lives.

Not just because they loved each other--but because they forgave each other.

Because, after everything, they chose each other.

Because they believed in each other.

Maybe that, she thought, was what love really was, in the end.

Another kind of faith.

[persephonesfill]

breathe me in

a/n: this is the fic i promised for my 900 follower celebration! i’ve had this blog a for a while and it’s crazy to think that there’s people let alone 900 of them that care about my stupid opinions on stony. thank you guys so much!

summary: Tony tries to have a heart to heart with Steve after their fight on the Helicarrier and gets more than he bargained for. Set during The Avengers.

rating: Explicit, so explicit

warning(s): tony has self confidence issues but what else is new, heavy smut

edit: this fic has a sequel now!

choke on me—chapter one

—————

Almost dying, Tony decides, really puts one's life in perspective. They weren't kidding when they said your life flashed before your eyes, right up until your last breath. His life flashed alright, in a riot of color and noise, camera flashes, cheers, and jeers alike. And when he opens his eyes, he's greeted by Rogers kneeling over him looking distraught.

His almost death aside (he'll deal with that trauma later) Tony does what he does best to break the tension; he cracks a joke. And because today is just chock full of surprises, Rogers laughs. He laughs, and his eyes are as brilliant as the sky above them. Tony swears his heart stops again. It's happened enough for him to recognize the feeling.  

Tony knows he can be an asshole. He can be rude and obnoxious and interruptive, all very much asshole behaviors. The majority of the time, it's just an act. People have come to expect a show from him, whether they know it or not, and Tony's never been one to half-ass anything. The public wants a rich, smarmy bastard? He can do rich, smarmy bastard. He's the fucking poster boy for rich, smarmy bastard. 

But Rogers, laughing with him, smiling at him after dealing with Tony Stark: Peak Asshole Edition™? It makes Tony pause. The joke isn't that funny (you try coming up with a zinger after sacrificing yourself for the sake of the world), so why is Rogers smiling? It's not that Tony hates himself so much to the point where he immediately distrusts any signs of affection. But Tony's Tony. And Steve is Steve. 

"That's why," he tells himself. "This is Steve Rogers. Being kind is in his blood." There's only death in Tony's. 

"You're a real piece of work, aren't you, Stark?" Steve says, chuckling to himself. There's no heat to his words.

"You wouldn't like me nearly half as much if I wasn't," Tony says and immediately wants to shovel the words back into his mouth. He and Steve aren't friends. Steve isn't like Rhodey or Happy or hell, even Romanov, who Tony's still not sure what the status of their relationship is. 

Instead of rolling his eyes or sighing, that slight smile stays on his face. 

"Okay," Tony thinks. "That's new."

***

Tony's got a new perspective on things. Maybe Rogers isn't that bad. That doesn't mean that they're friends, not even close. But, Tony thinks, as he shuffles from foot to foot outside the soldier's makeshift quarters on the Helicarrier, that doesn't mean he doesn't want to at least try. 

Tony knows how to be the bigger person when he wants to be. 

He knocks on the door, and before he can change his mind and retreat to Stark Tower like a recluse, Steve is opening the door. 

Tony must have caught him while he was stripping out of his uniform; Steve's still wearing the bottoms of his suit, utility belt and combat boots in all. Aside from that, Steve is shirtless. Which is fine. Tony isn't going to question why Steve is shirtless, but it is hard to make direct eye contact with him when his abs are right there in front of Tony's face. And it's not like Steve didn't have time to put on a shirt before he answered the door. 

"Stark?" Steve says. "I'm surprised to see you up and running."

Right. Near-death experience. "I may have bribed the doctors in the med-bay into letting me leave early," he says. 

Steve frowns. Tony's quite familiar with Steve's frowns now. There's the "I can't believe you just said that" frown and the "Captain America is disappointed in you" frown, but this one, Tony can't seem to pinpoint. 

"Your heart stopped."

"After the second time, you get used to it," he says with a shrug. "Look, I didn't come to talk about my medical issues." 

A muscle works in Steve's jaw. Tony shouldn't find it as attractive as he does. "Why did you come, then?"

"I wanted to apologize." 

Steve arches a brow. "For?"

"For being an ass." It comes out sounding like a question. "I...said some hurtful things, and I want to own up to them instead of sweeping them under the rug."

"It wasn't just you," Steve admits. "We both were at each other's throats."

"Still," Tony says. "You're not a lab rat. Not even close."

Steve's lips quirk up. "I'm a step up from rat, now?"

"Yes," Tony says. This is good. Steve is smiling instead of punching him in the face. Tony can handle this. 

"You know...what you did today, that took courage."

Oh, God. Tony doesn't want this to be about him. (Despite popular belief, his ego isn't that fucking big.) 

"Don't even mention it. Please," Tony says. "If you're not gonna let me apologize to you properly, at least let me do something for you, or buy you something. I'm great at buying things."

Steve frowns again, but his interest is piqued. "Like what?"

"I don't know, like a vintage car or something. A blowjob. Whatever floats your boat." Why did he say blowjob, why did he say blowjob, why the fuck did he say blowjob? 

Steve's staring daggers into him. "Did you just offer to blow me?" 

Seriously, why the fuck did he say blowjob? 

"It was a joke," he says lamely. 

"Oh," Steve says, his face dropping and—is Tony crazy, or does Steve actually look disappointed?

"I'm sorry. You don't have to if you don't want to," Steve says. "I thought...you know what, never mind." Steve's retreating back into the safety of his room, a blush flooding his cheeks. 

Tony has two options, and he has to pick fast. He can either let this whole thing go and pretend it never happened, as that seems like it's what Steve wants to do. Or...he can roll with it. 

"Wait," Tony says, grabbing Steve by the arm. His skin is hot to the touch. "It...it wouldn't be a chore or anything." 

Steve swallows, looking Tony up and down. Tony feels oddly naked in front of him like Steve is seeing past every mask he's ever donned. "You mean that?" Steve says.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it," Tony confesses. His stomach twists into knots. During their fight he had thought about Steve pinning him against a wall, wrapping a hand around his throat, kissing his mouth like a savage—

"Yeah?" Steve says, and his tongue darts out, wetting his lips.

"Yeah," Tony breathes. The hallway feels like it's closing in on him. 

Their eyes meet, and it's a matter of seconds before Steve's yanking Tony by his arm into the barrack. 

Tony barely has any time to close the door and observe the room before Steve's on him. 

He's kissing Captain America.

Tony Stark is kissing Captain America. 

Steve kisses like he fights; All confidence and barely restrained power. Tony's back is pressed against the wall, but he can't find it in himself to complain as Steve's tongue finds its way into his mouth. 

Tony doesn't know if they closed the door or not, and that sends an electric thrill running down his spine. Anybody could walk past and see him ready to fall to his knees and give Captain fucking America the blowjob of his life. 

Steve slots his thigh in between Tony's legs, silently prompting him to spread them, and it's no skin off Tony's back to comply. 

Steve's tongue is quick and clever, eliciting moans from Tony's mouth. Steve's a practiced kisser, and Tony's not sure if that bothers him or not. He had assumed that Steve was a precious virgin with 1940s sensibilities, but obviously, he had been with somebody. Tony wonders if it was recent and if Steve still thinks about them in his spare time. 

The thought of Steve with another lover fills him with jealousy, and Tony finds himself kissing Steve harder. He winds his hands into Steve's hair and grinds his rapidly growing cock down on Steve's thick thigh. 

Steve pulls back, chuckling as Tony chases after his lips. 

"You're a needy one, huh?" he says, working at the fly of his tac suit. 

"Like you're any better," Tony says, marveling at how out of breath he sounds. "You can barely get your pants down, you're so eager." 

Steve raises his hands. "Alright, genius, you do it. I'll just stand here and look pretty." 

Tony bites back a smile and instead makes quick work of Steve's fly. 

"Oh, wow," he says softly when he pulls out Steve's cock, already hard and leaking precome. He's not a poet, but he's never seen a dick that looked so...nice. It's so hot in Tony's hands, like a brand. Steve keeps himself trimmed and neat, which makes sense, given the rest of his appearance. 

Tony can hear his heart beating a rapid rhythm in his chest as the gravity of what he's about to do hits him. It's not like he's never given a blowjob before, far from it. But this is Steve. Steve, who lied on registration forms just so he could serve his country. Steve, who freed prisoners of war with little to no help. Steve, who plunged a nuke-laden plane into the ocean without a second thought. 

"Hey," Steve said. "I meant it when I said you don't have to do this if you don't want to. Are you still okay with this?" 

Something in Tony's heart softens at that, and he silently pushes it down. This is a one time only situation. He can't afford to get feelings involved, so instead, he nods. "Yeah," he says, "You think I'd say no to this?" And with that, Tony fully sinks to his knees.

He takes Steve into his mouth before he can ask any more questions. A sharp intake of breath escapes Steve's mouth. Tony's hands come up to rest on Steve's well-muscled thighs. It's hard to breathe at first—Steve is so big, Tony would bet his fortune that he had been like this before the serum too. 

Tony takes his time, and Steve lets him adjust to the foreign weight in his mouth. He breathes through his nose because he's not a goddamn amateur, and settles into a steady rhythm, bobbing his head along the length of Steve's dick. 

Tony savors the little gasps and moans that Steve emits whenever he swallows around him or flicks his tongue a certain way. He commits them to his memory like a raven collects shining trinkets. 

Steve's hand curls into Tony's hair, not necessarily pushing him down, though. Just a steady, almost comforting weight on Tony's head that makes something in the back of his mind purr in satisfaction. 

"You're doing so good," Steve whispers it like it's a secret. 

Tony looks up at him, and Steve looks just as wrecked as Tony feels. The blue of his eyes is naught but a thin ring overtaken by a pool of black. His skin is sweaty and flushed, his lips red and swollen from where he had been biting them to stifle his moons. Tony wants to devour him. 

Steve's fingers tighten in his hair, and Tony's moaning himself now. Steve's eyes flutter shut, his mouth dropping into a slight 'o'. 

"How can someone be so fucking beautiful?" Tony thinks. 

His own cock tents his jeans, leaking precome, but Tony will deal with it later. He's not expecting Steve to return the favor. This is an apology, after all. An unconventional one, sure, but an apology all the same. 

"I'm close," Steve says. "Do you want me to—"

Instead of answering, Tony hollows out his cheeks and sucks. His teeth ghost over a vein along the length of Steve's cock, and Steve's coming with a muffled shout into Tony's mouth. Tony's careful to swallow it all, not wanting any of Steve's come to go to waste. He tells himself that it's just so that there's less of a mess. 

"Jesus, Tony," Steve says, his voice all scratchy like he had been the one on his knees for the past fifteen minutes. 

Tony pulls off of Steve and looks up at him with big eyes, his lashes shining with unshed tears. Something primal crosses Steve's face, and he snaps. The next thing Tony knows, he's being hauled to his feet, and Steve's tongue is down his throat like he wants to become a part of Tony. A pang of arousal hits Tony in his stomach like a sucker-punch at the fact that Steve would still kiss him after what he had just done. 

Steve unbuttons Tony's jeans with deft fingers and shoves one of his hands down Tony's jeans. He finds his cock with ease. Tony wraps his arms around Steve's neck and digs his fingers into Steve's skin as he jerks him hard and fast like he's trying to punish him.

It should hurt. But a savage part of Tony's brain revels in Steve's loss of control. Steve isn't Captain America right now, America's golden boy. He's Steve fucking Rogers, and he's taking what he wants, consequences be damned. Tony doesn't even bother trying to hide his cry when he comes hot and wet into Steve's hand, pleasure lighting up every single one of his nerves as if he has been struck by lightning. Tony's knees tremble, and if it weren't for Steve pinning him against the wall, he surely would have fallen to the ground. 

Steve breaks their kiss and tucks his head into the nape of Tony's neck. 

"God," he says, his voice like sandpaper. "God," he repeats as if that says everything that needs to be said. In a way, it does. 

"Hell of an apology, huh?" Tony says. He's always known how to ruin a moment. 

Steve gives him a breathless chuckle in return. "If that was your apology, I'd kill to see your 'thank you,'" he says. 

