#Russian Stage Play

[whereismyhat5678]

From my last post I did rant about how much I loved the Pizza Tower Stage Play, BUT I DIDN’T TALK ABOUT VIGILANTE????

I needed to make a separate post because I couldn’t fit in the sketches I drew of him 😭😭

I LOVED HIS CHARACTER 💞💞💞💞

THE WAY HE SITS AND ACTS ALL BADASS AND THE INTRO????? THE INTRODUCTION WAS TO DIE FOR I WOULD DROP DEAD FROM THIS MAN IF I ENCOUNTERED HIM HOLY SHIT HE WAS AWESOME 💓💥💕💕💖💖💝😭💓💥💖💕💗😭

THEY HAD NO RIGHT TO MAKE HIM SO GODAMN COOL BUT THEY DID AND I RESPECT THEM HE IS LEGIT SO FUCKING FINE BRO 😭💥💗💞💕

I HAD to do sketches of him- I’m not the best at drawing real people (I still need to practice more-) BUT GOD DID I NEED TO DRAW HIM AND HIS FINE LOOKING ASS-

I respect him so much, the actor is amazing and I LOVED the costume choice, PLEASE I NEED MORE PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT HIM HE’S THAT GOOD 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

[fishareglorious]

hate that not only do am i underleveled at this game but also i suck major ass at it

[itsawritblr]

"Uncle Vanya," the entire play.

I saw this wonderful production on PBS. Everything, from the cast to the set, is the best I've ever seen for this play.

From Act 4.

I'm so glad Toby Jones is getting the casting his talent deserves.

[ephemeral-winter]

had half a gin and tonic while i was eating dinner and when i stood up to do the dishes it became clear i was tipsy. all the liver resilience i gained while living in the uk seems to have dissipated. sad reaccs only...

[william-shakespeare-official]

Here's THE masterpost of free and full adaptations, by which I mean that it's a post made by the master.

Anthony and Cleopatra: here's the BBC version, here's a 2017 version.

As you like it: you'll find here an outdoor stage adaptation and here the BBC version. Here's Kenneth Brannagh's 2006 one.

Coriolanus: Here's a college play, here's the 1984 telefilm, here's the 2014 one with tom hiddleston. Here's the Ralph Fiennes 2011 one.

Cymbelline: Here's the 2014 one.

Hamlet: the 1948 Laurence Olivier one is here. The 1964 russian version is here and the 1964 american version is here. The 1964 Broadway production is here, the 1969 Williamson-Parfitt-Hopkins one is there, and the 1980 version is here. Here are part 1 and 2 of the 1990 BBC adaptation, the Kenneth Branagh 1996 Hamlet is here, the 2000 Ethan Hawke one is here. 2009 Tennant's here. And have the 2018 Almeida version here. On a sidenote, here's A Midwinter's Tale, about a man trying to make Hamlet. Andrew Scott's Hamlet is here.

Henry IV: part 1 and part 2 of the BBC 1989 version. And here's part 1 of a corwall school version.

Henry V: Laurence Olivier (who would have guessed) 1944 version. The 1989 Branagh version here. The BBC version is here.

Julius Caesar: here's the 1979 BBC adaptation, here the 1970 John Gielgud one. A theater Live from the late 2010's here.

King Lear: Laurence Olivier once again plays in here. And Gregory Kozintsev, who was I think in charge of the russian hamlet, has a king lear here. The 1975 BBC version is here. The Royal Shakespeare Compagny's 2008 version is here. The 1974 version with James Earl Jones is here. The 1953 Orson Wells one is here.

Macbeth: Here's the 1948 one, there the 1955 Joe McBeth. Here's the 1961 one with Sean Connery, and the 1966 BBC version is here. The 1969 radio one with Ian McKellen and Judi Dench is here, here's the 1971 by Roman Polanski, with spanish subtitles. The 1988 BBC one with portugese subtitles, and here the 2001 one). Here's Scotland, PA, the 2001 modern retelling. Rave Macbeth for anyone interested is here. And 2017 brings you this.

Measure for Measure: BBC version here. Hugo Weaving here.

The Merchant of Venice: here's a stage version, here's the 1980 movie, here the 1973 Lawrence Olivier movie, here's the 2004 movie with Al Pacino. The 2001 movie is here.

The Merry Wives of Windsor: the Royal Shakespeare Compagny gives you this movie.

A Midsummer Night's Dream: have this sponsored by the City of Columbia, and here the BBC version. Have the 1986 Duncan-Jennings version here. 2019 Live Theater version? Have it here!

Much Ado About Nothing: Here is the kenneth branagh version and here the Tennant and Tate 2011 version. Here's the 1984 version.

Othello: A Massachussets Performance here, the 2001 movie her is the Orson Wells movie with portuguese subtitles theree, and a fifteen minutes long lego adaptation here. THen if you want more good ole reliable you've got the BBC version here and there.

Richard II: here is the BBC version. If you want a more meta approach, here's the commentary for the Tennant version. 1997 one here.

Richard III: here's the 1955 one with Laurence Olivier. The 1995 one with Ian McKellen is no longer available at the previous link but I found it HERE.

Romeo and Juliet: here's the 1988 BBC version. Here's a stage production. 1954 brings you this. The french musical with english subtitles is here!

The Taming of the Shrew: the 1980 BBC version here and the 1988 one is here, sorry for the prior confusion. The 1929 version here, some Ontario stuff here, and here is the 1967 one with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. This one is the Shakespeare Retold modern retelling.

The Tempest: the 1979 one is here, the 2010 is here. Here is the 1988 one. Theater Live did a show of it in the late 2010's too.

Timon of Athens: here is the 1981 movie with Jonathan Pryce,

Troilus and Cressida can be found here

Titus Andronicus: the 1999 movie with Anthony Hopkins here

Twelfth night: here for the BBC, here for the 1970 version with Alec Guinness, Joan Plowright and Ralph Richardson.

Two Gentlemen of Verona: have the 2018 one here. The BBC version is here.

The Winter's Tale: the BBC version is here

Please do contribute if you find more. This is far from exhaustive.

(also look up the original post from time to time for more plays)

[romanoffsbish]

The Understudy

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

“Natasha x F!R”

Natasha Romanoff x Maria Hill

Warnings: Jealousy | Yandere—Attempted Murder (if you squint) | Mutual Pinning (Simping)

Smut: Mommy (W) | d/s | Tribbing | Oral / Cum-Strap (R) | Overstimulation | 🤏🏼 Breeding | Masturbation (W) | KO | Soft Aftercare | Cockwarming

Natasha was a charismatic woman—sure, yet you found yourself enraptured by her gorgeous understudy—Wanda. | WC: 6,945

Request: “anything about jealous top!wanda and just having her way with fem reader sounds good to me” | College AU

I am so sorry it took so long @wandagcre 😩

18+ | Minors DNI

Wanda let a harsh breath leave her as she glared up to see as Natasha circled you like a hawk and if not for the sake of her credibility around campus with the faculty she wouldn't have let the other woman grip you by the hips and pull you in. The both of you wore wide grins as Natasha's nose nudged yours, pushing your face to the side as she gently cupped your cheeks, Wanda was rather close to combusting at the intended next move.

——

“Cut!"

The moment your professor called out the command you separated from your cast mate with a softer smile. Yet Wanda's jealousy didn't simmer, relief far away when the redhead still kept your attention on her.

Natasha pulled you back in, but only for a friendly hug.

"I just wanted to say, thanks for trusting me Y/N/N."

"It's easy to do," you giggled and squeezed her tight, then you parted ways and went to collect your bags.

There was a tension in the air as you prepared to leave that you didn't quite understand, so you sought it out. After glancing around the room for a moment you saw the source—Wanda Maximoff, Natasha's understudy with her eyes angrily cast upon the Russian's face.

She's also the unobtainable woman of your dreams, or so you deemed as you'd yet to approach her with more than a bit of shop talk. Normally the brunette would carry the interaction and nine times out of ten it was perfectly pleasant. However, Wanda always seemed standoffish when you weren't alone, which made you think that maybe she didn't want people to see you two as anything more than potential on stage partners.

Oh what a fool you were, because as you hurriedly waltzed out of the auditorium you avoided her stare that had shifted over to you—a longing glance that lingered long after the large oak doors shut behind you.

——

A week had come and gone, the show was not far off and it was coming together nicely. You and Natasha practiced your lines religiously and kept the bond between you both strong for the sake of chemistry and your overall grade as this show would be your final. In return, a beautiful friendship had been forged and you were more than grateful for the expanded circle.

All that stood in your way was the darn kiss, your heart not only yearned for another, but Natasha's had one which only seemed to make you more nervous.

You'd recently met her girlfriend, Maria Hill, when you went to their dorm to go over the script two weeks ago.

It was a bit intimidating, but when she offered you a chocolate chip cookie and help on your homework you knew she was the perfect partner for your new friend.

Natasha dreamed of making it big, and to do that she'd need a partner who understood that intimate scenes were just a part of the job, not a slight against her.

The woman even gave you her blessing last night with a warm smile, "I trust you." That alone had eased most tension you had left for the show; you were ready.

—

Today was the play's opening day, the set pieces were complete and the scenes ran to perfection. Besides the kiss, the both of you only ever got close to sharing a passionate lip-lock for the sake of show business. It was however not too necessary until today to share it.

When you walked onto stage you skipped over to the redhead who was casually reading out of a textbook.

"Hey Tasha," you greeted, the redhead peered up as she mindlessly closed the book to see your smile. It was adorable how nervous you were honestly, the kiss was only a blip in the play—lasting less than ten seconds.

This is a PG-13 university production after all.

"Hey honey," she greeted, tone sweet as can be in an attempt to ease your tense shoulders and it worked.

For the most part anyways. "A-are you ready?"

Natasha smiled, "I am," then sighed, "but, are you?"

You nodded unconvincingly and she stood to her feet so that she could approach you, her hand cupped your cheek as she stared into your eyes. "Follow my lead."

A nervous smile was all you offered the woman who moved in even closer, her warm breath on your cheek felt rather comforting. "We don't even have to kiss, all we have to do is make the audience believe it happens."

"I don't want to disappoint people," you muttered with a nervous conviction and the redhead chuckled softly. "No one will leave knowing, I'm an amazing actress."

You giggled and Natasha beamed knowing that she'd at least calmed a bit of your nerves. To the both of you it was obvious that her touch was meant to make you ease into the concept of the intimacy, but to onlookers it would almost present as an act of personal affection.

The redhead waited for you to make a move, but it was not something you had time for as you quickly realized that the prop above your heads was teetering in the air.

Wanda had been stood behind the red draped curtain fuming, her hand reflexively wrapped around the string that suspended the hefty prop above Nat's head. There was no conscious intent when she yanked down, it was purely reflexive as she watched you two practice.

It was all you could do to yank the woman out of the line of impact before the piece shattered on the stage.

"Holy shit Nat," you squealed, "that was a close call!"

"Yeah," the redhead hardly acknowledged you, eyes too focused in on the blur of familiar black and red hues weaving between the curtains. "Are you okay Nat?"

No, she most definitely was not, but she'd pretend.

The redhead internally rolled her eyes, but pressed on as if the freak accident wasn't premeditated. To your face at least, because not even ten minutes later—after she convinced you all was well did she go find the perp.

"Maximoff," she growled as she found the woman in her usual spot, "I am not an oblivious idiot like Y/N."

Natasha cringed at her own words, it wasn't right to diss you but to be fair, she just nearly lost her head.

"I haven't a clue what you are going on about," she chirped bitterly, not even remotely covering her big feelings. "How unkind you are to poor Y/N though."

"Y/N and I have a fine working relationship," she immediately set the woman straight, "She's a sweet person and if you stopped being so broody maybe you could be the one she hangs out with after practices."

