#This post does not condone stealing

[jhonnyhotbody]

It gets ransacked every week

This was them b4 they got their wives

[techramonic]

A Comprehensive Analysis on Eric Harris, 3.

Disclaimer: This analysis/psychoanalysis is limited only to analysis as a means to reflect and understand the people involved. It is strictly informative. Just like all of my posts, I am detached from the media I write about and solely focus on the people to understand their psychology, for others to gain insight. There is no room for me to romanticize or glorify anything I write because I am only here to explain. I understand and research, but I do not condone. Thank you.

note: This is all solely based on independent research. If I may be wrong with the medical aspects of this post, please correct me. I would appreciate it a lot.

Fluvoxamine Maleate

Just a few days before the shooting, Eric was promptly rejected from his application to serve in the marines. Despite his desirable qualities, he was rejected for the sole reason of being tested positive for consuming a prescripted drug after rejecting that he was off any medication. With a trace of Luvox in his system, theories speculate that the drug's side effects played a role on the events that have transpired. Luvox is a medication prescription drug that is used to treat mental illnesses such as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), anxiety, depression, and others. While there are positive effects, the downside are heightened sensations of dread, irritation, depression, and arising violent behaviors. It also has a chance to increase manic symptoms, especially if taken in particularly large doses.

Anti-depressant usage, effects of overdose, and detoxification

When taken over the prescribed dosage, Luvox can lead to increased agression and suicidal ideation and tendencies. Eric was in anger management therapy after being on probation alongside Dylan for attempting to steal a vehicle containing thousands worth of valuable electronics and tools. After getting caught, Eric openly expressed his difficulties in managing his anxiety and explosive anger issues that his counselor said, "he frequently blew up and often cried." Revealing that this influences his homicidal and suicidal thoughts, so he was prescribed Fluvoxamine, which is a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRIs). These drugs increase the capacity of the brain to receive serotonin.

According to an interview with Eric's friends, they speculate that Eric was off his medication completely for sometime. Abruptly stopping medication can lead to the development of a more violent response. For some people, drugs are able to fix their chemical imbalances, but it can also lead to withdrawal symptoms of taken for over the duration of 6 weeks. Abruptly discontinuing anti-depressants can lead to rebound depression or relapse. Symptoms may return stronger than before. Furthermore, SSRI's such as Luvox and Prozac take about 5 days to linger in one's system before subsequently washing off.

In a period of 11 months, Eric and Dylan have been under a juvenile detention program at Jefferson County district — this was in 1998, just a year before the shooting. They were allowed to leave the program by early February 1999. After finishing, Eric wrote a letter contained in his juvenile diversion program file. He states, "I learned that thousands of suggestions are worthless if you still believe in violence."

After public demands for stricter regulations on SSRIs after the tragic shooting, Luvox was temporarily banned in 2002. By 2008, drug manufacturers had reformulated Luvox to a controlled-release version specifically designed to treat OCD, excluding indications for depression or anxiety. Subsequently, the FDA approved Luvox CR for the treatment of OCD. The label does not explicitly prohibit prescribing it to the pediatric population, it notes that the smallest dose "may not be appropriate" for children, without providing further explanation.

Eric was about 17 at the time of taking the medication, which means he is part of the pediatric population. Though it's still unclear if he was taking normal doses for a long period of time or taken more than what was prescribed, it is clear that there was negligence with prescribing a child a SSRI that has the posibility of worsening their already apparent symptoms.

Columbine was really a case that opened the public's eyes into the dysfunctional aspects of society and institutions, transcending even to the medical field.

[loveziehomu]

°˖➴Jhonny angel,🪽.ᐟ

-> ♫ : Jhonny angel by Shelley Fabares

✎…This story is fiction and is not an actual depiction of how the people mentioned are irl!!

Warnings : stalker!Kai, Kai does creep behaviour, a bit of smut, panty sniffing, hidden cameras, he traps u in his place.

Word count : 1,141

Authors note : since the post it option won in the poll, here it is ig, also super inspired by toma from amnesia(⁠٥⁠↼⁠_⁠↼⁠) I regret writing this because I realized midway half asleep while making this that this is so bleh, I don't condone stalkers/stalker behaviour! If this is happening to you irl, don't hesitate to contact the police/local authorities or anyone you know!

A cute boy recently moved in across from you. You've heard from the other residents that his name was apparently hueningkai, he looked ethereal, comparable to those who live in the heavens above.

His charming attitude quickly drew you in, from the start where he was so gentle-spoken towards you when you two bumped into each other, “oh—gosh, sorry.. are you okay? Are you hurt?” for a quick second, you completely forgot you even bumped into him, so entranced by his beauty. You quickly excused yourself before apologizing to the sweet boy who couldn't stop worrying.

These recent days, you felt unease seep into your bones the moment you step out, or that weird feeling that somehow in your room someone is looking at you. You'd walk to the curtains and close it abruptly in an attempt to shoo the feeling away. Unbeknownst to you, the boy who lives just across from you can't continue his day anymore without catching a glimpse of his beloved!

So now that you always closed your curtains, he'd take it upon himself to knock on your door, one hand holding a penguin plushie and his other holding a cute box of pastries the boy baked, isn't he such an angel? (you should think of him as one)

The moment you open the door, you spot the boy with the sweetest face ever, he looks so… dainty, oh how much you want to squish his face! The boy introduces himself while handing you the goods he brought, his smile widening a little when you embrace the penguin plushie in your arms.

Adorable, he thought.

Every Time you went out to buy snacks or to hangout with your friends, he'd take that chance to sneak in. He'd walk around your place; he'd sit on your couch, zoning out as he imagines you bouncing on his cock, so pretty it hurts Kai to only dream about such a scene!

He'd waste no time going through your laundry, picking the ones with stains of your arousal, Kai can't help but just shove it in his face, his cock immediately getting rock hard, pressing against his pants as he sniffed the material. He wanted to lay his hands on you, yet he knew it was wrong when you didn't want to, so of course he never acted on such thoughts of his.

It's not weird if he installed cameras around your room—screw it, in every crevice and corner of your place, right? He's just looking out for you! What if someone breaks in and steals all your things, like your underwear! But it's okay if he does it because he's the one who's protecting you(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠).

But he's so kind to you it's basically impossible to suspect him of anything; Kai’s such an angel<3 always greeting you in the morning, helping you carry your groceries back to your place, assisting you when running errands in the afternoon, it's like he knows your schedule better than you! Actually—it's like he knew you had to do something before the thought even crossed your mind, he's so thoughtful, it's like the heavens sent down an angel just for you!

The look of appreciation on your face with a hint of adoration gets him all worked up, why can't he see you normally? He’s glad he always brings a jacket or hoodie with him, tying it around his waist to subtly hide his boner—he wants to stay and chat with you, but he's afraid he'd behave weirdly and you'd notice the poor boy’s boner pressing against his jeans, just begging to be released.

Is it weird that your neighbor sometimes (always) crosses your mind? You just couldn't stop thinking about Kai, he's too good to be true. Maybe it's the way he always magically spots you in the middle of the street to chat with you. Or how his scent lingers in your place, especially your room, wait—how is the scent of his cologne basically all over your sheets? Whatever.

It isn't until you visit his place after considering him as a friend close enough to label Kai safe, wandering around after he gave you permission to do so as he got some snacks, that you so mindlessly twist the door knob of a random door—inside you see at two monitors. The first showed videos of you changing, eating, sleeping, whatever you did in the comfort of your own home. The second monitor was the pov of each camera in your space, your face twisted in disbelief and horror as you connected the dots of where some cameras were hidden—one being the penguin plushie’s eyes. You pause in your tracks, what is… this?

“I thought I locked my room,” you hear the door creak open a little more behind you, turning to see Kai smiling so sweetly at you, sickeningly sweet, “sorry, you weren't meant to see this.” He says before grabbing you and covering your mouth with a handkerchief laced with something you don't know, where did he even get that from? You struggled to escape his grip, your eyes scrambling around the room for whatever reason before they locked onto his face, his eyes full of pure joy seeing you strive to escape his grasp. His delighted gaze being the last thing you saw before passing out.

“I'm sorry, this wouldn't have happened if I just locked my room.” you could faintly hear the boy's voice as you hazily blinked your eyes open, your blurry gaze wandering around the place, “where… cough am I..?” You mumbled, your words still slurred as you looked up at the boy. “I couldn't let you go after that, so you're in my basement! I'm so sorry love, I promise you won't stay here for long.” You stared at the boy, fear squeezed your chest, you were afraid that if you suddenly did something rash, you'd anger the boy; you didn't want to risk it.

“...please, let me go,” You quietly said under your breath, but loud enough to be heard, yet, hoping that he wouldn’t. Who knows how he'd react? Now, you slightly regret letting those words slip out your mouth.

He simply knelt down before gently cupping your cheeks, his touch so soft, like you would shatter in his arms, like you were fragile. You looked down out of hopelessness, too afraid to meet his piercing gaze. “You'll understand later on why I did this. You know I care for you, right? I'd never hurt you. I'd never touch you if you didn't want me to.” Yet it felt like his gentle hands on your cheeks would tighten any moment, you couldn't trust him anymore. The boy in front of you was far from what an angel could be.

“I just can't help it, you drive me insane.”

[thieves-never-say-die]

if a leverage x white collar collab happened, how do you think each character would react to each other? would peter become another one of their fbi buddies? would sophie and neal compete against each other? how, in your opinion, would that look?

I think my ideal of what would happen is pretty much what I wrote in The Neal Caffrey Job, but I do have a LOT more ideas about possible interactions between teams:

Parker and Mozzie know each other from when Parker was younger (pre-Archie) and Mozzie took her under his wing to teach her how to be a thief (I wanted to include more of them together in TNCJ but it didn't fit)

Parker and Neal both tried to steal the same item at the same time once before, and fucked up the other's plan enough that neither was able to get the item in question (or one of them came out on top, leading to a lifelong grudge which rears its head when the two teams have to work together)

I do think Jones and Hardison would geek out over tech together. That's another thing I couldn't quite make fit in TNCJ, but Jones is the tech guy of the White Collar team, and I think they'd get along

Peter is too smart to get duped by the Leverage crew for long and (unfortunately) his morals are not flexible enough to willingly work with them, though I think El would be much more sympathetic and could convince him not to pursue too aggressively. Like, the Leverage crew would kick marks in NYC Peter's way once they're done with them and have had the big reveal, allowing Peter to arrest them, but Peter would never condone what the Leverage crew does, if that makes sense

I think Neal would want to work with the Leverage crew if he heard what they were doing, but wouldn't be able to help too directly so he does his best to help by putting Peter in the right place at the right time to catch the bad guys (Neal definitely joins Leverage International post s6)

I looooove the idea of Diana recognizing Sophie from her life as the child of a diplomat (yet another thing I couldn't make fit in TNCJ). I think it would be hilarious if Diana saw Sophie and got curious and went looking up a bunch of her aliases, suddenly realizing like two dozen famous people are actually all just the same woman

I also think it would be fun if Neal saw the Leverage ot3 being together and then looked at El and Peter with a little lightbulb moment

Ok last thing to consider: Sarah moves to London at the end of s4. We know that Astrid Pickford (Sophie's step daughter) is an Interpol agent, presumably based in London. I think they would have a lot in common, and they should definitely meet up for drinks and talk about the thieves in their lives and about how they both had to put aside their morals a bit to make sure the right thing got done and then make out about it

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Phinks Magcub NSFW Profile

Tw: mentions of non/dub-con, kidnapping, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, marking, spanking, anal, size kink but it's tall/bigger reader inclusive, mentions of somnophilia, praise, panty stealing, Phinks thinks your discharge is hot, breaking and entering, Phinks is vocal and you overhear him masturbating to you, marking, mentions of violence, pre-you Phinks is not a good hookup buddy, slight objectification, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

WC: 12K

HABITS:

Phinks is most certainly not a saint when it comes to anything involving sex; he’s had his fair share of hookups, nights spent in the arms of some random woman, only to slip out the door in the wee hours of the morning and never see them again.

 He’s got experience, knows generally what he’s doing between the sheets, though only to a certain extent – he’s very much aware of how to fuck, how to prep a girl and get them creaming around his cock, but any of the other softer sides that sex has to offer? Yeah, Phinks has no fucking clue.

Pillow talk, sweet nothings, praise and eye contact meant for anything other than sexual tension are things that he’s more or less clueless about, having never really felt the need to try them or do them in any shape or form. 

Why would he ever tell some random hookup that he loves them, that he’s so happy they’re in his life, that they’re perfect? 

It’s just never been a thing for him, but this is, ironically, something that’s on Phinks’s mind constantly when it comes to you. He holds such intense devotion to you, such intense obsession and infatuation and yearning for you that the idea of being naked with you, feeling your skin and lovely body against his own is something that literally gives him goosebumps, pleasurable tingles running up and down his spine, making him flush lightly and clear his throat. It’s a thought that Phinks loves to entertain; the idea of holding you close, his arms caging in your head while his hips thrust into you gently and languidly, your pretty eyes staring up into his wide, teary yellow ones, you whispering that you love him… 

It’s a guilty pleasure, and this leads to Phinks’s thoughts regarding you skewing a bit on the more lewd side, less innocent and wholesome. And while the thoughts of pillow talk and sweet words being exchanged between the two of you are things that frequently pass through his mind, so do the ideas of pinning you down and fucking you full of his cum, of having your legs thrown over his shoulders while he licks and sucks at your clit to make you come again and again and again, imagining you on your knees drooling and slobbering all over his cock. 