"Give me something to be thankful for."

"Yeah?" Steve says, lifting his head up to look at him. His eyes are bright, but there's a glint to his gaze that makes Tony feel like he's being hunted. 

"Yeah," Tony says. Steve's smile cuts like a knife.

[babyybitchhhwrites]

Endeavor x Reader 18+

Title: Temptation 

Rating:  Explicit/R-18+

Words: 2761

Warnings: phone sex, public masturbation, slight daddy kink

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25758232

A/N: This is not a new fic. I actually wrote it sometime back in 2017 but I never uploaded it outside of Tumblr. I was only recently able to retrieve it from my previously nuked blog so figured I’d go ahead and post it here. : /

♥♥♥♥

Whether because of his age or due to his stubborn ass personality, Enji was not a big fan of texting. He much preferred to make phone calls or, better yet, speak to someone in person. Try as you might to convince him otherwise, it proved to be a hard habit of his to break. Although you couldn’t really blame him for being so stuck in his ways, not when they’d served him so well over the years, you likewise had your own method of getting things done. Texting was your main source of communication these days and you’d long since accepted that he just wasn’t going to get on board with it anytime soon.

Thats why you were so terribly shocked when your phone buzzed and you glanced down at the screen to see a message from the flame hero himself. This was so unlike him and concern that there was some kind of problem washed over you before you could rationalize it as being something mundane. Fearing the worst, you opened the text only to balk incredulously.

Come to my office.

Surreptitiously glancing up at Best Jeanist, you offered the blonde a reassuring smile when he shot you a questioning look. This was so not the time for Enji to start getting demanding.

I can’t right now. I’m out on patrol with my boss. Maybe later?

You waited expectantly for some kind of response, but it was just dead silence on his end. After about three minutes and your text still unread, you slipped your phone into your pocket with every intention of getting back to work. It went off again not even thirty seconds later and you heaved a tired sigh. Once more fishing out your cellphone, you disinterestedly looked over the new message.

I’ve been thinking about you.

Your eyes bulged before you could catch yourself. Suddenly feeling quite flustered, you quickly glanced around to make sure no one was reading over your shoulder before carefully constructing your reply. No one knew about your relationship with Endeavor and it would have been disastrous if it came out like this. It was a PR nightmare just waiting to happen.

Oh ~? I can’t wait for you to tell me all about it! I’ll be done around 5

This time Enji’s reply came much quicker and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at the thought that he was starting to get the hang of it.

I want you now. Not later.

Too bad he was using his new found texting skills to get you all hot and bothered while you were at work and your boss was standing not even five feet away.

You were halfway through typing a firm but gentle reminder that you were a pro too and you couldn’t just drop everything to come blow him under his desk when you got another message from him. Blinking in surprise, your eyebrows shot up when you realized that he’d sent you a picture. You didn’t even really give it much thought as you clicked on it, and suddenly your screen was filled with … the front of Enji’s hero costume. The crotch to be exact. And boy, was he hard.

Blushing like a school girl, you hurriedly tapped the picture away. Another text was waiting for you.

See what you do to me?

You gasped for air, swinging your head up to find Best Jeanist approaching you. Panic was quick to set in but, thinking fast, you rushed to say that you were going to use the restroom and without even waiting for a answer, you took off in the opposite direction. It was suspicious. It was incredibly suspicious, your behavior. He’d no doubt ask what that had been all about when you returned and you sure hoped he bought whatever petty excuse you managed to come up with before then.

Halfway down the block, there was a fast food restaurant which is where you decided to slip into. You refused to meet any of the employees eyes as you made a bee line for the bathroom where you promptly locked yourself into one of the stalls. Gripping your phone in a white knuckled grip, you jabbed at the screen rather aggressively and brought it up to your ear. Enji answered on the first ring.

“I’m so glad that you’re finally catching up to this century, but you can’t send me stuff like that when I’m at work!” You snapped, almost immediately regretting your choice in words. You were flustered and anxious though, and your panties suddenly felt uncomfortably damp, so you didn’t even try to take it back.

To your surprise, Enji actually had the decency to fall into stunned silence for a brief moment. Then he growled through the receiver and you could practically see his teeth clamping down on that pouty bottom lip of his. “Watch how you speak to me, woman. I wont warn you again.”

That certainly took some of the bite out of your scathing mood. “Look, I’m sorry but …” You tried to reason with him, noticeably calmer. “I’m on patrol with Best Jeanist right now. You can’t ask me to just drop everything like that.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

You choked in disbelief. “W-wha -”

He cut you off with a vehement huff. “Where are you?”

“In a restaurant. In the bathroom.”

“Good.” You caught the sound of rustling on the other end. “I felt like a damn fool taking that picture. This is much better.”

Your gaze darted to the stall door, still locked. “Enji, I can’t -”

“You will.” A tense puff of air filtered through the line, and you were sure he had his straining cock in his hand now. “I’ll even take you out to dinner tonight instead of just breaking you over my desk. Now be a good girl and start playing with yourself.”

Static electricity shot up your spine, making you shudder. A soft moan escaped your parted lips. Enji didn’t miss it, he never did, and he chuckled in satisfaction. The sound alone made goosebumps erupt across your skin and before you realized what you were doing, your free hand had found your breast. It was small and delicate compared to his massive, callous rough palms, but it was so easy to imagine. So easy to dredge up the most recent memory of how it felt when he fondled your tits. Your nipples responded quickly, pebbling against the inside of your bra, just aching for some real attention.

“This is risky …” You murmured, your voice a little lower. Huskier.

Enji snorted. “Maybe for you.”

You flushed red hot at that, swaying on your feet. He was right. You were the only one doing this out in public where anyone could walk in without warning while he was safe in his office. Your breath hitched even as you rushed to unfasten the top of your costume with one hand. It was a struggle, but with jerky motions you finally managed to free yourself and you yanked your bra down under the swell of your chest.

“E-Enjiiii …” You keened into the phone as you pinched your left nipple. Tugged it, gave it a twist. Nothing could compare to his rough ministrations though.

A pleased hum drifted into your ear, followed by a deliberately slow inhale. “Not like that. You know better.”

You screwed your eyes shut and leaned back against the stall door, groaning. “Daddy!”

“Thats it.”

Enji sounded so self satisfied and you could practically envision him reclining into his highbacked leather chair, spreading his legs wide as he languidly stroked his cock with his hand. Maybe he was alternating between showing the head some special attention, slowly rubbing around the slit at the top, or perhaps he was reaching down to give his heavy balls a nice squeeze. God, there were so many possibilities and somehow not knowing exactly what he was doing made your knees go weak.

“I’ve been thinking about that pretty little mouth of yours all day.” He spoke slowly, almost sensually, truly stoking your fire. “I wanted you to come crawl under my desk and suck me off while I work on this mountain of paperwork. Be my little cock warmer.”  

Your vision started to blur. “I want to, daddy. I want your dick in my mouth so bad. I wish it was you touching my nipples right now.”

He groaned, quietly. “Those perfect little tits of yours. Maybe I should have you squeeze them together so I can fuck them instead of your mouth.”

“Why not both?”

He issued a rumbling chuckle. “Smart girl.”

Your nipple was starting to get sore and tender, so you switched over to teasing the other one. “What else do you want to do to me? Please tell me, daddy.”

Enji made a thoughtful sound, as if he were in no rush to hurry this up. He probably wasn’t, in all honesty. “Well, first I want to take you over my knee and give you a nice, hard spanking for talking to me the way you did earlier. You know I don’t tolerate that kind of behavior.”

“And then?” You were quick to prompt him for more. Eager to hear his gruff voice saying filthy, humiliating things directly into your ear. “After you’re done spanking me?”

“Then I think I’ll play with that pretty pink asshole of yours for a while. You know how much I enjoy that.”

Its true. He was rather fond of fingering you after your behind was blistering red and sore. “I like it too …” You whimpered as you tugged on your nipple a little too hard.

“I know you do.” Enji’s voice dropped an octave, taking on a more carnal lilt. More predatory, hungry. “And I’ll force my fingers down your throat when I’m through. Make you clean up your mess. You’re such a messy girl, you know that?”

“Oh, god.” The words forced their way out of your mouth and you abandoned your chest in favor of fumbling with your pants. “I am, I really am, daddy. I’m so sorry.”

He moaned, clearly enjoying the needy desperation in your voice. “Thats what I’m here for. To keep you in check. Are you touching your clit yet?”

Practically tearing your jeans right off, you crumple them around your ankles and drop into a squat right there inside the stall. “Yes, daddy. I’m so wet, god. I wish you were here. I want you to fuck me in this bathroom so bad.”

“Next time. I promise.” His breath catches in his throat and you knew he was stroking himself faster now. “For the time being, I want you to dip those sweet fingers into your cunt and imagine its me stretching you out. Getting you ready to take me.”

“I’m always ready for you.” You practically sob, sending jittery fingertips skirting across your labia. You pause just long enough to smear your arousal, coating yourself with it, before slipping one digit inside your pussy. Its not nearly enough though and you quickly add another. You clench down on yourself tight. “Oh! God … please! I need you. I need you, daddyyyyy.”

Enji scoffs, sounding quite put out even in the heat of the moment. “Stop that whining. If you would’ve just done as I said, I could be fucking you right now.”

You’re so close to wailing in outright distress. “But -”

“No buts!” He barks at you. You were astounded to hear that familiar heat creeping into his voice even in this situation, when he was in the middle of jerking off at his own desk. “You had your chance. These are the consequences. I trust I don’t need to give you a refresher course on what that means?”

“No …” You pout up at the wall, still a little whiny but notably less so.

“Good. Now,” He pauses. Lets the anticipation hang in the air while you continue to thrust your fingers into your body. “I want you to rub your clit. Hard and fast. Do you understand me? I’ll know if you don’t do exactly what I said.”

Sucking in a haggard gulp of air, you pull out of your cunt and focus instead on that tight cluster of nerves with sharp, quick circles. The delicious friction leaves you openly groaning in the public restroom like you’ve forgotten where you are. The threat of being caught seemed like a distant memory though and it was hard to care about reputations or PR when you just felt so achingly good rubbing one out with Enji over the phone. Somehow the thought had never occurred to you before, so the resulting rush was nearly palpable. You could feel it scorching your veins with its intensity.

“Thats it. Such a good girl.” He sounded incredibly hot and heavy all of a sudden. “Who owns that tight cunt? Who does it belong to?”

“You! You do! Its yours, daddy, all yours!”

“I wonder how soaked your panties will be by the time you get to my office.” Enji somehow manages to sound thoughtful, like he’s working out an equation in his head. “Maybe I should tell you not to put them back on when you’re done. That bastard Best Jeansit will probably be able to smell you from a mile way, regardless.”

Trembling under the force of your quickly mounting orgasm, you strain your legs a little further apart. You just couldn’t seem to put enough pressure on your clit, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. “I - I’m close … I’m so close, daddy …”

“Then do it. Come for me, baby.”

You moaned in response, far louder than you should have, and the pace of your hand reached a frenzied speed. Teetering right on the edge, balancing precariously on your heels in a dirty bathroom, you just needed one little nudge.

Its a deep, low grunt from Enji that finally pushes you over the precipice into oblivion. The guttural sound echoes inside your ears for an eternity while you spasm. Throwing your head back with a strangled scream, you slam against the door so hard that the bolt rattles, and you don’t even have the wherewithal to be concerned about someone hearing you anymore. Not while your gushing pussy is on fire, ineffectually contracting around nothing and all you can do is ride it out to completion.

The orgasm is so intense that it leaves you momentarily shaken. Disoriented. Leaning heavily against the door, you almost drop your phone as you slowly stand up on shaky legs. Your pulse is still excited and jumpy but almost immediately you can feel the blissful high of endorphins swarming your body. You feel almost giddy.

“Wow, that was … actually kind of nice. Did you come too?” You ask, sounding out of it and a little loopy. You were sure to be on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

“No.”

The answer is so blunt and to the point that at first you’re not so sure you heard him correctly. “What?”