"I'm just the understudy," she reminded Natasha, who rolled her eyes in frustration at her petty behavior.

"You need to let it go Wanda," she groaned, "I am the theater major, you are only taking this for an elective."

Wanda stood and whisper shouted, "I want it more!"

"No," Natasha corrected as she stepped to her, a clear sign she wasn't afraid of the brunette with the raging anger problems. "You want Y/N more, which is 100% by the way because all she is to me is a friend!"

"I see the way you look at her," Wanda sneered.

"That's because it is my job, Wanda," Natasha scoffed in genuine offense before adding, "I have Maria."

Wanda glared inquisitively, "Who the hell is Maria?"

"My girlfriend since freshman year of high school."

"Oh."

Natasha chuckled agitatedly, "Yeah, so if you could refrain from trying to kill me again I'd appreciate it very much. I've planned to live a long life with her."

"I," Wanda was honestly stunned into silence. "It was an accident—but originally, I wasn't really sorry."

"At least you're honest," Natasha chuckled amusedly. "Don't confuse this moment Maximoff," the redhead continued, "I might not be a threat but you know as well as I do that Y/N is a catch—don't drag your feet."

"I know, but I can't talk to her about anything other than this stupid class," Wanda admitted in lieu of her masked pride faltering. "She's just so pretty, and soft, it's like I lose the ability to form thoughts around her."

"Pretty things are meant to be taken and cherished," the Russian teased, smile fond as she remembered what it's like to fall in love for the first time; Natasha wanted that for you too. "Trust me Wanda, Y/N is easy to talk to and I hypothesize she would be thrilled if you did, maybe try your luck tonight at the after party."

Natasha playfully acted out taking a shot as she winked at the up until now, sapphic disaster, then she swiftly left the room to let her ponder. When she returned to the stage she found you yelling at the stagehands. She shook her head in amusement then made her way over to save the poor students from your misguided wrath...

—

When you calmed down you found yourself hidden away in your dressing room staring at your reflection. There was this unspoken tension in the air once again and it made you feel queasy. It was hard for you to tell if it was first night jitters or something else entirely.

Deep down you knew it was an unwarranted sadness, one that you associated with the fact that the course would be over after this weekends line up of shows and you'd yet to find the courage to truly speak to Wanda.

"Hey, did you understand the acting prompt," and "That was a weird film to show a class full of women," were not effective ways to speak with your crush.

You knew that, but every time you built up the courage to ask her if she wanted to hang out you remembered the way she looked at you whenever you were around others. A loud sigh left you at the painful reminder that nearly made you miss the faint knock at your door.

"Come in," you meekly called out as you stood up to face whomever it was. Wanda quietly closed your door and walked into the room with a forced confidence.

"Oh, hey Wanda," you chuckled nervously, "Is Nat ok?"

You weren't sure why you asked that in greeting, but it's also not rocket science since she's her understudy. The question wasn't meant to offend either but it did as Wanda considered the possibility that she didn't have a chance with you, but then you gave her a soft smile and she remembered why she was here in the first place.

"She's fine," she politely replied, then she took a step closer and wordlessly returned your smile. You tilted your head slightly and she understood. "I just wanted to come by and wish you luck, though we both know you aren't going to need it. You're a rockstar onstage."

Wanda found amusement in the way your eyes avoided looking into her own momentarily. Once you finally found the courage to look into hers your smile had softened, which had the same effect on her heart.

"Th-thanks Wanda," you stuttered and so she got the confirmation that Natasha basically gave her earlier without exactly saying it. You liked her just the same, something she caught as your eyes fell to her lips, it was brief but obvious enough to fill her with glee.

The woman giggled and leaned forward to place a seemingly friendly kiss, to you, on your cheek. "Break a leg out there sweetheart, I'll see you later at the party."

As soon as she left the room you fell back into your chair with a wide grin and giggled, a hand on the cheek where you could still feel a damp warmth from her lips.

The nerves in your body had all but vanished, so when you were called to the stage an hour later you strutted onto the platform with confidence and it showed in the way you acted every scene to perfection. Even the kiss.

Natasha and you shared a sweet kiss, one that you let her lead as she had the natural acting chops. It was honestly terrible since all you could imagine as her lips moved against yours was what Wanda's would be like.

Your friend's lips tasted like cherry chapstick with faint hints of nicotine that you planned to admonish her for later on after the show. There was perceivable heat to it but the truth was it was void of any genuine passion.

When the two of you parted there was a sweet smile on your lips to mirror the sentiment of your characters, and it only grew wider when you saw Wanda watching. There was something special about the way she looked at you, with a tight smile but a warmth still remained.

For the first time this whole semester you felt hopeful.

—

At the party you were the focus of everyone's attention, loud cheers and genuine accolades met you at every corner in partner with Natasha's. The redhead took it all with a wide smile and thanks, but you however did not have the courage to be so proud. Your friend did her best to take the attention, seeing you look so shy.

When the chance to break away presented itself you took it, heading to the kitchen where you found an array of substances. Just as you reached out for a packed joint you felt a large, soft hand on yours.

"Oh," you chuckled awkwardly, "you can have it."

"We could share," a raspy voice proposed, her hand fell to your hip without request and you slightly stiffened. "You were amazing tonight Y/N, so let's celebrate."

The woman's words made you feel unhappily queasy. "I-I, um," you began to stutter, unsure how to tell this stranger that you wanted to celebrate with another.

"My room is upstairs," she cluelessly teased, as if your stance alone wasn't uncomfortable. "Move on Santos."

Wanda internally beamed when she saw you turn to her with a beyond grateful gaze, the shift breaking you free from the strangers hold and subconsciously closer to her. The horny blonde however wasn't open to being cockblocked so she turned as well and moved closer until their chests brushed. "Last I checked I don't take orders from you, Maxipad, so how about you move on."

Wanda's head tilted dangerously and you felt a flutter of joy in your chest, as well as desire between your legs. The woman caught sight of your thighs clamping and smirked triumphantly, "How about we ask Y/N?"

Your eyes widened, but your lips obediently opened as Wanda seemed to not shy away from you in public.

"What's your name?" The blonde deflated, "Raya."

"It's nice to meet you Raya," you lied with a friendly smile, "But I promised to meet Wanda at the party."

"Well, you heard her," Wanda boasted, her hand reached out and took the blunt from your fingers and smugly handed it over to the blonde in obvious pity.

The moment Raya departed you felt a ringed hand in yours, and you latched on eagerly, letting her guide you through the crowd and up the stairs to an empty room.

As if the universe deemed your dreams worth reality you felt her hands grip your hips and lips catch yours. Wanda decided since talking wasn't her strong suit that she'd start by giving into her urges first. The moment was nothing but carnal, her bare knee slid between your thighs and pressed against your core.

With elegance in her every movement she guided you over to the bed and pressed into you deeper, your thinly veiled pussy rubbed against her skin and you mewled so harshly your swollen lips had to separate.

"Wan-," the redhead shushed you with a gentle peck of her lips that reassured your nervous heart. Alongside her eyes that were full of a warmth that told you this wasn't going to be a once off itch to scratch. "Mommy needs you to stop thinking detka, let me help you."

Amusement tickled in Wanda's throat at the pliant nod you gave, adoration in her heart as your eyes glazed over and body melted further into the mattress. The glare in her eyes reminded you to speak, "please."

The permission left your lips in a breathless whine and so the redheads hands slid beneath your dress that she apparently already bunched at your hips, the cold of her fingers as they tauntingly trailed over your skin made you gasp. "I've been waiting for you to say it," she interrupted your moment of shock with words that brought an adorable pout to your lips. Wanda chuckled as she watched the curiosity fade beneath the surface of your lust as her thumbs brushed over your nipples.

It was embarrassing the way she reduced you into a wordless mess, her knee a contributing factor until she abruptly pulled it away. Viridescent eyes that were reminiscent of obsidian stones, in their active state of lust, stared down at you with a warning not to whine. Wanda beamed at your understanding and rewarded you with her lips back on yours for a fleeting moment.

A sloppy kiss to your jaw, hands roaming over your body, a goddess straddling your waist in a skirt that was much too short for her intentions for tonight to have been anything but what it already was; sinful.

You were somehow expected to remain cognizant, it was a ludicrous notion, so you didn't, all you could do was move just as she asked of you until you were moaning beneath her as her core brushed over yours.

The motion was repeated, a shiver ran down your spine at the sound of her pleasure that loudly followed up yours, it was a sound you never wanted to lose. Her movements picked up, a bare pussy against a covered one and you wanted to scream at the unfair advantage she had over you as her moans overshadowed yours.

Wanda admired your innate understanding to not touch without permission, the way you kept your fidgeting hands at the top of the mattress made her decide to reward you with even more stimulation. Especially since it was mostly her feeling pleasure as she'd yet to remove an article of clothing from you. So in a blur of erratic movements you found yourself in a more exposed state, cold air brushed over your sweaty body as your dress was haphazardly tossed aside. "Oh," Wanda hummed, "so much prettier than I dreamed."

Dreamed. The erratic beating of your heart against your ribcage actually lessened as you heard her admit to having thought about you like this before, her words from before began to make sense now too. Suddenly you were closer to the edge, a bright smile adorned your face fleetingly as you felt the delicious coiling of pleasure in your abdomen. Only to be made better as Wanda's plump lips wrapped around your nipple.

A loud cry left you when the fabric of your panties delicately stimulated your clit, "mommy please." The honorific left your lips easily, it clearly wasn't a trained response to her prior claim to it, but a natural reaction. Wanda bit into the plush flesh of your breast, arousal clear as you felt it seeping into your drenched panties.

Wanda rasped, "Wanna cum with mommy?" The smirk she wore went unnoticed by you, with the crossed eyes and agape mouth that muttered out a strangled, 'yes' as she peered up from your heaving chest. If she was possessive before it wasn't noticeable to you, but all the little moments—like the glares she sent Nat's way, now made sense as she spoke. "Tell me who you belong to," she requested this with a bite to her tone that matched the darkness in her eyes. Her teeth scraped up from the sensitive skin between your breasts to your throat.

There was no hesitation in you to reply, "mommy."

Wanda sped up her hips and started to suck harshly on nearly every inch of skin she could, intent obvious as she set out to prove your words correct. "Let go detka," she purred before her teeth sunk into your shoulder, her determined hips stuttered, the both of you writhed in tandem and the brunette pressed into you harder.

While you gasped for air the Sokovian smiled, her own breathing labored but not nearly as bad as yours. A sense of accomplishment washed over her, remaining for a sweet moment before she craved more of you. You blearily whimpered at the insinuation of her lips as they moved down your tense body, harsh love bites and soft kisses left behind—usually one after the other.

Her ministrations more than enough to have you squirming in anticipation for what you hoped was coming next. Wanda's lips pressed to your hips, then upturned cockily as they impatiently bucked of their own volition, her teeth once again scraped over your soft skin, this time over your pelvis before they had a hold of your panties so she could slowly pull them off.

Wanda was about half way down your legs before she just couldn't hold herself back anymore, the smell of you was far too enticing, so she stopped abruptly and rushed upwards with her tongue out. A lewd moan left your lips as she hummed in satisfaction, tongue vicious as it continued to lick at your sensitive, swollen pussy.

For a brief second you could only feel the warmth of her breath as she pulled away just to really breathe you in, her nose affectionately nuzzled against your clit as she inhaled and kissed your sloppy folds that tingled with need. "Oh my," she chuckled, "you're too divine."

Wanda was impossibly lost in you, initially she was going to tease you further, but then she couldn't stop. Her tongue was a beast as it lavished your intimacy just to prolong the taste of your essence on her buds. The way your slick settled against her plumped upper lip was a comforting promise that you'd linger on her face in the morning. Wanda felt like a fucking pervert with the way her mind ran wild with depraved things that would surely require a deeper conversation first.