The dirty thoughts do very much populate his mind as his obsession with you forms, so much so that he actually feels a bit guilty for how often he thinks of you nude and moaning his name – is it disrespectful to have wet dreams of you on a nightly basis, his sheets harboring permanent stains all because of you? 

Is it tarnishing your image to be wringing himself dry to the thought of you on a daily basis, to be grunting and groaning your name so often that he’s sure the syllables are molded to his tongue, that your lovely name is being cried out while he does something so filthy?

He feels bad, but not enough to stop – no, not nearly enough, not when fucking his fist is the only possible solution to quelling the intense yearning and hunger he feels for you, if only slightly.

Phinks does, however, have one particular secret he feels really bad about – that is, while the thought of you is enough to get his cock throbbing, even just smelling you making him feel light headed and groaning lowly in his throat, he’s found that he really likes having an aid when he’s pleasuring himself. 

He can come to the thought of you (easily, pathetically easily, once even without touching himself), but if he has something of yours, something soft and pretty and used, his orgasms come faster, harder, stronger. 

That is, Phinks becomes something of a panty thief. The first time was genuinely accidental – he’d been snooping around your home, the front door’s lock carefully picked then relocked (he’d even taken off his shoes and neatly put them next to yours in the doorway, briefly staring at them side by side and letting the smallest of smiles flit across his lips). 

He always saves your bedroom for last when he’s broken in – something about the excitement gets his face flushing, the idea of being in your room, surrounded by your things making him fiddle with his fingers a bit, cracking his knuckles idly because he has to be doing something with his hands. And once he finally reaches your room, he’ll stand in the doorway and take a deep, deep breath, letting his eyes flutter closed and his Adam’s Apple bob because god, it smells just like you. 

He’s methodical and careful about the way he looks over all your things, staring at every little knick-knack and pen, carefully picking up any little bits of trash you may have on your drawers and throwing them away for you. He’s snooping through every drawer you have, looking over each piece of clothing and biting his lip as he imagines you wearing them, how your lovely body and curves would look with the fabric stretched across them. 

And eventually, of course, he reaches a more intimate drawer, filled with things he’s sure you wouldn’t let just anyone see. Your panties are neatly tucked away in a corner, the different colors and styles making his throat feel dry, and for a moment he’ll only stare, his fingers frozen as he imagines the fabric sitting over your hips, laying across your ass, framing that perfect little pussy. 

He’s gulping and carefully, oh so carefully, picking up a pair of black cotton ones, fingers gripping onto the edges, holding up and letting his eyes scan over every detail – a thread coming out here, discharge stains there, thinning fabric right over the padded area that must rub right against your cunt, the fabric maybe even bunching up, getting up in between your folds and getting drenched in your slick and tasting like you and smelling like you and fuck fuck fuck – 

He’s hard before he knows it, cock angry and insistent in his trackpants, and he stares for a moment longer, his face on fire, before nearly flinging the pair down back onto the stack, bringing a hand up to cup at his chin, fingers pressing tightly against his mouth. He can’t. 

God he wants to – to press them up to his face, licking and sucking at the fabric, letting any residual slick smear across his lips and skin, to revel in you, but he can’t. It would be too weird, crossing too many lines – plus, he doesn’t know how, but he feels like you’d know, like you’d somehow be aware of what he’d done with them. 

Guilt brews in his chest, but he can’t tear his gaze away, his lower lip sucked between his teeth as tentative fingers reach out once more, tracing over that pulled seam, the thread spinning between his fingers. 

Maybe you wouldn’t notice…? 

Before he can really even decide, there’s a jiggling of the front door and soon he can hear your heavy sighs as you push it open, and all too soon he’s hauling himself out the window, having already known which ways to slide it open so that it’s silent, how to move to the screen so that you wouldn’t see any trace of him. His heart pounds, and it’s not until he returns back to wherever he’s calling home base that he notices the bulge in his pocket. In the safety of his bedroom, he furrows his brows and digs into the pocket, only to feel something soft, unfamiliar, warm…? 

It’s those damn black panties; he must’ve grabbed them in his haste to escape your room, stuffing them absentmindedly in his pocket during his fleeing. Phinks gulps, staring down with wide eyes – what’s he supposed to do now? 

He’s got them, and it’s not like he can go back and just return them – you’re home, and maybe you’d smell him on them. (The heavy scent of his cologne – smokey and minty – is difficult to mask, even when he tries.) 

He’s not sure what to do, deciding to carefully fold them on his dresser and leave the room. It works, for a while – ignoring them, that is, until later that night when he’s got his TV on low, the poorly done action movie he’d thrown on getting to a part where the love interest and main character are alone.

The screen flashes to writhing bodies and obviously forced moans, and Phinks averts his eyes briefly, before snapping them back because that was weird, the actress looked just like you for a moment. 

Truth be told, he’d put on this movie because the lead looked like you through the hair, but certainly not through the face. Yet when they throw their head back like that and gasp, it’s you – or, at least, the you that Phinks sees when he watches you stuff yourself full of your fingers and that damn vibrator you seem to love. 

He bites his lip, watching as the sex montage only gets more explicit, the image of the man snapping his hips into the woman with enough fervor to get the bed shaking making him shake too. He’s palming himself, staring transfixed at the screen as the woman continues to moan and tremble under the man’s touch, Phink’s own voice mumbling your name as he reaches into his sweatpants to pull out his cock, already red and dribbling precum. 

He hisses as his hand wraps around it, squeezing a bit and making him lick his lips. He’s lost in the moment, but it’s not until the screen flashes to a new scene that he pauses, realization hitting him square in the chest. On the screen lie the woman’s discarded red lace panties, strewn haphazardly across the hotel room chair. Her moans blast through the speakers as Phinks stands up, suddenly running to his bedroom and snatching up your panties from off the dresser. 

Morals be damned, he’s hard – he’s hard and he needs you, and the closest thing to you he’s got is this stupid slip of cotton. He’s plopping back down onto the couch soon after, pressing the material up to his nose and letting a deep, strained groan tumble from his lips. 

He’s set the movie to repeat the sex scene over and over again, and as his hand reaches down to grab a handful of his balls and squeeze, he can’t help but inhale at the panties again. They’ve been washed, but they still smell like you – a musky scent, like not all of you had quite been washed out. It’s good, but Phinks wants more, needs more, and soon his tongue is licking across the area that presses right up against your pretty folds and clit, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

His fist is moving up and down so fast it’s nearly a blur, foreskin tugged and fondled as he brings himself steadily closer to his high. He can’t help but imagine you in the position of the woman on the screen – tits bouncing and face all screwed up in ecstasy, crying out like his cock is the single best thing you’ve ever felt. He grits his teeth as the trace edges of his orgasm approach, the tingling in his thighs and contraction of his abs. 

It feels good, so damn good, and it’s only once he opens his eyes again after fluttering them closed that he sees it – a stain, and not just any stain. Your discharge. 

The light color makes him choke back a gasp, his taste buds fooling him into thinking he's tasting you – he can taste it now, musky and intoxicating, and soon he’s biting back a yell, hips bucking up and into his hand desperately and unevenly, cum spurting from his tip in copious ropes. 

Your panties are pressed flush with his face, leaving practically no room for air, and all he can smell and taste and feel is you. 

The woman in the movie is still moaning, babbling something about feeling full, and Phinks can only stutter his hips, chest heaving as he tries to recover from his orgasm, letting the panties stay perched across his mouth as he leans his head back. He feels dirty, bad, because he knows that a good portion of what got him to his finish was the presence of the cotton – of you, really. 

But somehow, he doesn’t feel as guilty as he thought he would – rather, he feels this strange, indescribable sense of excitement, of satisfaction, because this is the closest he’s ever gotten to actually fucking you. He’s never had anything of yours to work with, and it felt so, so damn good – which is why he’s washing them and returning them, only to carefully pluck out a new pair the next week, gulping and – this time – purposefully stuffing them in his pocket, making a point to choose the one with the most stains on it. 

And the week after that? Well, when the dirty panties are sitting right on the rim of the hamper, still glistening slightly with the caked in slick on them? 

Fuck, he’s never come so much in his life.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your ass

Phinks likes to think of himself as relatively respectful towards women – he may be a murderer and a thief, but he’s never harassed or assaulted a woman. And he thinks that counts for something, saying at least something about his moral character. Consequently, he’s tried his best to stay away from objectifying women; or at least, belittling them down to their physical attributes.

And yet, there’s just something about you that makes it really, really fucking difficult for Phinks to not obsess over your physical appearance, to not be constantly fantasizing about how pretty you are. It’s incredibly difficult to not imagine the way your chest would feel against his, your nipples pebbled and brushing against the hard planes of his pectorals. 

It’s extremely hard to not notice how your neck is the perfect size for his fingers to wrap around lightly, the soft skin so very squeezable, bruisable... He doesn’t actively try to objectify you, but he can’t help himself from gravitating towards certain parts of your body. It makes him feel dirty, disgusting, but Phinks can’t help but let his eyes linger on your ass every single time he sees you. 

He’s not even doing it on purpose – his gaze is trailing down over your shoulders, along your spine, stopping right underneath your tailbone, his mouth suddenly going dry. It doesn’t matter whether you’re particularly endowed or not; Phinks has never felt such an urge to reach out and squeeze, to mindlessly grab and grope. 

He’s never wanted so fervently to reach out and smack, to see the way it jiggles and hear you yelp and smack his hand away, looking all flustered and embarrassed and aroused. He doesn’t, of course; he may force you into a multitude of other undesirable situations (stalking you and kidnapping you, for example), but he’ll never lewdly touch you without your consent, even as badly as his body (and mind) beg him to. 

And so, Phinks suffers in silence as you walk around, sneaking glances and then immediately feeling guilty, trying to fight the way his fingers twitch and fidget, practically aching to just brush against the soft fat, to smack, to spread your pretty cheeks and feel you shiver as cold air hits your folds. It makes him feel like a creep, so he tries his best to be inconspicuous with it – he doesn’t want you to notice him noticing you. 

He doesn’t want to be caught red handed, to be confronted by you and asked why he’s ogling you like you’re some slab of meat, like you’re something for him to put his cock into. 

(He wishes he could – he’d trade years of his life just to only once feel your warm cunt wrapped around him, to feel your fingers carding through his hair, to feel your kisses against his neck.) 

But despite his efforts, Phinks is not nearly as subtle as he seems to think he is – you’ve caught him staring more times than you can count, and while it initially scared you, as you grow more and more complacent, the more you’ll tolerate it. 

In fact, once your sexual relationship starts, you’re the one to sit yourself in his lap, scooping your hips and grinding down on his very noticeable bulge, even going so far as to grab his hands and place them on your ass. It makes Phinks splutter, because while he’s touched many women like this, it’s you – and it’s just as soft as he imagined it would be. 

He’ll spend a very long time with his hands idly groping and squeezing, the pressure behind his fingers becoming more and more the longer he’s got you perched on top of him, until you fear you’ll find finger shaped bruises the next morning. 

Once the floodgates are open, Phinks finds himself always gravitating towards your ass anytime you’re intimate with each other. His hands are finding purchase as he kisses you, cupping your thighs and pulling you upwards to wrap your legs around his waist, practically sprinting as he rushes to get you onto the bed to absolutely destroy you. 

He’s smacking your ass as your face pushes into the mattress, pretty moans and cries of his name slipping past your lips with each smack and thrust, the pleasure mixing with the pain. He likes it when you wear shorts around the house; his favorites are the kind that ride up as you move, bunching up bit by bit, until eventually the entire curve of your lower ass is visible for his prying eyes.

(The way he slowly licks his lips as he stares is almost comical to you, looking like some horny cartoon character. And yet, it’s strangely flattering – because you can see his erection from across the room when this happens, it’s just too insistent to hide.) 

He likes to take baths with you (this takes a while to happen, however, because the idea of it gets his head spinning and his cock involuntarily hard, even though he desperately wants the moment to be innocent, loving), pulling your back flush against his body, your ass pressed up right against his cock. 

You can always feel the way it slowly grows hard, his voice slowly getting deeper, his movements more fidgety and nervous. (You can feel it in the way his fingers – which had been drawing soft circles on the skin of your shoulders – freeze up if you move even slightly, the bob of his length in time with the little gust of air he breathes out.) 

There’s just something about how soft and warm you always are that makes Phinks melt, and anytime he’s in bed with you, something is touching your ass – be it his hand or hips.

His hands

While Phinks has never purposefully not given a hook-up an orgasm, it’s never been his top priority. He’s engaging in the hookup because he wants to get off, and if his partner doesn’t get there, is it really his problem? He doesn’t think it’s his responsibility to help them finish, and this philosophy has become pretty ingrained in him over the years. If they happen to get off before he does, great - if not, well, who’s fault is that, really? 