Enji sighs as more shuffling can be heard in the background and you wonder what he’s doing. “I think I’ll save it for later. That rude mouth of yours needs to be filled up with something, doesn’t it? Be here at five on the dot or don’t bother coming at all. Oh, and don’t put your panties back on. Throw them in the trash for all I care.”

And just like that, the line disconnected.

You stood there, stunned and feeling quite foolish with your pants pooling around your ankles. Twenty six minutes according to the call log. That was an awfully long bathroom break. Jeanist would definitely have some questions for you. But before you worry about that …

Smiling mischievously, you pull up your text log with Enji and open the picture again. The sheer girth of his engorged cock was really straining against the synthetic material of his costume, weighing heavy in the tight confines and leaving a rather mouthwatering outline on display. Overall, it left very little to the imagination and you wished you could make it the background on your phone. Sadly, you knew you couldn’t.

You gave his cock one last, longing look. It must have taken quite a bit of willpower for him to edge himself like that if he was this hard at the start, you mused. This certainly pointed towards an extra fun evening awaiting you when you got off work and your pussy tingled with residual excitement.

You saved the photo anyway, confident that you would still find some use for it.

[ilcaeryx]

Incognito [Midoriya Izuku/Reader]

SUMMARY: Izuku visits you before going abroad. You're both single, interested... though only he will be surprised to find out you have a child.

TAGS: Midoriya Izuku/Reader, sad, borderline confession, single mother reader

NOTES: I just changed it around a tiny bit so that reader wouldn't be completely in a relationship when the nuke drops, because I think that'd be a supreme lack of respect on reader's part. I’ll be uploading these into separate posts so they’ll be easier to organize in my Masterlist. I’ll upload the others soon! Thank you for requesting. ^^

Izuku gathered stillness outside your apartment, his hands gentle around the bouquet with red roses. He hoped that you would appreciate having something that would remind you of him while he was overseas. When he spotted them on his way here, he instantly thought of you and perhaps it would have the same effect for you. 

The other way around, obviously.

Pushing silly thoughts aside, he knocked on the door. At first he suspected you didn’t hear it and he reached out to knock again when you opened, looking puzzled. You were wearing a bathrobe and your hair was slicked against your head.

If he could come home to you relaxed like this every night, he would be pleased with that.

“Happy birthd-” Izuku cut himself off mid-sentence and handed you the flowers. His hands wanted to wring about, so he brought them to his hips. “I hope I’m not bothering you with this surprise visit. I wanted to see you before my flight tomorrow. We won’t see each other for two weeks, after all.”

Your stature seemed to shrink into shyness at his words, a smile ghosting over your face a second before you elevated the bouquet to your lower face. It was a cute gesture and the thrill he felt at eliciting it was not proportional to the simpleness of the action.

Izuku let out a nervous chuckle.

“I appreciate the gesture,” you said, keeping eye-contact with him. “You’re not bothersome at all, Izuku. I would never have expected you to swing by at this time though. I would offer you to come in but you should be heading to sleep soon, right? It’s almost 9.”

Out of instinct, you checked your wrist and playfully hit your head with the bouquet.

“It is! I’ll sleep on the flight - I’ll work it out.”

His flight left at 4AM tomorrow, though that wasn’t necessary for you to know. He had survived on less sleep before. These last few weeks his sleeping schedule had been thrown off because of you, which was shameful as your relationship was in a transitional stage - or so he thought.

You shuffled back inside, steps muffled by your slippers. “I’ll trust your words then.”

However, this must be a positive sign.

You had settled into the sofa, speaking about the coming weeks, when Izuku got the impression that you were less energetic and mellow-voiced compared to your usual self. Legs crossed and body facing him, your legs were touching his and his forehead was almost touching yours. You were more approachable now, as your chic persona would make him too nervous to initiate things.

Eventually, the mood was right; you had been biting your lower lip and you grazed his forearm with your nails lovingly, so he kissed you.

With your lips against his, his body flared up in elation.

Someone’s tiny voice drenched him in ice. ‘Mama’, it said. Izuku pulled away from your face and withdrew his arm from beneath your hand. When he turned around he saw a young boy beside the armrest, snuggling a plushie tiger. The child’s nose and cheeks were reminiscent of yours.

“What is Deku doing here?” the child asked, his tiger concealing half his face.

Huh? Did he just recognize him out of costume? Izuku wanted to ask questions, yet when he saw your jaw clench in frustration he paused his thought process.

You cursed under your breath and reached out for your child, arms open. Your child suddenly sprung up into your lap, quickly peeking at Izuku before settling his head on your chest.

Beholding your child, your eyes softened while you nuzzled his neck with your hand.

“He’s really fond of superheroes,” you said without tearing your eyes off your son. “Much like all children, I guess.”

An invitation to discuss this from you was appreciated, about a topic he was passionate about no less.

Nevertheless, there were conflicting feelings blooming inside him as he struggled to look away from your child. He strained his voice and said somewhat cheerily, “Is that so? Who’s your favourite?”

A stifled ‘Red Riot’ came from the kid.

“That’s great but it’s not time for heroes,” you stated, seizing him beneath his armpits and bringing him up from the sofa with you. “Time to return to bed.”

Perhaps it wasn’t appropriate to talk about this with a child overhearing.

Izuku sunk down properly into the comfortable cushions and mulled about the signs he had previously missed. Now it was apparent that your schedule was adjusted to that of a child. He would never have expected this.

There were thoughts and feelings he wanted to voice but your throat seemed to burst with words once you sat down, so he remained silent.

“I’m incredibly sorry for not telling you,” you said, your voice earning a serious timbre. “I’m not saying this because I got caught. I never expected that you wouldn’t notice. I would’ve told you soon...”

You grimaced as you struggled to vocalize your thoughts.

Izuku focused on a spot on the floor. “I can understand why you wouldn’t tell me. It must be hard to date as a single mother and I imagine your child thinks his father is getting replaced.”

“Exactly. It’s a complicated situation… This doesn’t change my feelings for you but I can understand if you’re upset. A child changes the dynamics, after all.”

God, he was dying to answer that nothing had changed - however, it could impossibly be true. He didn’t want to reassure you of this and regret it, as that’d hurt both of you. “You’re right… Although we can talk about this.”

The inevitability that he would have to reassess his feelings about this addition forced him into silence.

“That’s the most I can ask for,” you said, lips tightening.

Perhaps he’d have to wait a little longer to confess his feelings.

Thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please like or reblog.

There's more content on my blog.

I listened to Love Me Do by VIXX while writing this.

[peachymess]

I miss you. Tumblr nuked my account several months ago. Almost a year, I think. I started a new one and nobody cares. In a this time I've only got one single follower and idk why. An old mutual, but she obviously only followed me out of pity. She's much closer with her circle of friends, none of which care to interact with me. And I don't want to just force myself onto them. And I have to stay in anon with you because I don't want to come across begging, but I'm just so fucking alone

Hi, anon! 

I’m sorry to hear you feel so left out and alone. And I’m sorry tumblr nuked your account.  Obviously, I don’t know the context outside of what you’re telling me, so I might pose questions or say things that are irrelevant do this particular situation, but I wanna suggest this: perhaps people didn’t “not care”, but rather didn’t realize you got nuked? Even if you made a post about being nuked, on your new account, how would your old followers see that, you know? Imagine if I stopped posting and a week later I made a new account to say I got locked out, who would see it? Nobody follows that account so it wouldn’t show up on their dash. Sure, I could tag it peachymess, but who would search up my name, you know? Nobody would know that there was any information to look for to begin with. Because the sad truth is people leave. Throughout the years, I’ve seen so many people come and go. I miss so many people. But fandom is often just a train stop. People arrive, then another interest or life event pulls them out of the station and away they go. Even people you think are cemented stuck to the foundation of a fandom can up and leave - HAVE up and left. I think I’m not the only one who’s learned that radio silence means another person’s leave to accept. 

I don’t know what “nuked” means in the context of accounts, so I don’t know if you’re locked out or if it’s messed up in such a way that you decided to start fresh despite still having access to the old one. If you can’t get into the old one, the above explanation can be part of why people didn’t see your new post/didn’t go looking. But if you announced the move on your old account, then here’s something to consider: the fandom isn’t what it used to be. Especially if you’re from the eremin family. Obviously, there’s little likelyhood that the ship will be canon now - there seems to be no time for romance at all, tbh, with so few chapters left and so much WAR to deal with - and I think that deterred some of the activity. The SNK story has also become so bleak that many have taken a step back for the time being. The tumblr exodus took away a chunk too. Over all, in my experience, people aren’t as active anymore. And if they’re like me, who follow a good amount of people, it’s nearly impossible to catch every post by every blog - even though you follow them. Maybe they, like me, rarely scroll that much anymore, too. So, don’t be afraid to re-promote/boost the post you made so more people see it.

As for the pity follow. I don’t know. You know the situation better, but “out of pity” is probably an assumption, not a fact, unless it was explicitly confirmed to be. Remember that. Don’t always take your assumptions as facts - especially not if they’re made in a bad headspace. Depending on how much you interracted pre-nuking, it might be what feels natural to them, to follow but otherwise stay silente. Using myself as reference again, I follow a lot mutuals whom I never talk to, yet I care for them, just for being part of the family/community. If me and you were mutuasl but never talked - and I saw your post about being nuked - I’d quietly follow too, and not out of pity. 

I don’t know about this person’s circle of friends, I don’t know if they also used to be mutuals with you or what. I don’t know what that situation is about. I’m sorry it feels so excluding, either way. Whether they leave you out on purpose or you just don’t fit into the circle, though: perhaps either reason is the hint you need to go on to make a new circle of your own. I understand change is scary, and often unwanted. When you feel snug in a place/state, you want it to remain static forever, but... change is an inevitable part of life. Luckily, we have a big opportunity to grow from change. I was forced to give up on my own snugness and now I’ve started a new chapter in my life that’s made me happier, despite being downright terrified of letting go. Perhaps this will be hard for you too, but the reality seems to be that you can’t stay in this phase, whatever it is, because it’s hurting you. It isn’t what it used to be, and the only way to be ok again, is to find a new snug place because the old one isn’t there anymore. It changed. I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I’m genuinely sad that you sound to be in such a painful state right now, and I want you to find a spot to fit snuggly into again. That doesn’t have to mean in a different fandom, though. Perhaps the resolution will be to ask you friend if there’s room for you in her circle - perhaps it turns out they weren’t aware you’re feeling so outside of things. And maybe the spot is with another circle in the same fandom. But one thing’s for certain, a move has to be made, because you shouldn’t stay put in this limbo of feeling unwanted yet wanting to be wanted by that very same, painful enviornment. 

You say you miss me, so we obviously have some sort of connection. Feel free to DM me. I’m not active all that much outside of check-ins, and sometimes I take a long while to reply to things. But that’s just me, it’s got nothing to do with you, and you’re welcome to stay and chat.  Stay strong, Anon. And good luck, whatever you decide to do! 

[pjstafford]

The Bad Boy/Good Guy public personality dynamic of David Duchovny

Written as a birthday gift (with her blog prompt) for Charmion @grungekid84

Dedication: Charmion and I are of different generations; separated in age by over twenty years. I was the age she is now, about, when the X-files was new and she watched it first as a child. Yet today we share similarities in thoughts related to our celebrity crush. To both Charmion and David Duchovny I say, I hope this blog does the love the justice it deserves.

Why are women 20 to 70 years of age fan girls of the 59 year old David Duchovny? Not simply fans! Fans might watch a movie because an actor is in it. They might rewatch a series a half dozen times. Fan girls like Charmion have an Xfile room and paint pictures. Fan girls like myself write blogs, fan fic and team up with fan girls like Cathy Glinski to present at academic conferences. Why do women who have no other celebrity crushes have this need to celebrate this one celebrity in these ways? It seems significant to me the age range of women who are fan girls. I have stood in an audience surrounded by women barely old enough to meet the 21 age limit who knew every word to each of his songs. I heard one such woman say that this is an experience she would tell her grandchildren about. I, also, know women closer to 70 who have traveled to a meet and greet or comic con because they wanted the opportunity to thank this celebrity for the years of joy. Just today as I start to write this a woman I do not know tweeted @hearteyes4david an open letter to the world with a life wish to meet and thank this man. There are so many of us who just want to say thank you. And I won’t say none of us are not, but most of us are not crazy. We are lobbyists, store managers, attorneys, emergency room nurses, church secretaries of different ages and nationalities, many happily married, most normal women ( and some men). So many of us eager, compelled almost, to meet a single specific man and say thank you.