If you'd let her, she would devour you whole, much like she was doing now. You felt like she'd split you open, her thumbs dug into the soft flesh of your ass cheeks to spread your pussy just a little bit wider and a hum of appreciation followed as you dripped down her chin.

There was no stop to her madness until you broke the silent rule, allowing your hand to drop down and slip between the messy strands of her hair. It was instinct, and so it wasn't admonished right away, the woman actually loved the way that you both pushed her away and pulled her even closer when she pulled your clit between her lips as two fingers entered you and curled.

The sound of you spilling out and onto some random persons sheets caught your attention just as it did hers. Wanda marveled at the sight of your aromatic arousal that coated her fingers, palm, and dripped from her wrist, meanwhile you were shyly covering your face.

Wanda chuckled, "look at mommy detka, it's okay," her fingers gently tugged at your wrists and you peered up to find her slick, grinning face hovering above yours. "These are my sheets," the brunette added, then she chuckled as your eyes widened comically, you didn't know how she knew but you didn't care much as you had other things on your mind, like the sex you desperately wanted more of and, "you're in a sorority?"

The woman took no offense to the question, the bias of pink wearing, former cheerleading stars being the only ones to join the rush life was common. Most of the girls in the sisterhood she claimed didn't exactly look like Wanda, with her dark makeup, edgy clothes and lower arm sleeve tats, she couldn't really question the shock.

The conversation however was boring, the reason why being that her mom wanted her daughter to follow in her Delta footsteps and so the brunette did, because her parents sacrificed a lot to come here as teens. It was the least she could do, and even less interesting for her to reminisce over so she simply brushed by it as her fingers distracted you by collecting your slick.

"Such a loud, pretty thing you are," she teased as you gasped, her lithe fingers having swirled over your clit before they lifted to her already glistening lips, "I bet I'll have you moaning even louder, like a bitch in heat, with my cock pounding into your tight, needy hole."

Wanda admired the lust fueled darkness that swirled in your otherwise soft eyes. "Would you want that?"

"Of course," you blurted without shame, a smile of reassurance offered that led her right off of the bed.

When the brunette returned from her closet she was surprised to see you sat up, patiently waiting and keeping an eye out for her return. No words were spoken as you saw her skirt fall, eyes completely focused in on her glistening pussy that dripped slick down her gorgeous, muscular thighs. A chuckle pulled you from your thoughts, you slowly lifted your gaze and eyed your almost screen partner with a pout.

"If you're good," she began as she made her way to the foot of the bed, making a show as her voice dropped and her body slowly crawled toward you, "I'll let you get a taste." Wanda adored the way your eyes lit up, but she couldn't help but to tease you as her body pressed into yours. "Well, unless I fuck you too dumb."

"I w-want to," you admitted shyly, "to t-taste you."

"I know," she didn't spare you the embarrassment whatsoever as her thumb brushed over your chin, spreading the drool that was drying. "It's on your face."

The wink that followed made you tremble beneath her in a perfect display of desperation, just as she wanted. A devious smirk followed the pop of her thumb as she released it from her mouth; ironically your mouth ran dry. Wanda was about to ruin you in the best ways.

However, everything had happened so quickly up to now that she felt the urge to slowdown, in need of clarity, "Is this what you want? If I fill you with my cock that means you're mine now Y/N. Mine to fuck, cherish and if you'll let me, to fully fall in love with."

Unbridled lust still coursed through both of your veins, it was clear you wanted her to get moving by the way your hips twitched, but the soft tremble of your lip softened her into kissing you gently to ease the stress. Wanda saw the questions in your mind, and she'd answer them all, but for now she'd fuck them quiet.

Wanda had bought this strap just for you, actually. It was crimson red like her signature lipstick, thick like you'd never seen, and had a cum reservoir that she knew you'd love even if she'd never had the chance to ask you beforehand. The brunette could tell just by looking at you that you'd be a slut for a good filling.

"So," she prompted once she decided to spare your lungs from the fire burning inside. You nodded your head aggressively, words hard but doable when she pursed her lips; waiting. "Please, fuck me mommy."

"Gladly," she purred, rubbing the length of her strap against your slit to collect arousal as she peered into your eyes with a determined, possessive expression. Your hands reflexively curled and you felt emboldened the longer you held her gaze with an attempt to match the intensity of her, but you were once again nervous.

"C-can I touch?" Wanda nodded, offering you an encouraging smile as you timidly reached out to feel her up over her shirt, the tips of your fingers brushed over exposed skin and you appreciated how soft it was. Then you grew confident, fingers fisted at the collar of her shirt and tugged. "mommy, please take it off."

"I see even when impatient that my girl has manners," she chuckled softly at the sight of your beaming eyes, then she tossed her shirt across the room and leaned down to passionately press her lips to yours. Her body firmly pressed into yours, the brunette swallowed your mewl as her strap slipped into your hole just to parrot you as your once timid hands firmly groped her chest.

Once she got a grip of her thoughts she chuckled softly, sending a shiver through you as her lips had begun to trail down your jaw. "You like mommy's tits, hm?"

"I love them," you admitted with pure, genuine intent, hands continuing to knead at the flesh to distract yourself from the burning pain as she harshly worked to mark your skin in a slow, determined fashion. Then you continued softly, "I love everything about you," and she melted into the moment more, the teasing she had planned for you came to a stop as she filled you.

Wanda's hands slid beneath your arched back and pulled your front flush to hers, keeping your body as close to hers as she could while shallowly thrusting into your slippery cunt between your ragged breaths. Her lips gently brushed over the skin beneath your ear and she felt the way your body trembled, and reveled in the way you moaned so breathily when she sucked.

"You took me in so well," she purred, aware as your spine began to curve downward that the pleasure had simmered some, so she settled you back down and let her strap naturally slide from your cunt, leaving only the tip as she gazed into your needy eyes. Then her hips snapped and she grunted, "just like I thought."

No reply fell from your lips, at least not in the form of words as she'd set a ruthless pace that only left space for you to moan mindlessly as she harshly rutted her hips into yours. Waves of pleasure rolled through your body, ending with your eyes as a harsh thumb swirled against your clit, her other hand gripped your hip even harder as your bodies sinfully moved in tandem. The chemistry was palpable in the air that reeked of sex and stale smoke that seeped beneath the dorm door.

Which only made it that much harder to breathe as you gasped so pitifully for air, the sensation overwhelmed you into a place of pleasurable uncertainty. The strap was a completely new experience for you, every toy you'd ever used was sleek but this one was outlined in thick, hyperrealistic veins that dug into your walls.

"Oh," a particularly harsh thrust and you were back to arching your back, and crying out, "feels so good." Your sweaty front briefly brushed against hers before your back returned to the mattress where its sole role was to move against the sheets as Wanda rutted harshly.

"You close honey?" Wanda knew already, she could feel the resistance as your walls squeezed around the toy, and even attempted to push it back out. What she truly wanted was to see where you were at mentally. You nodded weakly, mind too foggy to reply and she felt elated by your state. "Mommy is too, cum with me."

The rapid addition of her calloused thumb against your unhooded clit threw you over the edge alongside the brunette who had the gruff hilt to thank for hers. To watch your eyes grow hazier as they crossed once you got lost in pleasure stimulated her own climax too. Just hearing you moan had her teetering on the edge; Wanda was certain she didn't even need the friction...

Wanda began to lay gentle kisses to your warm skin as her thrusts continued, this time so slow you could feel every ridge dragging and subsequently shivered. You whimpered, "no more," hands weak, albeit firm as they pressed into the brunette who chuckled softly, "come on detka, you can do it, just one more for mommy."

"One," you warily agreed, and the brunette beamed, she paused her hips just to sprinkle some kisses onto your face in thanks. Her heart warmed as you giggled and her lips shifted closer to yours, eyes locked now that she was hovering directly. You both felt as your walls trembled around her strap, she smirked as your eyes closed in an attempt to calm your mind down.

"Open," she commanded and you reluctantly did, lips naturally pouting as you were forced to look into her intense eyes full of a love you saw already existed well before you two gave into this steadily building tension. It was a bit disconcerting but in a self-deprecating way, not in a grab your belongings and flee the state kind.

It was surely curious, but truthfully it was too hard to process much of anything with how her hips shallowly moved, they picked up the pace ever so slightly but Wanda wanted this orgasm to be more intimate, she wanted to foster in you the connection she's found.

Her intense gaze never wavered, and you never closed your eyes—maintaining the connection even if it felt like you were going to combust under it. Wanda's lips were parted in a half smirk as she took note of every little change in your reaction to the slowed down pace.

Before, you were moaning unabashedly and now you were panting and whimpering. The fingers that just left crescent marks in her shoulders and drew angry lines down her back now gripped onto the sheets for dear life because this pleasure was simply unlike before. Something about the connection blooming right before your very eyes was exhilarating; it was comforting.

"Mommy," you whined and stared up intently, eyes brimming with tears as you felt overwhelmed by it all.

"Yes, love?"

"C-can I?" Wanda nodded, accompanied by a sweet smile that crinkled the skin of her nose and eyes, it was genuine, intimate, and the reason why you squirted.

Well, that and the surprise of being filled as Wanda had squeezed the cum pump without any warning.

Wanda felt the same need you just satisfied burning deep within her as your body contorted and a shriek of unnerving pleasure left your lips. Rutting into you didn’t provide the same pleasure it did beforehand now that your walls were slick but too tight to fight against.

In a craze she pulled out and tossed the strap away, her thighs corralled yours and tensed as two of her fingers worked her over fast. You gazed up just in time to see her face wash over with pleasure, there was a look of betrayal on your face that amused the brunette. Her fingers left her core and slipped passed your lips before you could protest that your job was stolen from you.

“I said you could taste, just not how,” she reminded you, and you didn’t even feel a need to protest. Far too busy sucking her fingers clean and feeling the spark of a forming addiction—you needed to taste the source.

However, you were too tired tonight and Wanda saw that as she gazed down into your glistening eyes. It was better that way too as Wanda’s cunt continued to drip.

"Twice," Wanda teased as your slick too dripped down her legs, “you are filthy; squirting on mommy’s bed.”

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled but she wasn’t sure you even knew what you were saying as your eyelids fluttered.

While you slipped in and out of sleep Wanda began to get a bath set up for you both, in one of the only en-suite’s this house has—perks of the house mom being your real mom’s best friend. Your soft snores amused her as they traveled through the crack in the door, into a steamy room decorated with rose petals and flames.

Truthfully, beneath the deceiving layers of grunge she wore with a resting scowl was a woman who genuinely believed in the sappy love stories that Hollywood sells. Wanda wasn’t a one trick pony, she heavily negated the societal need to keep interests separate. In public she kept her image intimidating, unintentionally she did it with you too, but now she’s ready for you to see all of her and with that you deserved her sappy humanity.

Wanda returned to the room once she deemed the tub was ready for you both, but she paused—allowing more steam to fill the space you’d soon occupy, just so she could admire your nude form beneath the moonlight. A smile bloomed as she caught sight of the marks she left behind, some too deep and noticeable for you to hide.

The woman felt prideful as she approached, but her resolve softened the closer she got as you looked so peaceful surrounded by her stained, mussed bedsheets. Currently, all she truly wanted was to hold you close.

You woke up with the gentle jolt of your body, made as Wanda lifted you up and into her chest, not forgoing a kiss to your temple that made you melt into her. A whine of protest followed seconds later as she placed you right onto the cooled toilet. In contrast, your body naturally reacted as it too sought relief, filling the toilet with the remnants of your passionate night together.

Wanda had slipped away again, but you were too tired to note her initial absence. When she returned, fresh pajamas in hand, you whined angrily. It was adorable, the way you reached for her and glared, as if she’d abandoned you, your intimidation tactic failed.

Wanda softly spoke, “Are you ready to bathe love?”