And yet, when he first starts fantasizing about becoming intimate with you, everything changes. He wants to make you feel good, to get you squirming and trembling under his touch. He wants to make you cry out his name and gush for him, to be left with a slick, sticky mess between your legs. 

He wants to make you gasp and writhe, and while he’s most definitely fingered a woman or eaten her out, he’s approaching these activities with you with a renewed fervor. He has to make you come – he won’t let the sex be over until you’ve reached your high at least once, and as time goes on he decides his favorite way to do this is by fingering you. 

His hands are rough; calloused and full of scars, evidence of the hard life he’s lived. Those hands cause so much pain and suffering, and yet when they touch you, they’re nothing but gentle, caring, eager. He likes the difference between his hands and your own body when he’s touching you in your most sensitive areas – you’re so soft and warm while he’s so hard and rough, and he’ll often spend time simply touching you. 

He’s letting his fingers run along the insides of your thighs, occasionally pressing down on the soft flesh a little too hard, sometimes leaving bruises in their wake. He’ll press his thumb along the curve of your pelvic bone, right above your  clit, tracing down to ever so lightly run along your slit. 

He’s drawing careful circles on your clit, eyes flicking up between your cunt and your face over and over, checking for every possible reaction to see what you like most, what makes your eyebrows twitch and your lips part into that pretty little ‘o’. 

He’ll carefully slip a finger inside, shallowly thrusting and exploring in every direction, seeing which spot makes you bite your lip or clutch onto him. He’ll slowly work it deeper, rubbing against your walls and feeling the way you clench down on him, beads of precum streaming down his length in anticipation of it being him inside you, fucking you like you deserve. 

He’ll slip a second finger inside, working into you and curling them forward, to the side, straight, anything it takes to get you sighing, anything to get you keening out a o-oh, right there Phinks, mmm! 

He likes watching you slowly fall apart on his fingers, and his stamina is good enough that he can keep up the same motion for hours, no matter how complicated or strenuous. His fall back is always to finger you, and once he learns the pattern you like, it’s over – he’s slipping his fingers inside any time he thinks he can get away with it (once you’ve consented to his sexual advances, of course – a mistake, really, as once the floodgates are opened, he’s insatiable). 

And oh – the way you look when your lips around his fingers makes him nearly cream his pants, the wet feeling and the way your lashes bat up at him making him so hard it hurts. 

He’s committed to making you feel as good as he possibly can, and once he notices your affinity for his fingers, he’s eager to get you creaming and gasping in any way he possibly can – just make sure he cuts his nails, because once he gets into the groove of it, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stop until you’ve come all over his fingers so many times that you’re brain dead and just begging for something bigger to fill you up. 

And who would Phinks be to decline such a frantic request?

DRIVE:

Generally speaking, Phinks’s sex drive is average – he’s had his fair share of hookups over the years, women he’d pick up in a drunken stupor or while on the high of a completing a job, spend the evening between the sheets, only to disappear when the rays of the morning sun peek through the low-class motel windows. 

He’s not especially ashamed of his history of fucking and running; he honestly doesn’t care – who’s business is it that he’s balls deep inside someone who’s name he doesn’t even know? Surely not a stranger’s, surely not even anyone else in the Troupe. 

Fucking is just fucking, after all – nothing more, nothing less. His sex life is something he’s a bit private about, and while he’s not embarrassed, he is actually a bit of a prude. Not enough to stop him from actively engaging in casual sex, but enough to make him a little hesitant to openly discuss it, especially when women are present. 

And so, while he very much enjoys getting his dick wet, feeling something warm and wet clenching down on his cock so tightly he thinks he might explode, he’ll keep his rather insistent horniness dormant for most parts of his life. Sex talk is reserved for the bedroom, and that’s that. But that dormancy starts slipping once you show up, bringing with you all of your curves and softness and beauty. 

To be honest, Phinks is absolutely done for the minute his obsession forms with you, if only because all those perverted thoughts and sexual desires that were swept under the rug in non-sexual situations are suddenly overflowing now that he has a target with which to fantasize. No longer is he swinging by the nearest dive bar and picking up a girl drunk enough to pass out, but instead he’s imagining your plush, wonderful thighs clamping around his waist as he fucks into you deeper. 

He’s not fucking his fist, hoping for a quick orgasm to get him to sleep, instead fantasizing about you caging in his head as he sucks and licks at your cute cunt displayed above him as you ride his face. 

No longer is he pleasuring himself to just the general thought of sex or receiving quality head, but instead he’s thinking of how you’d give him head, how your pretty lips would wrap so perfectly around his girth, how your little gagging noises would have his eyes rolling to the back of his head and his hips moving on their own, his tip ramming against the back of your throat as he loses control and uses your mouth as his personal cocksleeve. 

His desires for you come to light remarkably fast; he feels dirty, disgusting for sexualizing you so frequently and fervently, but Phinks honestly can’t help it – he can’t not think about what your body looks like beneath your clothes, how your curves and soft skin look when you’re laid bare and spread out on your tiny little bed. 

(He’s spent hours stalking you and watching outside your window with flushed cheeks and ragged breaths, so the question is really a moot point.) 

He can’t not think about how you’d sound moaning and crying out his name when you’re gushing all over his fingers. 

(He’d be more than happy to bring those fingers up to his lips and suck every bit of your slick off, the taste of you driving him forward and practically forcing his cock into your tight little hole, too frantic to even consider going slow for you.) 

He can’t not think about how you’d squeal and bite your lip as he pounds into you hard enough to leave you limping. (He’ll feel a bit guilty the morning after, but there’s this swell of pride settling in his chest because he did that, and the cum sitting inside you is proof of that.) 

He can’t not imagine getting intimate with you, and while he’s embarrassed beyond words to admit how often he’s humped your pillow or left cum stains on your panties all because of you you you, he also can’t deny it – because really, when your body calls to him on such an animalistic, raw level, how can Phinks deny anything?

However, when it comes to actually initiating anything sexual with you, Phinks absolutely refuses unless he has your explicit and eager verbal consent. 

He’ll never force you into anything in the bedroom, partially because he holds a certain amount of respect for women and for consent in general, and because he absolutely does not want you to be any more afraid of him than you already are.

He’s terrified that you’ll think of him as a monster if he were to try to force himself onto you, and while Phinks heavily tends to overthink and blow things out of proportion, he may honestly be right with this one. Because quite frankly, you will realize early on that he gets horny quite easily, and you will understand that if Phinks Magcub really wanted to, he could have you pinned down and skewered on his cock in a matter of seconds without you being able to land a single defensive blow. 

You’re both aware of this, to the point where Phinks actively avoids anything intimate between you both, even for things as simple as holding your hand or pressing a kiss to your jaw or neck. He’s just too nervous to scare you, and – though he’ll never admit it – he’s just nervous of you. 

He tends to get in his head, hyper fixating and worrying to an extreme degree about everything regarding you, and that natural awkwardness that he exhibits in nearly every other aspect of his obsession with you applies here as well. 

He wants to have the confidence to kiss you and touch you, but he really doesn’t – he wants to rip your clothes off and fuck you like an animal in heat and claim you as his, but he just can’t bring himself to, for fear of freezing up, looking like an idiot, doing something wrong, or oh god, what if he can’t make you come, if you’re unsatisfied and never want to sleep with him again oh god oh god oh god no – 

It’s a downward spiral, which leads to one clear-cut solution in Phinks’s mind – don’t try anything with you, and instead relieve the intense urges you inspire within him by himself. 

Which would be a wonderful plan, if it were to go as smoothly as he thinks it does. 

The reality, of course, is that the moment Phinks feels even the slightest bit of pressure in his pants, any sort of a rush of blood below the belt, he’s immediately spluttering, pulling some excuse out of his ass about how he needs to piss, I’ll uh – I’ll be back, no don’t pause the movie, um, I’m gonna go now and practically bolting away to the nearest restroom. 

He doesn’t feel proud as he locks the door behind him, chest heaving as his pants fall to his ankles, the eager and insistent erection pressing against his underwear making him curse and shut his eyes tightly, praying that he comes quickly so he can return to you. 

He hopes he’ll come fast so that he can look at you and think of you and hear you and smell you and imagine you – his hand gets the job done, for the most part, as he quickly and near violently begins jerking his fist up and down, the sensitive skin of his length making him hiss through clenched teeth.

It would all be a good plan – except that Phinks tends to be a bit loud, the passion and pleasure gripping him and making hoarse groans of your name tumble from his lips, curses and praises of what he imagines you in his fantasies doing (there’s lots of good girl, oh fuck that’s a good girl, look so pretty all stuffed full, gonna – gonna make you come so fucking hard baby), to the point where even with a hand firmly pressed over his lips, his sounds are more than apparent to you. 

You, who sits outside a distance away from the bathroom door and is forced to listen to the way he gasps and cries out your name so wantonly. You can even hear the wet squelching noises, rhythmic but getting less steady as he nears his finish. 

If he’s quick about it (and has a fresh mental image of you bending over, leaning forward, licking your lips, stretching, really anything), Phinks can be grunting and whimpering your name as white stains his hands in as soon as two minutes, though the noises he makes when he comes will be difficult to ignore – as is the way he stumbles out of the room, legs slightly shaky and his cheeks still a violent shade of pink as he averts eye contact, clearing his throat and asking what you’d like for dinner, if you’re feeling alright, why you’re looking at him with such an embarrassed and shocked face while you clench your thighs together… 

(His hands are still warm once he comes back, still a bit sweaty, and although he washed his hands afterwards, sometimes you think you even see a bit of cum left on his skin, evidence of how frantically he’d been trying to get off and return to you.)

He has no idea that you’re able to hear him, that his depraved confessions of love and desperation for you during the height of his pleasure are completely heard by you each and every time, but unless you want to see the blond near literally combust from sheer embarrassment and mortification, don’t mention it. 

No, instead, the moment you see a tent forming in his trousers, his body growing stiff as he nervously glances at you from the corner of his eye, stop him – he may not be willing to initiate sexual encounters, but that does not mean he isn’t willing to let you sink to your knees and beg him to please let me taste you, ‘ve been wanting to for so long, please Phinks… 

He won’t not let you climb into his lap and grind on him until he’s gasping and squeezing his eyes shut as his boxers are stained and sticky with his cum. 

He may be hesitant and constantly asking for reassurance that you’re really okay with helping him out, but he won’t ever say no – because you’re a beautiful woman that he’s madly, desperately in love with, and who in their right mind would say no to you? 

MAIN THREE KINKS

Size kink

For Phinks, this kink is really more about strength than actual physical size.

There’s something about you that’s so damn soft; your skin, your touch, your body, every physical part of you (and he knows every fucking nook and cranny of your body, even if you aren’t aware of it). Even your personality and voice are things that make him melt, the innocence that practically radiates off of you in waves making him flush and gulp. It doesn’t matter what your own past is – compared to him and his more alternative lifestyle, you are weak, laughably and worryingly incapable of defending yourself against others, like a bunny prancing around in a pack of wolves. 

But that’s what Phinks likes about you – you’re so damn warm and soft and perfect to just grope at and squeeze that it nearly makes him drool, his hands often having a mind of their own and landing on your curves before he can even stop them. 

You’re just so touchable, and Phinks really notices this when he’s got you underneath him, writhing under his fingers and moaning his name. He likes the difference in strength between the two of you; of course, it’s the root of many of his worries in the bedroom (like hurting you or fucking you too hard and breaking you), but it’s also one of the things he can’t stop thinking about when he’s got you wrapped around his cock, your walls fluttering and squeezing down on him hard enough to get him seeing stars. 

He likes how your body is so cushiony, the perfect juxtaposition against his calloused, rough skin. 

He likes how if he wanted to, he could hold you down with just a single hand, your pretty body open and vulnerable for him to do whatever he hell he wants with you - like you’re some sweet little toy all for him. 

And while he very much cares about your own pleasure, there’s something about that thought - of you being something for him to use, to fuck and touch and shove his cock into - that makes him so hard it’s nearly painful, his mind spinning because god, how did he get so lucky? 

He can’t help but marvel at the difference between you two once you’re even a bit undressed - every new inch of skin is something that makes him bite his tongue, suck in a sharp breath, gulp, palm at the growing bulge in his pants.

He can’t help but notice the way your arms aren’t corded with muscle like his - he can tell with how they tremble when you wrap them around his neck when he gets close to his end, his hips starting to stutter and move on of their own accord. 

He can’t help but notice the way your fingers are so damn tiny, staring and muttering a small fuck under his breath when you wrap them around his girth, fingertips just barely touching, looking so very different from his own hands that seem to dwarf his cock when he’s gripping it. 

He can’t help but notice the way your lips struggle to fit around him, your little mouth not big enough to get as much of him in as he’d like - though there’s something oddly hot about watching you struggle, about seeing the way you gag and choke on him when he goes just a hair too deep, his balls twitching and clenching because you can only fit a little over half of him in. He can’t help but notice the way your cunt desperately tries to make room for him, your walls squeezing down on him to the point where he feels like he can barely move, the grip so tight it’s mixing between pleasurable and painful. 

