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neko-rogers · 4 years

Text

But It’s Better If You Do

Trying to keep your relationship with your professor was easy enough, until you learned that someone had found out about it.

words: 7,424 tags: manipulative!peter, explicit noncon/dubcon elements, degredation, implied overstimulation, blackmailing, kidnapping, college student and professor relationship,

a/n: whew this had a lot of words compared to what i usually write. plus, since im bad at titles, i’ll just use my fav song titles lmao. (ps. erik lehnsherr aka magneto is here and im just glad i could put him in my little fictional world bc im d biggest slut for him)

A complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

The man in front of the class was practically pouring his heart out into the lecture. The chalkboard was filled with white letterings from left to right, not knowing where to start as you take down notes.

“It is important to keep in mind that bimolecular structure and function are dictated by the properties of the medium in which they are dissolved,” your professor explains while continually pacing from one end to the other among the students seated at the first row.

You decided to seat around the middle to the last row, knowing it was the least obvious way for other students in the class to notice how much you fawn over your Organic Chemistry professor rather than the subject itself.

Honestly you could listen to him talk for hours. All those information he had been discussing would not actually process through your thoughts. You knew that better than anyone.

But who honestly would invalidate your reason? Everyone can probably relate to hating Chemistry, no matter what subcategory it is.

Considering that this was probably one of the most difficult courses you had in your program. You were just thankful and lucky enough you landed on one of the hottest professors amongst the campus.

“Hey what did Professor Lehnsherr say about the problems during synthesis of proteins?” Peter asks.

In spite of being fortunate about everything else about this subject, you were not quite happy about Peter Parker following you around like a lost puppy. Especially during the classes you both have alike.

The boy constantly asks so much questions as if you were the teacher already. In addition, he seemed smart enough to figure things out yet somehow he keeps on bugging you for reassurance.

You did not want to be rude. He has not done anything to completely deserve your rage, however he was definitely getting on your nerves.

Honestly you would not want to be infuriated over his consistent queries, but you were just as distracted as he was, maybe even more. With this, you were looking dumber to him each day.

To anyones pride, it was probably a kick in the stomach. You knew you were not the brightest in this class, but it was best to leave the information to yourself. No need for anyone to point out how mindless you were.

And you really were not. You had other Science subjects you totally excel at. Sadly, Chemistry was just not one of them.

“Well, uh, I don’t think I got that part either.” You look aside where he was seated and awkwardly smiled at him before mentioning an apology, “Sorry, Peter.”

In return, Peter smiled at you and dismissed the question. You were not so sure whether to forget about it or take even the least bit of offense. You felt a little mocked by how easily he did it and innocently he smiled, but maybe you were just overthinking this through.

“It’s fine,” he tells. “I just didn’t get the third bullet, but I’ll try to review it in the textbook when I get home.”

“Oh okay, sure.”

“Speaking about reviewing,” Again, Peter tries to start another discourse.

“I was wondering if you got reviewers for the upcoming text for next week? We all know how difficult Professor Lehnsherr’s exams can get, right?” He lets out a forced chuckle, assuming it could lighten the mood.

As much as he tried to make small talks with you, almost everyday, today you really feel like you did not want to return the favor. Especially after having to bring up the test next week.

“I don’t really make reviewers, I usually just scan the books I have at home.”

Lies. You probably have a box full of index cards and sticky notes in your room.

You tried to use every studying tips every corner of the Internet could give. All those study-life hacks that really did not help much but pile up to your disorganized state of mind.

You fucking tried to study Chemistry. You really did.

“What, you don’t?!” He suddenly exclaims, not realizing the loudness of his voice as it almost caught the attention from people at front. “You seem to be busy all the time though. It’s like I always catch your writing or reading something in class.”

Maybe your mood was just off but it definitely seemed weird for him to say that. Though, you did not want to make something from what he said. It was not worth your time.

“I guess people are not always what they seem to be, yeah?”

Again, Peter gives out that soft chuckle and smile, “Then I guess so. You do make a point.”

He does not argue with you any further.

“Can I at least borrow your Physics book? I only bought Chemistry and Biotech for the semester. Didn’t know they would actually utilize it for once,” he scoffs.

At first you hesitated. You were reviewing for it too, but you already felt bad for being no help whenever he asks a question and often times disregarding him when your mood if off. Plus, you did just make it look like you were not much of a study-freak.

“Okay.”

He instinctively fist pumps the air and looks at you with a wide, grateful grin. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N.”

“Don’t mention it.” You grab the book he needs from your bag and hands it to him. He accepts it and places it inside his while also clearing the rest of his things.

Looking at his digital wristwatch wherein he raised his index finger up as if he figured something out of it, he says, “He’s going to dismiss the class in a few minutes. We should get ready for Cell Biology next period.

Oh how you hated it. Were you jumping to conclusions? Or was this boy really trying to be too close with you? Or was he just being nice and informing you to prepare ahead?

God, you did not give Peter Parker the right to cloud up your thoughts like this.

“Thanks,” you say, “but I need to talk to Professor Lehnsherr after class. Have to, uh, consult him about my concept paper that he made us submit last week.”

As he tidies his notebooks up and carelessly shoves it inside his backpack, he immediately looks back at you with a confused expression, “Oh, I can always wait for you–”

“It’s fine, Peter. Thank you though.” Two of your hands were instinctively waving in front of you, a meek gesture for him to stop coddling you or whatever move he had been trying to make at you.

“Are you sure? I–”

And if you were ought to be saved further from lashing out over Peter’s incessant attempts, you finally heard the words any student was longing to hear. “Class dismissed. I’ll see you all on Monday.”

“Eri–err, Professor Lensherr just dismissed the class. Better catch up to him before he heads out,” you hurriedly said. And with a loud slam from your notebook, you quickly shut him out. In addition, you practically shoved every thing in front of you into your bag without sparing a second glance.

One strap of your back was slung over your shoulder as you hurriedly flew down the aisle. Professor Lehnsherr was midway into packing his things before you interrupted and approached him.

“Professor,” you call out. “I have a question. About the paper I handed in last week.”

“Uhuh.” He faintly furrows his eyebrows, trying to hide his already obvious bewilderment. “I forgot which assignment was that, Ms. Y/L/N.”

There were students still exiting in class. So you tried your best to make your conversation with him less suspicious. He was most likely doing the same.

“It was about the Chemistry-proposal thing.” You snapped your fingers a few times as you gathered your train of thought, but realizing it was not going effectively. “Well I just wanted to confirm it since, you know, I was hoping for any feedback from you throughout this week.”

“I’m not sure if I have read it. I’ve certainly been busy this week,” he clarifies. “Nonetheless, we can talk about it later. Thank you for bringing it up. I’ll make sure to follow it up in my schedule, Ms. Y/N.”

Both of you made your way out the door once there were only a minuscule amount of students left in class. You probably had been looking at your professor with gushing stares, but you doubt the other people in the room could notice it. They were farther away from where both of you stood, much less would they be able to hear what the two of your were talking about.

“Oh thank you so much, sir!” You almost cried out and jumped in joy while reaching through the threshold. Moreover, you composed yourself before mumbling out, “I’ll see you later, Eric.”

In which you were certain no one would have heard it besides him.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

“I’m sure you’ll get a good grade in the exams, Y/N,” Eric leans back to his seat with a humble smile upon his face.

“Really? I doubt so, there’s a kid in your class that keeps bugging me out to a study date, or whatever you call it,” you sneer. You lick your lips as you finish taking a sip around the wine glass, setting it down and looking back at the man you were having dinner with. “It’s getting very annoying though, he surely knows how to get on my nerves.”

“I’m sure he’s just trying to flirt with you, like any other college boys do.” He optimistically and maturely lays out the options. “It’s pretty normal for anyone to chase someone they are fond of, especially for young adults like you.”

It was a pretty obvious sign that he was trying to let his message reach you.

“Well, I apologize for my standards of men,” you say. “I just want to skip the whole heartbreak in college and character development. All that stuff you usually see in a typical teen romance movie.”

You sigh, looking down and saying, “I already found a man for me. Why would I stoop down for some guy who’s most likely wanting something from me, and dumping me once he got what he wanted.”

“Y/N, I don’t blame you for liking men that’s ten years older than you,” Eric assures. “But I want you to realize that you still have a lot to look forward after graduating

“And I look forward for you too!” You tried to not raise your voice, though having dinner in his house wouldn’t really catch anyones attention. “I can’t wait to finally graduate from second semester and be able to spend more time, publicly, with you.”

“Yes, I understand, honey.” He places his hand over yours as he tries to calm you down. “Like I said, I just want you to make sure that you’ve clearly thought this through.”

Eric adds, “There’s plenty of men out there. I don’t want to take away your opportunity of experiencing something new at such a young age.”

“I’m turning twenty-four! I promise you I’m thinking everything through.” Your voice was much weaker than a few seconds ago. The evident tone of strength fades even with one glance from the man in front of you. You felt yourself shrink in your seat. But you were sure he does not intend to frighten you into compliance.

“Sorry,” you pout. “Didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“I understand, and I won’t pressure you any more tonight, okay?” He tries to uplift your mood, detecting quickly the shift of the room’s atmosphere. “You deserve a good dinner tonight, like I promised, sweetie.”

His smile made you calmer. It was then that you realized why you were attracted to a man like him even if he was still your teacher.

The way he handles you in any given situation so sensibly. Though it may feels intimidating at first, he consequently tries to override the tone of the conversation which cheers you up.

With one hand, he hold yours and gently draws it towards him at the same moment he leans his head down. Eric presses a kiss against the back of your hand and you butterflies immediately fill inside your stomach. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Every doubt you had entirely disappeared now. If there were hints of you hesitating to continue seeing Eric, they were certainly long gone now.

“Let me drive you home after dinner,” he offers, like the gentleman he is.

Eric always does make sure you get home safe. However, you both agreed that he drops you off at least a block away from your house. Just in case people around your neighborhood might catch you, or worse your parents.

It was not like you were ashamed of your relationship with Eric. Cautious was the term.

You were only a few months in seeing him. Fair enough, he was your second semester professor and the both of you met before that period.

You were not only risking the wrath of your parents once they hear you’re dating an older man, let alone your Chemistry teacher. But you were also putting him at risk if ever his faculty finds out.

Eventually, the two of you pack up and end your conversation. Other than talking about college, the two of you also talk more about yourselves which has progressed you into learning more about each other’s personalities and likes.

He helps you out of his house and into the passenger seat of his car. It had been more than thrice wherein he drove you home, and the familiar scent of leather and the typical Glad air fresheners has clung onto your nose. You strap on your seatbelt on just as he was getting inside the driver’s side.