You shook your head and frowned, a bit embarrassed to ask for help but fortunately Wanda was in tune with you as she reached for the toilet paper and wiped. It was quick and she got you into the warm tub before you could overthink the moment. Successfully too as you melted into her front as the warmth soothed your aching muscles and fogged your mind up with peace.

There was no rush to her movements as she cleaned the both of you—if either of you had plans tomorrow it was fair to assume them canceled now. Wanda wasn’t ready to part ways and she knew you would likely be in the same state—if not more so after tonight’s drop.

Once the water began to chill, effectively making you shiver, she got you awake and out of the tub quickly. Wanda adored the way you clung to her, only parting when she persisted so she could get you two dressed.

“Brush your teeth,” she gently commanded, then with you distracted she returned to her room to place the freshly laundered sheets onto her mattress. Then she slid into a harness that made your eyes widen as you rushed out of the bathroom to find her. The muddled space you were in faded as you were unsure of her intentions, you even took a conscious step back once she began to approach but you quickly met the wall.

“Don’t be afraid,” she teased you—with the wide eyes and hesitant smile. “I was gonna ask, do you think it would be okay if mommy slept with her cock in you?”

Wanda’s arm was quick to wrap around your waist, holding you up as your knees proved useless, you felt her nose nudge into your jaw as her lips left warm kisses over the marks you’d yet to see on your neck. Even with as sensitive as you knew your pussy to be you gave in without any fight at all as you pleaded.

With a gentle hand Wanda slid the strap against your pussy until enough lubrication had manifested. Then she settled onto her mattress before guiding you over and slowly inserting herself back into you until there was no space left to fill. You pressed your lips to hers desperately, looking for a bit of comfort as you adjusted. A slow, passionate lip lock ensued until you felt the pain subside and the exhaustion return.

The Sokovian eased onto her back, gentle as she pulled your body down with hers to keep you comfortable. A blanket soon covered you both and you smiled as you tiredly remembered the night’s events—her intense eye contact that should’ve terrified you but it truly didn’t.

"I can't wait to fall in love with you," you admitted against her chest in your state of post-sex delirium and it brought a smile to the perceivably tough woman. It was too early, Wanda knew that, but the brunette had loved you for ages and now she is patiently waiting for you to return the sentiment. "ya uzhe lyublyu tebya."

(I already love you)

————

Bonus:

"Oh no," Natasha mumbled to her girlfriend, eyes catching sight of the random blonde that corralled you against the table. "Poor girl, she's not going to survive."

Maria humored her girlfriend by gazing up just in time to see a fuming Wanda storming over to you both.

"Which one?" Natasha chuckled and pecked her lovers lips, "both—but one will for sure be more pleasurable."

"You're a menace." Natasha smirked, "Oh, I know..."

[mariacallous]

lol philadelphia inquirer bodying nyt

https://www.inquirer.com/opinion/editorials/first-presidential-debate-joe-biden-donald-trump-withdraw-20240629.html

President Joe Biden’s debate performance was a disaster. His disjointed responses and dazed look sparked calls for him to drop out of the presidential race.

But lost in the hand wringing was Donald Trump’s usual bombastic litany of lies, hyperbole, bigotry, ignorance, and fear mongering. His performance demonstrated once again that he is a danger to democracy and unfit for office.

In fact, the debate about the debate is misplaced. The only person who should withdraw from the race is Trump.

Trump, 78, has been on the political stage for eight years marked by chaos, corruption, and incivility. Why go back to that?

To build himself up, Trump constantly tears the country down. There is no shining city on the hill. It’s just mourning in America.

Throughout the debate, Trump repeatedly said we are a “failing” country. He called the United States a “third world nation.” He said, “we’re living in hell” and “very close to World War III.”

“People are dying all over the place,” Trump said, later adding “we’re literally an uncivilized country now.”

Trump told more than 30 lies during the debate to go with the more than 30,000 mistruths told during his four years as president. He dodged the CNN moderators’ questions, took no responsibility for his actions, and blamed others, mainly Biden, for everything that is wrong in the world.

Trump’s response to the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrection he fueled was farcical. He said a “relatively small number of people” went to the Capitol and many were “ushered in by the police.”

After scheming to overturn the 2020 election, Trump refused to say if he would accept the results of the 2024 election. Unless, of course, he wins.

The debate served as a reminder of what another four years of Trump would look like. More lies, grievance, narcissism, and hate. Supporters say they like Trump because he says whatever he thinks. But he mainly spews raw sewage.

Trump attacks the military. He denigrates the Justice Department and judges. He belittles the FBI and the CIA. He picks fights with allies and cozies up to dictators.

Trump is an unserious carnival barker running for the most serious job in the world. During his last term, Trump served himself and not the American people.

Trump spent chunks of time watching TV, tweeting, and hanging out at his country clubs. Over his four-year term, Trump played roughly 261 rounds of golf.

As president, Trump didn’t read the daily intelligence briefs. He continued to use his personal cell phone, allowing Chinese spies to listen to his calls. During one Oval Office meeting, Trump shared highly classified intelligence with the Russian foreign minister and ambassador.

Trump’s term did plenty of damage and had few accomplishments. The much-hyped wall didn’t get built. Infrastructure week was a recurring joke. Giant tax cuts made the rich richer, while fueling massive deficits for others to pay for years. His support for coal, oil drilling and withdrawal from the Paris Agreement worsened the growing impact of climate change.

Trump stacked the judiciary with extreme judges consisting mainly of white males, including a number who the American Bar Association rated as not qualified. A record number of cabinet officials were fired or left the office. The West Wing was in constant chaos and infighting.

Many Trump appointees exited under a cloud of corruption, grifting and ethical scandals. Trump’s children made millions off the White House. His dilettante son-in-law got $2 billion from the Saudi government for his fledgling investment firm even though he never managed money before.

Trump’s mismanagement of the pandemic resulted in tens of thousands of needless deaths. He boasts about stacking the Supreme Court with extreme right-wingers who are stripping away individual rights, upending legal precedents, and making the country less safe. If elected, Trump may add to the court’s conservative majority.

Of course, there were the unprecedented two impeachments. Now, Trump is a convicted felon who is staring at three more criminal indictments. He is running for president to stay out of prison.

If anything, Trump doesn’t deserve to be on the presidential debate stage. Why even give him a platform?

Trump allegedly stole classified information and tried to overturn an election. His plans for a second term are worse than the last one. We cannot be serious about letting such a crooked clown back in the White House.

Yes, Biden had a horrible night. He’s 81 and not as sharp as he used to be. But Biden on his worst day remains lightyears better than Trump on his best.

Biden must show that he is up to the job. This much is clear: He has a substantive record of real accomplishments, fighting the pandemic, combating climate change, investing in infrastructure, and supporting working families and the most vulnerable.

Biden has surrounded himself with experienced people who take public service seriously. He has passed major bipartisan legislation despite a dysfunctional Republican House majority.

Biden believes in the best of America. He has rebuilt relationships with allies around the world and stood up to foes like Russia and China.

There was only one person at the debate who does not deserve to be running for president. The sooner Trump exits the stage, the better off the country will be.

[erebus0dora]

ok so i promised you a rant on Eric Bogosian, and i pinky promise i'll try to keep the story short (those beautiful people i've already privately spewed my fascination at deserve peace and love 💜)

TL;DR: Eric Bogosian is a good researcher and judge of human nature, which honestly shouldn't be surprising given his experience, links below

it is easy to google Eric (i'll call him that not out of disrespect, it's just shorter) and get to a conclusion he's just a slightly awkward old man who had extremely weird youth and gives off a powerful bi vibe just for shits and giggles; which is fair, given the wild way he handles most interviews

but hear me out, i'm not an expert, i'm just a book kind of girl. so i sought out the books, and into the books i looked.

back in 1988 he was nominated for Pulitzer's for his "Talk Radio", and i count that as one of the first cases of him using a real story to weave a (semi)fictional one. it is a powerful play, and a gut-punching movie, but I am mentioning it not because of its ehhh artistic value. in my book, it's a proof of the way he tends to critically re-imagine the things he sees and analyses.

keep that in mind when you google his "Operation 'Nemesis".

he initially started looking into the history of Armenian genocide as into the material worth developing into a plot for a movie. but, in his own words, and i quote, "I wrote this book because I had no choice. The Nemesis story required more attention than a simple screenplay."

he is still not a scientist, mind that - and his book reads as a work of fiction. say, there's no way one can look into the head of a deceased person and know their feelings, but one can guess; and Eric guesses, of course. but the fun part is that he makes educated guesses. nearly for each presumption there's a source. a footnote. a quote.

what really strikes me is that he looked into ONE plot line and fished out a complex slice of history, dripping with CONTEXT. White Russian emigration? it's in there. early stages of oil industry? check. the colourful background of Europe in early XX century? all there.

there's no wonder he spent seven years on this book.

i repeat: SEVEN. YEARS.

call me sapiosexual, but that was the moment when i stopped and thought: ok, THIS IS HOT.

what also impresses me is the way he speaks of his past. he admits he's done wild shit, and adds that the best part was the moment he understood he didn't need to be high to be creative. it's the underlying power of "yeah, been there, got better, SO CAN YOU" that gets me.

to keep things short, i'm adding links:

here's a vid where he speaks of the book on Armenian genocide (i had personal reasons to tear up a bit while listening, ngl)

and here's a vid where he speaks of acting, writing, and improv, that basically broke my art block, for which i am going to be grateful for fucking ever, i guess

(if you got to this point of my rant, you deserve a hug and a respectful kiss on the mouth if you're ok with that. go have a lovely day 💜)

[imaginedanvrs]

when the world stands still

part 1 l masterlist

natasha romanoff x reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explosions, manipulation, coercion, descriptions of stage 4 cancer, character death, grief

“I don’t like her,” Natasha said to her friend freely from where they sat at the bar, the Russian’s eyes focused on the woman in question.

  “I know,” Wanda replied, glancing briefly at the small crowd gathered on the opposite side of the room. “She seems better than Ross though.” Natasha scoffed lightly. 

  “Doubtful. If he practically gave her his old job then they’ve got to have the same agenda,” Natasha theorised. “Doesn’t this worry you?” She asked, turning to the younger redhead with a furrowed brow. She had more reason for concern than the Russian did.

  “Of course, but it’s nothing that we can control or even have a say in. It’s best if we just try and stay on her good side,” Wanda explained. “I doubt we’ll ever see a Secretary of State that actually likes the Avengers. They don’t like what they can’t control.” The mentor didn’t respond, still examining the newest political figure Tony had invited to his party, most likely having the same thinking as Wanda. 

  “Krasnyy,” Wanda muttered. “Don’t give her reason to make things difficult for us,” she said with a slight plea. 

  “I’ll play nice,” the older woman assured with a teasing smile that didn’t help put the Sokovian’s mind at ease. She hummed and followed Natasha’s gaze to where it had travelled to the spacious balcony outside. There were few people scattered around on the other side of the closed doors to keep out the evening autumn breeze that proved to be too much for most of the guests. They retreated back into the warmth, leaving you to stand alone. 

  “You don’t like her wife either?” Wanda queried.

  “Fiance,” Natasha corrected. “Of two years,” she added with a knowing smirk over the tip of her glass. 

  “Spreading gossip about them is the last thing you should be doing,” Wanda scolded lightly before taking her own sly glance in your direction. Your back was to the party, the city beyond captivating your attention instead. You had dutifully shown your face by your partner’s side at the start of the party but apparently hadn’t felt the need to mingle like most did at such an event. “Two years?” Wanda asked as though it only just clicked. Natasha chuckled with a small nod. “Well I suppose they must be quite busy.” 

  “Too busy for a lot of things I bet,” Natasha continued. 