You’re just so weak and tiny, even if you really aren’t that much smaller than him, and in Phinks’s mind, it only solidifies your roles in the bedroom. He likes to think of himself as the one in charge, the one making sure that you feel good, like he’s the one fucking you, and when you’re just so pathetically weak and easy to throw around like some ragdoll, how can he not feel that way? 

He doesn’t manhandle you to the degree that he wishes he could, but he’s still insistent with moving your body the way he wants, switching positions where he’s doing all the work of arranging your body - all you have to do is look pretty and let him shove his cock back inside you, letting him work his way back up to an orgasm he hopes you’ll reciprocate. 

(He wishes he could manhandle you more, but he doesn’t if only because he’s scared he’d hurt you, nervous he’d lose control and accidentally send you flying across the room. And despite him dialing it down a bit, you most definitely feel like you’re just some sex doll for him sometimes - the way he just effortlessly grasps your hips and shifts you into his lap, only to manually thrust up into you from below makes you feel like you’re just a hole for him to stuff, like he’s using you for his pleasure. Of course, the praise and the way he eagerly rubs at your clit with frantic motions tell you it’s not so, but damn do you feel like it when he’s lifted you up against the wall, holding you with one hand while he grunts and groans and nearly kisses your cervix with his tip.) 

Phinks tends to lose himself during sex, your body and the pleasure you give him just too overwhelming for him to keep a clear head, but Phinks likes it. In fact, if you really want to get him in the mood (not a difficult task, but still), come up to him and press your tits against his chest, fluttering your lashes at him and tell him you feel empty, can you fill me up Phinks? Want you to stretch me out, I miss your cock… 

He’ll stammer and blush, mentally imagining the way you always writhe and bite your lip when he first pushes inside you, your muscles clenching and sucking him in deeper and deeper, right up until his balls are flush with  your ass, the warmth and wetness you cover him in making him hiss and suck a nipple into his mouth. 

He just likes the idea that he’s your big, strong protector, and you’re his sweet little woman, desperately in need of his care and protection, desperately in need of the masculine, large cock hanging between his legs, always ready to plug you up with his cum. 

He just wants to provide for you, really, and would he be a good boyfriend, partner, lover, if he didn’t regularly show you just how big he truly is?

Praise

Between the sheets, Phinks is relatively vocal. He’s not too much of a talker, being able to, at most, get out a stuttered phrase or two, but that doesn’t mean he’s quiet. Oh no, it’s just the sounds - he’s constantly grunting and groaning, cursing under his breath and softly gasping when you get tighter or wetter or claw down his back. He’s always groaning in your ear, his voice strained and gravelly and weak, as if he’s one breath away from coming the moment he slips inside you. 

(He is, most of the time, but he’s got enough self control to stave off his release. Most of the time.) 

He’s vocal in the sense that there’s always some sort of noise slipping past him, but as time passes and your sexual relationship with him grows, he finds himself uttering more and more words, actual thoughts slipping past his lips rather than a low grunt as he ruts his hips against yours loud enough to make a clapping, smacking noise. 

Before he knows it, there are praises slipping out when he’s buried inside you, his cheeks a light pink as he tells you it’s so good, his eyes fluttering closed and his lip caught between his teeth as you clench down on him. 

He’s telling you you’re so fucking pretty when you’re on your knees in front of him, soft lips clasped around his tip and lightly suckling, your eyes blinking up at him. 

He’s nearly whimpering as you slowly raise yourself up and sink down, cock dragging along your walls as you sit perched in his lap, gasping out a ‘s so fucking good, fuck baby, fuck! 

He doesn’t know where the instinct to praise you is coming from - past hookups have not been so fortunate, instead getting either nothing or derogatory comments mid-fuck about how they’re a fucking slut, demanding that they go faster, arch their back more, suck me harder. He’s never been nice in the bedroom, and yet it’s subconscious the way the words are slipping from his lips, his hands grasping onto your hips or ass as he lays into you, wanting to mold your cunt to the shape of him. 

And although he’s still a bit difficult to understand (his words are always a little rushed, a little slurred, a little stuttered), you’ll mostly know what he’s saying, hearing the way he’s always calling you pretty or warm or wet or perfect or telling you that he’s gonna come, fuck babe ‘m close, tell me I can come inside you - please, fuck tell me! 

(He doesn’t really need your permission on that last point, but he likes hearing you say it, admitting that you want him to come inside, that you want his cum, your own voice sounding fucked out and airy, just as he likes it. Besides, feeling the way you clench down on him even tighter, constricting around his cock so hard he can barely thrust in and out is worth it - it makes him wonder if you’re really that turned on, if you’re really feeling that good because of him, because of his body and his touch and his length. It makes him shiver, and he’s spilling inside you just from hearing your little y-yes, come inside Phinks!) 

It’ll make you feel good, honestly, and it only feels natural to extend the praise back - a development that Phinks really, really likes. His face turns red when you tell him that he feels good when he’s got his fingers rubbing against your walls, curling and rubbing against you with eagerness, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as soon as hears your voice.

(Often times you saying this will have him changing the pace slightly, excitement getting the best of him, leaving him to go faster, to rub harder, always getting embarrassed when you gently tell him like before, please, feels good when you do it like before.) 

His breathing gets heavier when you whine his name and tangle your fingers into his hair as he licks and tongues at your clit, your voice ringing in his ears when you tell him you’re gonna come, Phinks you’re so good, please let me come for you! 

(He’s groaning against your folds, hands squeezing at your thighs and nodding his head vigorously, his eyes squeezing closed as he focuses everything he has on getting you off, on making sure he feels the way your walls clench and flutter, the slick oozing out of you immediately slurped up with a moan.) 

And when he’s fucking you? Oh. Well, the moment you say anything even remotely positive about his performance, about his body, about him, he’s staring at you with wide, blown out eyes, before immediately crushing you into an embrace, his lips on yours with an unbridled passion that leaves you breathless. The kiss will be harsh, desperate, his actions rushed and nearly half-assed, as if there’s so much he wants to do and taste and feel that he can’t decide where to start. 

He loves when you tell him he’s so big, stretching me out so good Phinks! He growls when you run your nails down his back, whining about how it’s so good, right there, that’s it baby! 

He’s thrusting into you with new vigor when you tell him that you’ve never been treated so well, that you’ve never been fucked so good, only you Phinks, only you! 

He’s spasming and letting out these strained, embarrassed little whimpers when you throw your head back and moan his name, a rushed proclamation of ‘m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come-! Even compliments outside the bedroom have this effect on him; tell him his hair looks nice and he’s immediately trying to hide his face, his cheeks tinged pink and his heart hammering because you like his hair? 

If you tell him he’s strong, that his muscles turn you on, Phinks is training harder, hitting the gym more often, doing everything he possibly can to get stronger, subtly trying to flex his arms everytime you’re around just so that you’ll notice him, that you’ll find him attractive and want him. 

And when you run a finger down his chest, telling him he’s so handsome, I love that you’re mine? You’re on the bed quicker than you can process, clothes being torn off and eager hands groping at your tits, your ass, your hips while he spears you on his cock, sliding in with a wet pop and grunting out your name under his breath. 

He’s just so very affected by you, and even after his hips have stilled, his softening cock still snug inside you, he’ll whisper your name, telling you that you’re perfect, letting his fingers trace your cheekbones and run over your hair, his lips softly, nervously pressing against yours, the kiss innocent and sweet and almost sad. 

Because really, how can Phinks be displeased when he’s finally able to freely express how he feels about you, what he thinks about you? 

It feels good to be honest, to tell you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and as time passes he grows less shy about it - besides, when your cunt takes him so well and your face screws up into that lovely, sexy expression you make when you’re coming, Phinks would tell you anything you want to hear. 

Anything to get you screaming his name, anything to get you craving him just as he craves you. Anything at all.

Voyeurism

In general, Phinks wants to be an active part of your sexual pleasure. He wants to be the one touching you, slowly peeling off your layers of clothing as your pretty skin is revealed to him, looking so soft and touchable and fuckable. 

He wants to be the one kissing you, stealing your breath away and leaving you weak-kneed and desperate, your lips all swollen and puffy when he’s through with you. He’ll even leave a few bite marks against the supple flesh, simply getting carried away when he’s got you in his arms and his tongue pushing into your mouth. 

He wants to be the one that makes you shiver and rub your thighs together, your tits sitting in his palms as he squeezes and kneads, your nipples tweaked between his fingers or sucked into his mouth as he runs his tongue along your areola or very lightly nibbles on your nipple.

 He wants to be the one spreading your legs, a thumb dipping down to press against your clit, rubbing circles along the sensitive nub and leaving you twitching and moaning his name, your pretty hips jerking and bucking as he keeps up the pace. 

He wants to be the one who’s fingers are sinking into you, your little gasps and sighs all because of the way he curls his fingers and flicks his wrist just so, making you cream and gush so much that his entire hand is wet, fucking soaked. 

He wants to be the one sinking inside you, cock stretching out your walls and molding you into his shape, like you were made for him, like your cunt was made for sucking him in and never letting him go. 

He wants to be the reason for your pleasure, but there’s a strange, taboo sort of allure to watching you feel good, your body on display for him, all for his viewing pleasure. There’s something about the idea of you putting on a show for him that makes him gulp and palm himself, the idea that you want him to watch you fall apart in front of him enough to get him unbearably horny for hours. He likes the idea of watching you fuck yourself, of having you spread out before him with your body just out of his reach, just slightly too far for him to reach out and grab. 

He wants you to sit him at the end of the bed while your sit at the head, spreading your legs and letting him see how your folds glisten in the light, the amount of slick absolutely depraved. 

He wants you to tease yourself, rubbing along your inner thighs and all around that pretty pussy except for the spots he knows you really need it, your little whines and sighs making his cock twitch, already hard and aching to be touched by you. 

He wants you to spread your folds a bit, biting your lip and letting him see exactly what he’s missing out on; the way your hole clenches around nothing, a bit of slick oozing out at the motion, makes him audibly groan your name, unable to look away as you slowly, so damn slowly sink a finger inside, all the way up to your knuckle. He’ll watch with wide, rapt attention as you let your head fall back, humming at the feeling, making a show of pulling your finger out only to thrust it right back in, the wet squelching noise making his head spin. 

He wants to watch you add another finger, to go faster, to go harder, to finger you how he’d finger you – all firm motions and hesitant touches, so eager to pleasure you but not quite sure where to start. 

He wants you to pull your fingers out with a popping noise, parting those pouty lips and letting your tongue roll out to lick and suck the slick right off your fingers, jealousy and arousal pooling in his gut because god, he wants a taste too. 

He wants you to talk to him, to tell him how good you’re feeling, how you love it when there’s something inside you, how you need something big and strong and thick to fuck you like you need, like you deserve. 

He wants you to detail how you’re feeling, describing the pleasure as you draw shapes onto your clit, licking your lips and moaning about how it’s so good, ‘m gonna come soon Phinks! 

He especially likes it when you change positions, moving from sitting up and facing him to getting on your knees, spreading your legs and letting your face rest against the mattress, an arm coming up to clumsily sink back into your hole, the new angle making him imagine all the time he’s fucked you like this, absolutely pounding into you over and over until your ass was nearly bruised from the intensity of his thrusts. 

He can’t stop staring, seeing the way your thighs shake, the wet schlucking noises as you fuck yourself making him suck in sharp breaths, the slight bit of drool coming from your lips as you writhe and gasp making him want to stuff his cock into your mouth so you’ll stop being so messy. 

He just likes the idea of watching and putting on something so intimate and vulnerable for him, all while he has to sit there, unmoving, not even touching himself and instead just having to take it, to watch and stare and wish with every fiber of his being that it was his fingers and tongue making you cream and moan and cry out for more more more! 

It’s like some sweet kind of torture, reminiscent of the early days of his obsession when he was reduced to just watching you masturbate through windows or screens, unable to be present with you and help you out the way he knows he can. 

It’s exciting, taboo, dirty in a way that makes Phinks’ gut tingle with excitement, his balls clenching and tightening up, his fingers twitching because god, when you finally cave at the end, begging him to finally just touch you, he’s practically sprinting to you, jumping on you while his hands wander and grab onto every piece of you they can find. 

He’s all over you like some wild animal, a madman as he tries to get inside you only to be so excited and frantic that he’s slipping out, curses falling past his lips because all he really needs is to just fuck you, to be inside you, to be as close to you as he physically can be. 

He’s pathetic, really, and if you were to put on a show for him like this, he may even end up coming before you cave – untouched, too, the white cum splattering along his chest and thighs a reminder that even without stimulation, just the mere sight of you can have him blowing his load before it can even sit inside you. 

Wasting it, really, but if you were to sigh softly and kiss his cheek, leaning down and licking up every drop decorating his body? 

Well, he's sure he could fuck you hard enough to squirt if you’d just let him try. Please let him, he’s begging you.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Anal

Now, this isn’t something Phinks actively fantasizes about – he’s watched some porn featuring it before, and while it wasn’t something he would seek out again, he was oddly fascinated by it. 