The ride was not entirely dead silent. Eric made a few more small talks before finally turning a right which was where he usually drops you off. It amazes you how instantly he remembered the way to your home, as you instructed him the first time.

“Thank you for tonight, like always, Eric.”

As always, you made your way out of his car prior to giving him a kiss. You only had to walk straight ahead, glancing at your home which had one dim light illuminating through one window.

Upon entering the house, you figured your parents were already asleep and a hint of the living room lamp was present. Taking the benefit of not having to be interrogated by anyone, you rushed upstairs to your bedroom, turned on the lights, and immediately closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. A smile was also visible after recalling your night with Eric.

As you made your way towards your bed, a piece of paper lays obvious in the middle of it. Your sheets were flattened and tidied, so you could obviously detect when something is placed on top of it. You have no memory of leaving it early in the morning before you left too.

When picking the paper up, you realized it was a piece of polaroid film. Its back was facing you, having no idea what to expect at the front.

At that point, the smile from your face turned into horror and all the color in you basically drained away.

The picture displayed you and Eric at one dinner night out from a few days ago, you still remember. It could have been anything but malicious, but the way his hand was intertwined with yours as both of you laugh away without worries. It was clear as day, the light shining perfectly at the both of you. Anyone can conclude what was happening in the picture.

You did not know this day would come. The picture was taken from Eric’s home to prevent such things like this from happening. So it puzzled you just as much at it terrified you.

This was definitely someone who had been stalking either one of you. It was not a mere instance like paparazzis who catch celebrities dating on the streets of New York.

Someone definitely have been observing the two of you.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

Days have passed, a week almost. Examinations are scheduled for tomorrow.

And you prayed that the picture you received would be the only thing terrorizing your dreams. But you were completely wrong.

From thereon, you started to receive more pictures, specifically one every morning and night, from your past hangouts with Eric. It were simple shots but had the power to completely jeopardize either one of you, mostly him at stake though.

It was obvious that the person behind this was definitely observing the two of you for a while. Probably even during the most earliest weeks when your relationship with him started.

Though it may seem unfair, you did not mention anything about it to Eric. It was enough the he was keeping with you, his job, and himself private – which clearly was not working out so well. You felt like it was your responsibility to handle this situation. You were so sure you did not try to publicize anything and kept it on the low.

Nevertheless, it was out there. Eric had not mentioned anything so you assumed he did not receive a picture like you did.

Currently, you were seated at the farthest row at the back of the room, somewhat near the corner. Physics was your last subject and you could not wait but finally leave.

In addition, you texted Eric that you would not be seeing him until after the exams. It was an easy excuse not to see him, saying that you wanted to focus on studying for it; however, you knew that you would just be busy thinking about the creepy stalker gallery you have been receiving.

“Hey.” Unsurprisingly, a familiar voice whispers next to you which disrupts your heavy train of thoughts. “You finished studying for tomorrow? I’m about to end my review with Chemistry later.”

“Cool.” Probably the one of the most basic replies in the universe. “I haven’t finished studying, I’m kind of dealing with a lot of things recently.”

You made sure to generalize your answer, but enough for him to sympathize and at least give you some space.

“Oh, sorry to hear about that.” Peter frowns. He takes his seat a few desks away from your left, leaving you to continue thinking. You were thankful for his gesture too.

Surprisingly enough the boy barely bothered you for the entire lecture. You were still engrossed on finding out whoever was stalking you, even so dating back to boys you evidently rejected during the first semester – who badmouthed you immediately afterwards. There were not a lot of names, so it was easy to remember who was who.

You traced back to each boy and remembered what they said after you told them you were not ready to enter a relationship – a complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

Just as you expected from any of them, rumors have spread out about you which was mostly shaming you physically or mentally. Some were milder insults than the other yet at the end of the day you did not care.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. “Who was that boy at Liz’s party.”

Your eyes were sealed shut, recalling a list of names while using your thumb and middle finger to massage your temples. It was getting frustrating and mentally exhausting.

After some time, you had so much word filling in and our of your brain that you were not aware that your own name was being called. Your heart practically skipped a beat after hearing it the first time, assuming that you were being called to recite an answer. But you became content after seeing that it was just Peter, who started tapping your arm to get your attention.

“Huh?” You lightly shake your head before turning your head aside.

“Oh, class was dismissed a few minutes earlier than usual–”

“Don’t forget to answer the assignment regarding thermodynamic concepts found it the book. You’ll hand it in immediately on Wednesday.” The professor addresses the class as they were already carrying their bags and themselves out the room.

You start placing your stationeries inside yours, packing your other things up until it was only a pair of earphones and your phone left in front. Peter stood near the aisle while looking at you just as you were zipping your bag shut.

“Oh shoot, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he states out of nowhere causing you to furrow your eyebrows at him. “I forgot I still haven’t returned your Physics book I borrowed last week.”

Nodding your head and standing up, you shrug it off. “It’s fine. You can return it tomorrow.”

“Sure, but how will you do your Physics assignment?”

Oh yeah. Your professor literally reminded the class a few seconds ago.

“I think I might be able to do it overnight. How many pages is the task?”

“Eight, or nine I think.” He frowns looking very guilty at you.

“Shit,” you swore. That was a lot of pages than the usual assignments given.

“Yeah, professor said it could help add points if you somehow get a bad grade at the tests.”

“Never mind,” you tried to set his mistake aside. “I’ll try to do it within overnight tomorrow. I can ask for help from my friend tomorrow morning and–”

“Wait! I realized you can stop by my apartment to get it.”

“Oh–er, Peter, I don’t think I have time to–

“It’s just nearby the campus, I promise,” he assures and adds, “it wouldn’t be a hassle, it’s probably on your way home anyway so it won’t make a difference.”

“Uhm.” You were doubtful of him.

However, you did realize that you did not have anything to do after class. You were keeping distance with Eric for the meantime which meant that your schedule was mostly vacant after this.

“Please,” he begs, “I feel so bad for keeping it the whole week. I swear it’s like a few blocks from here.”

“Would it take more than twenty minutes?” You purse your lips, convincing yourself that you would rather force yourself to study at home than spend it at someone’s apartment.

“I only take around ten minutes to walk so,” he answers. “Unless you’re a slow walker, of course.” The tone of his voice seeming to be joking.

Again, he pleads. This kid will not fucking budge.

“Fine,” you blurt out. Though, you realized your sudden-almost lash out moment at the boy that you made sure to reiterate it but slower, “I mean, sure. I can stop by your apartment to pick up my book.”

An awaited smile and sense of agreement washes over you.

Peter then leads the way as you walked behind him, maintaining a short distance so people would not throw out any suspicious looks. Like in every college, everyone knows just how fast gossips formulate and rumors spread.

If you think about it though, it might avert anyone’s suspicion – mainly pertaining to your creepy stalker – with you and your Professor. But you were not prepared for that yet, maybe some time when you can finally think about its consequences through.

True to his word, as the both of you exited the campus, it took a short time before the boy in front of you told that you were about to enter through the entrance to the building of his apartment. You were not so sure if it was really a momentary walk or because you were so focused on thinking and keeping a distance.

At some points he did often look back in case you got lost from following him. Plus, like always, he asked you simple questions either about your day or your subjects to make small talk. In which case, you were barely answering him but definitely progressed compared to when he attempted for previous times during class.

In addition, as the two of you walked down the block, the number of faces you could only assume was in college decreased. Meaning that the glares at you eased up.

“Well, here’s my location.” A loud huff follows as he uses a key to unlock the door for the entrance to the building, “It wasn’t that far, was it?”

“Yeah, I guess it wasn’t that far.” You agree as he holds the door for you and then walks right after you.

As Peter leads you upstairs onto around the fourth level, he proceeds to walk along the corridors. The array of same beige colored doors with small golden indents of unit numbers paraded along it too. Eventually he stops and inserts a key into the lock, twisting it until hearing the unlocking sound.

For a moment you hesitated to follow him. You just wanted your book and you were sure he can give it to you on a shorter span than your walk from campus to here. Was it that troublesome?

Entering his complex, you discovered how minimalistic it looked. To be fair it seemed quite small, the living room instantly greeting you through the entrance and a kitchenette at the side. But since his things were tidied up, it looked roomy.

You instinctively close the door behind you, slightly aware that it did not create a locking sound. Following Peter, you took a few more steps until you stood still at the passageway between his living room and entryway.

“Do you want a drink?” Peter asks.

“No thank you.” You were still trying to subtle. “I just want my Physics book, Peter. Please?”

He looked at you and paused for a split second. You could feel the frown behind the expressionless look. “Yeah. Okay. Sure,” he nods for a few times before turning around and proceeding to a seemingly narrow hallway. “I’ll get it in my room. Be back in a second.”

Your feet faintly paced back and forth, still where you stood a few meters between the entrance and living room. After a few more minutes, Peter emerges carrying the familiar book with one hand.

He approaches you within a few stops but stops in his tracks, leaving a distance from you. “Well uh,” he starts as his chin was tucked.

“I just want to tell you something before I hand you back your book.” He looks up at you with really pleading eyes. During other instances in university, you were definitely familiar with that look. However, this one probably ranked as one of the most downhearted ones.

You did not want to feel regretful for him. Though it definitely feels like you just kicked a puppy.

“Was is it?”

“I love you,” he blurts out as his face goes back from hiding and looking down.

It seemed awkward. You were somewhat expecting it, but you were also hoping that this day would not come – or not at least until you graduate and leave the university.

“Oh.” You honestly did not want to react.

Were you going to say sorry? How about thank you? Would it be better if you said you did not like him back? Or will the best response be that you are already taken?

“Peter, I–”

“Are you really dating Eric?” He shots up with eyes appearing almost teary.

What. The. Fuck.

“No,” you mutter. It was not much of an answer to his question. It was more on being quite horrified as your mind started jumping to conclusions.

The amount of things running around your mind right now was immeasurable.

Firstly, anyone could make two and two out of what he said, especially knowing that no one knows it even so around your circle of friends.

Secondly, you should have thought better. Your doubts with Peter should have been grater and you totally underestimated him. However, some part of you prayed that he was just an annoyingly awkward nerd who follows his friends regarding flirting tips.

Lastly, you turned around and ran.

You probably got your way with opening the door and taking two steps out. It was not long before you felt arms wrap around your waist and either side of your arms. You were then lifted and pulled behind while you tried to kick at the air as an escape. Did not work though.

Peter was surprisingly stronger than you thought. He already seemed fairly muscular at class, hiding behind those long sleeved sweaters and flannels.