  “Tasha,” Wanda warned again, unable to hide her smile this time. “It’s my turn to escape early,” she said as she stood up. The brunette had a mission early the following morning, a card Natasha had been able to play at the last few events. It wasn’t that either of them disliked Stark’s parties, they were infamous for a reason, but nights like that one didn’t compare when there was a clear political motive and the heroes were paraded around like trophies that could perform tricks. 

  “Tell me what I miss when I’m back,” she said, leaving the spy to her own devices at the bar where her attention soon flickered back to you. 

  Play nice, she reminded herself as she started towards the balcony. You didn’t turn around when the door opened behind you, taking another drag from the glowing cigarette as your gaze remained fixed on the night life below. 

  “I’m glad someone can admit how tedious these events can be,” Natasha called out, putting several paces between you as she leant over the railing next to you. You glanced her way in acknowledgment but gave no indicator if you were pleased or irritated by the company. 

  “This is the third one this week,” you told her simply. 

  “Just don’t laugh too much at the unfunny jokes or they won't leave you alone,” Natasha advised. “Oh and pretend you don’t find them incredibly irritating,” she added. You took another steady drag as you eyed the Avenger, unsure what her angle was with you. Most of the guests at such parties that approached you on your own just wanted some gossip about your personal life. Vultures.

  “Is that what you do?” A genuine smile crept through Natasha’s strategic features that you apparently saw through better than most.

  “And find the right people to pass the time with. I suppose your fiance is preoccupied though,” the redhead stated as she peered back at the party. You didn’t reply, nor did you show any interest in what you were missing behind you. “If you can stick it through, it gets better once people get drunk,” the spy continued, set on getting some kind of reaction or exchange from you. 

  “They’ve got the right idea,” you muttered as you crushed the cigarette but under your heel and finally peered back at the party. Your fiance was still immersed in conversation with Steve, one of the few heroes that was willing to converse with her for so long. Natasha’s eyes twinkled in a way she knew Wanda would disapprove of. Regardless, she opened an invitation to you. 

  “Not many people know this, but I’m a pretty great mixologist,” she told you. You considered her for a moment before turning back to the party you had no interest in attending. Might as well enjoy the free drinks, it’s the only perk this new lifestyle seems to come with.

  “Screw it, why not,” you shrugged, allowing the Avenger to lead the way back inside and to the edge of the bar where she and Wanda had sat, out of the way of the main events. “How often does Stark throw these events?” You asked as Natasha began pouring from bottles you didn’t know the names of. 

  “Not as much as people think,” she told you. “And there’s usually less people.”

  “Is it better that way?” You asked out of your own sheer curiosity. 

  “Much,” Natasha admitted. You had to give her credit for her honesty. “Events like this just feel like a show.”

  “For my fiance?”

  “Who else?” The redhead placed a martini glass on the bar and pushed it gently towards her. You thanked her and briefly glanced back in the direction of the main party, seeing the guest of honour still mingling with Steve. “Now that bit isn’t an act. They’re talking shop because he’s the only one who can make it seem so harmless at these events,” Natasha continued. 

  She didn’t stop there. As the evening became night, the redhead analysed everyone in the room to you as she continued to push more drinks. You weren’t entirely sure why she was doing it, but it did make the event more interesting to know the unkept secrets about some of the other guests who had appeared. It was also helpful. The gist of it was, none of them were as powerful, generous or influential as they believed themselves to be. 

  Though as enlightening as Natasha’s tale’s were, you couldn’t sit at the bar and listen to her all night, as reminded to you when midnight came around as indicated by the chime. The Avenger was about to pour from another bottle when you stopped it all, the content smile remaining on her imperfect features. 

  “Stop,” you muttered under your breath. 

  The world obeyed. 

  You examined Natasha for a moment, noting the lonely stillness that had fallen over her features and that of everyone else's in the world and briefly wondered if it would ever stop feeling so isolating. You couldn’t ponder on it, even if you did quite literally have all the time in the world, because you had a job to do. 

  Begrudgingly, you stood up from the bar stool and leisurely made your way across the grande room with a slight intoxicated sway to your step, passing by every statue without a second glance. You always felt guilty when you saw all their oblivious faces. 

  You had never uttered that magic word after a drink before and you could feel yourself having less of a control over keeping everything still than you usually did. You were playing a dangerous game, resuming everything too soon could have endless consequences that you weren’t planning on exploring. She certainly wouldn’t be happy. 

  More than that, you had never performed the task on a building with such impressive technology either. What if you were finally caught? It couldn’t have worse outcomes than the only other time you had been found out. For you. Someone else would pay that price though and you weren’t ready to deal with the debt that would follow, ironic for someone with your abilities. 

  Even though you had tried your best to memorise the route to the control room prior, you still found yourself getting lost numerous times on the way. It didn’t help that such a large tower only had two sets of stairwells for you to use because Stark apparently had too much faith in his building's ability not to catch on fire and render the elevators useless. You couldn’t use them yourself, having to be sure that everything was left in place when you resumed the world. 

  Finally, you found the main control room and didn’t waste any time placing the small chip under the nearest surface. It was hard to believe what it was supposedly capable of, but you had no doubt that their plan was flawless, it always was. 

  Just like that, your work was done and you returned to the party, feeling far heavier than you had when you left from the guilt that was already weighing on your shoulders. It wasn’t the first time you had done something like that, but you were sure this deed was going to have a worse impact than any of the prior ventures. 

  You let go of your hold on the world’s time so that the chaos could resume. The midnight chime ended and was replaced with another sound, one that was far grander. 

  The explosion shook the building, startling every guest that looked to each other for solace and guidance with terrified expressions. Alarms blared, people screamed, orders were yelled from the building’s AI and heroes. “Stay here,” Natasha ordered as you painted your features with the same fear that everyone else carried. 

  “But Cecilia-” you started, because anyone would be first concerned about their lover, right? Amidst the chaos, you really couldn’t see her. 

  “Wait!” Natasha repeated, springing over the bar and starting down the hall you had come from as the AI reported where the explosion had started. Steve rushed off after her, then Tony, then a few others. Then the next alert came. 

  “Security breach within the mainframe!” The robotic voice alerted. 

  You were so focused on watching the crowd panicking around you that you didn’t even notice the presence behind you until her body crashed into yours, supposedly to embrace you in a blaze of panic and relief. “Are you okay?” Your fiance asked as she examined your features carefully, playing the role without fault. 

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” you told her, staring long enough into her features to give the nonverbal answer she was looking for. She hardly needed it, the scenes unfolding around you were evident that you had done as she instructed. 

  “Good,” she exhaled, pulling you flush against her into a tight hug that gave her enough cover to whisper into your ear. “Good girl,” she praised, maintaining that fake worry as she pulled away. You felt sick. People were crying around you. God, you hoped no one was hurt. 

  The situation was handled with impressive ease and it wasn’t long before everyone was being evacuated from the tower. Despite yourself, as you followed the crowd out of the building, your arm protectively around your fiance’s waist, your eyes drifted back in hopes of catching a glimpse of the redhead that had entertained you for the last stretch of the party. Part of you actually wanted to thank her for making the tension you had been feeling lessen, but that couldn’t happen, so you carried on. 

  The moment you were in the car together with the driver speeding off to your home, Cecilia was on the phone to her team. “Did you get it?” You didn’t hear the response, you didn’t want to know. Still, her chuckle told you it had. They had hacked the Avengers and retrieved whatever files they were looking for. You weren’t sure which ones, all you knew was that you had been able to damage the controls enough to provide a window for them to enter and take what they pleased. 

  “I don’t know what you’re looking so down about,” Cecilia sniped when a silence fell over the vehicle. “You know the deal, your sister gets more treatment now,” she said simply. 

  Yeah, she will. That’s all that matters. You nodded. “Thank you,” you muttered. “Can I see her?” You asked, hoping you could make a stop to visit her before you were taken back to the house. 

  “She’s already in surgery,” she told you with a smile. You returned it politely, willing yourself not to argue that that meant you really should have been taken to where she was so that you could wait for her, so that you could be there in case… Fuck, you didn’t even know she needed another surgery. They never told you anything. 

  You fought back tears, adamant that you wouldn’t show weakness in front of her, especially when she was on a power trip of success. She had the job, she had the files, she had you. To her, everything was working out perfectly. To you, it was all falling apart. 

*

“What files were accessed?” Tony asked, feeling an uncertainty arise within his chest. No one had ever hacked him before. No one had ever successfully attacked the base. What was worse, there were still no answers as to how it had been done. He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he gazed at the monitor that offered no comfort. 

  “Just under half of all existing documents. Displaying now.” Files streamed onto the screen on cue, all ranging in dates and topics. 

  “Anything?” Steve and Natasha entered his space cautiously, knowing that the billionaire was stuck in his own head that was no doubt flooded with anxiety. 

  “No, keep the tower shut to all other personnel until we know for sure that there are no more bombs.” 

  “They’re already gotten what they want,” Steve said. 

  “We can’t know that for sure,” Natasha input, leaning over to examine the different documents that were presented and trying to pinpoint any recurring themes or patterns. “We don’t even know who they are.”

*

  Gently, you ran your fingers over the skin where your sister’s hair should have been. You always used to do that when she was sick, from her fevers as a baby to the start of her diagnosis, you were always there to provide her with whatever comfort you could. Getting her the medical help she needed had been a long, greying, journey that you had never for one moment considered might not lead to the destination you wanted. It had been difficult for you both, but you had never dared let her in on what you had done to get her there. 

  It wasn’t a hospital by any means, yet the equipment they carried in the building was far superior. There was a team of professionals that were so highly trained in their respective fields, you had to wonder how much they were being paid to treat your sister and the other unknown patients. It was certainly money that you had never handed them, but you had worked for it. It wasn’t the personnel that had drawn you to the facility, it was the medicine they used. It wasn’t from Earth. 

  You had seen first hand the miracles that occurred on the hostile city streets, the last place anyone would expect to find them. Sicknesses being rid of, disabilities being lessened, burdens released from those who could never have afforded lesser help from elsewhere. All they had to pay with was their services. Thieves, thugs, gangs, dealers, the skills that flourished in the city’s underbelly were revived and given the chance to be used in ways they never could have imagined. 

  Once those rumours fell on your ears, you thought you had found the solution to your problems and that if you gave yourself to the ones pulling the strings behind the curtain, you could save your sister's life. Even as you gazed down at her pale features, you refused to believe your efforts were in vain. 

  Footsteps broke you from your trance as they thudded into your space. You knew who it was, she had a habit of interrupting what little time you had with your sister, as though she was genuinely jealous that your attention was on someone else. Cecilia was hardly in love with you and your relationship was purely for the convenience of getting you access to restricted events and places, but her possession was fierce. She was adamant on knowing where you were at all times and who you were with, preferably being the one to send you to those specific places. You kept to the diet and workout plan she set for you and never let you sleep in a different bed to her. You didn’t understand her insistent dictatorship over your life that was already in her hands, you just knew to obey it. 

  You didn’t react when she pressed a kiss to your neck and snaked her hands around your waist to peer over your shoulder at your sister. She didn’t comment on her declining condition, instead, she brought up the absolute last thing on your mind. “I’ve finally decided on a venue,” she informed lightly, humming into your neck. You could have slapped her. You didn’t want to think about the goddamn wedding. “You’re gonna love it,” she added when you remained silent. 

  “Can you ask the doctors what they’re gonna do next?” You asked. They never told you, too busy to make conversation with someone that didn’t matter to them. You felt your fiance exhale against your skin. She was frustrated, as though your little sister’s cancer was an inconvenience. 

  “She’s dying,” she said bluntly. You stiffened and hoped she didn’t notice. You weren’t in the mood for a fight. 

  “Not yet.” Cecilia kept her hands on your waist as she moved around to your front, placing a fresh kiss to your cheek that you refused to let be stained with tears in front of her. 