There’s something arousing about the idea of stretching out something so, so incredibly tight, fueling his size kink and making him feel proud of just how big he is. But he’s never gotten a girl to agree to it before, and he’s not cared enough to press the issue – and even once you step into his life, he’s not desperate to enact this particular fantasy. 

He’d much rather partake in the thousands of other things he wants to do to you – and have you do to him, too. But once he’s been sexual with you for long enough, fleeting thoughts and curiosities are eating away at him. 

Would you like it? He knows most women don’t, but maybe you’re the exception, or maybe you’d be willing to let him indulge?

 He’ll bring it up after a very long time of debating, mentally rehearsing his words over and over to make sure he’s got them right, so that they aren’t forceful or demanding.

 He’s nearing stumbling over his own voice as he asks you if you’d like to uh, you know, use the other hole…? 

He makes it more awkward than it needs to be, but if you say yes, he’s gulping and nodding, already telling you he’s done research, that you need to avoid these foods while he goes out and buys enough lube to lasts you both years, all the while trying to ignore the steadily growing erection in his pants. 

You’re so damn tight like this - even more than your cunt, something Phinks didn’t think was possible. You’re warm, and the sight of him sinking into you, into the wrong hole, makes his head spin, every shitty porno he’s ever watched paling in comparison because god, who knew you’d take it in the ass so well?

If you say no, he’ll be understanding, vowing to not bring up the topic again – except, his curiosity doesn’t just go away. Instead, it’ll manifest itself in other ways; you’re on your knees, ass in the air and face resting on your pillow as he fucks into you hard enough to leave you gasping and clutching onto the seats? 

Well, he’s pulling your cheeks apart, his eyes fixing on your clenched hole the whole time, his hand smacking against your cheek and idly moving his thumb to lightly, gently brush over your asshole, lightly pushing and feeling the way you squirm under him. 

He’ll find himself between your legs, slick smeared all along his lips and chin, eating you out so frantically that his tongue is starting to hurt, only to – without even thinking, really – dip his tongue down,  tracing lightly over your lower hole, fluttering his eyes closed when your hips jerk and you let out a Phinks! 

He won’t ever force you into anal, but you’ll be able to tell what he wants from the way he’s always letting his gaze linger on your ass, his fingers dipping dangerously close, his hands spreading your cheeks and licking his lips at the sight. 

He’s not exactly subtle, so unless you want to run the risk of getting a finger up the ass with no warning, you might as well give into his desires – once couldn’t hurt, right?

Besides, you never know until you try – just be careful, because Phinks wants to claim every single part of you, and that pert, tight little hole is no different.

Marking

He’s possessive, every part of him yearning to own you, and in the bedroom this isn’t exactly a secret. He’s still desperate to stake his claim on you, to make sure you understand that you are his, that your heart and body and soul belong to him. 

And while it’s great and wonderful to be stuffing you full of his cum, leaving your pussy full of him and only him, he wants more. He needs to lay a physical mark on you that proves that you’re his, that he’s the only one allowed to love you, to touch you, to please you. Just the thought of leaving a mark on you gets him breathing heavily, his fingers clenching into fists and his knees feeling a bit weak because god. 

He’s picky about how he marks you up, though – because of his aversion to physically harming you, he reverts to sexual ways of marking you more often than he’d care to admit. 

He loves leaving hickies; the dark purple spots will appear all over your body, evidence of the way he’s pressed his lips onto every inch of your skin, his tongue often coming out to lick and suck at you until you’re squirming and left with the ugly, swollen bruise as a reminder of Phinks.

His favorite spots to leave them are along the expanse of your collarbone, right up at the base of your throat and stretching all along to your shoulders. There’s something so intimate about the area, something so sexy and demure, and he’ll purposefully only provide you clothing that doesn’t fully cover the area, if only because he really, really likes glancing at you and seeing the dark spots, his eyes immediately drawn to the places where he’s claimed you. 

(It makes him flush a bit to think that his lips have been there; his spit had been covering the area, lips and tongue sucking and bruising and kissing, all while you had to sit there and take it, maybe even carding your hands through his hair, maybe even sighing out Phinks… The bathroom’s far away, but he’s quickly rushing towards it, a hand coming down to block the sight of the now noticeable bulge in his tracksuit pants.) 

He’s also particularly fond of leaving hickeys along your inner thighs, purple spots leading up to your pretty folds, and every time he gets you spread out before him, he likes to kiss them, trailing his lips up and up and up, leaving you frustrated and desperate, more often not. 

He just wants something of his close to intimate, vulnerable areas - your cunt, your neck, your breasts, everything. 

You just look so pretty like this - so don’t be surprised when you notice his gaze lingering on your neck, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips as he stares. 

You’re just too attractive, so enticing, and how can he not leave hickeys on you every time he gets his hands on you, even if you ask him to stop? 

It’s like he’s not in control of his own actions - he’s too lost in the pleasure of being near you, of touching you, and when he finally snaps out of it you’ll be painted with bruises and swollen skin and him him him. 

He likes it, a lot, so just get used to it - because he will not stop. 

BIGGEST FANTASY:

Although a very, very large part of Phinks craves to fuck you in the most raw, animalistic way he possibly can, there’s another part of him that yearns for soft, gentle, romantic sex. He’s constantly at war with himself, alternating between wanting to get you screaming or getting you moaning. 

Does he want to leave you sore enough that you can’t walk the next day, left to fully depend on him because his cock literally made you go dumb? 

Or does he want you to be left with deep, big hickies decorating your collarbone and neck while he  praises you for your beautiful body, your soft hands clutching onto him even as you both wake up the morning after, unwilling to let go of him? 

He’s constantly fighting himself, because both options sound so, so very good, and frankly, he’s not too picky – either option is fine with him, it really just depends on your own sexual preferences, and what stage you’re at in your sexual relationship. 

That said, there are a few hard and fast fantasies that Phinks would give absolutely anything to live out. 

They’re the kind of scenarios that he thinks over in hyper specific detail as he drifts off to sleep, trying to immerse himself in every aspect of the fantasy so he can pretend to be right beside you, feeling your touch and hearing your cries and marking up your pretty skin and stuffing you so fucking full – 

They’re the stuff of his wet dreams, and one of his favorite fantasies to revisit is the idea of you waking him up because you need him in the middle of the night, your body craving his touch so badly that you just can’t take care of yourself without him. 

He likes the idea of you rousing him awake, slick already coating the insides of your thighs while you sneak a hand down into his boxers and squeeze, thumbing his tip and tugging him up and down a few times. 

He wants you to kiss him, whining into his mouth, only to pull back and beg him to please, please fuck me Phinks, need you so bad, I can’t come without you, please… 

Mostly, this fantasy stems from wanting you to desire him – he wants your body to become so dependent on his, to be so spoiled from his touch that you literally can’t come without him, that you can’t make yourself feel good unless he’s right there with you, helping you along. 

He just wants to feel needed and wanted, and if you were to actually wake him up and demand that he fuck you because the ache is just too great, the mixture of pride, arousal, and satisfaction would have him immediately nodding, hurriedly grabbing your hips, pulling out his already half-hard cock, slipping inside you and letting out something between a gasp and a grunt. 

He wants to be of service, and he likes that this fantasy implies that your desperation for him is nearly as high as his own – as if you truly, genuinely love him back.

            Phinks’ snores fill the bedroom, and for a moment you feel bad about reaching out, your fingertips brushing along his bicep. Your thighs rub together, the friction not nearly enough to quell the throbbing coming from between your legs.

            You had no idea what was wrong with you – you’d never been this unbearably horny before, as if your every thought was revolving around being filled with something much bigger than your own fingers, something heavier and thicker and fatter. Your nipples were pebbled, thighs twitching, forehead already a bit sweaty and your clit unbearably sensitive, and yet you hadn’t been able to come. You’d been trying for what felt like hours, using a nimble finger to circle over your clit tirelessly, drawing figure eights and making your hips jerk but never getting closer to that wonderful high you were craving. You’d stuffed yourself full of your own fingers, curling and thrusting and doing everything in your power to get off, but it just wasn’t working.

            Phinks stirs lightly at the feeling of your hand brushing against his chest, but it’s not until you dance your palm down to slip beneath the hem of his boxers that he truly starts waking up. You’re quick to grip him at the base, sliding up and down slowly, gently, nervously, because while he’s told you more than once that his body is yours to use whenever you need it – his hadn’t been able to meet your gaze when he’d told you this, with his cheeks flushed and his arms crossed in an attempt to appear confident – you’re still a bit hesitant to act upon that promise.

            His dirty blond hairs tickle your hand as you swipe your thumb across his tip, smearing the precum along his head as you shuffle closer, letting your lips ghost over his jaw, pressing against the light stubble. He groans slightly in his sleep, already in that halfway stage between dreaming and reality, but when you press your lips to his own, tongue swiping out across his bottom lip and your kisses becoming a bit more insistent, his eyes are fluttering open.

            He says something, but it’s muffled into your mouth as your kissing suddenly grows in intensity, your hand squeezing tighter and your body moving to be more above his. The ache between your legs is stronger now, a dull throbbing that makes you delirious with need because his cock is already in your hand, already pulsing and twitching and surely bright red with a need matching your own.

            When you finally pull away for air, Phinks can only peel open his freshly closed eyes and stare at you, a light flush on his cheeks and his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Babe? What’s gotten into – shit, that feels good.”

            He cuts himself off with a hiss, your hand starting to move between stroking him and squeezing at his balls.

            “Need you, Phinks,” You start, pressing kisses along the nape of his neck and lightly sucking at the skin. The feeling makes a shiver run down his spine, the idea of you marking him up making his cock grow ever harder for you. “’m so empty, it’s not enough when it’s just me.”

            He swallows hard. Biting his lip, he tries to ignore the way your hand – all soft and sweet and clammy, slicked up with his own precum and making it incredibly easy to glide your hand up and down his shaft – is making his hips buck up involuntarily, his still sleepy state making him more sensitive than usual. “Yeah? You need me? Tell me what you need, baby.”

            You whine a bit, embarrassment eating you up, but the words are uttered out before you can really think about, your body driven by an arousal you can’t hope to fight. “I need you. I need your cock, it’s the only thing that can make me feel good, my fingers don’t feel like you do. Please Phinks, fuck me, please…”

            He groans at that, hands grabbing at your hips and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out on your back, chest heaving as you watch him clamber over you, his boxers discarded somewhere into the sheets. He’s painfully hard, already swollen and drooping slightly from the weight of it as he lines his tip up with your entrance. He takes a moment to tease you, awe tinging his voice as he asks, “Here babe? Right here?”

            Your ankles lock together around his waist, hands coming up to grasp onto the strong muscles of his back. “Please, please!”

            He likes the sound of you begging, the sight of you biting your lip and staring up at him with wide, glassy eyes practically drowning in need. But most of all, he likes the way you lift your hips up to rub your cunt against his cock, little airy moans slipping past your lips because god, even just the feel of him is better than anything you’ve managed to do to yourself so far tonight.

            Phinks curses, and immediately he’s plunging into you, tip ramming into that spot he knows you love – the one that makes you gasp and clutch onto him, your hips jerking and twitching while your breasts bounce with his every thrust.

            He buries his face into your neck, groaning and muttering your name under his breath, but he tries to quiet down as he hears you starting to talk again. More like blabbering, but your words make his eyes go wide.

            “I’ve been – oh,  ‘ve been fucking myself with my fingers, but Phinks, oh god Phinks, it wasn’t enough!” Your voice is strained, warbled, moans mixing between your words and making him gulp. The clapping sound of his hips smacking into yours is deafening, but he wants you to keep going, to keep talking to him like this.

            “Nothing feels as good – shit, as good as you do. You’re so good, it’s so – so big and makes me feel so fucking full –“ You cut yourself off with a moan, eyes fluttering closed as he brushes against every sensitive spot inside you over and over, your orgasm already steadily building.

            Phinks bares his teeth, face still pressed against the nape of your neck. “F-fuck, keep talking baby.”

            “Couldn’t make myself feel as good as you.” You cry.

            “Nothing’s as good as you.” You moan.

            “Couldn’t wait – fuck! Couldn’t wait, needed you inside, you feel so much better!” You gasp.

            “Phinks, oh Phinks Phinks Phinks – couldn’t come without you, only you can make me come!” You squeal, and at your words he freezes for a moment, letting them sink in. You whine, hips wiggling and begging for him to keep moving, but something about your phrasing makes something feral ignite within him. Something about the idea that only he is capable of making you feel good, that only he can make you orgasm (not even yourself) gets him feeling possessive of you, the cunt wrapped around his cock belonging to him and him only.

            He’s snapping his hips into you with a new fervor after that, the pace brutal as he fucks into you hard enough to make you bounce up and down the bed, your pretty tits bouncing along with you and rubbing against his chest. He’s chanting your name like a prayer, his voice husky and strained and still the tiniest bit raspy from sleep, and it only makes you clutch onto him tighter, harder, your walls clenching around him like a fucking vice –

            You come with a cry of his name, fluttering around him and making his hips stutter. The only warning you get before floods of warm, thick cum shoot inside you is a gaspy, almost pained sounding ‘fuck, t-take it take it-!’