Some of it, people will say, is lust. Yes, it’s possible that if he was a less attractive man we would wish to thank him in person less. Still, can you truly look at the picture at the end of this blog and say his looks are so much more Adonis like than any other man? To say it’s purely a physical lust for a handsome man is dismissive of the intelligent, thoughtful women so moved to want to thank him.

His talent? “Sweet baby Jesus” he gave us Mulder and if that wasn’t enough, Moody. Whether he is playing a man who has lost his wife in Return to me, a drugged out doctor in Playing God, or a Russian operative determine to see the US nuked in Phantomn he makes every character seem so real that he gets a reputation for only playing himself. He is so good of an actor playing such diverse roles that folks can’t believe is truly acting. Still, I think most of us would just be fans and not fan girls if good looks and talent was all he had going for him

He is multi-talented and many love the rock star with romantic, heart breaking lyrics. For me, as I have often said, he is my favorite living novelist with three novels published and a fourth to come out soon. He writes intelligent, funny, heart breaking novels with an unique style and characters that again seem real (even the talking animals). In a recent interview he said something to the effect that his kids could read these novels and know who he was a man. I think that’s why I love his writing so much is because lyrics or prose they are authentic expressions of an artist’s personality; which brings me to Charmion prompt...the personality of David Duchovny.

I have met the man briefly a handful of times. I like the man I have met, but I can’t pretend to know more anymore than his public persona. I know how he comes across in interviews, what others who know him say about him, and all I can possibly gleam from his public art...from the things he has acted in and from his written art- the XFiles the Unnatural, the movie “House of D”, the novels, the lyrics, the distorted selfies in the mirrors reflections he tweeted when he used to tweet. This is how I know what I know about the man...and the fact that the few times I met him he was soft spoken, polite, humble and kind; taking time to answer my questions intelligently, joke a little and write kind words.

I know he is flawed. It is impossible to be a fan and not know about some of the faults which have been well publicized. As he himself says in my favorite of his songs, “I got skeletons in my closet which time ain’t forgot...”. They will never be forgotten. They will be included 20 or 30 years from now in his obituary. His flawed character is a fact, it has been aired, it is part of who he is.

I have written that what I love best about his writing is the combination of darkness and despair with the lightness of the human spirit and resiliency (mmm...the ability to believe?) rising out of darkness. He writes about the most depressing subjects on earth realistically and the fairy tale quality which rises to fill our hearts, to make us laugh and cry, is as real. It is either or both n amazing technique and/ or a result of a world view. I choose to believe it is the latter.

David Duchovny is no saint, but God Damn, he seems like a remarkably good guy with enough of a bad/boy mischievous side to make his personality as sexy as fucking itself. See how I just got a little different in my language there. David puts fucking in a book title, god damn in a song, gets bleeped on air record breaking number of times. God damn, fuck you if you think this is a man who is afraid to swear. He is not really Fox Freaking Mulder but he is David Fucking Duchovny

He is a good guy. He is intelligent. His ability to reference the high brow literary comes across in all his works. His second album title is from a Shakespeare quote. Walt Whitman shows up throughout his novels (and his dog’s tweets). He is well read, it quite well known. If you don’t get that reference, he would, as a Dylan fan and a fan of many other musical artists. He is also happy to talk about and reference sporting heros.

He is a bad boy. Oh, but the lowbrow humor! Early interviews have fart jokes, bathroom humor. He has a knack for intermixing the profane and profound. His novel, Miss Subways, has the elementary teacher leaving the classroom in tears when an assignment (write a letter to a Shakespeare minor character) results in an innocent boy reading “My dearest Fellatio...”.

He is a good guy. He is a romantic. He gave the XFiles fans the shippy Mulder and Scully baseball scene. He believes in his heart that Californication was at heart a love story. He writes lyrics for his ex wife who loves the rain saying “ It will always be raining in this song.” In his novel are real people having real sex type of scenes...no great erotica with flowing hair and heaving bosoms for this man, but discussion of lights on or off or an older couple off screen and an adult son hearing and embarrassed.

He is a bad boy. The man has no fear of nudity. . In his first movie he was filmed completely naked. In the commentary to the rapture he admits that he told the director he thought the character slept in the nude. (Hence the balls shot). It was his idea to wear the red speedo. He improvised the moonshot in evolution.

He is a good guy. He believes in causes. He volunteers and donates to protect the planet, for animal rights, for music education and for planned parenthood. His was the only story in over 200 XFiles episodes that truly dealt with racial injustice and segregation.

He is a good guy. In House of D the thirteen year old boy’s best friend is a forty year old janitor with special needs. He is a bad boy. That boy and janitor told each other a lot of pee jokes.

I can go on and on and on about the bad boy/good guy public personna of David Duchovny, but I am going to close with a subject that might tempt fate and bring forth the haters. I want to end with thinking about David and women.

In Red Shoes diaries David was in the forefront of the soft porn explosion. In an interview this year Brigitte Bako describes her experience in filming the movie as the “worst experience of my life”; but has nothing but complimentary things to say about David, how sweet and nice he was. They became close friends and she later appeared in an episode of Californication.

In Californication, David was the star of one of the raunchiest series in television history. Tits and ass, fucking and punching. I love the show but it would likely not be made today although, to be fair, it demonstrates women having agency over their sexuality. Nevertheless, actresses who appeared on that show have recently been asked what it was like. Over and over again they talk about how comfortable the environment was and how polite and respectful David was.

Much has been made over Gillian Anderson being paid half of David Duchovny’s salary. This is hardly his fault and something he argued against once he was made aware of it, but, as a fan of the show, I love hearing him talk protectively of Mulder and of wanting to protect that relationship. I love that he was responsible for rewriting an ending to one of seasons 11 episodes which end not with Mulder objectifying Scully and not with him in his under wear, but with Scully opining the door and him standing there. As David said, Scully being in control of her own desires.

Finally in Miss Subways, I find a female character written with such realism and authenticity that I have to go back to the 19th century to find a female literary character so relatable to me. She is a reader, beautiful to some men, a little eccentric in some ways, vulnerable, strong but without a great belief in herself or her talent. She’s just fucking real in a fucking real world despite being in a surrealistic fantasy novel with Irish banshees and African spider goddesses, parallel timelines and phones that can alter reality.

We, the fan girls, love this celebrity, David Duchovny because of his looks, his talent and his personality; because he is a bad boy and a good guy; because he inspires us, because he is flawed as we all are and goes through his life trying to be present in the day. For all the fan women who have yet to meet you, Mr. Duchovny, I say thank you and we love you, until they can meet you and tell you themselves.

Happy Birthday, Charmion. If you should meet him someday when I am not there give him an extra hug for me.

[spondee-soliloquy]

reposting a thing that got nuked in Tumblr’s ban of my writing blog

“what are you doing?”

“folding shirts,” you say, because your mother raised an honest child once, standing there in front of the open door with a button-down in your hand because it wasn’t ready to be put down yet when the knock came.

“i can see that,” she says and she is annoyed but keeps asking anyways because she has accepted that you must be handled like a finicky lock and picked one question at a time. you are not sure whether you like that she has learned this, and keeps talking to you anyways. “why are you folding shirts?”

“packing,” you say, and turn around to get back to it because it isn’t like she’s going to go away.

“packing?” she says, and her voice has risen higher in distress. “you’re packing? are you leaving?”

“no,” you say, truthfully, and kneel on the floor to spread out the shirt, tug it straight, fold the arms over so it’s giving itself a hug, fold down from the top, fold in half, add it to the pile.

“why are you packing?” she has followed you, and you can hear the question directed at the open duffel bag in the corner but know that she’s asking you, who is capable of answering her.

you shrug. “it’s something to do.”

“i see.” she’s not happy with that answer. you can’t help that.

you used to play ‘moving’ when you were little, helping toys ‘pack-your-things-and-go,” stacking all the lego people and their hybrid construct ships in a box, pretending conversations between them as they got ready to fly to outer space or a hidden island or the middle of the prairie where no one else could ever find them. you used to imagine you were going with them.

now you can play it in real life, but it’s not like with the legos where their whole lives can go with them and no one’s left behind. every move leaves something behind, people who don’t understand why you left or where you went or anything else. people who think they’re entitled to.

“don’t you have better things to do?” she’s worried now, you think, not angry really. you think about saying ‘no,’ about having her sweep down and drag you out to start some minor adventure or eat a meal in public or take a job, to start something new or interesting that will form another tie like a spider’s thread to pull you into this place.

but you have more than you need whenever you care to go look for it,  and packing is something that will quiet your shaking nerves enough that you might be able to lead the way to whatever tiny adventure awaits tonight, and after all. your mother raised an honest child, once.

so you say “yes,” and reach for another shirt.

she waits for you to zip up the duffel.

[hg47]