  “I love that stubbornness,” she told you with a small smile. “There’s so much fight in that heart of yours,” she added, trailing her finger over your chest to where your organ was thumping. “So much strength.” Her hands threaded around your neck. “It’s why you’re my favourite,” Cecilia said fondly, kissing you once more before finally leaving you be. 

  Your sister died a week later. 

  The only comfort you were able to take from it was that you were by her side when she took her final breath. You were there to tell her that she didn’t have to hang on for you, that she could rest, go be with mum and dad, be without pain. You told her that you would be okay on your own, even though you knew you wouldn’t. You held her hand and felt her give a final squeeze of recognition, of comfort. Her silent goodbye. 

  Just like that, you were left alone. 

  Your sobs could have been heard throughout the entire building. You were inconsolable, grasping onto your little sister’s lifeless body like it would keep her around. You begged for her to take you with her, to let you join them and come home. You begged for an ending. You cried so much your throat felt as though it had been ripped out, torn to shreds from the source. They only intervene when you tried to draw out your time with her. 

  “St-” you couldn’t complete the desperate command because hundreds of volts were sent through your body. You convulsed and collapsed to the floor in a defeated heap, unwilling to ever get up again. What was the point if you didn’t have her to fight for? 

  “Shh, it’s okay,” Cecilia cooed as she pulled the taser clips from your back and pulled your head into her lap. She cradled you, offering her solace for something that never concerned her. She was probably happy your sister was gone. She finally had you all to yourself, even if you were hardly present. “We’ll make it better. You’ll do your best work without the distraction, get you training more.” You weren’t listening, too engaged with setting your eyes on the opposite wall. You didn’t care for her plans for you. 

  “She never would have died if you had been given more help,” she explained, catching your attention. “But no one cared, not the government, not the people, not the Avengers. They just kept you away from us until it was too late.” You didn’t entirely believe what your fiance was telling you, but your mind was so fractured you were desperate for some kind of explanation and someone to blame. 

“Humanity cannot be trusted with its own freedom. We fail time and time again because we aren’t led in the way we should be, the way we can be. Help us change that, y/n.” Dutifully, you sat up and nodded.

“We’re the only ones that looked after you and we’re the only ones that ever will,” she explained. That was true. You had no more foundations or life beyond the commands you were given. No one else could give you a future. 

  “What do you say?” Cecilia asked. You moved to kneel in front of her, features dead straight and eyes as dull as your sister’s behind you. 

  “Hail Hydra.” 

[lurkiestvoid]

You're being targeted by disinformation networks that are vastly more effective than you realize. And they're making you more hateful and depressed.

(This essay was originally by u/walkandtalkk and posted to r/GenZ on Reddit two months ago, and I've crossposted here on Tumblr for convenience because it's relevant and well-written.)

TL;DR: You know that Russia and other governments try to manipulate people online. But you almost certainly don't how just how effectively orchestrated influence networks are using social media platforms to make you -- individually-- angry, depressed, and hateful toward each other. Those networks' goal is simple: to cause Americans and other Westerners -- especially young ones -- to give up on social cohesion and to give up on learning the truth, so that Western countries lack the will to stand up to authoritarians and extremists.

And you probably don't realize how well it's working on you.

This is a long post, but I wrote it because this problem is real, and it's much scarier than you think.

How Russian networks fuel racial and gender wars to make Americans fight one another

In September 2018, a video went viral after being posted by In the Now, a social media news channel. It featured a feminist activist pouring bleach on a male subway passenger for manspreading. It got instant attention, with millions of views and wide social media outrage. Reddit users wrote that it had turned them against feminism.

There was one problem: The video was staged. And In the Now, which publicized it, is a subsidiary of RT, formerly Russia Today, the Kremlin TV channel aimed at foreign, English-speaking audiences.

As an MIT study found in 2019, Russia's online influence networks reached 140 million Americans every month -- the majority of U.S. social media users.

Russia began using troll farms a decade ago to incite gender and racial divisions in the United States

In 2013, Yevgeny Prigozhin, a confidante of Vladimir Putin, founded the Internet Research Agency (the IRA) in St. Petersburg. It was the Russian government's first coordinated facility to disrupt U.S. society and politics through social media.

Here's what Prigozhin had to say about the IRA's efforts to disrupt the 2022 election:

"Gentlemen, we interfered, we interfere and we will interfere. Carefully, precisely, surgically and in our own way, as we know how. During our pinpoint operations, we will remove both kidneys and the liver at once."

In 2014, the IRA and other Russian networks began establishing fake U.S. activist groups on social media. By 2015, hundreds of English-speaking young Russians worked at the IRA. Their assignment was to use those false social-media accounts, especially on Facebook and Twitter -- but also on Reddit, Tumblr, 9gag, and other platforms -- to aggressively spread conspiracy theories and mocking, ad hominem arguments that incite American users.

In 2017, U.S. intelligence found that Blacktivist, a Facebook and Twitter group with more followers than the official Black Lives Matter movement, was operated by Russia. Blacktivist regularly attacked America as racist and urged black users to rejected major candidates. On November 2, 2016, just before the 2016 election, Blacktivist's Twitter urged Black Americans: "Choose peace and vote for Jill Stein. Trust me, it's not a wasted vote."

Russia plays both sides -- on gender, race, and religion

The brilliance of the Russian influence campaign is that it convinces Americans to attack each other, worsening both misandry and misogyny, mutual racial hatred, and extreme antisemitism and Islamophobia. In short, it's not just an effort to boost the right wing; it's an effort to radicalize everybody.

Russia uses its trolling networks to aggressively attack men. According to MIT, in 2019, the most popular Black-oriented Facebook page was the charmingly named "My Baby Daddy Aint Shit." It regularly posts memes attacking Black men and government welfare workers. It serves two purposes: Make poor black women hate men, and goad black men into flame wars.

MIT found that My Baby Daddy is run by a large troll network in Eastern Europe likely financed by Russia.

But Russian influence networks are also also aggressively misogynistic and aggressively anti-LGBT.

On January 23, 2017, just after the first Women's March, the New York Times found that the Internet Research Agency began a coordinated attack on the movement. Per the Times:

More than 4,000 miles away, organizations linked to the Russian government had assigned teams to the Women’s March. At desks in bland offices in St. Petersburg, using models derived from advertising and public relations, copywriters were testing out social media messages critical of the Women’s March movement, adopting the personas of fictional Americans.

They posted as Black women critical of white feminism, conservative women who felt excluded, and men who mocked participants as hairy-legged whiners.

But the Russian PR teams realized that one attack worked better than the rest: They accused its co-founder, Arab American Linda Sarsour, of being an antisemite. Over the next 18 months, at least 152 Russian accounts regularly attacked Sarsour. That may not seem like many accounts, but it worked: They drove the Women's March movement into disarray and eventually crippled the organization.

Russia doesn't need a million accounts, or even that many likes or upvotes. It just needs to get enough attention that actual Western users begin amplifying its content.

A former federal prosecutor who investigated the Russian disinformation effort summarized it like this:

It wasn’t exclusively about Trump and Clinton anymore. It was deeper and more sinister and more diffuse in its focus on exploiting divisions within society on any number of different levels.

As the New York Times reported in 2022,

There was a routine: Arriving for a shift, [Russian disinformation] workers would scan news outlets on the ideological fringes, far left and far right, mining for extreme content that they could publish and amplify on the platforms, feeding extreme views into mainstream conversations.

China is joining in with AI

[A couple months ago], the New York Times reported on a new disinformation campaign. "Spamouflage" is an effort by China to divide Americans by combining AI with real images of the United States to exacerbate political and social tensions in the U.S. The goal appears to be to cause Americans to lose hope, by promoting exaggerated stories with fabricated photos about homeless violence and the risk of civil war.

As Ladislav Bittman, a former Czechoslovakian secret police operative, explained about Soviet disinformation, the strategy is not to invent something totally fake. Rather, it is to act like an evil doctor who expertly diagnoses the patient’s vulnerabilities and exploits them, “prolongs his illness and speeds him to an early grave instead of curing him.”

The influence networks are vastly more effective than platforms admit

Russia now runs its most sophisticated online influence efforts through a network called Fabrika. Fabrika's operators have bragged that social media platforms catch only 1% of their fake accounts across YouTube, Twitter, TikTok, and Telegram, and other platforms.

But how effective are these efforts? By 2020, Facebook's most popular pages for Christian and Black American content were run by Eastern European troll farms tied to the Kremlin. And Russia doesn't just target angry Boomers on Facebook. Russian trolls are enormously active on Twitter. And, even, on Reddit.

It's not just false facts

The term "disinformation" undersells the problem. Because much of Russia's social media activity is not trying to spread fake news. Instead, the goal is to divide and conquer by making Western audiences depressed and extreme.

Sometimes, through brigading and trolling. Other times, by posting hyper-negative or extremist posts or opinions about the U.S. the West over and over, until readers assume that's how most people feel. And sometimes, by using trolls to disrupt threads that advance Western unity.

As the RAND think tank explained, the Russian strategy is volume and repetition, from numerous accounts, to overwhelm real social media users and create the appearance that everyone disagrees with, or even hates, them. And it's not just low-quality bots. Per RAND,

Russian propaganda is produced in incredibly large volumes and is broadcast or otherwise distributed via a large number of channels. ... According to a former paid Russian Internet troll, the trolls are on duty 24 hours a day, in 12-hour shifts, and each has a daily quota of 135 posted comments of at least 200 characters.

What this means for you

You are being targeted by a sophisticated PR campaign meant to make you more resentful, bitter, and depressed. It's not just disinformation; it's also real-life human writers and advanced bot networks working hard to shift the conversation to the most negative and divisive topics and opinions.

It's why some topics seem to go from non-issues to constant controversy and discussion, with no clear reason, across social media platforms. And a lot of those trolls are actual, "professional" writers whose job is to sound real.

So what can you do? To quote WarGames: The only winning move is not to play. The reality is that you cannot distinguish disinformation accounts from real social media users. Unless you know whom you're talking to, there is a genuine chance that the post, tweet, or comment you are reading is an attempt to manipulate you -- politically or emotionally.

Here are some thoughts:

Don't accept facts from social media accounts you don't know. Russian, Chinese, and other manipulation efforts are not uniform. Some will make deranged claims, but others will tell half-truths. Or they'll spin facts about a complicated subject, be it the war in Ukraine or loneliness in young men, to give you a warped view of reality and spread division in the West.

Resist groupthink. A key element of manipulate networks is volume. People are naturally inclined to believe statements that have broad support. When a post gets 5,000 upvotes, it's easy to think the crowd is right. But "the crowd" could be fake accounts, and even if they're not, the brilliance of government manipulation campaigns is that they say things people are already predisposed to think. They'll tell conservative audiences something misleading about a Democrat, or make up a lie about Republicans that catches fire on a liberal server or subreddit.

Don't let social media warp your view of society. This is harder than it seems, but you need to accept that the facts -- and the opinions -- you see across social media are not reliable. If you want the news, do what everyone online says not to: look at serious, mainstream media. It is not always right. Sometimes, it screws up. But social media narratives are heavily manipulated by networks whose job is to ensure you are deceived, angry, and divided.

Edited for typos and clarity. (Tumblr-edited for formatting and to note a sourced article is now older than mentioned in the original post. -LV)

P.S. Apparently, this post was removed several hours ago due to a flood of reports. Thank you to the r/GenZ moderators for re-approving it.

Second edit:

This post is not meant to suggest that r/GenZ is uniquely or especially vulnerable, or to suggest that a lot of challenges people discuss here are not real. It's entirely the opposite: Growing loneliness, political polarization, and increasing social division along gender lines is real. The problem is that disinformation and influence networks expertly, and effectively, hijack those conversations and use those real, serious issues to poison the conversation. This post is not about left or right: Everyone is targeted.