            He’s panting, still keeping his head in the crook of your shoulder, too embarrassed to look at you. You’re still breathing hard too, and when you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer, Phinks feels himself freeze up a bit. 

“Stay like this?” You ask, and your voice is so soft and unsure that it makes his heart ache, his body immediately relaxing and letting his arms slip under your body, pulling you both onto your sides so that you’re embracing one another. 

“Of course, baby. Now go to sleep.” He whispers, pressing a long kiss against the crown of your head. 

You obey, falling asleep almost immediately, and as Phinks drifts off himself, cock still nestled inside you, he can’t help smiling a bit, the corners of his lips turning up.

[dexjarxenoengage]

Metaphor: Refantazio is my GOTY of 2024, and is slowly becoming one of my favorite video games of all time. As per such, I’m going to be a tad bit defensive and biased towards its story beats and characters (both of the good and bad). One such arguments that I want to address is the morality of its antagonists. More specifically, Joanna, the Holy woman responsible for the kidnappings in Martina. And compare them to Zorba, Louis’s right hand man.

This post is NOT for the sake of defending the actions of both of these characters. This is post for dissecting their actions in the story, but more importantly, how the characters react to the actions of these two antagonists.

Naturally, there will be spoilers.

From: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/YMMV/MetaphorReFantazio

“Joanna in the Martira arc is portrayed with a degree of sympathy and is treated as such in-universe by the heroes. However, the extent of her malice, despite her tragic backstory, led many players to struggle with sharing the party's sentiments. Joanna has been feeding innocent townspeople—including children—to a monster, driven by her desperation to feel like she had regained her lost child. Her backstory is undeniably tragic: her mixed-race child was murdered by a nanny fueled by superstition and prejudice. But the sheer cruelty of her actions—sacrificing innocents ultimately for revenge—makes her difficult for many players to empathize with. While the party does not condone her crimes and instead directs their anger toward the societal forces that pushed her to such extremes, they remain strikingly kind to someone who inflicted the same tragedy she experienced upon countless others, with only Strohl really pushing back in response but ultimately viewing her the same way as everyone else in the end. Though Joanna is ultimately executed for her actions and it is heavily implied that her descent into madness was driven by Melancholia corruption—born of her regret and a sudden moment of clarity after the defeat of her "child." For some players, the level of sympathy Joanna receives can be jarring, given the scale of her atrocities. This is in complete opposition to Zorba, who — while his actions are indeed monstrous — actually deserves more sympathy.”

The reason why I make this is not questioning whether or not Joanna and Zorba deserve sympathy or not. This post is meant to be a question of why Will and the others feel the way they do to both of them. So in order to illustrate my point, I need to explain the crimes these characters commit and how this weighs on the Kingdom at large, as well as the characters themselves. Personal grudges IMO play a huge factor in this post.

- The weight of crimes

As far as crimes are concerned behind both Joanna and Zorba, we need to look at how it affects everyone involved: both the characters themselves and the kingdom.

Due to Zorba’s long term presence in the main story in comparison to Joanna, I have to talk about him first.

Zorba is responsible for using the Grand Cathedral to steal the Royal Scepter to give to Louis. Taking into account what Louis planned on doing with Royal Scepter, and why he sent Zorba to get in the first place, as well as Zorba being the only one who knew Louis’s endgame from the start, Louis’s on turning the nation into Human Monsters has been his plan from the start.

And this is without mentioning his “Day of Calamity” that he was likely planning on by Louis’s order. Zorba reanimated the Louis brought to the Royal Funeral with the intention of it destroying all of Grand Trad, and young and old people in it besides.

Why is this important? Because, to the people that say Zorba deserved more sympathy in comparison to Joanna, forget that Zorba was going to unleash an undead Human out on a city with many people in it (including the young Maria who had just lost her father, Grius).

Speaking of Grius, this adds to the list of “personal” sins on Zorba’s list. Zorba reanimated Grius (who died at Louis’s hand) to use him to attack Will, Strohl, Gallica, and soon-to-be new ally Hulkenburg. All of whom have personal connections to Grius, and all were grief-stricken and powerless to save him.

Even if Zorba did not survive the battle at the Cathedral, the dude already has a lot of blood on his hands. And this without taking into account what other sins he may have committed while under Louis’s service, we don’t know when exactly did he became devoted to Louis.

(Of course, this isn’t to say that Zorba’s reanimating powers are in and of itself sinful. But Zorba has used this power to not only attack innocent people, but use Grius to attack our heroes who were close to them. To use another character as an example, Veyle from Fire Emblem Engage has the power to revive people as Zombies, but would rather not use that power to hurt people (among other reasons). Having that power and using it to hurt people is what makes that power evil.)

Within the time we had with Zorba until he was revealed to have been alive all along, Zorba has helped attack the Cathedral to further Louis’s plans for ending the world. Has used a friend to attack his other friends. And finally, was going to send a human to destroy Grand Trad, which would have resulted in the causalities of many young and old people alike. And people expect me to believe that Zorba deserves sympathy?

Now we look at Joanna in comparison. Joanna has indeed been sending many people (especially children) to gallows that use the jaws of a baby human out of hatred towards the world for the death of her child.

Why is this important? Because the scale of crimes IMO is just important as the crime itself, maybe even more from a certain perspective. Joanna’s actions, from what we know, is locked exclusively behind Martina. The only time people that aren’t necessarily connected to Martina are the people who just happened to be unfortunate to be at the wrong place at the wrong time (as Klinger can attest to). And the only action that affects the party (outside of the fact that Strohl hates humans because of the destruction of his home, which is another personal sin on Zorba to add to the list) is Heismay, who is a recent addition. And even then, as we will get into later, Heismay can’t bring himself to truly hate Joanna.

Zorba’s actions on the other hand were clearly affecting a wide range of characters and the world of Metaphor at large through his actions; both morally and personally. For the entire party, Zorba is responsible for briefly turning the recently deceased Grius against them (who is with the person responsible for killing him). For Strohl, Zorba’s actions was going to repeat an event that has haunted him all his life, not helped by the fact that he an devote ally to the person responsible for both Halia’s destruction, and Grius’s death. For Hulkenburg, it’s also personal, outside of Grius’s reanimation, Hulkenburg sees Zorba as betrayal towards the oath of knighthood (something which is big deal for any story involving knighthood).

- The reason for said crimes and the response to it:

The thing that the people who play this game have a problem is how the party responds to these characters who have done these things. Zorba was discriminated his whole life for being Mustari/Clemar hybrid (not only are Mustari are the second most hated race in Metaphor, second only to Elda, but Hybrids are often mistreated as well, as seen with Maria’s Social Link). Not helped by the fact that many people were disgusted by his ability to reanimate (not that I blame for that). The reason for why he is so devoted to Louis is because he didn’t judge him for his race or his abilities.

Zorba is hated by the party (especially the starting party members). All of whom, during their encounter in the cathedral call him out for his hypocrisy (such as when the characters uses a portrait of Louis to get Zorba out of their way, it’s fine to disrespect the dead, but bad if Louis is insulted), but also refuses to excuse his actions just because of his suffering.

• Zorba (talking to Will): “Surely an Elda like you know what it’s like! To be an outcast, to be every fool’s scapegoat! They call us “lesser tribes”! They loathe us! Their speeches of tribal harmony mean nothing when every day, they cheat and abuse us! Do you think I didn’t believe, once? That I never dared to hope my efforts made me equal? Then I heard exactly what they think of us… “The lessers are expendable. Send them to the fore and they shall be our living shields” They doomed us and laughed as we died.

• Hulkenburg: “But these atrocities make you no better than your oppressors!”

We move on to Joanna, who lost her child (who was also a hybrid and illegitimate child) to the nurse who was sent to look after her child. All the while, even her family was glad the half blooded child died. And finally, her husband was ratted off of Martina, leaving her alone. Let’s see how the characters react to her story in the midsts of her heinous crimes…

• Strohl (who, along with the others, have witnessed Homo Jaluzo devour Morris (he deserved it): “This is your child? It just devoured a man! All I see is a mindless monster!”

• Joanna (who is enraged by this response to her “child.”): And a monster is all I see…when I upon the world! People are beasts of fear and superstition. Murderers without remorse. I have done nothing they’ve not done to me. Abominations… They are the unnatural. They deserve to die. They should all be so glad to nourish my child. My dear… sweet… child.

• Hulkenburg: A mother’s love should nurture. But this is beyond the pale…

• Strohl: And you? Do you not condemn her? She kidnapped children, murdered them in cold blood, and would see you blamed for it!

• Heismay: In truth… I know this woman’s pain, all too well. In the name of her child, she was willing to turn against the entire world. Behind her atrocities… I see the devotion of a bereaved parent. You found yourself unjustly in a terrible darkness… and I struggle to blame you. Burying your own child is unbearable. Grief and madness fill the gaps where love had been. But my eyes were opened. These people helped me see. The only way to beat the darkness… is to confront it! Step by meagre step… You must walk back to our reality! Look upon that… And see true that it is not the child you once loved!

The main difference between Joanna and Zorba’s actions and parts in the story is how the characters react to them. Strohl, as the Human Slayer is naturally appalled by Joanna’s actions and the human himself, and ask for Heismay’s response to this. Heismay, who was also a victim of the death of a child in a world filled with discrimination. Heismay calmly understands why Joanna would take the path she did while still making it clear that what she’s doing is wrong and she needs to face reality and accept her child’s death.

Heismay knows full well that, in another world, Heismay could have been the kidnapper everyone deemed him to be. I think that’s why Heismay doesn’t fully condemned Joanna to the extent that could (and perhaps, should) have.

- The aftermath of crime

Another crucial factor in how Zorba and Joanna are treated by the characters in the story is the aftermath of their respective defeats. Zorba outright ignores Hulkenburg’s point of calling out Zorba for his actions. Joanna, on the other hand, comes to see the error of her ways. In fact, IMO, this is the most important aspect about this discussion. Joanna admits her wrongs and makes the choice to atone, Zorba did not.

After Joanna is defeated, she makes good on her initial promise to give Martina’s support to the Prince if Will and the others succeeded in solving the case. By offering up her head for the Exhibition for the Brave… As well as clearing Heismay’s name.

While we are on this topic, the reason for why the party are even in Martira to begin with. They wanted to turn in a criminal for the Tournament for the Throne in order to gain the political support needed to get Louis’s attention so that the team can find a way to break the curse over the Prince. So accepting Joanna’s atonement is the right thing to do from a mission/political standpoint, not just a moral standpoint.

And another thing, the fact Joanna kept her word. If Joanna wanted to, as Strohl pointed out, she could use this chance to escape and continue to cause trouble elsewhere. But Joanna stood true to the promise she made to the very end. And thanks to this action of choosing to trust Joanna’s word, the party is one step closer to defeating Louis.

Joanna vs Zorba

• Will: The rumours painted Heismay as a criminal, but I chose to believe in him. I want to extend Joanna the same grace. A country where no one’s future is written in stone… If that’s our goal, then this is a chance we have to take.

Gallica may think Will is too kind here, which is probably what most of the fandom on this moment may think, but just remember that Will was going to kill Louis to break the curse. He’s not as soft as Gallica (or the audience) may think.

- Sympathy (or lack thereof) for the wicked:

I have seen the Martira Arc plenty of times, along with Joanna’s execution, and I wouldn’t say the party was overtly sympathetic towards Joanna like people think. The only person who was the closest to that point is Heismay and Will. Strohl only is more lenient with Joanna because she made the choice to repent (and again, she kept her word when should could’ve gone against it).

And again, thanks to this choice to atone, the Prince is one step closer in being king and defeating Louis.

Now again, we go back to Zorba, who had been revealed to be alive all along, helping Louis’ goals in the shadows, during which, he has transformed his body into a Human. What does Zorba do not long after he is hinted to be alive? Continue to help Louis’s plan, ensuring that Forden dies (not that he didn’t have it coming). When Louis is about to kill a Church family in order to get the party to come clean about the Prince’s survival, he causally watches and mocks Fidelio’s death.

Afterwards, Zorba is directly responsible for the death of the original Prince, and had Will given up and not accepted being the Prince’s Archetype, this act would given Louis the final victory. On top of that, there was another corpse found prior to the reveal of the Prince’s death.

Again, this is why I can’t agree with the people that say Zorba deserved more sympathy. When you think about it, not only does Zorba’s actions affect them personally alongside the entire Kingdom, but Zorba lasted longer than Joanna for his actions to affect the story itself. I’m not saying that the characters shouldn’t have tried to make some effort to get him to understand what he was doing was wrong, like with Joanna, but you can tell how much his actions affected them.

And it’s not to say that the others don’t sympathize with him to some extent, once we get to his final fight, the others are horrified to see his human-mutated hand. And after the fight, Basilio (last party member, and also knew him from their time with Louis) understood Zorba and showed no anger towards him. And once Zorba does die by his own hand, which the boys did try to save him, the others sadly noted that he chosen his path. Even at the end, when the characters do try to understand him, unlike Joanna, he was beyond saving. Or rather, he didn’t want to be saved by anyone who wasn’t named Louis. Hulkenburg, in comparison to their battle at the Cathedral, does commend Zorba for his loyalty, even if it was towards a madman.