47 Reasons Why I Fear Islam - (Reason 30)

-30-Non-Muslims who like Islam don’t have a clue what the religion is all about.  Non-Muslims who attempt to expose Islam are often accused of Hate Speech by those in the West largely because Islam itself is vicious.  Accurately describing the way Islam functions seems to Western ears as unbelievable exaggeration motivated by hate.  Also, Muslims have an army of PR experts and disinformation specialists who collectively yowl in the media like wounded wolves because of an “improper” and “intolerable” and “insulting” attack upon their religion by unclean Infidels who contaminate Islam with words they, as inferiors, have no right to speak. ++++------- tweet ~ Would someone please throw a shoe at Ahmadinejad? What, you’re too scared to ReTweet this? Come on, at least throw an insult at the schmuck. ~ (circa 4/26/2010 1:37 PM) ++++------- http://www.amazon.com/Cruel-Usual-Punishment-Terrifying-Implications/dp/1595551611/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1380310980&sr=1-1&keywords=CRUEL+AND+USUAL+PUNISHMENT+by+Nonie+Darwish One story from CRUEL AND USUAL PUNISHMENT by Nonie Darwish is about the private event when an Egyptian Coptic Church in 2005 showed a film to their parishioners about the dangers of Islam, discouraging conversion, among other things.  But Muslims had spies within this church, and the Muslim religious leaders decided this event was an insult to Islam.  This decision and the following coordinated angry ranting sermons encouraged a Muslim mob of thousands to burn many churches.  When it was over, one priest was murdered, one nun was stabbed, and multiple churches were destroyed, in an Islamic environment where destroyed churches may never be rebuilt or repaired. ++++------- A quote from Muslim cleric, Mohammed Afzal: “It is the duty of every good Muslim to kill Christians…You should attack Christians and not even have food until you have seen their dead bodies.” ++++------- http://www.amazon.com/Why-I-Am-Not-Muslim/dp/1591020115/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1380655534&sr=1-1&keywords=why+i+am+not+a+muslim In WHY I AM NOT A MUSLIM Ibn Warraq gets into how Islamic laws are valid because they have been delivered from their God, not because they are rational; how the letter of Islamic law must always be followed, not the spirit, and how this travesty undermines any notions of fair play, justice, or truth. @hg47 says – I work in Plastics Extrusion.  Some of the workers are refugees from Iraq.  One day we were particularly busy, and the father of one of the regular workers was brought in to help as a temporary worker.  I run the graveyard shift.  I asked the guy who was running Swing shift (who was staying over awhile to help), what the old guy thought of “this place.”  He smiled, sort of laughed, and said, “He can’t understand why the owner isn’t here.” This required some explanation, because I didn’t get it.  In Iraq there is no way the owner would allow the business to be open without his physical presence: lying, stealing, back-stabbing; the owner could never trust his employees.  The guy, a Christian, specifically blamed Muslims for this “reality” in Iraq. I still didn’t get it.  “The owner doesn’t have to be here.  In the morning there is supposed to be pallets of good product.  If the parts aren’t there, or they’re off-spec, I have to explain why.  The owner has known me for years, if I try to lie to him, he will know it.” This time the Swing Shift Foreman did laugh.  “In Iraq, the owner would come to work in the morning…and all these machines would be gone.” ++++------- tweet ~ Ahmadinejad: “Prospects of normalizing ties between Washington and Tehran will vanish if Tiger Woods doesn’t stop screwing my third wife.” ~ (circa 5/17/2010 11:30 AM – and yes, I was joking) ++++------- http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703426004575338471355710184.html?mod=googlenews_wsj AYAAN HIRSI ALI on how Western civilization must be actively defended.  The West is not indestructible in the clash with Islam; and how Islam is fighting and maybe winning this battle. ++++------- http://www.amazon.com/Myth-Islamic-Tolerance-Treats-Non-Muslims/dp/1591022495/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1380476667&sr=1-1-fkmr0&keywords=MYTH+OF+ISLAMIC+TOLERANCE+%28THE%29+edited+by+Robert+Spencer In MYTH OF ISLAMIC TOLERANCE (THE) edited by Robert Spencer the rah-rah, boom-de-yay! pro-Islamic official policy of the Western nations is covered. @hg47 says - 1) The West has serious economic interests in the Muslim world: we are addicted to low priced oil in large quantities.  We absolutely must have oil, lots of oil, and if the price goes too high, it will indirectly raise our cost of living to an intolerable degree very quickly, and possibly wreck our fragile system. 2) Because of (1) anti-Muslim stories in Western media are deliberately played-down, suppressed, editorially quashed, and slanted favorably to Muslims. 3) Because of (1) economic retaliation and/or political retaliation by Muslim countries is a very real threat to Western powers.  We don’t want “those crazy Muslims” to bother the Jews too much, BUT WE ABSOLUTELY NEED ARAB OIL. 4) The West also fears Muslim terrorism, particularly on its own territory, but also fears anti-Islam reactions from the population in the West.  The West does not have a handle on Islam, does not understand Islam, and every attempt to “control” Islam has failed miserably.  The West is “flying blind” when it comes to Islam. ++++------- tweet ~ Shakeup at Wikipedia after Ahmadinejad-With-Camel porn purge! Jimmy Wales no longer able to delete files; Ahmadinejad still speaking at UN. ~ (circa 5/19/2010 4:56 PM – and yes, this is a joke) ++++------- http://www.amazon.com/Stealth-Jihad-Radical-Subverting-America/dp/1596985569/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1380589061&sr=1-1&keywords=stealth+jihad+robert+spencer In STEALTH JIHAD Robert Spencer gets into how Islamic holy texts push Muslim behavior against Infidels. Koran 3:110 – Muslims are the “best of people.” Koran 98:6 – Infidels are the “vilest of created beings.” The majority of Muslims view Infidels as unclean beings unworthy of contact with pure Muslims, and this attitude has behavioral consequences.  Spencer gives an example of a college which set aside a Prayer Room to be used by students of all religions and all denominations, with an official announcement that all faiths are to share.  Muslims appropriated the space for themselves and forcefully excluded all others. ++++------- http://www.americanthinker.com/2011/05/the_five_stages_of_islam.html Richard Butrick asks the question: Is it bigotry if it is in touch with reality?  Richard’s point is that Islamists use the West’s fear of bigotry against the West.  Is it bigotry, if it is just seeing and stating the truth?  For example, am I a bigot if I am afraid of Islam, if Islam really does want to destroy my way of life? Richard also argues excellently that the first Republican candidate for President who faces off against Islam by saying something like: “OK, you can have your Ground Zero Mosque, but first we want a Cathedral in Mecca,” will OWN the popular vote. ++++------- tweet ~ Ahmadinejad speech, 2013: “We have secretly placed atomic bombs in London, New York, and Paris. The following are our demands…” ~ (This is a joke tweet, circa 5/24/2010 2:45 PM – but there is a serious point behind it.  Personally, I am also worried about the Nukes in Pakistan.) ++++------- tweet ~ Rouhani (on mic): “Time for countries to enter talks with Iran based on honesty, justice and respect.” Off-mic: “Where is my A-bomb!?” ~ (Just joking.) ++++------- http://www.meforum.org/2915/islamists-project-islam-worst-traits-onto Raymond Ibrahim’s interesting article on the important differences between Christian Martyrs and Muslim Martyrs, and how Muslims often misinterpret what Christian leaders say, because of this difference, which can result in Muslim mob violence toward Christians. Muslim Martyrs are those killed in battle against Infidels. Christian Martyrs are those persecuted or killed for refusing to recant Christianity. ++++------- http://canadafreepress.com/index.php/article/35133 Joseph A. Klein: Islamists don’t need an excuse to murder Infidels. ++++------- http://www.washingtontimes.com/blog/inside-politics/2011/mar/22/senate-hold-hearings-muslims-rights/ Stephen Dinan on the latest FBI statistics on hate crimes. 1,376 religiously motivated hate crimes in 2009. 70.1% of those 1,376 crimes were anti-Jew. 9.3% of those 1,376 crimes were anti-Muslim. ++++------- http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/08/us/08gabriel.html Article by Laurie Goodstein about Brigitte Gabriel who claims that radical Muslims have infiltrated the United States at all levels, including the FBI, Pentagon, CIA, and State Department.  Their goal?  A long-range plan to revoke the Constitution and impose Sharia law on us all. ++++------- http://www.mercurynews.com/news/ci_16300340?source=rss&nclick_check=1 Anne Barnard and Alan Feuer claim that terrorism by Muslims is not a perversion of Islam but is essential to the religion itself. ++++------- http://home.comcast.net/~vincep312/islam.html What some famous people in the past, including Winston Churchill, thought about Islam. ++++------- http://iranpoliticsclub.net/islam/islam-danger1/ This article gets into the ways in which Islam is not like other religions.  Islam is a political ideology that demands that every aspect of the nation be subservient to it: laws, government, business, society must all be or become Islamic. ++++------- http://www.theguardian.com/world/2009/jul/17/martin-amis-iran Martin Amis arguing that a theocracy must not be allowed to have nuclear arms. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +Go-To-31+ +Go-To-Beginning-Of-47-REASONS-WHY-I-FEAR-ISLAM+

[the-desolated-quill]

Kill The Moon - Doctor Who blog (Is This The Worst Doctor Who Episode Ever?)

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet... then I envy you, you lucky bastard)

I... really... didn’t want to watch this one again. The first time I saw this back in 2014, it elicited a reaction out of me so violent that it would have made a Hell’s Angel blush. I HATED this episode with every fibre of my being and I’ve been dreading coming back to review this. I had to bribe myself with chocolate in order to get through it again and, even now as I’m typing this, I’m seething with rage. The very thought that my TV licence fee contributed to this pile of absolute garbage fucking disgusts me.

So... Kill The Moon.

Let’s start with the first immediate problem that jumps out. Courtney. What the fuck is she doing here? You could literally cut her out of the story entirely and it wouldn’t have made the slightest bit of difference. Actually no, I tell a lie. It would have made one difference. The episode would have been slightly less grating to watch. She’s so fucking annoying that I was hoping a gruesome death was on the cards for her. She’s constantly moaning about being bored or that she’s not special, which considering what an arrogant little bitch she’s been presented as over the course of this series, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have the Doctor take her down a peg or two. You certainly don’t want to encourage someone like that into believing they’re a special little snowflake because it’ll just reinforce their selfish behaviour, and I’m alarmed that that’s what her teacher Clara is trying to do. What the fuck?

So the TARDIS crew land on the Moon and meet three astronauts. One of them is played by Hermione Norris, who gives such a dull and lifeless performance that I’m almost impressed by it. The way she says her lines, she sounds as though she’s only just woken up. Mind you, if I was lumbered with a character this one dimensional, I wouldn’t put much energy into my performance neither. Also there are two other astronauts played by two other actors who do absolutely nothing. They’re all bland, boring characters and I’m sure they have names, but I can’t be arsed to remember them because that’s how fucking boring they are. I don’t give a single shit about any of them, partly because the writer Peter Harness has given me no reason to care about them, but mostly because I was too busy trying to make sense of Kill The Moon’s moronic morass of pseudoscience and dumbass non-logic.

So the Mexicans have made a lunar mining base on the Moon only to discover there are in fact no minerals on the Moon. At all. None whatsoever. Then once you’ve finished laughing at that stupidity, we’re then expected to believe that after years of technological innovation, everyone just stopped going into space. And apparently there’s no way to get to the mining base other than using an old space shuttle from a museum. So the Mexican company didn’t have any of its own ships it could send up in case something went wrong? None of the intermediate stages of spaceflight between a shuttle and a mining colony were available neither?

But wait! It gets worse!

The Moon is getting bigger. That’s bad. Tidal waves and floods and all that jazz. So what’s the solution? Nuke the fucker! Yeah! That will make everything better! Except doing so could potentially send chunks of radioactive Moon rock at the Earth and cause an apocalypse (assuming the rocks don’t just form back into a sphere shaped mass again because that’s how gravity fucking works). Also the Moon acts as a counterweight to the Earth. So if the Moon disappeared, the Earth’s orbit around the Sun would become more erratic and the planet would wobble uncontrollably on its axis, causing the seasons to fluctuate wildly. So blowing up the Moon could actually make things worse. Whoops!

And why is the Moon getting bigger? (Are you ready for this? You’re going to love this one?) The Moon is an egg!

Well no, wait, actually that makes perfect sense. Because we all know when a chicken lays an egg, the egg gets bigger and heavier as it incubates. OH WAIT! NO IT DOESN’T! THE EGG GETS LIGHTER! SO HOW THE FUCK DOES THE MOON GAIN AN EXTRA 1.3 BILLION TONNES IN WEIGHT? WHERE DID ALL THAT EXTRA MASS COME FROM? THIS IS UTTER BOLLOCKS!

And it just gets even stupider when you take this baby creature into account. How does killing the creature solve the problem of the tidal waves? The reason the tidal waves are occurring is because of the increased mass of the Moon. If you kill the creature, that mass doesn’t magically go away. You’ve still got a dead creature orbiting the planet. The mass is still there. Even if you were to accept the possibility that the nukes would blow the creature to smithereens, it’s more likely that the bits of luna rock and alien guts would form back into a sphere under its own gravity, thus causing more problems for the Earth.

Now yes I know this is Doctor Who. It’s never exactly been scientifically accurate and if I were to go through all the bad science in Doctor Who stories, we’d be here all day. However in order to maintain our suspension of disbelief, the science doesn’t necessarily need to be accurate, but it does need to make sense under the show’s own internal logic. This... doesn’t! The science in Kill The Moon is so stupid and so nonsensical that it actually takes you completely out of the story. It’s hard to be scared of the alien spiders once you find out they’re prokaryotic (just... huh?!) and it’s hard to take the Doctor seriously when he’s spouting unscientific bullshit that is objectively wrong. And all the stuff I’ve been saying, this isn’t some obscure stuff that only a Stephen Hawking or an Albert Einstein would know. You can literally GOOGLE this crap! There’s simply no excuse for such shoddy science. So either Peter Harness is lazy as fuck and couldn’t be bothered to do basic research before putting pen to paper or he’s a complete and utter idiot. And that would be one thing if all that results in just a stupid story, but it’s another thing entirely when the writer brings that same laziness/stupidity to the table when tackling sensitive, real world issues.