(Further Tumblr notes: since this was posted, there have been several more articles detailing recent discoveries of active disinformation/influence and hacking campaigns by Russia and their allies against several countries and their respective elections, and barely touches on the numerous Tumblr blogs discovered to be troll farms/bad faith actors from pre-2016 through today. This is an ongoing and very real problem, and it's nowhere near over.

A quote from NPR article linked above from 2018 that you might find familiar today: "[A] particular hype and hatred for Trump is misleading the people and forcing Blacks to vote Killary. We cannot resort to the lesser of two devils. Then we'd surely be better off without voting AT ALL," a post from the account said.")

[amtrak-official]

Media I currently recommend:

TV Show: Russian Doll

Movie: Clue

Stage play: Falsettos

Book: Walkable City

[kaeddehara]

⋆˙⟡LEAD GUITARIST CHILDE⋆˙⟡

[nsfw + fem!reader x kinda emo childe + childe speaks some russian cause it’s hot + enjoy loves <3 ]

messy ginger hair, pretty ear and eyebrow piercings, some tattoos lining his arms and back, your boyfriend had it all. on top of his good looks, he was the best lead guitar player you ever knew. from seeing him okay with his hand to recording by himself to playing songs he wrote just for you. it was a dream dating a lead guitarist.

he’d wear those shirts that just fit him just right, coming up whenever he’d stretch upward. probably has a visible happy trail he keeps trimmed up just for you <3. always paired with baggy jeans and his pretty ginger strands all messy in such a lovely way, especially after he’d play. you’d always get a front row seat at his shows, always right where he was standing on stage. everyone around who comes to his shows knows you as his pretty little girlfriend. always in such cute outfits cheering him on and dancing. while your whole relationship seemed so romantic and lighthearted, that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

it never surprised you when he comes home with you grabbing on his arm and playfully dragging him to his couch in the dark living room. who knew how late it was or how high or drunk either of you were. after basically shoving him down on a comfortable spot on the couch, childes body relaxes against the soft fabric. you quickly plop yourself down right on top of his lap which immediately leaves childe to snake his hand around your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“hey, hey— slow down baby, you know there’s no need to rush anything”

you pout at his truthful words and huff slightly in annoyance before leaning in close to his slightly sweaty face. those big beautiful deep blue eyes staring back so lovingly while you hovered your lips on top of his.

“i’m gonna take my time dont you even worry”

you mumbled softly against his lips before pecking them, leveling childe to lean forward for more which made you smile. both of his hands sneaking to grab the fat of your ass and massage you gently. leaving you to gasp and lean forward even more which childe takes the opportunity to take you in for a deep kiss. then another, and another, and another until you basically didn’t leave any room for air. just as he was getting completely lost in your lips, you began to grind down on childe. letting your soft, small hands wander and snake up to his fluffy ginger locks. just the feeling of your fingers tangling through his hair made childe groan into each kiss he placed upon your lips. once you needed a breath of air, you slipped away swiftly from his lips, catching your breath and fixing your messed up lip gloss that now covered childes lips all shiny and colorful. leaning into his soft pale neck you licked and nipped at the sensitive flesh before getting to his ear and whispered his real name into his ear in a desperate tone he’s pretty sure not anyone could resist.

“you know how i feel when you say my name like that don’t you?”

he teases you with a soft laugh making you continue to kiss down his neck and jawline.

“Ты сводишь меня с ума…” (you drive me crazy)

“mhm”, you responded back, still busied with marking up his neck. pulling once you were finished to admire your work and rub the pretty markings over with your fingers. looking ajax back into the eyes.

“why don’t you get on your knees for me mилая” (sweetheart)

[rwrbmovie]

BTS of #RWRBMovie: 'z' in your last name

TZP via HOLA:

Clifton Collins Jr., who plays my father in the film, was amazing. I knew of him. I’d seen his projects, but we’d never crossed paths before. And then we met and we just got along, thick as thieves. And he’s like an OG Mexican from Los Angeles which was so colorful. He made it feel like there was family on set. Same with Matthew being Puerto Rican. Their influences help you get into that vibe, and then you do the scene and it’s wonderful. You really bring that accuracy to it.

There’s a line in the film when Alex and Henry are in Paris, and Henry asks him a question about his mom’s campaign, and Alex starts telling him about his father and his abuela coming to the States. The line is something like “If you’re an immigrant in America and you have a ‘Z’ in your last name, there’s a lot of people in positions of power that don’t look and sound like you. I’ve been given the opportunity to be someone in the world that my father didn’t see when he was growing up.” As someone with two ‘Zs’ in his last name (laughs), that was a tough scene for me because I had to be there as Alex and not as Taylor. It was very emotional to think of my family and what they went through to come to the United States. Even though they came here a long time ago, you still think about all of the people that are coming to America today and about all of their stories. Alex realizes that his father didn’t have any role models growing up and now he’s a congressman. That fuels his fire to be the change. That was so exciting for me.

From NYT:

For both Zakhar Perez and the director, the character Alex’s biracial identity was particularly meaningful. López grew up in Panama City, Fla., with his Puerto Rican father and Polish Russian mother, while Zakhar Perez is of Mexican, Middle Eastern and Mediterranean descent and was raised in northwest Indiana, where he said there was only one other Mexican family. “Matthew and I talked a lot about the mestizo journey,” Zakhar Perez said in a video call before SAG-AFTRA, the actor’s union, went on strike. “Being part Mexican, part lots of other things, I don’t want to say you’re forgotten, but in today’s world, it’s like, you’re either this or you’re that. There’s nothing in between. I’m kind of a cultural chameleon.” “As a young Latiné queer man, I never read something that centered someone like Alex,” López said, echoing his star. “If I had been presented with this character when I was in my late teens, early 20s, it may have changed how I thought about myself.”

From Windy City Times:

Was the part about having a Z in your last name personal or the book? ML: It was personal. That was about me and Taylor. It came from a conversation that Taylor and I had when making the film.

From Metro Weekly:

Alex has a line about grow ing up in Texas as a kid with a last name that ends with Z, which is I guess something else you can relate to, Florida style. ML: And Taylor Zakhar Perez also. Taylor and I talked about that scene a lot as being something that we both understood. My aunt Priscilla Lopez is a beloved, beloved stage actor. She was in the original cast of A Chorus Line. And there's a story that she tells about Mandy Gonzalez, who was in In the Heights with her, and Mandy once told Priscilla that Priscilla made it okay for her to be someone with a Z in her last name. And that was a thing that Taylor and I spent a lot of time discussing as well. It was important to me that that scene be in the movie. There was never a chance in hell that that scene was ever getting cut.

From Teen Vogue:

TV: One of my favorite parts is when they’re in Paris, and Alex talks about being a young person of color coming up from Texas and not seeing anybody who looked like himself or his dad in politics, and Henry’s response to that simply being: “I’m learning.” I don’t know if you were in the theater for that one, but half the crowd was like, awwwww. ML: Yeah, I was for that. TV: I’m married to a white man, and I was like, that is the perfect thing a white man can say in that situation. ML: I’m married to a white man, too. Speaking as someone who is a person of color married to a white man: that’s like the ultimate thing you ever want your white boyfriend or husband or partner to say. That’s it. “I’m learning.”

ML via THR:

There’s a scene in the movie that is very much me, which I gave Taylor after they’ve had sex for the first time. They’re there in pillow talk mode, and he tells Henry about what it’s like to be the son of an immigrant with a Z in your last name. It was really important to me to talk about growing up with a Z in your last name and even just how our names are pronounced, the spellings of our names sometimes if you have Latin ancestry. To have to answer for your name has always been something for me that I struggled with until I stopped struggling with it. So, I needed to put that into Alex’s story and when it came time to shoot that scene again, it was something I didn’t have to explain to Taylor Zakhar Perez. He got it instantly. The only thing that I did screw him up with is like, “We’re going to do this [scene] as a oner, and we’re going to do it as a top shot that starts in a wide shot and comes all the way down to your face, and we’re not going to leave this scene until you get it right in one.”

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

More Nekoma HCs

Teshiro’s really good at those pen spinning tricks, the other first-years pop off when he does it. He also has the best handwriting of the first-years and they borrow his notes before big tests. Lev's handwriting is borderline illegible— he claims its cause he's Russian but everyone calls him out on his bullshit ("Dude, your first language is Japanese??")

Fukunaga carries around a slide whistle, when he's not on court he plays it every time someone dives for the ball

Shibayama's the kinda guy to send buzzfeed quizes in the team groupchat and make everyone take them ("Dont you guys wanna know what cat breed you are?"). Most of the team groan but secretly find it endearing. Kuroo unabashadly loves it and commends Shibayama's team spirit

None of the second-years are good students— Kenma spends class playing mobile games under his desk or napping, Tora doesn't listen but even if he did he wouldn't process anything, and Fukunaga's in his own little world 90% of the time. Kenma skates by with general smarts but Tora and Fukunaga are in the TRENCHES. Kuroo and Kai help tutor them when needed

The whole team LOVES Akane, that's their cheer captain!! She gets along best with Fukunaga and Kenma because they're closest to Tora but I think she'd also vibe a lot with Yaku cause they have a similar sassy energy (and height but shh). All of them treat her like an absolute queen, mess with her and you got 10 guys knocking at your door

Tora picks people up a lot, he just grabs them and throws them over his shoulders. The most common victims are the second years but also Shibayama since he's "bite-sized" as Tora so eloquently puts it. He tried it with Yaku a single time which did NOT go well, he hasn't again since

When Hinata's in town to hang out with Kenma Inkuoka and Lev WILL find a way to crash it no matter what. The just happened to show up at the same arcade, what a conincidence!! Kenma gives them the death glare but unfortunately for him Hinata is more than happy to let them tag along

Kai is generally really chill but when he yells he's louder than even Tora. The team finds this out at training camp when they're settling in for the night and the first years decide its a great time to have a pillow fight. One flies directly into a sleeping Kai's face. The other teams can hear the reprimanding through the walls (bro doesn't fuck around with his beauty rest)

Sometimes they do video game nights at Kuroo's but Kenma is either straight-up banned or given severe handicaps. The one time he loses is during MarioKart when Kuroo starts waving his hands in front of his face and Kenma stops playing to wresting him away (he still manages to beat Tora somehow)

Kuroo and Yaku argue all the time but if anyone else talks shit about them they hop to the other's defense immediately. You do not get away with making fun of Yaku's height unless you're Kuroo himself.

Kuroo's the biggest fan of Fukunaga's jokes, as a fellow pun enthusiast he appreciates him keeping the court light-hearted. He laughs way too hard even when they're not that funny and sometimes fires a quip or two back. Also Kuroo's definetly the type to literally slap his knee when laughing

(Ignore the awful picture quality) There's this scene from the Tokyo Battles stage play where Shibayama dances along with Akane and Alisa from the stands and it's the cutest thing ever i'm obsessed. Anyways I think he's the king of the bench cheerleaders, he teaches Teshiro and Inuoka all the little dances and chants

alright thats it for now, long live Nekoma

[radioisntdead]

LORD AND SAVIOR!

I pray to thee for Mobster Alastor!! Pretty please! There was an actual Mob in New Orleans during the 1920s! What if Al was a Mob Boss and he meets Reader!!

MOB ALASTOR, MOB ALASTOR, MOB ALASTOR MOB ALASTOR, MOB AL-

Charmed

Mob boss! Alastor x f reader

Warnings: implied death of a man, ALSO WINGEOMAN MIMZY WE LOVE [?] MIMZY IN THIS HOUSE, mild ooc, endings slightly scrambled because I wrote that first then everything else, also don't question the song pacing.

What song the reader is singing

If you go down a couple of nonspecific streets in New Orleans Louisiana and down a shady dark alley way you'd stumble upon a shop that specialized in selling radios of all things, and if you stepped inside and muttered a certain set of words to one of the workers they'd open up the back and let you go down a pair of stairs, leading you to a lively and vibrant speakeasy filled with music, and folks dancing.