To the people that say that Zorba deserved more sympathy, did Zorba himself made an effort to understand what he did was wrong like Joanna did? No. Was there any implications that Zorba was being manipulated by Melancholia? Given that he showed no signs of calming down or changing his mindset after being beaten TWICE, I would say no.

This whole section may seem like a contradiction of us questioning the sympathy level of these two characters. Again, let me remind you, this was a question on the morality of the characters themselves. Every party member may be flawed people who also have anxiety in their hearts, but remember that they gained their Archetypes by learning to channel those feelings in a healthy manner.

All of them do have a strong sense of justice, if handled differently for each character. And it’s not like having a personal reason for standing against evil is bad thing, considering that’s the reason Strohl awakened to his Archetype in the first place.

You can question the characters all you want, everyone will have different answers compared to mine. But Strohl and the others only showed grace to Joanna because she chose to atone for her sins, whereas Zorba did not. These characters are about fairness, and IMO, they did well on that front.

[writingquestionsanswered]

In my story, my protagonists are working for a technology company which does unethical things with A.I., such as stealing art and other forms of work, bias reinforcement, data theft, sharing misinformation, but the main characters (who often go in action-packed and "heroic" missions to fix machines/systems that are malfunctioning) didn't know/ realize they're helping something terrible. How do I make it a surprise to the readers too so they won't think I support these things?

Portraying without Condoning

The key to portraying something unethical without appearing to condone it is to make sure you don't romanticize it by showing it in a positive light and failing to address what's wrong with it and why. In other words, just make sure you illustrate why what this company's actions are bad by showing the negative impact and showing it for the negative thing that it is. Since it sounds like you're keeping this reveal from the readers until you reveal it to the characters, you have the perfect opportunity to illustrate these negatives by showing your characters' dawning horror as they realize the truth. You can even build in some negative effects that were happening all along, but which seemed to have other explanations. Then, in light of the reveal, the characters realize the company's unethical actions are to blame.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[teitpp]

AI is Theft, plain and simple.

I'm seeing a group of posts circulating with fanfiction authors forbidding folks to feed their WIPs to an AI to get a quick ending. I am both horrified that there's actual readers who would do that and also resigned that some readers will do it anyway.

A lot of us have already been robbed.

1,000,000 words of my writing were consumed by ChatGPT when its trainers took massive amounts of AO3 works and added them to its training dataset. Nearly every word I've written in my adult life was taken without my consent to build that machine.

I'm locking all my existing and future fics to registered AO3 users only for this reason. It's the best precaution to prevent future scraping of works on the website by AI. I don't want to do that. Half my Kudos and some of my comments come from guests. I want to be able to share my stories with those of you who can't get an AO3 account. But I don't want my work stolen by an AI again.

To folks who would rather use AI to generate the ending of someone else's WIP, or to write a whole story for them, know that youre condoning the theft of billions of words.

Some may say that all writing is created thanks to inspiration from other writing, maybe you think it's not a big deal that others work was used to train an AI. But there are differences to how a human mind writes and how a machine generates text. A human being can be inspired by another writer or dozens of writers. But the work they create is their own, crafted from their unique human experiences. Humans select words based on their definition, connotation, linguistic history, and dozens of other unique factors to convey whatever idea they are striving to put onto a page.

ChatGPT selects words based primarily on their function, one of the reasons it has been demonstrated to be unable to tell the difference between falsehood and fact. It selects words based on how often it knows they have been paired with other words. ChatGPT  does not have its own emotions. It does not think. It does not create. It only reuses the turns of phrase created by real people. None of its words are its own. It has no original ideas of its own. It's producing a facimile of creativity - a facimile made possible by my and millions of other writers stolen, unconsented contributions. Its creators are profiting off of our work.

WGA are striking to ensure their professional writers' hard work is never used for AI models. Those of us who are fanfiction authors deserve the same choice. I never agreed to have my work used for anyone else’s profit, certainly not for an AI which, by design, steals other people’s ideas each time it generates a word.

If you're too impatient to wait for one of my WIPs to be finished, and for some reason dont just want to message me and beg me to spoil the ending, then go ahead, give my work to the AI to finish if youre that impatient. It already ate every word thats ever mattered to me. But know that whatever ending it spits out, it will be no more real than a trick of the light and not half as entertaining. The equivalent of eating a pack of red dye number 2 when you wanted a red apple. And it will be theft. Is that really worth your instant gratification?

[normal-thoughts-official]

Ranking Brazilian sweets by their names, because I'm soooooo bored

Brigadeiro ("brigadier") - cocoa balls covered in chocolate sprinkles - 2/10

Despite brigadeiro being one of my, and pretty much every Brazilian's, favorite sweets, I cannot condone the military worship contained in its name. Also, the story is allegedly that it got its name because a mother made up the recipe to entice a brigadier she wanted to marry her daughter, so that's not very creative. Got 2 points because at least it's not named "choccy ball" or some other shit that a gringo would've undoubtedly called it

Sonho (dream) - cream-filled buns - 7/10

Technically Portuguese in origin, but in Portugal it's called "cream ball" so it counts for the purpose of this post. It's a much more enticing name filled with lyricism and love, but it lacks oomph. Bonus points for the implication that someone saw the Portuguese called this shit "cream ball" and went "nope, we don't do that here"

Maria-mole (squishy-susan) - gellatinous coconut egg thing - 7/10

Not as lyrical, but anthropomorphism is always a good call when you want to make your sweet more charismatic, and the alliteration doesn't hurt either.

Olho de sogra (mother-in-law's eye) - half coconut half plum balls - 0/10

Why so sexist? - the machister

Beijinho (little kissie) - coconut balls with clove - 10/10

Cutest name ever, and it both looks and tastes like a sweet kiss from mommy. Absolutely nothing to complain about, full marks without a doubt

Pé de moleque (naughty boy's foot) - peanuts with jaggery - 9/10

Likely from "pede, moleque!" ("just ask, naughty boy!"), as it was common for kids to steal those sweets from sellers, who would then scream the above. Funny story and does kind of resemble a kid's foot if they're often barefoot and about, what's not to like? I'm not sure either but I don't feel like giving it a full mark

(If you're Indian, Bangladeshi, or Pakistani, you likely know this sweet as well! It's exactly the same thing, but I could never find anything as to whether it originated in Brasil or SEA, so I'm including it here since this post is about the name anyway)

Romeu e Julieta (Romeo and Juliet) - cheese with guava paste - 100000/10

Perfect mix of cheekiness, metaphor and lyricism. The combination is bound to cause immediate disgust to those who first hear of it, yet the chemistry between the two ingredients is undeniable, perfectly imitating the famous couple. A simple and powerful name, just like the sweet itself. A cornerstone of Brazilian cuisine and poetry. Has probably been recreated, remixed and adapted as many times as Shakespeare's famous play, adding another layer of appropriateness to the name. No notes.

[the-gayest-show]

Going with a classic - Esteban for the character opinion bingo?

Hes so interesting to me because I both don't like him and like him at the same time. He is indeed a pretty horrible person like I'm watching him and mentally I am shaking him by the shoulders like GET A GRIP!!! YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING IS STUPID AND YET YOU DO IT ANYWAY!!!! STOPPPPPP!!!!

Like girl not only do i not know what side you wanna be on, it seems YOU don't either!!! like girl you don't want to hurt Elena but you steal her scepter?? You don't wanna hurt anyone but you're actively on the villains side girlie be fr. I'm starting to see hesitancy tho when he does literally anything so maybe...? We shall see.

I also like his new s3 design but GOD the swoop was NOT necessary. I'm sorry that haircut was NOT lit. I LOVE the outfit tho the lightning bolt theme is so fire and I LOVE sparkles yall like the sparkles are so cool. But the hair ruins it, they should kept the s1-2 hair and changed only the outfit. But I get why they changed the hair. Makes him look less tamed.

His character arc is cooking so hard and I will post my reaction to the finale when I reach it but I'm literally so close to it. I am in that final stretch and I swear every episode that has the plot in it is like watching a drama show fr fr.

I like him enough that yesterday night I just went and started a new fanfiction WIP (it's like an au ish situation based on a few hcs i have).

I feel like they're should explore his motivations more. Ok, you felt invisible, but is that really it? Surely that's not the only thing that drives him to help a dictator up to the throne?? There has to be more???

Like i don't condone his actions at all tho. Like half of them fucking suck when you consider he's literally repeating the shit he did 41 years ago but like. with a new gang. Be fr. The gang does NOT change that you still are siding with them?!

I genuinely need to understand him so bad if not for my benefit than for the sake of film analysis. And by understand him I don't mean make up for his actions but I'd like to see the inner reasoning there.

My large ass rant slots really nicely into the point that I am, in fact, quite mentally ill for him right now

Honestly i need to get to the episode where Elena forgives him because I need to see how that goes down. Raaaa I can't wait to see where they take his character but one thing I am sure of is that if he gets forgiveness I fucking hope they still acknowledge in the show that you can't really push away the fact that Esteban still (semi)directly caused Elena's parents to die and a 41 yr authoritarian rule. I'm still not over those two things like that will stick in the back of my mind forever I fear.

Yet somehow despite this i miiiiiight be obsessed with him. I do not think I've ever hated and loved a character simultaneously like this.

Rjejjrkfjejjd end of essay lol

[raisedbythetv89]

*tw* mentions of sa throughout the btvs series:

Expanding on the thoughts in this post about fandom culture and etiquette for how to make this a safer and more enjoyable space for everyone no matter who you ship

If you are a fan of btvs or ats no matter who your favorite characters are or who you ship - you have suffered at the hands of joss whedon's narcissistic personality and the subsequent emotional abuse he not only put the actors and his characters through but the audience as well

He gave us characters and relationships we fell in love with and then always, without fail, something horrible happens to one of them or they do something horrific and we're forced to cope with the emotional whiplash that happens every time he does it and decide if we love the character or relationship enough to cope with what joss did to them or if that's it for us enjoying that character or relationship

Like Bangel? Surprise! He's gonna lose his soul and completely psychologically destroy Buffy! AND THEN he's gonna come back and turns out he's been lying to this whole time to Buffy and he actually loved Darla so much he tried to be evil even with the soul first and actually stalked Buffy for a year before he introduced himself and fell in love with the sight of her crying at 15 and we made her look SUPER childlike and innocent to really up the ick factor!

Like Spuffy? Here take the most traumatic depiction of attempted sexual assault we've ever seen in the series that comes out of absolutely nowhere and is specifically designed to punish women after Spike was the only person who could be there for Buffy besides Tara as she battles her severe depression!

Like Tillow? Well Willow goes from empowering Tara and standing up for her to yelling at her to shut the hell up and then magically drugging and sexually assaulting her! and then when Tara calls her out on in she uses the "I didn't mean to" line and then is gonna use magic on her in the exact same way! and then we're gonna rush tara forgiving her just to kill her off!

Like Fuffy? Well Faith is gonna steal Buffy's body and then sexually assault both buffy and riley simultaneously while trying to goad riley into violating buffy's body as much as possible!

The list is truly ENDLESS you either survive on btvs long enough to do something horrific or you're killed off in a brutal, shocking and senseless way (I'm not going to list every single relationship and horrific event as it seems unnecessary and I know I can expand on the above example even further but again it feels unnecessary so please don't freak out if you feel I missed something this is by no means an exhaustive list)

Joss hates people, he hates women, he hates people of color, he hates his audience. Doing horrible things to people you claim to love is incredibly normal for him and any abusive narcissist because they don't love people or even see them as fellow humans - they're just things they play with for entertainment or to make them feel good about themselves which is why this is so prevalent in the buffyverse in the first place

Liking a ship where something horrible happens, you're not condoning it - it happened TO YOU. You were going along loving a character or relationship and then the creator got bored or angry and decides to throw a narrative punch just because he can and he likes the control it gives him to make a bunch of people react in certain ways emotionally and he loves to ruin things people love that's a huge thing for narcissists - if they see someone else feeling good about themselves or experience joy they want it destroyed

We have all suffered at the hands of this man, everyone has their favorite characters for very specific and deeply personal reasons. Just because you can't move past or accept certain behaviors from a character doesn't mean you get to dictate that for everyone else. Truly loving or connecting to a character means you have more capacity for forgiveness than someone who just liked them - and loving a character also usually comes with a deeper understanding of that character in the first place that can give you perspective and understanding that helps you contextualize the bad things.

Loving even the worst fictional characters literally harms no one, but attacking, shaming, judging, feeling superior to real people for their fictional tastes does so don't come on here and "well actually" me with "well MY fav didn't do [x]" or "MY fav never did anything.." because that's not the point. The whole point of this post is other btvs or ats fans who like different characters or ship difference ships are not you enemy - JOSS WHEDON is the only enemy here - be mad at him and only him, hate on other characters all you want but being cruel to other fans who don't agree with you is exactly what joss wants and we all hate that fucker so stop playing his game and don't be a dick.