Eventually the last thing you remember was the image of the door of his apartment open while you get sucked into the room further. Everything went black afterwards.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

When you felt that you were slowly restoring to consciousness, you were aware of the pounding at the back of your head and your arms.

You tried to move your hands, wanting to press against the parts of your body that were aching. But you felt incapacitated as your wriggled your wrists around and felt an unfamiliar sticky fluid enveloping around them.

“Glad you’re awake,” a voice says. “Does your head hurt?”

You tried to open your eyes, the dark lighting of the room not cooperating with your vision. A light from the window and a lamp were the only things that helped you form something out of the void.

From there you saw Peter Parker sitting closely beside you at the edge of the bed.

Hell please let this be a nightmare.

“What–” You groan, “What do you want from me.”

Your mind was building up your anger yet your body says otherwise. You felt exhausted and heavy.

Peter shushed you in a caring manner, “We’ll talk when you feel better. I’ll let you get more rest okay, sweetie?”

“Uhh.”

That was what you could remember the most. If you have awoken for other times in between your sleep, then you surely did not have an idea of it.

When you finally woke up, the level of your grogginess felt little to none already. You looked around and saw that the room was still dark and seemingly still nighttime.

As your head was twisting from side to side, you saw Peter appear from the doorway carrying a translucent cup filled with water in one hand. “Hey, you’re finally awake.”

Instead of replying to him, your wrists writhe beneath the fluid that you are still not familiar of. You could not really look up to get a good view of what it was, but it was wet, sticky, and felt like super glue.

On the other hand, both your legs, ankles, and feet were free. The back of your thighs bounced against the bed as you struggled, but it would not do much since your arms were practically stuck.

“Fuck,” you grumble.

“That won’t help. You’re pretty much stuck there,” he says, Then he takes a seat at the edge of the bed, alike where you remembered him positioned from earlier, “Might as well talk to me until I let you go.”

“Okay then, when will you let me go?” Your voice was calm hoping you could talk your way out of this mess.

“If you behave for me like a good girl, okay?”

Shivers went up your spine as you cringed at his statement.

Immediately, your mood shifts from calm to furious after hearing his disturbing bargain. Then purposely rolling your eyes for him to see. “How the hell will I behave if you’re a creepy stalker! You disgust me!”

Peter hums, displaying a look wherein he seems like he was thinking. You were not sure if it was sarcastic or not, either way it annoyed the hell out of you. “Creepy stalker sounds overstated, it was more on being curious.”

You scoff as well as exclaim, “You sent me photographs of me and Eric at his house! Fucking hell, Peter.”

“Oh yeah that part.” He slyly pouts his lips to the side as he comes to realize what he had done, “I guess it was a bit creepy–” “What do you mean a bit? That was invasion of privacy!”

Despite being trapped, both your hands balled into a fist, feeling very furious at his dense answers. “I was living my own life! I kept my relationships to myself,” you cry out.

“Yes, but you weren’t completely living your life,” he whispers while gently combing his hair through the front of your hair. “You deserve much more than someone who couldn’t proudly tell that you’re his girl. Is he even a man? Do you really enjoy that kind of life, sweetie?”

“We were happy,” you weep. The evident crack on your voice was a signal that you were about to cry though you were not sure if it was because you were held hostage or because you were worried for Eric.

No one would understand your situation with him right now. Especially Peter.

“Trust me you weren’t,” he scoffs. “You deserve so much more, and I can give you that.”

“I’d rather be alone forever than be with you, asshole!” Your voice was inconsistent, clearly affected by how fast Peter’s mood also shifts quickly.

You also figured you were not looking entirely fresh while crumbling beneath him. Drops of tears and sweat were all over your face and neck, both your eyelids felt swollen, and your nose was almost stuffed.

Peter stand from the edge of the bed and advances to his desk from the side. A harsh bang echoed throughout the room as your body twitched out of shock.

“What does that dick have that I don’t?!” He grits his teeth as the curves of his jaw intensifies. A displeased look was written all over his face.

“P-please let me go.”

“I need you to answer, sweetie. We going nowhere unless you answer!” He was never going to let you go if you were not going to cooperate.

Every step he takes closer back to the bed just increases your heart beat further. He had rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to the edge of his elbows and you felt threatened looking at how firm his arms looked.

“Peter, p-please,” you hiccup.

As Peter returns to the edge of the bed, he does not hesitate anymore to keep a distance. His hands hover to either sides over your body and sets the left side of his head on your midriff, laying while also getting a good view of your vulnerable state.

He does not even look life he was struggling to make an effort to keep you down, but you could feel how heavy he was and was barely giving you a chance to move around.

“I can give you so much more, Y/N.” The way his gaze directs at you was definitely one of the creepiest things you have experienced. He had so much emotions yet completely lacked sympathy for your state of mind.

Shutting your eyes, you only cried further. You felt a hand cup one of your cheeks as its thumb wipes away the pouring tears. Like a broken record, you only pleaded more, “Please let me go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why.” You bawled, realizing he has no plans of releasing you anytime soon despite it. “I won’t tell anyone about this, I p-promise.”

“I know that,” he says, “but you’re going to run back to Eric, probably tell him too, right?”

You did not want to answer, merely shaking your head as you resisted a cry from your lips. It was somewhat what you had planned, but now you were just scared shitless.

“You won’t tell anyone but him cause no one knows about it other than you two, right?” He corners your words.

“Eric would lose his job if someone, especially your parents find out, right?” Hell he was correct. He most likely had been stalking you for so long to find out about it.

“You love him so much, you wouldn’t want to hinde

It was terrifying that someone had been learning about you and your life for a while without your awareness.

“Please stop. What do you want... money?” you whimper.

Peter did not seem likes normal college boy; he does not think like one, too, for sure. Anyone with a right mind would not do something like what he did. No one would have the guts to do so.

“I just want you, Y/N. I want to give you what you deserve,” Peter answers as he sits up and leans his face closer to yours. His mouth leaves a small gap from your right ear as he whispers, “Let me make you feel good.”

“No–”

He cuts off your plea with a proposition, “If you let me, I might consider letting you free.”

“You want that, right? Want me to let you go...” His hand combs through the other side of your face, “just let me show you that I can do way better than him.”

Every ounce of your blood was trying not to give in. You were smart, you ought to find a way out of this. However, you realized that it will not be enough. You already struggled so much from the super glue around your wrists and you could not imagine how much more would it take now that Peter was on top of you.

Eventually you stopped struggling and let him be. There was no way out of this than to let him do what he pleases.

You feel his lips press against your ear first and then progresses over your cheek. His grip around your arms loosen after detecting that you stopped struggling beneath him. You could feel him smile on your skin, “That’s it, relax for me. Good girl.”

His hand reaches to undo your pants as his lips drifted on yours to force their way on making out with you. Another hand then presses under your jaw and throat. “P-Peter,” you choke, feeling lightheaded after being unable to breath properly though your mouth until the grip had loosen.

“Sorry, babe.”

He soon descends from your face to your neck and collar region. You were so sure he was leaving marks on you as you felt him suck and nibble against your skin. Like a controlling asshole he was, you expect to see bruises on your skin by tomorrow.

Despite having your hands fastened, he still moves your shirt upwards past your head. It halts and hands loosely around your arms as you emerge topless beneath the boy.

“Fucking beautiful,” Peter compliments your body under his breath.

Although he seemed to have time on his hands, he does not leave a second wasted. He also goes to haul your pants past your legs and ankles. The growing look of impatience on his face says it all.

Peter moves from your side and welcomes himself between your legs. He spreads them out to have enough space for his body and you could not feel more embarrassed than this.

You grit your teeth over each other as you felt him press fingers against your cunt. Instinctively, you clench around nothing as he continues to play with your entrance, making sure you get entirely soaked under his touch.

“You know you shouldn’t hold back. I know you’re loving it so far, your body says otherwise,” he teases before laying on his stomach and moving his head closer to your pussy.

Without a warning, he licks a strip of you making the back of your thighs quake lightly. Peter senses your reaction and continues to do so, using his tongue to play around and poke inside of you until you were slowly giving in without even realizing it.

Just as you thought you were getting used to his actions, he then inserts fingers inside you, feeling your warmth around it as he pushes it in and out.

“Oh,” you moan.

He continues, making sure he also does not leave your bud of nerves behind. The tip of his fingers and tongue alternate on playing against it, making you throw back your head out of pleasure.

“I bet he doesn’t please you like this,” he scoffs.

Eventually, at your vulnerable state, you could already feel yourself closing to an orgasm. Your toes curled as your temples throbbed, sealing your eyes shut as you accepted on giving in.

You bit onto your lower lip, trying to resist a moan. Somewhere inside you, you were still trying to fight back and not let Peter have the satisfaction he had been craving.

“You’re being so tight... Just let it out.” He coaxes and you hate how you did what he told you so.

The extensive grin on his face seemed priceless. He pulled back and you were aware that you seemed exhausted beneath him. You assumed he was done with whatever he wanted to do with you.

But when he started to take off his sweater and unbutton his pants, you realized it was far from over.

As he presents himself just as naked in front of you, he again welcomes himself between your legs. This time you get a better view of him and his muscles and abs. He gets a good view of your body too for sure as his hand reaches to start stroking his dick.

He places one hand on your thigh and pushes it farther to give him more room. Finally, he inserts in inside you and you automatically felt him throbbing between.

There was a growing heat between the both of you, and it only intensified as Peter started to thrust his hips forward and backwards. There was not even a rhythm from him as he moves harder after hearing you softly moan underneath.

The slapping sound echoes through the room that would eventually reek of sex and you felt ashamed that your body was enjoying all of this.

“Ah… ah… ahh… agh….”

“You’re starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?” He brags as one hand was reaching for your breasts while the other holds your thigh up. “Fucking slut.”

Your body and mind were tired and could only hold so much longer. It was not a surprise when your stomach started to churn your the muscles in your thighs were cramping up.

Peter did no help after seeing you starting to wear out. He tried leaning in to make out with you and expect to moan into his mouth. You did for a moment, a combination of both your drools were streaming down from the corner of your mouth.

“We’re making a mess, huh,” he mumbles. “But I know you’re already a dirty fucking girl.”

He proceeds to deprave you with statements, “Can’t believe you’re enjoying my cock better than that old man’s... Such a fucking whore.”

You twist your head aside, trying to hide the fact that you feel like your temperature were burning up. You were so sure he could feel the increasing warmth of your walls either way.

Your eyes were rolling back as you resist arching your back, which was not really a success as the amount of pleasure was overwhelming.