Ran by an ambitious woman by the name of Mimzy you were newly hired as one of her performers, clad in a striking red flapper dress with black details covering it, silky black gloves covered your arms, feathered headband placed on your head, and jewelry of your choosing adorned your neck and wrists you danced along to the music that played during down time or when the clock hit a certain time you were brought on stage to sing a jazzy little song.

And one of those certain times was now, you were singing a lovely song as folks drank, it was the slow part in the evening, a nice break from more energetic jazz songs and face paced dances like the Charleston.

"Darlin' I know it's been hard," your dazzling voice rang throughout the speakeasy, charming many patrons including the very man that owned and provided alcohol to the speakeasy.

"life is tough when we're far apart,"

Alastor, radio host that moonlighted as the head of a mob, How peculiar! Of course you wouldn't know that quite yet, only recognizing him as the well-known radio host as opposed to the murderous man he was.

"I miss you so but I know, I know you have to go,"

This wasn't the only speakeasy that Alastor owned and had others operate but this one in particular was ran by his dear friend so he did show quite the bout of favoritism towards it.

"Far away from my arms but you stay in my heart,"

Not to mention he thought that out of the others this one had the best jazz singers, as shown with your charming voice.

"I pray for the day that we'll share the same way"

You could faintly hear your boss, Mimzy greet Alastor and him responding in kind chatting as they made their way to Alastor's regular spot that was reserved for him at all times.

A spot that was somewhat secluded yet gave him a nice view of the stage.

"That we'd never be apart, will it be today?'' you continued singing, not giving a care for whatever your boss and the radio man were doing.

"Baby I'll be lonely without you,"

Alastor sat down as Mimzy gave him some information on someone he was supposed to be meeting for a deal before waltzing off to do whatever it is she did.

"I've been on my own for far too long,"

A bottle of rye and a rather fancy looking cup was placed in front of him by a waitress.

"Come and rescue me, Cause' right by my side is where you belong,"

Alastor checked his watch, the gentleman he was supposed to meet with was running a few minutes late, it was rather annoying especially since he was the one who wanted to meet with him.

Perhaps the man had gotten caught up in some other mobsters mits, perhaps he had decided to play one of Husker's Russian roulettes, or perhaps the coward decided to back out, how unfortunate,

For him anyways, Alastor didn't particularly care what happened to him, he would be annoyed if his time was wasted but at least he got to enjoy a couple glasses of rye and listen to that charming voice of yours.

romantic songs weren't his favorite but he didn't mind this time.

Alastor hadn't intended to become a mob boss but he certainly wasn't complaining especially with all the power that came with it.

He was once a simple radio host that had the simple hobby of murder, but then he had made the mistake of killing a mob member, proceeded to join said mob and ended up climbing the ranks.

Gaining the trust of the foolish former leader, using tactful tricks to tear down other members in order to take their place, replacing them on by one until eventually he did that foolishly vile man in, and took control for himself.

"Darlin' I know it's been hard for you too,"

And now he was more then just a simple radio host, he had control over parts of the new Orleans police department, he had bootleggers, he had people, he had money, enough money to ensure that his dear mother lived comfortably in a nice big house that could rival Jay Gatsby's, with people to take care of her.

"You're trying to make it through but you miss me so,"

May the Lord above have mercy on the souls that made the mistake of trying to harm or neglect her health.

"I know,"

Alastor's eyes rested on you singing, gloved hands gently holding the microphone, eyes half open as your voice enchanted the patrons.

"I know you've have been so long far away from my arms but you stay in my heart,"

Mimzy popped up again, a glass of her preferred alcoholic poison in hand with a raised eyebrow,

"You like our newest performer Al?" She asked leaning against a faux plant.

"Hm? Indeed she has quite the voice!" Alastor took a sip of his rye as Mimzy grinned mischievously, Alastor opened his mouth to say something but was oh so rudely interrupted by The gentleman that wanted to meet with him.

"I pray for the day that we'll share the same way,"

"Ah, you're late." Was all he said to the man as he sat across from him.

"That we never be apart will it be today?"

The late and rather annoying man didn't have the manners to apologize for his lateness, how stupid of him.

"Baby I'll be lonely without you, I've been on my own for far too long,"

while you sang and Alastor debated on killing a man, Mimzy came up with a couple ideas, Alastor seemed like your type and well, she was hopeful that you were Alastor's, because frankly she was concerned that the radio man was going to die alone.

"Come rescue me cause right by my side is where you belong,"

She thought you and Alastor would get along swimmingly! With your willingness to stab a bitch and Alastor's murderous hobbies along with the whole mob thing it was a match made in hell heaven!

And the two of ya' would have her to thank for puttin' the two of you together! Maybe you'd even make her your maid of honor at the wedding!

She'd look great in whatever color you'd choose for a bridesmaid dress, maybe green? Yellows?

How marvelous would that be?

Mimzy moved across the speakeasy to the area where you would go after your little performance to get off the stage and waited for you to finish your song.

You, ever unsuspecting continued singing, wondering what type of alcoholic or maybe even non-alcoholic beverage you would get after your performance, you were lucky that the speakeasy you worked at had several options and you got them either free or at a discount.

You were so preoccupied singing and deciding what type of drink you wanted indulge in to soothe your throat that you didn't notice Alastor snapping his fingers and two people appeared and dragged the man that had met with him away.

It caused a few patrons to leave just in case but it wouldn't damage that nights business.

"Far away from my arms but you stay in my heart,"

Now that his evening was freed up and you were still performing Alastor sipped his drink and watched you, seemingly unaware of what Mimzy had planned.

"I pray for the day that we'll share the same way that we'll never be apart will it be today?"

Mimzy impatiently tapped her foot on the ground as you took a quick breath, preparing to finish up the song.

"Baby I'll be lonely without you, I've been on my own for far too long come rescue me,"

Maybe you'd get a some type of cocktail? Or perhaps you'd settle for a glass of rye? Or maybe plain ol' water?

"cause' right by my side is where you belong,"

Alastor's gaze never left you as he sipped his drink, your voice had him enchanted.

"Baby I'll be lonely without you," you smiled as the time for your little performance to end was approaching, at least until the clock hit another late number.

"I've been on my own for far too long come rescue me,"

Your gloved hand let go of the microphone, bracelets clicking against each other as you moved your hand to your side.

"Cause' right by my side is where you belong."

You sung out the last line and did a small bow before turning around to get off the stage.

You barely made it two steps down the stage before Mimzy grabbed your hand telling you that she had someone she wanted you to meet, and dragged you to where Alastor now stood, intending to leave.

"Alastor! This is my newest performer, [Name], isn't she just the bee's knees?" Mimzy said as she let go of your hand, your eyes met Alastor's as he nodded politely.

"Indeed what a enchanting voice you have! It's a pleasure to meet you my dear, quite a pleasure," Alastor said holding a hand for you to shake, you smiled returning the handshake only for Alastor to bring your hand to his mouth planting a small kiss to it before letting go.

"The pleasures all mine, Alastor was it?" You asked as you pulled your hand back.

"Well look at you two getting along so well!" She said despite the two of you only barely exchanging simple pleasantries, you gave her a pointed look before she looked to the side of the two of you and squinted her eyes before looking back at you and Alastor,

"Oh! woulda' you look at that I gotta stop Donna from singing after this song, we all know she sounds like a dying toad, bless her heart, You two should go dance, get to know each other!" Mimzy said quickly as she suddenly shoved the two of you onto the dance floor.

As another round of jazz music began to play, Alastor took your hand in his and placed an arm on your back, and the two of you danced the night away.

Mimzy was rather proud of herself especially when she noticed Alastor began frequenting her speakeasy more, mainly nights when you performed, she was more then delighted when you waltzed on into the speakeasy early one night before any one had arrived, a couple months after she had sent you and Alastor to dance.

You cradled a bouquet of seven red roses in your arms as you made a beeline to Mimzy, telling her about you and Alastor had began to go out, how he took you on just the most wonderful date before you had came in, and oh how he was so gentlemanly and the date was just amazing!

Of course you did leave out the part of the date where you and Alastor killed a rather brutish guy together but that wasn't too important was it?

Good evening folks! This will be a series of sorts! Because I absolutely ADORE mob boss Alastor, so expect headcanons and other fics that may or may not be in order for this lil' au,

ALSO WINGWOMAN MIMZY Also I'm aware this was posted on Wednesday instead of Tuesday like it was supposed to so this is NOT a Wednesday angst fic, you will be getting Stardew valley flavored Wednesday angst later!

Anywho I hope you enjoyed! As always thank you for tunin' on in, And if you'd like to join in on the mob Alastor chatter you should join our discord!

[kawaiibarty]

black brothers headcanons

sirius has grey eyes, reg has blue

sirius has freckles on his face and regulus has moles all over his body

reg and sirius are almost equal in height (6'0/1") but sirius is obviously the taller one (he's not)

sirius is cis, biromantic homosexual and reg is ftm and gay.

sirius hid his "posh accent" during his hogwarts years until he started talking like remus/peter while regulus was "bullied" for talking like royalty (barty you asshat)

regulus and sirius are both fluent in french, classical greek and russian (i always had this hc that the black family are distantly related to russian royalty and because of their superiority complex they decided to integrate that into EVERYTHING THAT THEY DO, including the part about their children having the father's first name as their second [hence sirius orion black, and also why i feel regulus's choice in nomenclature, regulus arcturus black, is so important!!!! GUYSPLEASEASKMEABOUTITPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE])

sirius used to play piano but he's not so good anymore, he taught himself acoustic guitar. regulus is fluent in piano and sax. idk ive just always seen him being more into jazz than classical but he probably dabbles in some violin/viola too.

sirius has always been more into the rougher sports, definitely quidditch but it wasn't enough, totally took up ice hockey at some point at the potter house hold (he prefers contact sport) as well as tennis/badminton. regulus does figure skating and quidditch. maychance tennis.

sirius prefers to read books around 120 to 300 pages while regulus loves to drown himself in tomes over 700 pages.

sirius introduced reg to muggle authors such as alexander dumas and joseph conrad. sirius is more of a george orwell/charles dickons kinda guy

sirius's favourite genre in literature is dystopian/sci-fi, fantasy and drama while regulus is more into philosophy and legends as well as wiccan type shit ykwim???? and also historical dramas

sirius's favourite films are topgun, footloose and the terminator and obviously labyrinth, regulus cba to watch film and prefers musicals/other stage productions. his favourite is the phantom of the opera or hamlet depending on the day lol (projection mayhaps)

regulus is into britpop, emo/rock and post punk bands, eg: placebo (everyone stfu and let me cook), blur, pierce the veil, fall out boy, bauhaus, joy division etc etc. sirius is defos into glam rock, art rock, 80s pop, y'all get the picture, for example: david bowie (the obvious), t-rex (atyd fans, fuckin pull up), def leppard, queen (what's a sirius black depiction without some fat bottomed girls????) anyway im going over the word count chat

TW: abuse, homophobia etc etc (black family type shizzle)

sirius would take the blame for reg's mistakes (meaning he'd suffer the brunt of the abuse so that regulus doesn't have to though im sure as a fandom we've all collectively agreed that sirius has a silent saviour complex ft. fiercely loyal determination to protect his, and all of his loved ones' pride simultaneously)

regulus taught sirius morse code so that they could communicate in the house with minimal noise.

sirius taught regulus how to cut his hair after he came out as well as how to apply makeup to appear more masculine. he also provided reg with money for his transition when his parents started becoming too strict with their money after sirius was estranged.

regulus would write to james whenever sirius couldn't (GUYS OH MY GOD I HATE JT HERE)

uhm that's all for now folks, ask me for more if you dare.