[skzoologist]

Recording gone...right?

word count: ~1.2k

warnings: none

genre: flustering Bae, this is a new genre at this point

a/n: Any brainrot you have? Send them all. I need them, they are giving me that sweet, sweet serotonin. (This goes to everyone, because while I have my own ideas for stories, you guys always seem to think of something completely different and I love it.)

tag: @thightswideforhanin

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Their fans didn’t even know their beloved idols would have another album coming out soon, yet the members were already working hard on it. They were all very excited, even more than usual -and that was hard to achieve-, because they would be working with a famous japanese singer this time, LiSA. She was known for several things, some anime openings being on that extensive list and you could bet that some of the boys knew at least one or two of those songs by heart. They were too big of a weeb to not.

Amongst them the worst ones were Jisung and Bae, the two socially awkward anime fans. Just from the mere thought of meeting her had their palms turning clammy and their hearts speed up, but only after leaping into their throats. Thankfully or not, they wouldn’t be meeting with the famous singer for a while, needing to work on the songs on their own first.

“Can you believe it, Hyung? Not only did Chan hyung laugh at me when I accidentally messed something up while recording, but he shouted into the mic!”

It was Jisung complaining after his day of recording, his tired form draped over Bae’s. It wasn’t by the latter’s choice, since the young quokka attacked him and started acting like his personal blanket the moment their eyes met. Bae knew he had no choice but to accept his fate, the man too stubborn to leave him be.

“Aaaaaah, Baeeeee hyuuung, it was so horrible, I think I got permanent hearing damage.” - at this, Bae just looked at Jisung with a raised eyebrow.

“I know, I know, we’re loud, you say it all the time, but I’m serious this time! Gimme a kiss! I need someone to kiss it better!” - the younger asked shamelessly, doe eyes glistening as he was craning his head to look at Bae.

Now, Bae really loved his members, he truly did, and he would never hurt them purposefully, but the thought of just shoving Jisung down onto the floor from top of him did cross his head for a second. Maybe even two. But instead he just took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as he just got up from the couch -with the clingy squirrel in his hold, who just squeaked at this lightly- and pushed Jisung into Minho’s arms, who just arrived because he was visiting them for something.

He didn’t even wait and explain his actions -something that Minho and Jisung were both asking and whining for-, just straight up walked away and left to his room. Right until Chan got a hold of him, the kangaroo’s head peeking out through the small gap he opened his door to.

“Bae, can you please come in for a sec? I wanna discuss something about tomorrow’s recording.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice, his feet immediately turning and pivoting into Chan’s room, closing the door behind himself. He sat next to his hyung, who had his famous laptop in his lap, the screen illuminating both their faces in the darkness.

“I know you have excellent english, but I wanted to go over some lines before we record them tomorrow. Especially because some of them might be a bit too high for you at first.” - Chan explained, no ill intent in his voice.

Bae nodded as he listened to his leader talk, singing sometimes in a quiet voice, carving the melody and the words into his flesh. He knew Chan only wanted the best for him, so he wanted to do his best in return. They spent their time like that, not even noticing it was past midnight already, several hours passing by as they started discussing things in great detail. They went over the already recorded parts, thinking about how to tweak them slightly, how other parts needed to be recorded in the future.

Sometimes the aussie forgot that Bae wasn’t part of 3RACHA, since the younger always let him gush about music production, understanding and curiosity glistening in Bae’s eyes.

Soon they wrapped the impromptu meeting up, wishing the other goodnight, before inevitably meeting up the next day in the recording studio.

Bae arrived there early, wanting to warm up his voice in time before the recording. He greeted all the staff members, doing a double take when he saw not only Chan, but every member of 3RACHA in the chairs. Those sneaky bastards just grinned at him and waved, causing Bae to huff and start regretting his life choices. Because he knew there would be teasing to be had, even though they were also recording for STAY. Although that never stopped them before, so why would it now?

After successfully warming up his voice and tweaking with the settings a bit, Bae was ready and signalled for the others.

Chan only commented a few times, needing a bit of correction here and there: sometimes for the rhythm, sometimes for the feel of a few lines. They were usually solved in the next take, making everything go smoothly.

Right until the boys started playing around.

You see, Bae had this habit of doing tiny dance moves while singing, the choreography singed into his body for the song already. And every single time, Chan and/or the others would comment on it, purposefully pressing the button so Bae would hear it. Giggles and comments about how cute he was would fill his ears, dusting his cheeks pink, causing the others to react stronger. It was a hellish cycle, one that continued usually only until Bae would take off the headphones and turn away from them, staring up at the ceiling in silence. This way the others and himself would slowly calm down, otherwise he would have to record his lines while Changbin was shouting pickup lines at him.

He really wanted to get out of there.

“Okay, okay, that was good. Now you only need to sing the part everyone has, and you’re done. FIghting!” - Chan announced, urging Bae to look the lines over on the paper and nod.

It only took a single take, the others on the opposite side of the glass loudly voicing their opinions, as always.

“Wooow, that was perfect, Bae! You got the emotion down to a t.” - Chan said, his voice firm over the headphones.

“Of course, Hyung’s my boyfriend, he is perfect!” - Changbin added in, proudly standing there with a silly little smile on his face.

“What?! No, you greedy pig. You want Hyunjin and him both? He’s mine!” - Jisung whined back, causing Bae to huff and go over to calm them after waving tinily at the recording camera, seeing the staff members fighting a headache already.

It was always like that with Changbin, Bae getting a handful of headaches just from being in the studio with him, helping with the songs. The little dwaekki was always loud and voiced his opinions strongly, and Bae could only silently grimace as he went to go buy some apology drinks for the equally tired and suffering staff members. And for himself. Gods, did he not like coffee and its taste, but he downed a latte or two sometimes, just to get through those recording sessions.

“What’ll make you two stop?” - he tiredly asked, a sigh leaving his form once again.

“A kiss.” - they answered in perfect sync.

“Forget I asked. Good luck, Hyung.”

“What, wait, and where’s mine?”

But Bae was already out the door, done with the boys’ shenanigans for the day.

[greenarrow-core]

A City In Ruins, what do they do?

The way I see this post, is probably different from how anyone else will see. I don't see myself criticizing Batman, even tho technically is exactly what it's happening here.

In No Man's Land we get this scene:

Batman: Shadow of the Bat #77

So, here we are in No Man's Land, people are hungry, needing to survive. Stores, homes, institutions are abandoned and in ruins. Batman treats these people as scum.

And this is how Green Arrow deals with it when part of Star City is in ruins:

52 #8

Now, back to the Batman issue, he beats them up and:

So one of them was inside the university and probably wanted to r the woman. (I'll get back to it)

And then:

Now, the r part, really marks the position the writer(Alan Grant) is setting here. I mean, everything here does show the writer's views. These people couldn't possibly be trying to survive, no, they are taking advantage, they are so evil they will want to r.

Going to another Alan Grant comic from No Man's Land era,

Anarky(1998) #1

Same thing as the Batman issue. They are all just scum. Now, you wouldn't expect that from Anarky right? This second series was really disappointing in relation to the first series. Alan Grant failed his own creation here.

I would love to say that Batman issue is ooc or something. But what is Batman doing here? He's favoring protecting the system rather than let people survive here. Batman has always been very serious about stealing.

You could try and say this is too much, but rather than that, what this really is, is the writer showing his views here.

I saw someone thinking that Batman would hit it off with Cyclops because his revolutionary actions are for noble reasons, and I started thinking again about the comparison of these scene. It's cute to think that Batman wouldn't challenge crime for noble reasons. This one from the post is just one example(with some context on it) among many.

On a discussion related: your favorite hero may not share your beliefs. People need to understand that and not make things up about their heroes. Imagine, someone says "X hero would condone crime for noble reasons", and the listener goes "wow, that sounds cool, gonna read X hero!". And proceeds to end up disappointed when what they see is evidence of the opposite.

[gordonengineswifenirmal]

Gotta love how they keep spreading hate and misinformation.

We can now add

https://www.tumblr.com/woodland-scenics

https://crinkly-spinkly.tumblr.com

https://www.tumblr.com/bruhstation/

https://www.tumblr.com/wreckontherails/

https://www.tumblr.com/haru-mmd/

https://www.tumblr.com/tttemeetsthestarskys/

https://www.tumblr.com/cinnabowlii

https://www.tumblr.com/6lovelytenders

https://www.tumblr.com/pixie-dvsst

https://creaturedrawz.tumblr.com/

https://www.tumblr.com/deviousdiesel

To the list

(Which is not doxxing btw. Your tumblr address is publicly available, even by clicking on ur username. By that nature, since some of them shared my blog, that could also count as doxxing - under their definition. It won’t, because it’s not, and also because they will come up with some excuse to twist words around to spread more hate and make themselves look good - amongst themselves, anyway. ) It seems like we have a wee cult going with a couple main members, and then a bunch flying monkeys who hang around them. They sure do love sniffing each others’ wind. No wonder it’s so toxic.

As Ive said, there’s a difference between being liberal - I support equal rights for all, I support pro choice, I support lgbtq+ rights. I don’t support war on either end. Genocide IS wrong, but so are those who take advantage of it. These aren’t liberals. These people are misguided extremists with incredibly delusional and dangerous ideologies.

And they will keep hating me, they will keep finding others who are just as psychotic to join them. They are brainwashed, and don’t realise how they sound. They lack the life experience to realise their spoil attempts at seeming worldly are damaging and dangerous.

They don’t even realise that the porn bots on here are also scammers, and they steal identities and groom those who are impressionable. These people are in essence, supporting and promoting PAEDOPHILES, ACTUAL PAEDOPHILES. Not JUST scammers. They are so gullible, they take scammers for face value. They put their trust in the most obvious wrongdoings.

IF U SUPPORT PROSTITUTION, SEX BOTS, OR GAZA SCAMMERS, SILENTLY BLOCK ME AND GET LOST. CONTINUING TO CALL ME NAMES, SPREAD MISINFORMATION, AND HATE ONLY HURTS THE COMMUNITY AND MAKES U SOUND WORSE. GREAT JOB!

Apart from meself being offended by the vulgar profiles, there’s this -

They are causing a woman depression over THEIR behaviour. She is seeking legal council over it.

I'm NOT even asking folks to agree on everything. The worst part is that they CHOOSE not to educate themselves. No to Google things, and worse yet - to not even ASK ME HOW I ACTUALLY FEEL. They choose to PURPOSELY trust things. You get s bad vibe? That's Ur own. In fact, makes me feel like they r doing these things SIMPLY because they have other ill intentions of some sort. Their extreme defensiveness is HIGHLY SUSPICIOUS. They are not naive.

Also, as a Sikh n a woman of partial south Asian descent- although prostitution happens, we do NOT condone it. We also do NOT condone scammers. It may be common, but it is against our beliefs. Now, to b fair, I don’t feel sex should be just for having children. I never wanted kids anyway.

By the way, here are the realities about prostitution, sex work, and giving the body away so freely (no I’m not overly religious or spiritual, but I do believe in common sense, logic, and morality, which seems lost on so many). In short, it’s dangerous, it’s exploitative, and it opens you up to not only diseases, but trafficking, emotional traumas, and much more. Again, these folks are misguided. If this is what you support, you’re not welcome to either blog anyway.

[moadiarynet]

1. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 & 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 .ᐟ

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[whumptober]

You can't say "we don't condone art theft" and "people can use AI that scraps other people's art" in the same sentence. Like, nice try pointing out accessibility features which 1) aren't officially AI by the standards of this debate and 2) aren't trained by scrapping works, but those are incomparable.

Nobody is expecting you to police every single work, that's impossible. But you can't throw all writers under the bus by refusing to admit AI that scraps is literally art theft.

I'll answer this one as representative of the asks we just got.

The question was "what is nuanced about AI use," and the fact is that AI tools have a place in art and writing, for the reasons expressed already. I can well imagine that a person might get stuck on a bit of text and use a chatbot for a scenario that they build off and make their own and that's perfectly fine. Because perhaps if they couldn't do that, the person wouldn't partipate at all, and we want people to have fun, not make themselves sick over trying to follow rules.

However, taking someone's work and having AI rewrite parts of it is theft, not necessarily because of the AI use but because it's plagiarism, and we will ban people who do that if we're made aware of it.

Does it bother us that the bot was trained using stolen work? Yes. Does it bother us that people can just as easily steal sections from literally any work and post them as their own without using AI and probably have in the past for this event? Yes.

What, exactly, do you want us to do about these problems that would effectively help the situation? No, seriously. What time machine do you have built that we can use to unscrape fanworks? Which of us do you think hold public office and can create laws preventing unauthorized scraping? What can the four of us do for free that isn't performative or unrealistic?

The mods are not interested in uploading everyone's fic to TurnItIn.com to check for plagiarism and AI use. It is up to you, the participants, to do what you think is right.

We're not making a political stance for all of fandom. We're setting rules for our little low-stakes fan event that we can live with. We've made our position as clear as we can. Participate or don't, according to your own ethics.