As I watched Kill The Moon, with Clara and um... the spacewoman debating whether to kill the creature or not, the penny dropped with a horrible clang. Yes, Doctor Who is going to talk to us about abortion. Now of course this isn't the first time the show has tackled difficult subject matters and there’s no reason why a show whose audience is predominantly children shouldn’t be allowed to discuss and explore sensitive subjects. It all depends on how it’s done. Abortion is a tricky one because there are essentially two parts to the pro-choice/pro-life debate. The first is that of the woman’s autonomy, to which the answer should obviously be yes. A woman should absolutely have the right to decide what she does with her own body. The second part is where things get murky. The rights of the foetus. Namely, is abortion murder? That all depends when life officially begins, except nobody can agree when that is. Is it at the point of conception? During the first trimester? The second? When the embryo takes on a human shape? When the woman actually gives birth to the child? And that in turn raises a whole new set of questions. Let’s say that life officially begins during the second trimester. Does that mean the embryo still has rights during the first trimester just because it’s going to be alive? What about sperm and egg cells? Does that make condoms immoral just because those sperm could fertilise an egg and could create life? So what does this mean then? Are the pro-life group campaigning for the right to life or the right to potentially have life? Is ‘potentially’ too broad a definition and is it in fact restricting a woman’s autonomy? Which brings us to the ultimate question. Whose life is more important? The mother’s or the foetus’? What if giving birth to the baby harms or kills the mother? What if other factors prevent the mother from giving a baby the quality of care it deserves? Whose life takes precedent?

Now I’m not going to tell you my views on abortion because, frankly, they’re irrelevant to this. I’m merely demonstrating how complicated this debate truly is. These are questions with no clear right or wrong answer and there’s probably never going to be a clear, definitive answer. A lot of it really comes down to your own personal morality. So if you’re going to write a story about abortion... well... don’t. That would be my advice because you’re bound to piss somebody off no matter what you do. But if you still persist, you need to do your fucking homework before you start and make sure you handle the subject with tact and discretion.

With this in mind, how does Kill The Moon go about doing this?

The Doctor discovers the existence of the creature under the Moon’s surface and remarks upon how beautiful it is, to which Hermione Norris’ character responds by asking how do they kill it while a sinister music cue plays over the scene.

Wow. Subtle.

This is the reason behind my intense dislike towards this episode. Not only does it make the same mistake most New Who stories make by stripping the moral complexity out of morally complex situations and spoon-feeding the answer to the audience, it also becomes offensively dangerous when you factor the abortion metaphor into the equation. The episode takes a hardline pro-life stance, portraying the pro-choice side as irrational baby killers, even going so far as to have the Earth (or half of the Earth at any rate. The other half not visible to the Moon doesn’t get a say apparently) vote whether to kill the creature or not, and then have Clara go against their unanimous decision to kill it and stop the nukes for no reason other than babies are good. (I feel I should point out there was nothing to suggest the creature wouldn’t have swooped down and devoured humanity the moment it had hatched. The fact that it didn’t only shows how grotesquely lucky Clara was with her rash decision). There’s no effort to actually have an intelligent discussion about this. The decision is made right from the start with the irrational baby killers merely being an obstacle in the righteous pro-lifer’s path. Not only is it biased to an insulting degree, it’s also intellectually dishonest. If the only way you can support your argument is by demonising the other side, all it proves is that your argument doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

Oh, let’s talk about Clara because she really fucking pissed me off. I was amazed by the number of people who were angry over the Doctor’s decision to leave and not intervene in the decision because that was the only thing about the episode I actually liked. You may call bullshit considering the number of times the Doctor has interfered in human affairs, but as far as I’m concerned, he made the right choice here. He recognised how complex and difficult the decision was and he also recognised that it wasn’t his place to make that decision for them. Like he said, it’s not his home. It’s not his moon. It’s not his choice. Which is what makes Clara’s temper tantrum at the end all the more egregious. For starters it’s a bit rich her chastising the Doctor for leaving them when she was prepared to do the same thing less than 10 minutes before. Also what is she actually complaining about? That the Doctor paid her and the rest of the human race enough respect to make the choice for themselves? Doesn’t really make sense when you put it like that, does it? Clara basically comes across like a spoilt child, moaning and shrieking at the Doctor because he was no longer at her beck and call and she actually had to think and act for herself for a change. And rather than have the Doctor just tell her to grow the fuck up (or better yet, give her a sharp dropkick out of the TARDIS and find a companion who’s actually likeable and well developed), the episode clearly expects you to be on Clara’s side and tut-tut at the Doctor disapprovingly even though he hasn’t actually done anything wrong. Clara is basically upset because she had to think for herself, and that worries me.

Kill The Moon is not just bad. It isn’t even terrible. In fact I’d go as far to say that it’s one of the most despicable things I’ve ever come across. It’s not just because of the shit story or the bullshit scientific inaccuracies. It’s because of how cack handed and irresponsible Peter Harness is when it comes to the central theme. The very thought that this episode could give kids a skewed, biased and utterly warped view of abortion thanks to a writer who is either too stupid or too lazy to do proper research into the subject makes me sick to my fucking stomach. Also Steven Moffat can go fuck himself too. Oh yeah, I’m not letting him off the hook. He’s the showrunner. He’s the one who looked over this script and went ‘yep. I see nothing problematic about this whatsoever.’

This is the episode that made me stop watching Doctor Who. I felt so sickened and so insulted by what I had just watched that I actually flung up my hands and went ‘fuck it! I don’t want to watch this show anymore!’ It hurt to do it. I love Doctor Who, but I couldn’t continue to watch fucking morons like Moffat and Harness grind it into the dirt. So I left, vowing never to return until Moff-Face was shown the fucking door. And this Christmas, I’m finally going to get my wish.

Which leaves me in an interesting position going forward with my reviews. Beyond this episode, I legitimately have no idea what’s going to happen. I know a few tidbits of information from what I’ve seen on Tumblr. For instance, I know that Missy is the Master (that didn’t come as much of a surprise. I mean really, who the fuck else could she have been?), I know that the Doctor returns to Gallifrey at some point and I think Clara ends up dying at the end of Series 9 (couldn’t have happened to a more deserving companion as far as I’m concerned). Beyond that, I genuinely have no idea what’s in store for me from here. But at least I’ll be safe in the knowledge that no episode can possibly be as bad as Kill The fucking Moon.

[ihamtmus]

He used his brilliant mind, his superpower, >> to kill people. Tony is the biggest villain of the MCU. He is the Donald Trump of the MCU!!

Youcome into my inbox, you disrespect my man Tony Stark… and I could be angry with youbut, to be honest, your message made me very happy. Guys! The day has come! Igot an anon message telling me that Tony Stark is a villain and I am now officiallya member of the Tony Stark Defense Squad! So, even though it may be wiser toignore this message, I decided to celebrate by actually answering it.

“Heused his brilliant mind, his superpower, >> to kill people.”You quoted my post herebut you changed the ending. The result is quite ridiculous, if I may say. (Forthose who don’t want to read the post I linked, we’re talking about Ultron here).Look, English is not my mother tongue so forgive me if I’m wrong but I’m prettysure that the grammatical construction “to do something” implies an intentionbehind the action. If I go to the shop to buy an apple, I go there in order to buy an apple, with the intention of doing so. I’m sorry,are you a native English speaker? If you’re not, that could be an excuse, but youcan’t possibly think that Tony’sintention there was to kill people.What was Tony’s intention when he decided to create Ultron? (I’m not going tosay “when he created Ultron” because it would be a blatant Bruce Banner erasureand also Ultron kind of created himself, the AI was already in the stone andall. And we can’t forget about Wanda. Let’s not discuss it here). It’s veryclear in the movie. He did that to protect the Earth and everybody on it. Wandaplayed with his mind and we could see his fears: his friends dead and the Earthinvaded. He did what he did to preventthat from happening. He did it to protectpeople, not to kill them, anon, you can’t possiblyfight me on that, you just can’t.

“Tonyis the … villain of the MCU.”Now the second part of your message. It’s not less ridiculous, but far more oftenbelieved in than the first. It’s really weird that some people think Tony is avillain. Let’s check what the word “villain” means, shall we?villain - (in a film, novel, orplay) a character whose evil actions or motives are important to the plot (source)Now, I agree that Tony’s actions and motives are important to the plot but I’mafraid you missed the “evil” part of the definition.Tony has made some mistakes, yes. But is a mistake an “evil action”? Isn’t anintention to harm necessary for an action to be considered truly evil? I thinkthat the “evil action” and “evil motives” are connected. Creating Ultron was amistake but it was not an evil action, for it was done with a pure motive. Youcan point out Tony’s mistakes all you want (he’d gladly do that himself), butyou cannot question his motives. All this man does, he does to protect others.

Let’s take a look at the definition of the word“hero” now.hero - a person who is admired for their courage, outstanding achievements, ornoble qualities (source)If you’ve seen any of the movies you’ll have to agree that Tony has courage and,in fact, lots of it. There are more proofs of that than I am in the mood tocount right now. Just to name a few situations… escaping from that Afghanistancave, saving civilians from terrorists while being a civilian without anytraining himself, stopping a crazy guy with electric whips without a suit,chatting with Loki, fighting aliens, flying a nuke into a portal, going to killa terrorist with homemade weapons, being part of the Avengers who fight aliensand crazy robots on a daily basis… like okay I’m going to stop now but I hopeyou can see that Tony is no coward. A coward would never become Iron Man. Gosh,a coward would have built the JerichoMissile for the terrorists and died in that cave to begin with. Well, atleast you wouldn’t be calling him a villain now.

But Tony’s courage is even deeper than doing thosebrave deeds. It’s about falling and rising. It’s about getting out of that caveand changing his whole life for the better. It’s about realising the harmcaused by his weapons and shutting down the weapons division. It’s about beingbetrayed by people who were close to him but still choosing to trust others. It’sabout being told he’s not fit to be a hero but being a hero nonetheless, everyday. It’s about creating Ultron (yes, that) because he refused to stand back andlet everyone die. It’s about not curling in a ball and crying out of the agonyof remorse when Ultron went crazy, even though it would’ve been so much easierthan doing everything in his power to clean up that mess. It’s about going on,every day, even though he blames himself for everything bad that happens. It’sabout trying to make up for it, for all his mistakes, and for the mistakes ofothers.

On to the next part of the definition. I’ve already mentioned some “outstandingachievements” of his, like putting the nuke in that portal (which saved theManhattan and finished the fight) but let’s add saving of the president and havinghis part in creating Vision to the list. Well, it’s not the whole list,obviously. But the point is proven, so let’s move on.

Now, noble qualities. Let’s take the list from this site. There are so many of them that I’mgoing to be very brief on each, but if youwatched the movies, you’re going to know what I mean.

*sacrifice – taking the nuke through the wormhole*determination – he! gotta! save!*loyalty – coming back to the Avengers while not being on active duty when thingsgot rough, wanting to arrest others instead of letting killing squads deal withthem (yes, I’d call it loyalty, he could have just sit and watch you know?)*courage – already discussed*dedication – have you ever seen a more dedicated guy, like, have you seen himat work*bravery – may I remind you about the nuke and aliens and stuff*perseverance – get the image of him dragging his disabled suit in aforest through the snow*focused – he literally doesn’t sleep when he has a goal he wants toachieve*conviction – he believes in what he does, he wants to continue doing it*selfless – fighting for others while risking one’s life is hardly egoistic, Ithink it’s quite the opposite*gallantry – the definition on that site tells me it’s about fighting the danger“with high and cheerful spirit” and well, if it isn’t Tony Stark*fortitude – does refusing to make a Jericho for the terrorists count? yesI’m sorry but at the end of the list of qualities on that site was this: “Heroes are not born, they are made. Anyone of us can acquirethese heroic qualities and can be a hero” and well if it isn’t Tony Stark.Wouldn’t you agree that the word “hero” fitsTony far more accurately than the one you used to describe him? Surprise, surprise!Tony is actually a hero! Who would’ve thought, right?

But! You didn’t only call him a villain, didyou. You said “the biggest villain of the MCU”. One, Tony is not a villain.Two, there are many villains in the MCU, why must you insist that a hero is avillain if you have plenty of them already. Three, all of the villains did badthings, why do you think that Tony, a hero, is worse than them? Four, have you heardof Thanos? Wait for Infinity War and then tell me Tony is the biggest villainof the MCU, please. Not that Tony couldn’t be the biggest villain. I mean, ifhe only wanted to, he could. Thanos would look pathetic nextto him. The thing is, Tony is a good man with pure intentions. Luckily foreveryone.