As you writhe beneath him, you felt a hand on your cheek. It pushes your head back onto looking at front and at Peter. “I want you t look at me when you’re going to cum, sweetie,” he orders and you could not do much anyways.

The second time you came was a whole other level. You never felt this with any person you slept with so far, rather not this fast and intense to say. “That’s it, fuck, you’re tighter than I could ever imagine.”

Peter continues until it was his time to cum. The bed continues to move along with his pace and your body was basically abused to his liking.

And even if you were not aware of it, the boy was practically thankful that his agency decided to agree to soundproofing his whole apartment – his motive being for personal reasons, which they did not question any time soon.

You were helpless, you knew that. All you had in mind now was rest. Your eyelids were heavy and your mind was drifting to slumber.

The last thing you remember was Peter moving over your body to come all around your chest like a painter with its paint brush creating a masterpiece from your chest to your core.

“I love you.”

a/n: ily pls leave comments <3

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a-simple-imagine · 3 years

Text

An Afterthought pt.2

Synopsis: Maeve shows up on your doorstep one night all sad and what not then leaves. Now it’s your turn to try and make amends.

Pairing: Queen Maeve x fem!reader

Words: 4.1+

A/N - Did someone call for an angsty part 2 to a story i put out almost a year ago?? I got a fair few requests for this so here it is. I hope you enjoy it sorry if you don’t. request are open btw.

Warning - Swearing, violence and a very brief mention of zombies.

Part 1

Thoughts about Maeve are more frequent as of late. What was once just a passing thought as you spotted her face on magazine covers or painted on walls now became bothersome. What exactly had brought her to your doorstep that night? It had just been so unexpected. It left you so painfully curious for answers. There had to be more to the story. Not to mention, you also found yourself missing here once again: more so than before. A deep ache that came from an old forgotten wound that had begun to heal through time. A week had passed before you decided to do something stupid. It's amazing what you can find out online these days.

A bright sun sat high in the sky which left the air dry and you feeling warm. The hustle and bustle of city life was always your least favourite thing about living here and it was even worse today. Crowds of people stand behind a barrier that was maned by a few security guards. Did these people not having anything better to do than gawk at supes all day? You had basically scrubbed the internet to find out where she would be today which lead to a Twitter thread between someone called @MAEVESWIFE and @maelander who were talking about a vought commercial being shot outside the tower today. Queen Maeve and Homelander would both be there. But at least you personally knew here unlike these guys. It was kind of cool how many people idolised them. Working your way through the crowd, you earned some very dirty looks for trying to get to the front. Homelander and Maeve were in fact stood before a crew of people and a few cameras, smiling brightly and saying something you couldn't quite hear. Maeve seemingly spots you among the crowd so you wave a little. It was hard to figure out if she was happy or furious but she signals for a break and charged towards you. The crowd erupts with excitement as the Queen herself graces them with her presence and Homelander trails behind her. The woman offers nothing but polite smiles to the adoring fans as she takes your hand leading you along the length of the barrier and over to the threshold. It was safe to say that just about everyone who was still standing behind the security guards was very pissed off that you were getting special treatment.

"What are you doing here?" She growls through gritted teeth and a plastered on smile that disappears once you're out of view from prying eyes.

"I wanted to see you after-"

"Who's this?" You both turn to him and then back to each other.

"Oh my god, it's Homelander," You express, plastering on your brightest smile. Tall, Muscular with an award-winning smile. Bright blue eyes and silky blonde hair. The one and only Homelander walks up beside the two of you. It was almost humbling to be standing before the leader of the seven. He was so powerful- they both were and you were nothing short of ordinary.

"This is a closed set,"

Maeve didn't seem to know what to say exactly so you take it upon yourself to introduce yourself to him as her friend. Although you weren't even sure you could call yourself that at this point. It was a complicated relationship and considering you had broken up, it was the most appropriate label.

"Oh, She has never mentioned you,"

You're about to answer when Maeve takes your arm abruptly and pulls you away from the man. "Will you give us a second,"

A little confused, you give him a little wave goodbye paired with an awkward little smile. His eyes seem to trail after you but you think nothing of it.

"He's taller than expected," You muse aloud as attention falls back to your ex-girlfriend. Arms crossed over her chest and with a less than favourable expression on her face, it's pretty clear she isn't happy. Now she knows what it's like to have an ex show up unannounced.

"What do you want?" Maeve whisper yells at you. "I'm a little busy."

"I know just..." A quick glance to Homelander who had returned to his adoring fans. He had superhearing so you were pretty sure he could still hear you anyway. "after the other night I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"If everything was fine you wouldn't show up on my doorstep." A casual shrug of your shoulders. Maeve may be able to fake a smile for the cameras but it was always pretty obvious to you when she was lying to you.

"I said I'm fine. You need to leave."

"Maeve," A soft sigh leaves your lips and you take her hand in yours; brushing your thumb over the back of her hand. "You can talk to me."

"Leave," She growls, pulling her hand away. "Please."

"We need to talk about the other night- you at least owe me that."

With a deep breath, Maeve turns on her heel and begins to walk away. "I'm busy,"

For a moment you just watched her walk away then jogged after her. "Then we can talk later- you could come by tonight? I'll even make dinner."

"Fine. Now leave."

This time you let her walk away and continue making her little advertisement. You wouldn't admit to her that you stuck around a little longer. Even got a chance to talk to Homelander a little before heading home. Chill dude, if not a little intimidating. Maybe it had been a stupid idea to invite your ex-girlfriend over for dinner but you wanted to get to the bottom of all this. You were actually a little nervous for her to arrive. Cooking had never been your specialty but you wanted everything to be perfect. A quick stop on the way home to buy groceries, you worked on dinner since getting home. pacing around as you waited for her to arrive. And waited. And waited. and waited. Lucky for the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach, Maeve didn't show up. It probably should have been expected. She had never been the most reliable person unless she was saving the world apparently.

A loud bang has you stirring awake before the sun. It was probably just the neighbours; a loud groan as you bury your face into the covers to go back to sleep. But the banging doesn't stop and you soon realise it's your door. Rolling over, you check your phone to see it's four in the morning. What could anyone want at this time in the morning? Dragging yourself from under the protection of the duvet, you cautiously head to the door. Peaking through the peephole to see... Queen Maeve. "Just give me a chance."

A chance? You weren't sure she deserved any more of those but you still unlock the door and pull it open. Glancing over her as she offers up a smile. Does she ever wear anything other than her armour? "Chances comes after nine am." You protest putting what little strength you had into trying to close the door. It was effortless on her end to keep it open.

"You invited me over, remember?"

"I invited you over for dinner, Maeve. No sane person has dinner at four in the morning."

"I forgot I had a team-up with Black Noir- Just let me in."

With a defeated sigh, you step aside and retire to the couch. Slumped down against the cushions, your head falls back as your eyes flutter closed. The click of your door infers she follows you inside.

"Tired?"

"Mhmm." You hum, nodding nonchalantly.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee?" Maeve suggests and again, you nod. She was familiar with the apartment so she knew where everything was but it still felt a little odd to have her wandering around with such familiarity. Who just shows up this early for a serious talk? A silence comes between the two of you. She may have attempted to keep the conversation going in between asking if you wanted coffee and delivering it to you but you didn't notice. Sitting up as a hand is gently placed against your shoulder, she hands over a large mug.

Blowing gently over the top before you take a tentative sip; warmth radiated from the liquid as it slips down your throat. Maeve joins you, perching on the edge of the couch as if she was ready to leave again. Maybe she was now regretting her decision to visit. You were kind of regretting opening the door instead of just going back to sleep instead. Since you were up anyway, might as well make the most of it.

"I can- I can make you breakfast or something if you want? Since you... missed dinner."

"Oh great, yeah," Maeve responds.

"What would you like? Cereal, toast, pancakes maybe?"

"Pancakes would be great." Of course, they would. She had to pick the option that required the most effort. You didn't mind making her something as much as you just didn't want to get up.

"Alright just... give me a moment to wake up."

"You won't wake up if you keep trying to go back to sleep," A snarky remark that earned her a small smile, your middle finger shoots up in response. The two of you just sit in silence together and every few seconds or so you'd take a sip of the coffee she made. It was all feeling a little awkward. Placing the mug down on the coffee table, you rise and get started on making breakfast. Maeve moves from the couch to the kitchen table, fiddling with the little salt and pepper shakers that always resided there. You don't know what to say and clearly, neither does she.

"So... how are things?" You question as you whisk the mixture together.

"I'm fine, I guess" She shrugs a little. You can't help but sigh a little. "What?"

"Nothing," you insist, grabbing the frying pan and place it over a medium heat; Adding a blob of butter and some oil. "If you don't want to talk Maeve then why did you bother to come over?"

Placing down the salt and pepper shaker with a clink, her attention falls to you. "because you asked."

"Yeah, I asked to talk about the other night. You were clearly messed up."

"Why is it so hard to believe I was just looking to fuck?" It was really hard to believe but rather that you just knew it wasn't true. You were pretty sure Maeve had her choice of partners should she require one. So why come to your door?

"Because I'm not stupid" You pour the mixture into the pan with a satisfying sizzle. "I know you well enough to know that's bull."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought."

Flipping the pancake over, you're taken back by her comment. Did you know Maeve as well as you thought? You had never expected her to just up and leave you one day and she did? She lived an entire superhero life that you knew nothing about. Maeve had always been pretty private when it came to that side of herself. You make another couple of pancakes before serving her up a plate.

"You aren't eating?"

"Too early," you return, taking up the seat opposite her. You watch as her fork pierce the surface of the pancake, cutting off a small piece and pop it into her mouth.

"Taste okay?"

"They're good," Mouth hidden behind the palm of her hand as she mumbled through her food. It lowered a moment later. "I came over because my job is hard. I was the in the area, I was having a tough day."

"A tough day?" Getting any sort of details out of her was like pulling teeth. Why was she so reluctant to speak to you? If she didn't want to have this conversation she should have just no turned up like she hadn't for dinner. Would have saved the effort and you could be sleeping right now.

"Yeah,"

"That's that then." Hands slap against the table as you rise from the seat. No point in sticking around if this wasn't going anywhere. "Case closed. When you're finished just leave the plate in the sink, I'm going back to bed."

"Seriously?"

"You woke me up at four am just to tell me you had a bad day. Shit, I have plenty of bad days, I don't show up at Vought tower." You start walking back towards your bedroom although your slow, hesitant even like you were just waiting for an excuse to turn back.