“He is the Donald Trump of the MCU!!”Now this is something that bothers me a lot, and it’s not because of the reasonyou probably think. Just.. it’s clearly stated on my blog that I’m fromPoland. Why do you come into my inbox and compare a character to the presidentof the USA that I have near to no interest in? Why would you assume I think he’sthe biggest villain of our universe? It’s just… no? Why would you do this?I do know some things about Donald Trump though, mostly from tumblr. I knowthat some of the things that people have against him are his attitude towardsimmigrants and the way he handles healthcare. Well, as far as I can tell, Tonyhas nothing against immigrants. Take one example: he has nothing against WandaMaximoff. More than that, he’s trying to protect her from being deported. Thegirl is not a US citizen and she doesn’t have a visa. Not very Trump-y of Tony,right? As for the Trumpcare, I don’t know how it works. I guess that peoplehave lower taxes but have to pay for their healthcare?? Tony has numerousfoundations and funds everything always, so jot that down. I might be wrongabout this whole Trump thing but, like I said, I don’t know that much about it.Maybe next time think before you send someone who’s not from the USA amessage comparing someone to Donald Trump. As I see it: connections to DonaldTrump? None. Oh yeah, he’s a white rich male but I had no idea that makes you avillain.

So that’s that. What you said in your messageturned out to be untrue. Surprised? Did you think it wouldn’t? No but honestly,did you?

Did you expect me to agree with you? Did you expect me to be persuaded by yourzero (0) arguments? Really, what was yourpurpose here?

I have no idea what you wanted to achieve with that message, but I’ll tellyou what you did achieve. You got along post about why Tony is not a villain and why he is a hero. You got a post whichexplains to you why you’re wrong. Anon, doyou realise that? I’m talking to all the anti-Tony anons here. You are justgiving us all an excuse to produce long detailed posts about how amazing Tonyis. You are just giving us an excuse to write something other Tony fans, notyou, will enjoy. Do you realise how unwise that move of yours is? You’re notgoing to persuade us into thinking that Tony is a bad guy. If anything, it’s you who’s going to be persuaded. If that’sthe case, if you want to be persuaded, sure, send anti-Tony asks. We’ll allgladly explain to you why you’re wrong. Because we enjoy that. So, thank you,for giving us the opportunity. But you might want to think twice before sendingan anti-Tony message again. This Isn’t Working.

And the last thing: Tony is not written as avillain. He is not supposed to be a villain. If you accept that, you’re goingto enjoy the movies more, trust me.

[othercat2]

Lots of Questions

I was not tagged but found this while reading through @fialleril 's tumblr like a fannish lurker who lurks. You're apparently supposed to tag 20 blogs. I will probably not tag that many blogs because I talk regularly to less than 20 people.

1. nicknames: I am sometimes called "OC"

2. gender: ...lets go with female.

3. star sign: Sagittarius

4. height: 5'7"

5. time: 12:41 am

6. birthday: December 6th

7. favorite band(s): Boiled in Lead, Stiff Little Fingers, Barenaked Ladies, Imagine Dragons

8. favorite solo artist(s): Seanan McGuire (She writes/sings Filk. She totally counts as a solo artist) Dessa

9. song stuck in my head: The last song to get stuck in my head was "What We Did" by Planet P Project. In which a whiny fuck whines because he pushed a button and everyone is dying or dead because nukes. Hurry up and die you whiny fuck.The only reason I have this damn song is because it’s part of @vastderp ‘s Kagerou OST. *shakes fist*

10. last movie I watched: Wonder Woman (at a friend's house on Thanksgiving.)

11. last show I watched: I don't watch shows very often.

12. when did I create my blog: I am not sure

13. what do I post: Fan fic, lots of reblogs, promotions for discord, patreon and so on. also stuff that’s going on with me.

14. last thing I googled: It was either a word I wasn't sure about the meaning of, or I was converting meters into feet. (Nocturnes are apparently 1 foot long?)

15. do I have any other blogs: Yes. I have a fanfic rec tumblr, two ask tumblrs for the same fic, and a tumblr for a fan fic I'm working on intermittently. I also have two dreamwidth blogs and a WordPress Blog.

16. do I get asks: I get one or two asks every so often. I would like to get more, theoretically. 

17. why I chose my url: It was my old lj/dreamwidth name.

18. following: 461

19. followers: 321 people I have very little interaction with

21. average hours of sleep: 4-5 hour blocks

22. lucky number: I don't have one.

23. instruments: None!

24. what am I wearing: pajamas.

26. dream job: Writing. Writing what? I don’t know. Just writing. Preferably not pennies per click articles for content providers ever again.

27. dream trip: I don't know. I've never really liked going on trips when I was a kid?

28. favorite food: sushi! (Or anything potato-based. Or chicken.)

29. nationality: US American

30. favorite season: Spring/Fall (in places where Fall exist)

Okay I am not going to tag twenty people. I will tag a number of people. @shadowwood @edenfalling @imhereformysciencefriends @scimitar-foxtrot @landoffrostandblogs @madamehardy  Plus anyone else who happens to see this.

[greetingsfromthebottomofthewell]

ROOM ZERO

[directory]

it’s been so long.

[source] [triggers]

It's been a while since I've written anything related to the Disney Corporation, and I'm sure you can understand why.

A lot has been going on since my last post. I've received a lot of questions and concerns from folks who read my first-hand account of Mowgli's Palace... a resort that was built and abandoned by Disney.

I want to thank everyone who mirrored my post. It's been taken down from a few places, mostly corporate sites that were easily leaned on by a larger power. However, for every nuked topic or disappearing blog post, it seems like a hundred more have popped up.

This is something they'll have to face. There's no turning back for them... none for me, either...

I'm definitely being followed. For the first month or two, I chalked it up to paranoia. Any casual glance or half-smile in my direction set me off. Hairs standing on the back of the neck and everything.

The first one, or rather, the first one I was actually able to spot, was a telephone worker milling around my apartment complex.

He was middle-aged, doughy, dressed just as you'd expect, but something just seemed off about him. I couldn't place it, but I knew this wasn't just my imagination acting up. He was awkward and out of place, not somebody who was comfortable doing his routine job.

I followed him around a corner, only to lose him there. When I turned back to go home, there he was. Staring directly at me, about ten feet behind me. Expressionless and cold.

"Exploring?" he asked. That was all he said, and there was an accusing tone to his voice.

Tell me, what blue collar phone jockey does that?

I guess that's the worst part. Never feeling safe. Never feeling alone. That, and the occasional Disney merchandise left somewhere for me to find. Little rubber Mickeys in the mailbox, a Disney Adventures magazine on my bookshelf.

They hide little Mickeys everywhere. Three circles, one big, two small, in the silhouette of the famous mouse's head.

I've started keeping a running list of Mickeys I've found.

Coffee cup rings on my coffee table. One big, two small. Colored glass bottles left on the doorstep, viewed from the top down. (All red.) Graffiti on the wall on my way to work; a huge Earth, small Sun and Moon in the proper locations.

They're everywhere.

People have emailed me about this as well. If you repost anything I have to say, you're going to start finding those son of a bitch outlines. I guarantee it.

The best one by far, one that actually made me laugh because of the horror of it all, was a drawing in chalk next my car. I was taken aback at first, walking through the parking garage, keeping an eye out for people following me.

The outline seemed a perfect match for... well, a "murder victim" you're probably familiar with if you've read my past posts.

Written in yellow... paint, I'm sure... was a single word.

"RETRACT"

The only good thing that has come out of all this is that I know I'm not the only one who's seen something they shouldn't have.

I'm not going to give their names, because... well, if I have to tell you why, you haven't been paying attention.

"Researcher" goes to Disney parks whenever he can, all throughout the year. He's not going to have fun, enjoy the rides, etc.

He's looking for the Gascots.

There's been a long tradition, apparently, of people reporting strange patrons throughout the park. Silent, motionless, staring patrons of every age, shape, and size. Men and women, adults, children, and teens.

All wearing Disney-themed gas masks.

Way back when, Disney would get tons of complaints about "oddly dressed" folks following others around the park. Folks who would then merge into crowds and disappear.

Later on, the gas masks caused folks to draw other conclusions, and reports of "possible terrorists" and "bombers" started flowing.

All of those reports most likely went straight into the trash can. I know I can't find any sign of any such occasions reported on by the media. (Although you should be aware of the fact Disney can pretty much control its press like no other.)

Researcher goes to the parks, talks to a few people, and tries not to draw any attention to himself. He'll just ask three or four families if they've seen "his friend", who's wearing a "funny mask".

He has yet to see a gascot for himself... though on one occasion, a child pointed him toward Frontier town. As he raced through the crowd, he heard a single voice ahead cry out "Mommy! I want a Goofy air-mask too!"

A fellow I'll call "Lifeguard" worked in a Disney water park from 2001 through 2003. He stood at the top of a huge water slide and made sure none of the kids got too rowdy. He passed the kids through, one at a time, telling them over and over again to be safe, keep their arms in, and so on.

One day, as he tells it, this fat kid goes down the tube and doesn't come out the other end.

He's sent two or three kids after, the whole thing moves at a steady clip, so naturally you'd expect that if fatty got stuck, the kids that followed him were stuck, too.

Not so. Only the big kid disappears. Everyone else comes out the other end, cheering and splashing like nothing's wrong.

Lifeguard shuts down the slide, much to the aggravation of the kids waiting. Before he can go through any of Disney's strict procedures... SPLASH... fatty finally comes out.

Staff members pulled the kid out of the water. He sank like a stone when he hit, his skin already blue and his eyes wide. All he would say was "No-face Kids" and "Stop squeezing".

The kid was okay, in case you're wondering. He got carted right off to the medical center. When Lifeguard was told to open the slide back up, he made a big stink about how it clearly wasn't safe. Despite his complaints, he was threatened with firing and begrudgingly opened the slide again.

From that point on, he kept a closer eye on the kids. Every so often, they'd come out in the wrong order... never as stunned as the fat kid, but always with a vague look of concern... a dreamy half-stupor that seemed as if they were trying to figure out what was reality.

They'd take on some water and choke a bit... and they'd never come back up to ride again.

I read his emails with the same sort of unease you might be feeling right now. I wanted him to share his own story, but in the end he didn't want to expose himself that way. I can't say I blame him.

"Snow White", which wasn't the actual role she played, was a "character" in the park. She had a nice little tidbit for me. You know what happens when a costumed employee drops dead in his suit?

Like, one second he's taking a picture with little Jimmy, and the next he's had a fatal stroke?

A second costumed mascot in the area has to sit with the corpse on a curb or bench and wait for a designated "Dry Cleaner" to arrive and cart the body away in a discrete manner. All the while, patrons have no idea they're sitting with a dead body for photo ops.

Feel free to check your photo albums at this point.

That was bad, but another fellow, "Janitor", went completely off the creepy charts.

Disney World (and probably others) is built with a series of underground tunnels just below your feet. Three stories' worth. Anything and everything you can imagine is down there, for use of the employees.

They're called Utilidors. Utility Corridors.

Basically, that's the reason you don't see characters out of place or Janitors wandering through the park. They pop in and out of hidden doors, and travel a concealed town you're walking on.

Janitor told me something that might be common knowledge, but was nonetheless news to me.

Walt Disney had several apartments built into his parks. There's one above Cinderella's Castle... there's one in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. They're all over the place.

More than that, there are night clubs, a movie theater, a bowling alley, and much more. All behind doors built right into the whimsical facades you passed by without a second look.

Club 22 is one such hidden area. If you have the cash to join the exclusive club (you don't) then you'll have access to it and much more.

Club 22 is a place where anything goes. Disney Co. calls these places "Dark Zones". Spots where the squeaky-clean visage of Mickey Mouse gives way to drinking, drugs, and, yes, sex.

Conversely, the rest of the park is the "Bright Zone", with a few "Gray Zone" utilidors between.

As far as Janitor has said, it wasn't always that way. It was more of a slow decline and the gradual relaxation of social norms within that elite group.

The reason he knows all of this? You may have already guessed - He's cleaned it.

After a lengthy background check and a non-disclosure form, Janitor moved up from a park attendant to one of the Dark Zone cleaning crew.