"I really was having a bad day," she repeats. "Really bad. And all I could think about was seeing you." And getting drunk, guess she just conveniently forgot about that part. There were many moments although brief where you were having a hard time and you thought about going to see Maeve. She used to be such a big part of your life it was almost an instinct to return to her for comfort. You never actually did obviously. As pathetic as her explanation was, it brought you back to the dining table. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends."

"What's the worst thing you could ever imagine?"

"Huh?" What kind of question was that?

"Just answer it,"

Your mouth opens but no answer comes to mind at all. You were more curious about the reason behind it. It's too early for philosophical debates and it had nothing to do with anything you had been talking about. "uh, I don't know... post-apocalyptic zombie invasion, maybe?"

"Can you take this seriously?"

"I am," you huff. It was a stupid question anyway. "Zombies-"

"really freak you out, I remember." Strange thing to remember. It couldn't have come up in conversation often. It was a little funny the small things people remembered about each other. "I meant something that could actually happen though. I've seen some pretty fucked up shit."

"Like what?" She turns to you like she's about to say something but quickly stops herself. Continuing the eat the breakfast you so lovingly prepared. With the way she had been playing with her food, you suspected she no longer wanted it despite having hardly eaten any.

"Being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sometimes I wish I could just live a normal life or whatever"

"Nothing glamorous about a normal life," You stifle a yawn. "I think I'd rather be adored by millions and save the day but we aren't all lucky enough to have powers."

"Lucky," A bitter laugh. "I wouldn't call myself lucky."

"You're being so weird." You comment, a quirked brow.

"I would rather be adored by one person who truly means it."

"Guess that's all anyone wants. Supe or not."

Her eyes meet yours for a few seconds before dropping. Did she mean you? There was no doubt you had feelings for the woman and very much still did. But you can't imagine it's anything compared to the weirdos who worship the ground she walks on. They obviously didn't really know her and vice versa but still. There was an element of pureness that came with being so dedicated to someone. "You never answered my question."

"I don't know Maeve it's too early..." You grumble. "Do you want me to say something like war or famine or something?"

"Not unless it's the truth."

Everyone wished for world peace. Everyone wanted to feed the hungry. House the homeless. Basic answers that any decent person would come up with. It lacked originality. It lacked feeling. Everyone would probably have a more personal reason."What's yours?"

"Something happening to you... because of me."

"Really? That's the worst thing you can think of?" Didn't she just say she had seen a lot of messed up stuff and yet her concern resided with you? What did she think would happen? And didn't a broken heart technically count as something happening because of her? Shifting in your seat, you lean down onto the table before you. Thinking of your own answer. The worst thing you could imagine?

"I answered," she shrugs but doesn't elaborate. "Now you go."

"I guess... finding out you died," Should you admit something like that? "You're the strongest person I know. I still... care for you. I'm not sure I would handle it well- Is that a better answer?"

"It's sufficient."

"Sufficient? I really don't know what you want from me Maeve? I don't know what the worst thing is, okay? I'm too tired for this shit."

She places her cutlery carefully on the plate, pushing out her seat. "I should go."

"Maeve?"

"I'll go, you can go back to bed. I don't even know why I came here."

"No. Stay. I wanna talk."

" Let's just forget this ever happened." Brushing herself off, Maeve heads back towards the door. This whole back and forth was growing awfully tiresome. Every time you thought you scratched the surface of her mask, there was a new layer underneath more impenetrable than the last. Maybe you should just let her go? It'd be easier. It was probably for the best too but when she had shown up at your door the other night, you realised just how much you still wanted this. Still wanted her. She may have left you one day without any explanation but seeing her for the first time in a long time had brushed all rational thought aside. You were in love with her even now. Tears brimmed your eyes whether it was due to tiredness or a flush of emotions, it was unclear.

"If you walk out that door I'm done," You declare as confidently as you can. Hoping your sadness was hidden amongst the dim light that filled the entire room. "Don't bother showing up on my doorstep when you have a shitty day." Maeve pauses with her hand on the doorknob but only for a second before twisting the handle and pulling open the door. "Maeve... just tell me what's going on with you, please."

"Everything I have done to you was to protect you." Final words as she leaves. The door clicking behind her. To protect you? From what? What was she even talking about anymore. Anger bubbles deep inside you and you find yourself charging after her. Bursting out into the chilly hallway, you catch her in the corner of your eye. She was leaning against the wall just outside your apartment basking in the flicker of the corridor light.

"Protect me from what?" You wonder quietly, taking a wary step closer. "I don't understand."

"...Homelander." Voice but a whisper mumbled into the darkness. Homelander? The Homelander? Why would you need protection from him, you didn't even know him? Plus he was like a beloved superhero and the last time you checked, superheroes were the good guys.

"You're scared of... the world's greatest superhero?"

"Never meet your heroes."

"Aren't you two like friends? You even dated him. Why are you scared of him?" Another step closer, you lay your hand tenderly on her shoulder. An attempt to support her even if you didn't understand the situation. "He didn't seem so bad when I met him yesterday. I actually spoke with him after."

"You spoke after? Why?" Maeve snarled swiftly making you back away a little only for her hand to snap around your wrist. Cold fingertips apply a deep pressure to your skin as if it's taking everything in her not to press harder. You swallow hard, confused by her anger. "I told you to leave"

"It- it's not a big deal. He just wanted to know more about us," Even you can hear the panic in your voice as you struggle to get the words out. It was a little embarrassing, to say the least, but you'd never really experienced this side of Maeve before. Her anger had never really been directed towards you.

"And you told him?"

"Yeah. He took it pretty well actually, I was surprised. "

"How can you be so fucking stupid?" Her grasp begins to stiffen around your wrist. Maeve was strong, inhumanly so. If she wanted to she could break every one of your bones like it was nothing. That never used to bother you so much but in this instance, your own weakness had never been more apparent.

"Maeve," You struggle against her grip, a pleading look as you meet the brown of her eyes. "...You're scaring me,"

Those magic words seemed to break the spell that had come over her and Maeve released you in an instant. Regret washing off her face in record time. "I'm sorry, okay- I'm sorry," You take a step back; the other hand rubbing at the wrist she just let go off. "I didn't mean to- I wouldn't hurt you."

"I... let's just go back inside." It's hard to pretend that didn't just happen. That Maeve didn't almost crush your wrist for doing the wrong thing. But it wasn't her fault, right? She just isn't herself at the moment. Her emotions got the best of her when she found out you told Homelander about your relationship. Warily, you hold out your hand in offering. It's a little shakey but you just hope she doesn't notice as she takes your hand and you lead the way back into your apartment. Shutting the door behind the two of you, you return to the couch. Sat on either ends so you're as far away as possible without being on the floor, things are feeling a little awkward now. You can't help but focus on your wrist, the feeling of her hand still lingers in a ghostly embrace. "I'm sorry I told Homelander about us."

"You didn't know..."Maeve lets out a heavy sigh as she turns to face you. "Homelander is a monster. He's hurt people just for looking at me funny- "

"Oh." A little surprising to hear. You had always kind of suspected Homelander was a bit of an arsehole but not that he was inherently a bad person. He saves people after all. You've seen him save people. He was basically on the news every other day or in the newspaper or trending on Twitter. There was no evidence to supporting Maeve's theory but you also had no reason not to trust her. She had no reason to lie to you.

"He's done atrocious things. He's made me do atrocious things. I was trying to protect you from him- and from myself,"

"...Why are you telling me this now?" Couldn't she have just told you all this from the beginning? It still didn't explain why she had just shown up the other day either? Clearly, something had happened between her and Homelander at least that's what you gathered from the context.

"To keep you safe," Maeve returns. "So you'll stop hating me."

"I could never hate you," An offer of a faint smile that may or may not betray you. When she had first left you, you were so filled with hatred but it was so hard to stay angry at her. You didn't hate her anymore but you couldn't say you were simply over it now. "It's not your fault."

"It is though- I put you in this situation. I let those people die,"

"What are you talking about? What people?" Every time Maeve opened her mouth you grew slightly more confused and you didn't know how to help. Watching her with an inquisitive eye, you notice as a tear or two begins to glide down her rose-tinted cheeks. It was enough to bring your walls crashing down. Whatever she was talking about must be really affecting her for her to start crying. A hand reaches out only to pull back as you remember what happened last time. You take a deep breath, sitting up a little straighter.

"I should have stood up to him but I was scared."

"Scared of Homelander," You repeat. Still trying to process the information.

"I don't want to be a monster like him." Against your better judgement, this time you shuffle closer and entice her into a soothing hug. Holding onto her tightly like you never wanted to let go because frankly, you didn't. Maeve was warm, she was safe. You wanted to offer her that same sense of comfort even if it was impossible. You wanted to drown in her affection.

"You're not a monster, Maeve" The other woman melts into your caring touch, burying her face in the crook of your neck. You were so used to confident, super-strong Maeve that it was a little weird to have her be so vulnerable. Especially sober. But even your words weren't enough to trick your brain into quelling that twinge of fear that now resides in you. "Whatever's going on, I'm gonna help you get through it. I promise."

#the boys #Queen Maeve #queen maeve x reader #queen maeve imagine #dominique mcelligott

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

Delete the Twitter app, Mr. Barba

In which Rafael Barba deletes the Twitter app because of the Householder case, and Carmen babysits him.

Accidental Feminist Icon

The last thing on Rafael Barba’s mind when he was in the hospital room with Maggie Householder was his online reputation. Once he’d turned himself in and been released on his own recognizance, however, he opened his phone to call mami and instead saw hundreds of Twitter notifications, emails from people whose names he didn’t recognize, and missed calls and voicemails from unfamiliar numbers. He didn’t touch Twitter, texting Carmen to ask how bad it was and she advised him to delete the application until at least after the trial. When he went home, mami was there and just as disappointed as he expected. There were tears the minute she saw him, but not any offered comfort.

“You murdered a child, mijo.”

“You don’t understand, mami. No lo viste. El no estaba realmente vivo.”

“Esa fue la decisión de Dios. No es tu decisión. Tu abuela estaría tan decepcionada de ti.”

“No estoy de acuerdo. Si estás aquí para regañarme, vete a casa.”

“Te llevo a la confesión.”

“Vete a casa, mami. Me confesaré cuando esté lista.”

“Rafa-”

“Go home.”

Lucia stormed out, and Rafael went inside his apartment and went straight for the scotch he kept aside. It wasn’t his good scotch. It was the cheap one that burned his throat and left him sicker than he ever was the next day. Before twisting off the cap, he heeded Carmen’s advice, deleting the Twitter app as he dropped to the couch and began to drink. It was only eleven, not even noon, but he didn’t want to remember what had transpired the day before. He should wade through his email, but someone had posted it. He knew because it was referenced time and time again that they’d found his personal email via some Twitter thread or Subreddit or something else he hadn’t yet encountered. He’d had to mute his phone as phone calls rolled in; the only one he answered confirmed it was strangers from the Internet who had seen the news. Carmen called it getting cancelled when it happened to other people. That usually didn’t involve the loss of a life, so the term seemed not quite right for what was happening, especially given the fact this included more than just the people he was used to. People who had never encountered him were hearing about him in the news.

He ignored Olivia’s calls, considering the morning’s interactions enough. As he drank, Rafael was able to filter unknown numbers and messages, tossing the phone aside and quickly finishing the bottle. Olivia came by, and he didn’t answer, choosing to lay back on the couch as the room spun around him. Carmen texted him, and he didn’t look. An hour later, he heard her outside of his door with Olivia and unlocking he apartment for her. He’d given her a key long ago so she could get files or suits or drop off leftovers. Both of them came in, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had his suspenders down and shirt open over his undershirt. He’d spilled the most recent tumbler over himself with the pizza he’d ordered. And now, they could see him like this, eyes rimmed red and mood unstable as he thought more than he could about himself.

“Mr. Barba,” Carmen said softly, kneeling by him. Olivia stayed closer to the door, surveying the room. By the nature of their constant proximity, Carmen had seen the tail end or starts of Rafael getting frustrated, though he always pressed it down with a glass of scotch and good meal. That said, she’d found him too drunk after a trial didn’t go his way. Seen him frustrated as he went through a case he may not be able to do anything about it. Caught him yelling at paperwork as though something would happen. She’d also seen him the next mornings when he came in pretending not to be insanely hungover and was wearing the suit from his office.

“I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t. Is this what happens between an eight o’clock bourbon and the office suit?”

“Shut up, Carmen.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry,” he said with a huff as his hand ran down his face, and Olivia had to stifle a laugh at how properly embarrassed he looked. “My email and phone are bad. How bad is Twitter?”

“Medium. A lot of people understand. Or they feel that they can’t understand, so they’ll watch the story.”

“People understand murder?” he scoffed.

“No. No one does. But we all understand how impossible your choice was. How badly the parents were hurting.”

“I was too selfish to do it for my dad.”

“I know, Mr. Barba. But people want to know how long until they hear more. Want people to wait. Can see why you did it. It’ll blow over. We can change your number and your email. Twitter has a really handy button. Block.”

“My name’s Rafael.”

“You’re my boss.”

“Not for long,” he chuckled bitterly before his gaze softened. “All I wanted was for people not to hurt.”

“You need to go to bed, Rafa.” It was Olivia now, and his eyes suddenly snapped open. It was different when it was Olivia. They were friends, but they kept things to work. Other than the occasional group event, they’d grab dinner after work. She didn’t hear him debate pocket squares or see him drunk alone in his office or help him think of replies on Twitter. He’d probably lose his friendship with Carmen once he wasn’t in the office, he supposed. She humored her boss a lot more than she probably should.

“I’m fine, Liv.” It came with more of a snort than he liked, and he was suddenly pulling himself up to sit, wrapping his shirt around himself as though it were a cardigan. Carmen watched he was steady, and Olivia was sure she now knew what she’d looked like when Noah was learning to walk on his own with her hand on his back to keep him upright. Once things passed, she wanted to ask if Rafael was always this willing to be relaxed around Carmen, but she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

“I don’t think I’m helping things,” Olivia said softly, and Carmen gave a gentle nod.

“My son’s with my mom for a visit. I’ll take care of him.”

“You’re sure? I can call Lucia.”

“I’m fine, lieutenant. And mami has already been here.”

“Make sure he meets with an attorney tomorrow.”

“I make his calendar. I know.”

“You two can stop talking about me like I’m not here,” he grumbled, heels pressed against his eyes. “I’m drunk, not deaf.”

“You’re belligerent, counsellor.”

“Call me Rafael,” he said again, flopping onto the couch when Olivia had left again.

“I thought Lieutenant Benson was your best friend, Rafael.”

“She is, I guess. Is that sad? My best friend used to be Alex, but I pursued that case. As if mami needed more reason to hate me.”

“You don’t act like you in front of her. Not all the way.”

“This isn’t me.”

“It’s you without a carefully constructed persona.”

“If that’s the case, I suppose you’re my best friend, Miss Frye.” She’d expected to see a bemused smirk or annoyed scowl, but Carmen was taken aback by how sincere he looked as his hand moved to rest on her forearm and squeeze as well as he could.

“My name’s Carmen,” she teased. “Now come on. You need to go to bed.”

“My suit will get wrinkled.”

“I’ll hang it for you.”

“You can sleep in the guest room. It’s not safe for you to go-” His eyes were suddenly wide. “Carmen, where’s Ollie?”

“With my mom. I told her you needed me for a couple days.”

“You don’t need to disrupt your life.”

“I’ll tell you a secret Mist- Rafael.”

“What?” he asked, flopping into bed where she’d pulled the blanket down once he managed to strip to his boxers.

“You’re my best friend too.” She tugged the blanket over him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. He smiled up at her, and she made her way out turning off the lights. It seemed silly to say it to someone like him, but they’d worked together a long time, had a lot of late night talks. She liked him more than a lot of people she knew, and saw him more than anyone outside of her family.

Carefully, she cleaned his living room, dumping his other bottle of cheap scotch out and disposing of both before setting up the coffee to brew at seven, just in time to have him at an attorney’s office by nine. McCoy had approved her to work from wherever she needed to in order to keep Rafael functioning. She’d have been miserable helping Peter Stone with this trial anyway. They both knew about his father, and it seemed he may be a ticking time bomb. She logged into his twitter, going on a blocking spree as she explored his mentions, tweeting from her own account and his that she’d done it and retweeting it from his account.

She also liked all the kind ones. The ones asking for understanding or expressing empathy. The ones that acknowledged he had an impossible choice and neither one would have sat well with their own conscious. Leave a child and his family to suffer without end or expedite the inevitable. Then there were his direct messages. Since getting verified, he had the ability to only see messages from people he followed. As she combed through, there were a couple of hateful messages she ignored, but most who knew him expressed understanding and a couple even included leads if he wanted out of the city. She marked those down in her notes app before falling asleep in the guest bedroom.

The sound that greeted her in the morning was Rafael Barba vomiting as the coffee machine roared to life in the background. Silently, she ordered ginger tea and vitamin b12 for delivery, going to fetch the pedialyte she’d brought from home. When he came out, hair wet from a shower, she’d already brewed him tea, cooked breakfast, and given him an expectant look as she slid a glass of unnaturally purple electrolytes to him. He didn’t know what to say, so he took the proffered glas and took a long sip before wincing.

“Grape,” she said plainly.

“Grapes don’t taste like that.”

“Ollie likes it okay. I make him popsicles though.”

“He’s old enough for popsicles? Isn’t he still on milk?”

“Rafael, he’s two. He drinks milk, but he even eats.”

“Does he like books yet?”

“He does. He really likes being read to.”

“I’ll read to him next time I see him.” He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was thick. “Do you play him music?”

“Some. Usually my playlists.”

“Play him Bach.”

“You’ll have to tell me what’s best to play him.”

“I’ll send you a playlist.”

“Why Bach?” She watched as his jaw shifted from side to side, lips pressed together, and that told her all she needed to know. “Drew liked Bach?”

“He’d never know if he liked Bach. Maggie was playing one of his cantatas.”

“Maybe we can take him to an orchestra one day.”

“There are some shows. Kid friendly.”

“He’d like that.”

“I’ll send it to you.”

“You’ll come, won’t you?”

“Me?”

“It’s your idea.”

“You’d still let me around your son?”

“My son is a healthy vibrant boy. If he was in the same situation as Drew, it would be hard, but I’d still want you there. You did exactly what I would have done for him, okay?”

“Did you mean what you said last night?”

“Which part?”

“The last part.”

“You probably are my best friend. And that hasn’t changed. I wish you didn’t have to be put in the situation, but I would hope I’d have been strong enough to do the same. And other people agree with me.”

“God, you’re not actually looking at Twitter.”

“I looked at Twitter. I blocked anyone vitriolic. But, I collected all the kind ones in your favorites for when you’re ready. A lot of your attorney friends have job leads for you if you leave the DA’s office.”

“I’m leaving. And I’m probably going to fucking prison. You’ll be down a friend in a few months.”

“Stop it.”

“They’ll end me in there, Carmen. I sent some of them there.” She wasn’t sure what to make at how at peace with the prospect he was.

“And you won’t go to prison. Don’t focus on that. Even if you do, they’ll have to do something to protect you. And I’ll come visit you.”

“You barely know me.”

“We spend more time together than I do with anyone else. I know you’re good, you have a good heart, you send birthday presents to every SVU detective’s kid and think I don’t know you send them coffee gift cards on their birthdays. You’re a total mama’s boy and despite what a snarky prick you are, you have imposter syndrome out the ass. You’re lapsed enough Catholic not to go to church, but you pray when things are really bad. I also know some part of your brain feels like you’ve let down people who think you do good work by this one thing, but one bad doesn’t outweigh an exorbitant amount of good. I hope Ollie has half of the ethical backbone you do. I know there have been occasions in the past you weren’t perfect, but the man I’ve known deserves every ounce of credit he gets. That doesn’t mean you’ve never made a mistake.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, and much to his chagrin, Carmen wrapped him in a hug that he returned, refusing to look at her. He was suddenly aware he’d cry if he looked at what he knew was a genuine smile. “I’ve got to get dressed to see an attorney.”

“Who are you going with?”

“Randy Dworkin.”

“He’ll be good.”

“I hate to admit that. And I’m sure I’ll hate every second with him.”

“How about you teach me about Bach this afternoon?”

“You have work.”

“McCoy approved me to be remote.”

“So you’re my sitter?” She could almost swear a smile pulled at the corner of his lip, and she felt pride she didn’t expect.

“I suppose. So Bach?”

“Bring Ollie?”

“Deal.”

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #law and order #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #Rafael Barba x Carmen

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poptod · 3 years

Text

The Ivory Haunting (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: His face is engrained into your head but his name is nowhere. Where does he exist? Why are you so obsessed?

Notes: this is strangely creepy and i dont know why. its not what i meant to do but i think its cool anyway. gender neutral as fuckin always WC: 3.1k

There's this carving – more of a bust or sculpture – that has your mind twisted every which way. It's a stupid thing, really, but you can't get his expression out of your head, and thus it haunts your waking and sleeping hours. The style is Egyptian, you think. He's wearing a crown on his head, one that you've seen in a couple museums before, and he has an absent smile on his face. While you scroll through the endless amount of photos of ancient Egyptian statues online, you note that it's an all too common expression.