Now, before you get some Satanic "human sacrifice" vision in your head, Janitor saw nothing of the sort. Lots of empty alcohol bottles? Yes. Used condoms scattered like deflated New Years balloons? Oh, yeah. He cleaned up his share of blood, piss, and vomit, but it was all down to the unrestricted behavior of patrons as opposed to any sort of cult behavior.

At least that's how he sees it in retrospect.

All that trash, that profane shit, went into a furnace and mingled with the smoke of a quaint cottage's chimney.

If you've been to Disney World, you've breathed ultra-condensed sin.

Backing up this information was "Hammer". Hammer mailed me the old-fashioned way, though I don't know how he got my home address. He sent me photocopies of work papers proving his employment, with the instruction to burn them when I was convinced.

Which I did gladly.

Hammer worked around the Disney World park, doing demolition and construction. At one point, he approached a superior regarding some strange construction plans.

There was wide, rectangular area marked off on the blueprints, about the size of a supermarket. The area was left unnamed, and only bore the words "DO NOT DIG".

Not only was his superior in the dark, but he was super-fucking-purposefully in the dark. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to know about it, and ended the conversation with "this space intentionally left blank".

Hammer didn't get it. The area seemed a waste of space, and it was directly conflicting with the work his team had been given. He started poking around the area on his off-time, finding only a derelict steel door, and a great span of concrete just beyond.

It was a "supermarket's worth" of blank, gray floor.

Soon after, Hammer started picking gascots out of the crowds.

Unlike all other reports, the people... the things... would stand in full view of the guy. They'd cluster together in the distance, or they'd just be pressed against a wall when he turned a corner.

He said they "moved weird", like they were weak or injured... like a deer that's been run down by a hunter and can't flee anymore.

The gasmasks... the Disney character faces with filters jammed in... he noted that they seemed wet on the inside, like condensation on a car window. Tiny beads of water glimmered behind the glass, making it impossible for any of them to actually see.

Probing further, Hammer started asking questions of anyone and everyone who had been working in the park for a decade or more.

He hit dead ends throughout, until he was directed to Ida, an elderly woman who worked in a restaurant on Main Street. She'd been there since way back, and though nobody had the balls to ask directly, everyone KNEW she had plenty of terrible stories to tell.

Hammer asked about the empty space, then about the gas-masked customers, and at first he thought he would receive the same non-answers he'd gotten so far. She was quiet. Eerily quiet.

"Room Zero." She croaked, a single, shaking hand placed to her cheek as if she were a little girl fearing a Father's punishment.

She didn't meet the man's gaze for the entire conversation.

Room Zero, as it turned out, was yet another hidden room just like the apartments and Club 22. However, its sheer size and its spot deep beneath the park set it apart from any of the "fun" dark zones.

It was a bomb shelter.

Room Zero was built to withstand a massive attack, be it conducted by foreign or domestic enemies.

Room Zero was to be stocked with enough rations to feed the entire park's average number of patrons at any given moment, and housed a smaller yet lavish "panic room" of sorts for Disney higher-ups.

During World War II, official Disney gas masks were actually produced for children to wear in the event of an attack. The idea was that it would be less scary for kids if Mickey's face was emblazoned on the wartime safety device.

Yes, I know the obvious problems with that.

During the Cold War scare of the 60s, when Disney World was constructed, Room Zero was stocked with similar masks, as well. Whether they cared about the fears of children, or just callous branding, the things found their way down there.

What's more, some genius decided that kids would THEN be frightened by the gas masks their parents wore... and so all masks, adult and child, were made to comply to this insane standard.

Ida described it as "Treating a wound with lemon juice."

None of this explained what Hammer had been seeing, though. Not only the seemingly supernatural appearances, but the emptied out room as well.

"I've been in there," he explained, "There's nothing but a cement floor and four walls."

"No," Ida shook her head and covered her mouth, stifling a sob, "You've been on top of it."

Someone or something sounded the alarm one day, when the park was at full capacity. The warning was clear. It was supposedly an air attack.

Security ushered everyone down, down, down into the tremendous shelter. There, they were ordered to put on their masks and hunker down for the duration of the assault.

Everything was quiet for about thirty minutes, save for the crying children and the frightened whispers. No one wanted to die, and so they were thankful in a way for this strange measure of safety.

Then, the first scream rang out.

"Hey!" a man shouted, "Quit pinching!"

Waves of shrieks and yelps rippled through the crowd, from one wall to the other, back and forth.

"Who's running around? Settle down!" Someone hollered.

"Who's laughing? This isn't funny!"

"Ow! Who stepped on my foot?!"

Despite security guards' urging to calm down and keep their cool, the crowd became more and more agitated until, finally, after nearly an hour of madness...

The lights flickered...

Then died.

What followed could only be described as utter chaos. In the dark, only the wails of the young and the anguished cries of adults could be heard in a massive, swelling din that bloodied the ears of all within that black echo chamber.

A group of staff members and a select few patrons made it out of the door, ready to face the War above rather than the insanity below. What they found, of course, was a desolate, yet untouched theme park. The music continued to play, echoing through silent storybook towns.

Upon returning to Room Zero, the few who stood at the top of the steel staircase that lead down into the pitch blackness heard no sign of the previous fray. There was only silence.

Ida herself descended that staircase despite the begging of those she left above.

She reached the reinforced doors, herself now awash in darkness and hearing only the buzzing in her ears.

A single voice came out of the darkness. The echo made it impossible to tell whether the mocking, raspy voice was at the back of the bomb shelter, or if it was right in front of her face.

"Shut the door, dear. You're letting out the cold."

Gripped by terror, she did just that. Within days, the entire thing... shelter, staircase, all of it... was covered with feet upon feet of cement. Air systems and generators above its ceiling were removed, creating the large, empty space.

"They're all still down there." Ida told Hammer, "Down there with whoever that was."

You might notice I've used Ida's name.

Unfortunately, she passed away soon after telling her story. Accidental fall, supposedly, after getting out of bed to turn on a light.

"Such a company devotee," the paper reported, "that her entire bedroom was covered with Mickey silhouettes."

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[docholligay]

May Schedule

Did you know that it’s only the limits of my full-time job that keep me from bringing you ENDLESS HOLLIGAY CONTENT? It’s true, this is the sad reality in which we currently live. Still despite the need for things like “mortgage” and “food”, I offer up about 15-18k words in stories alone every month, between this blog and my Patreon. How is that possible? You! My Patreon allows me to justify to my wife why I spend so much time writing and blogging, and is also instrumental in my bid to move part time, and then, hopefully, make GLORIOUS content creation my full time job. 

PATREON HERE

Stuff I don’t have time for now that I could: 

You may not know this, but I’m an accomplished crafter. Things I’d like to do include: Craft works! Tutorials! GIVEAWAYS OF FANDOM CRAFTS. 

A Madoka Magica Liveblog! I have seen Madoka roughly 45,908 times, and I still find I have more to say about it every time I watch it. Given the opportunity, I will say each and every one of them to you. 

A proper serial longfic on the main blog! I have St. Raph on the Patreon, but what if we did Sleeping Beauty? What if we did a 50,000 word rewrite of I Am The Sea? I have so many ideas I want to write and share with you all, and I can’t wait. 

That’s just a sample of what lies ahead in our amazing future together. HERE’S WHAT’S ON TAP FOR THIS MONTH: (Patreon in Bold) (not included because it’s not scheduled--cooking video)

 Friday, May 5th: Bad Lesbian Advice  

Do you enjoy Ask a Drunk Doc? WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE THAT LIVE, AND WITH MY WIFE? We do it once a month on Patreon, and I take everything from the very serious to the very silly questions, and we always drink too much and end up laughing at something ridiculous my wife says.

 Saturday, May 6th: Baking for the Baking tier 

Did you know there are slots open for my delicious bakes? I’ve made Jaffa cake cupcakes, individual mini pies, fudge! Lots on offer here. THis coming month will be bourbon sea salt chocolate chip cookies! Not feeling it for yourself? You can send it to a (US-based) friend!

 Monday, May 8th: Sailor Moon Prompt Day

 All Sailor Moon Ficlets, all day long, as prompted by YOU, my loving audience. Want to see a dead lesbian? Want to see TWO dead lesbians? What’s that, you have an idea with no dead lesbians at all? Whatever, I guess I’ll take those too. Glorious words about glorious Senshi, mostly posted here, with a few tantalizing tidbits exclusively on my Patreon. Start prepping your prompts now! (Consider: dead lesbians.)

 Tuesday, May 9th: Overwatch Prompt Day 

SAME AS ABOVE ONLY OVERGAYS 

You all know me. You know I am a generous and giving soul. My heart cannot be constrained by just one set of gay nerds. Today is Overwatch Prompt Day, where I’ll take your prompts and deliver ficlets all day long. Will Tracer want to watch some footy? Probably, and maybe get shot while doing it! Your prompts, my words, Hon Hon Hon for everyone!

 Tuesday, May 9th: Eurovision semi 1! 

If you’ve been paying attention (and of course you have), you know my love of Eurovision eclipses my love for most things on god’s earth. This year, we’re going to make a goddamn party of it. Today is the first semi-final, and you can expect no small amount of screaming in my text-based livebagel. (Hinging on my ability to record it, as I’ll be working. Don’t be a dick, universe. Let me have this.)

 Thursday May 11th: Eurovision Semi 2! 

SAME AS TUESDAY, ASSHOLES. JOIN ME. 

Same great livebagel action from your preeminent Eurovision trash. Again assuming the recording situation works out. If for some reason it doesn’t, we can devote this time to me swearing at the unfeeling void. 

Friday, May 12th: Kubo and the Two Strings 

Hey would like to listen to a lesbian ramble about stories about stories, how stories teach us about how to react in life, and the importance of the teller on the story? CONGRATS THIS IS FOR YOU. Open to all Patreon levels, I think will be a really great stream, sponsored by @anonnatsfan 

(I really, really recommend watching this movie before you watch it with me--I’ll talk over the whole thing)

 Saturday, May  13th: Eurovision! 

The single greatest day in our entire lives is finally here: the Eurovision final! Technology allowing (and if not, there will be blood), this will be a Rabbit livestream of me fucking losing my shit. I might have to move this to text depending on my mother’s computer’s power, since my child is off to reform school. Rest assured, however, me fucking losing my shit will happen.

 Wednesday, May 17th: Ask a Drunk Doc

 Everyone’s favorite! I get shitcanned and make myself a fancy dinner and answer questions on the blog. No question to big or small. I am an equal-opportunity drunk.

 Friday, May 19th: Date with Jill

Between my ‘real job’ and the Patreon, I work about 60-70 hour weeks (you don’t see me when I’m physically writing stuff, very often) and Jill misses me.so, once a month, you nice Patreon folks can know that you’re sponsoring a night out for me and Jill together, so I can keep my butch happy and bright.

 Saturday May 20th: Kaguya Kaiteiban 

@yamadara generously sponsored this, and oh holy shit, am I so excited! This is my favorite Myu, FAR AND AWAY, and I am going to squeal through the whole thing, which also includes the best Mamoru song of all time, I Do Justice. 

(again, HIGHLY recommended to watch before watching with me)

 Saturday, May 27th: Bioshock Infinite (hinging on me having my computer back--mom’s literally can’t run it) 

AN ALT HISTORY GOOD TIME WITH NON-GAMER HOLLIGAY. I really, really, am getting into loving this game, like you wouldn’t fucking believe. I shoot things and swear and bring up random historical bits because it’s my perfect time period! 

Sponsor me for moments such as: 

Sunday, May 28th: Brawlligay? (again with the computer) 

We’ll see!! 

This has always been an amazing time, and it’s something I’m hoping to get back to. Blizzard’s put in so many new custom game options, it seems a shame to not bend them to my will. We’ll all gather and play and kill each other and there will be no turrets whatsoever because fuck turrets, oh my god. Previous custom games have included [and here I can’t remember what they were all called, but I’d say list out like two or three with brief descriptions]. (Brawlligay dependant on my computer situation.) 

Monday, May 29th: Utena, Episode 16 

What are you doing for Memorial Day? Incest??? SEEMS LEGIT.

Wednesday, May 31st: Inbox Nuke