At this point you can't even recall where you first saw it. Could've been through the endless internet surfing or the many museums you visited in your travels, but at the end of the day you're stumped. What was his name? Where did you meet him?

It's clear as day. His alabaster skin. He looks straight at you with empty eyes, the irises having eroded many years ago in the hot sahara sun. His nose has long fallen off, leaving behind a jagged scar that drags from his brow down to his lips, where that haunting smile sits so easily. They're full, his lips – sweet, and soft, even for stone. At each end are little dips, showcasing the slight smile. His chin is a little big, but it makes way for the sharp contrast of his jawline. He has cheekbones – mostly hidden behind the crown – and his ears are a little large. The trait that draws your attention each time is his eyes. Blank. Like they had truly been staring at the world for thousands of years.

You don't get out much anymore, not since the restrictions were put in place. There are moments, especially in the dead of night, in which you want so desperately to leave your tiny apartment, but the curfew states otherwise. Policemen and government workers roam the streets and you'd rather not get into a tussle over something so small as an urge.

Still, you stare outside your window, wondering why it feels like you're suffocating. This is how you spend a lot of your time nowadays, staring at the streets. There's hardly any cars out, and the sidewalks are barren, a sight you'd seen only once before during the original quarantine. London is not a quiet city. It's quite the opposite, and to see it muted is in the least upsetting.

Your job is... easy. Considering the state of the world, you're incredibly lucky, retaining your job and keeping away from the outside. You also get a lot of free time. Usually you'd spend it in front of a television, or in a good book, but now it's in front of your computer screen. The typing marker flashes in front of you, placing behind it the clear words you've searched at least a hundred times by now.

ANCIENT EGYPTIAN BUSTS

By now you know what the first images are going to be. Nefertiti, mostly – her bust is by far the most famous. Then there's of course Akhenaten with his elongated skull, followed by several advertisements for Kemetic worship.

You don't know much about Egyptian history. Or, at least you didn't use to. Now you recognize the faces, though rarely do you ever remember the names of the many forgotten dead. You're just looking for one – one name, one bust, one dead man.

He's nowhere, not in the books you buy or the articles you read. When you sign up for an online course of ancient Egyptian history, you expect to see his face in a textbook, but he's not there. Sometimes it feels like you're the only one who remembers him, which is funny – you don't even know him. Either way it's a way to occupy the time, since you have so much of it lately.

The British Museum is reopening. There's a whole thing about COVID, of course, and the only way to enter is to get tickets online. Only a handful of people are allowed inside the museum at once, and since you don't hear about it until later, you are set to wait a month and a half before you can visit. Bitterness wells up in the pit of your stomach, but like most things you set it aside. None of it really matters anyway – yes, not knowing his name feels like drowning mid-air, but it won't kill you.

From the moment you reserve a ticket to the moment you can actually use it, you dream of him every night. Sometimes it's actually him, no longer a statue, taking your hands and leading you somewhere you don't belong. His skin is warm, unlike his statue, but just as soft as you imagined. His nails are meticulously cleaned and his eyes are bright, full of a life you're desperate to understand. It doesn't make any sense. You're yearning so deeply for him, for something you've never known before, and every second away feels like pure horror in your veins.

Why do you need him this much?

You look at yourself in the mirror, fixing a strand of hair that falls in front of your eyes. You're dressed well – at least comparatively to your former few weeks of dress – and a quiet excitement thrums in your heart. Today is a day you're going to go out, and to make it better you're going to the museum. They have an Egyptian exhibit. A foolish part of yourself hopes you'll find him there, nestled in the corner of a long and fruitful hallway filled with Egyptian statues.

It's... disappointing, to say the least, to find out there's only one room for Egyptian exhibits and it's occupied by only one thing, besides broken pots and stone dolls. The main exhibit's name is Ahkmenrah, a young Pharaoh older than the Great Pyramids of Giza. All information on him can be fitted onto a four by six stone plate. While standing in his room, surrounded by hieroglyphs you've been studying hard to understand, you look him up on your phone. There's little mention of him, but the one article you do find on him has a 3D recreation of his face. He looks white and you know the article's bullshit.

While absently holding a conversation with one of the curators, you discover there's a store of Egyptian exhibits kept underneath the museum that aren't fit for showcase since the downsizing. Whatever that means, you find a sliver of hope, one that pales quickly at the realization you'll never be able to go down there. They wouldn't let some random visitor (who wasn't even an actual historian) to go see closed off exhibits.

Fischer, the director of the museum, hires you four months after you send your resume in. The second he does you set your plan into motion – there's no time to waste.

The same day he gives you the keys, you're sneaking in under the cover of night. For some reason, the lights are still on in the main museum, but fortunately that's not where you're headed. You unlock the backdoor, sneaking through the night guard's break room until you find the door to the basement. Flipping through the keys on your ring, you quickly find the right one, shoving it into the keyhole and almost wrenching the door open.

You run down the stairs. It's almost sprinting, but you can't be too loud with your shoes. There's nothing in your mind except him, his funny little smile, the somehow soft alabaster of his skin. You need to get to him. Something inside you says he's here – he's here, he's here, and there's nowhere else you can be without your whole body combusting.

You stop dead in your sprint, chest heaving as you're faced with the open boxes filled with Egyptian busts. With frantic eyes you look them over, searching desperately for one familiar face, finding none until the very last open box.

It's here.

He's here.

The broken nose, the formation of the resulting scar, you recognize every. Fucking. Inch.

Each box contains little notes on who the statues are (if known), the material, the time period, and other such relevant information. Your hands shake as you reach forward, slipping the piece of paper out of the paper stuffing.

King Ahkmenrah

Date: ca. 3,100 - 3000 B.C.

Period: Old Kingdom

Place of origin: Egypt, Cairo

Medium: Ivory

Ahkmenrah.

Sudden clarity strikes you as it never has when you recall searching his name online. He's the exhibit. He's the mummy upstairs. He's actually here.

The blood in you freezes for a moment, caught up in shock and relief. Now you know his name. A small part of you is finally able to rest with the answer, but the rest of you knows exactly what to do – go upstairs. Find the exhibit. Lay at his side. After all this time you still don't know why, but the ache of neediness in your heart is enough to leave you weak to your inner desires.

Now that your head is clear, or at least unhindered by your questions, you note a worrying amount of sound coming from upstairs. Footsteps pound on the ceiling as you climb the staircase, leaving you curious and terrified. That many people shouldn't be in one place – it's a death wish for the modern plague. You grit your teeth, fingers curling up in to fists that dig your nails deep into your palm. Is it safe to go upstairs? There's definitely people up there and you have no idea who they are. The museum could be being robbed right now and you wouldn't have a clue. It's a death wish.

Why are you still going up the stairs?

Why are you opening the door?

This shouldn't be happening. There's enough people to fill the whole first floor, ranging from the public entrance of the museum to the African exhibits in the back. Almost all of them are wearing historical outfits, in such a wide array you might've thought they'd stolen them from the exhibits, had they not looked exactly like the wax figures. The marble statue of the Roman on his horse is no longer on its' pedestal. Actually, he's talking to a woman a few feet away from you, though he is still on the horse.

You should be passed out on the stairs going by how fast your heart is beating, but instead you stand in the doorway petrified. Your eyes sit wide, scanning back and forth over the crowd, searching for something you don't know of. With all the stimulus in front of you, you don't even know what to think. The exhibits must be coming alive. Does someone watch over them?

It's then, with little clarity in your head, that your eyes land upon the night guard. She doesn't look in the least bit rattled, so you easily assume she's used to this. Her calm is so alarming to you that you blink yourself back into your body.

These are... people. Just people. They haven't been put under some curse that'll bring chaos to the world. All they're doing is partying, and though the noise level is a tad unpleasant, it's just about as rowdy as some teenagers.

When you realize you aren't in danger, you bolt from your place at the door. Twisting through the gathered crowd, you slowly make your way to the staircase, ascending with quick feet as your eyes lock onto the Egyptian hall. It's a few more feet until you turn sharp, shoes squeaking as you slide into the room. The familiar gold lighting greets you, shining off the open sarcophagus, which you skid to a halt in front of as your lungs desperately try to catch up to your legs.

Of course it's empty. Your Pharaoh – or Ahkmenrah, you suppose you should use his name now that you know it – must be downstairs, where the life of the party is. Why would he stay up in this empty room, all alone? From here you can barely even hear the music that was once pounding into your ears. Still, for a moment you stare at the bottom of the vacant coffin, caught in the awe of such a long-standing history.

"What are you doing here?"

The words catch you by surprise, and in reaction you whip around, eyes wide as the voice continues, "who are you?"

My King. Before you can even process the thought, the words roll onto your tongue, but to your immense relief you catch yourself before actually opening your mouth.

"I..." it barely comes out with how little you've physically spoken recently, "I work here."

As usual, your voice carries that quiet, calm, slightly annoyed tone that makes people wonder why you're being so difficult. It's not really something you can control, but the King doesn't seem to notice. Maybe it's worked to your advantage this time; despite your racing heart and frozen feet, you keep an even tone.

"I don't think I've seen you here before," the King says, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer. You try to back up, but you're already pressed against the sarcophagus, and his glare keeps you from running.

"I just started today," you answer honestly.

"Ah," he says, his voice softer the moment he begins to believe you. "This must be rather alarming for you, then."

You're not afraid to admit he's right.

"A tad. How do you speak english?"

"I learned it during my time at Cambridge University," he answers. He's from over 4,000 years ago, so you know he didn't attend as a student.

"You were on display there?"

"Yes," he says with a bright smile, one that catches you entirely off guard.

It practically blows you away – his demeanor changed so quickly, from a stern Pharaoh to a sweet, young man who probably bought his girlfriend flowers every Monday. For a moment you wonder why you were so caught up in him before knowing him; now that you've heard his voice, seen the way he moves, your interest increases tenfold. It's not enough to see him. You need to touch him. You need it more than anything.

"I've been looking for you," you blurt out, but the words come out so slow it sounds like you consciously chose them. You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch his smile falter.

"What do you mean?" He asks. He's standing in front of you now – if you extended your arm and took a small step closer, you'd be touching him.

"There's a sculpture of you," you say softly, swallowing the lump in your throat, "but I didn't know how to find your name."

"How'd you find me, then?" He asks, but he looks less offended. Now there's a keen look in his smile and in his eye, like he's going to enjoy this, like he knows something you don't.

"Sheer luck," you say with a shrug. It's mostly true.

"I think I know you," he says, and his smile quirks further upward.

"What?" You say, trying to back up again as he steps closer. The sarcophagus is, unsurprisingly, still behind you. "How?"

"Back when I was a King, I had a slave my brother killed," he says in the least comforting tone, "but my father had this idea."

Another step closer. You can feel the heat of his naked waist on your shaking hands.

"See, he had a magician in his employ, and he would do anything for me. Especially since I loved that slave so dearly. Truly," he leans forward a little, placing his hand on the gold case behind you and trapping you against him. His chest is practically right against yours, but what you are close enough to feel is his breath, soft on your collarbones. "And so my father retrieved the soul with a special spell and sent it into the future, to possess another at birth, and to lie in wait until I called for it."

You can't feel your – well, anything. There's a pressure on your chest, but you can't tell if that's your wildly beating heart or just his warmth skewing your senses. All you can do is stare up at him wide-eyed. He can't be telling the truth. Magic doesn't work like that, it can't work like that, that's a sick story and he's telling it like it's nothing more than normal. Possessing a newborn child. Sending souls into the future. It can't make sense. You almost feel bad for your past self – under the employ of someone so cruel as to take a soul from the afterlife for his own pleasure.

But he's standing before you. He's 4,000 years old, and he's standing in front of you, pushing you against his own coffin and trapping you there. Do you belong to him, then? Is that why you can't get him out of your head?

"When did your search begin?" He asks softly, a gentle curiosity evident in his brow.

"A – about a year ago," you say, your voice so broken and shaky you're surprised he understands it.

"Last winter?" He asks knowingly, almost sweet, like he's doting on you. Then comes the part that really makes it shine; he reaches up and pets your hair, moving in long, soft strokes.

You nod, unwilling to meet his gaze any longer. How red you must be by now.

"I called on you then. It took you a little while, but I'm glad you made it," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Unfortunately, I suppose you haven't retained any memories, since you didn't know my name."

"I guess not," you agree quietly. "I just have instincts."

"Instincts?"

You're reluctant to share with him the many instincts you'd had even in the short time from meeting him to now. The pure need to touch him. Past You probably had a crush on him, and even though you aren't really that person anymore, there's a need inside you to hide that fact from him.

"I wanted to call you my King when I first saw you," you admit, your voice still quiet in hopes of him not understanding you.

"You won't have to call me that anymore. Maybe a tad around my parents, but when we're alone you may use my name."

"When we're... alone?" You question nervously, heart pounding at the thought of spending more time with him.

"You do work here, don't you?" He says with a sly grin. "I think I'll be seeing you quite a lot."

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh God.

If this is how you react just from spending five minutes with him, you can't imagine spending whole nights at his side. You'd explode. From what you don't know yet, but the pulsing rush in your heart is strong enough to worry you, and very rarely do you ever worry about yourself. The words in your head – your immediate reaction – simply won't pass. You can't bring yourself to say them, so you say what he wants to hear.

"As long as you want to."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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penguiduck · 4 years

Text

Writing Fight Scenes

I’ve had a lot of readers mention that they don’t feel comfortable with fight scenes. Well, that’s understandable. It’s challenging writing about experiences you’ve never had. But with some perspective and practice, you can most certainly work toward writing those fast-paced, heart-pounding scenes with ease.

To give you some background, I practiced competitive martial arts for six years. I competed in tournaments and trained hard to perform well in the ring. It was a contact sport, and even if I wasn’t sparring, training often left me with bruises, usually of the physical nature, sometimes of the emotional persuasion.

This experience gave me a lot of perspective when it comes to writing fight scenes.

Whenever I step into the ring, I have a flexible strategy in mind that combines what I know about myself, my opponent, and what I’m going to learn about them in the next two minutes. I’d like to share some of these thoughts and perspectives with you, and how your character may think before and during a match of their own. Of course, my fighting experience is limited to a contact sport. Your story may very well be far more violent with higher stakes, but strategies may be of similar foundation. Once you take a fight into deeper consideration, aside from the depiction of two fighters merely exchanging blows, you can begin to enrich your writing experience.

I’m including examples from Yu Yu Hakusho because that’s the fandom I write the most for, and as you know, there’s a lot of fighting involved! But remember — anime and writing are two completely different mediums. There's no one narrating everything that our beloved characters are doing on screen. You just see it. That is why you, as a writer, must paint those scenes through words for your readers.

Nevertheless, this advice really stands for any sort of writing, so do with this information what you will.

A well-written fight scene is never about just trading blows. There are other conflicts at play, whether between the fighters or even in the heads of your protagonists.

Allow me to elaborate:

1. Who is your protagonist?

Whenever I am preparing for a sparring match, the first thing I worry about is me. I must be self-aware.

I think about my own fitness. How am I doing? Do I have any existing injuries or ailments? How is my weight? My body type? What are my strengths and weaknesses? What do I have in my toolbox? What techniques do I know? What techniques am I most versed and confident in?

I also think about my overall wellness. Have I been eating well? Drinking water? Sleeping? How is my emotional state of mind? What are the stakes?

Is my uniform clean and pressed? What about my equipment? Headgear? Mouth guard? Shin guard? Did I replace that torn lace?

I recommend using these questions to bring your character’s own reflection to the forefront in whatever way makes most sense for them. How is your character’s fitness? Is she in good fighting condition? Has she been injured previously? What has happened since the last fight that might impact her state of mind?

It’s possible that she’s recovering from an illness or injury. Perhaps her mentor died a gruesome death. Maybe she’s frustrated because she lost use of her right hand, temporarily or permanently, and has had to compensate with her non-dominant hand. Or perhaps she’s lost the will to fight, having experienced something traumatic.

Hiei had to constantly think about his own state of health throughout the Dark Tournament after his fight with Zeru. His arm had been sacrificed to his Dragon of the Darkness Flame, rendered useless, and he was in terrible pain. He never let it impact him, of course, being the stoic warrior he is. His personality allows for little inner dialogue to be shared with the audience, but as a fighter, he was most certainly considering what options he had with his handicap. And, as a writer, perhaps you would like to elaborate on his thoughts for your readers.

What has your character been practicing lately? Is her weapon of choice the same? Has it been upgraded? Has she been training with a different weapon or technique? Is she perhaps nervous about using something new?

Maybe she just repaired her sword, and she’s unsure if it’s as strong as it was before. Perhaps she’s been studying a new technique, and she knows she’ll need to use it in this battle.

Remember when Kuwabara first introduced his spirit sword in Maze Castle? He was so proud of himself, and that whole battle was an introduction to his newfound technique, how he manipulated his sword, and how he was able to harness his spirit energy. It’s far more interesting to see this development and exploration than to just watch him stab at Byakko a dozen times.

My point is that while your character probably should keep her emotions out of the ring, she may not be able to. There are so many things that could be on her mind, plaguing her thoughts, especially if there’s a lot riding on this battle. I think it’s really important to not only acknowledge the physical part of fighting but the emotional toll it can take a fighter, too.

Think about the fight between Yusuke and Toguro. Toguro had just killed Genkai, and Yusuke took that very personally. This was not a simple battle of strength or wits. This was a battle of emotions, and it wasn’t until Yusuke was able to master his feelings and reach beyond that “six foot wall of crap” as Genkai so affectionately calls it that he was able to finally defeat Toguro.

And the catharsis that came from defeating Toguro? It was made all the more powerful because Yusuke went through that emotional journey. It wasnʼt just a fight — it was a calling, a purpose, and a lesson. It was painful and potent, and it made him realize just how much these experiences shaped him as a person.

2. Who is the opponent?

Before I participate in a tournament, I do my research. Who is likely to be competing? Who is in my weight class? What do I know about these competitors? If I don’t have answers, I would find them. I’d chat with my instructor, my fellow martial artists. Has anyone else from my school fought these people before? What were they like? Are there videos online of their performance?

I find as much information as possible. I make calls, send texts, take people out to lunch, scour the internet for information. Even if your character lives in a less technologically dependent world, I would imagine that he might talk with friends, look through old records, listen to gossip and hearsay. He might watch battles leading up to his own fight in an effort to learn more.

And if this pre-work isn’t possible, that’s okay. Fights in your story may be entirely unpredictable, but your character can also learn things about his opponent during the match.

When I step into the ring and ready myself to compete, one of the first things I want to find out is on which side my opponent is dominant. In other words, are they right-handed? Or left-handed? Right-footed? Or left-footed? Maybe they only focus on one side during training (which is silly, but that’s another conversation). But there could be an underlying reason why as well. Perhaps they injured themselves in the previous round or maybe they just don’t like exposing one particular side of their body for whatever reason.

This information is critical because this tells me what I need to watch out for, which side of my own body I should be guarding, how I may penetrate my opponent’s defenses. How can I catch them when they least suspect it? Where can I knock them off balance? My instructor always told me to watch the shoulders — shoulders move before the rest of the body. You can tell what your opponent is about to do by watching their shoulders.

Your character may wish to discover the same thing. Maybe his opponent uses a two-handed sword and is very clearly right-handed. This may give him some information on where his blind spot is — or maybe he just needs to disable his opponent’s right arm. The possibilities are endless, and understanding his opponent will give him leverage, offering him many options.

Understanding an opponent’s technique is also important. In martial arts, practitioners often favor a strategy or skill. This seems obvious, but it’s vital that you understand what it is — only then you can combat it.

Consider Kurama’s matches with Gama and Toya during the events of the Dark Tournament. The English dub did a wonderful job voicing Kurama’s inner conflict during these fights, struggling with first his inability to move and then his imprisoned spirit energy — if you were to put these scenes into writing, explaining his thought process would be fascinating. How does Kurama overcome these obstacles? He seeks to understand his opponents before he defeats them, which, unfortunately, also means he risks injury to himself until then.

Your character’s thoughts about the fight, interpreting for your audience what he feels he might need to do to secure victory, is just as important as detailing the fight itself.

3. What about the writing?

The writing will come once you begin to dissect your characters and their motivations for fighting. Your characters aren’t one-dimensional, or, at least, they shouldn’t be!

Your fight scenes shouldn’t be, either. It’s not about two fighters trading blows. It’s about an artfully curated dance. Two opponents are engaged in a craft that they both know well, and whether they’re fighting to win a tournament or for their very lives, they have reasons and complex thought processes that should make their fight interesting.

There are two players here, and unless the fight is grossly one-sided, they’re both thinking and acting independently of one another. My advice is to thread their actions and consequences together — weave the fight scene as if it’s a stream of conscious thought, separated into paragraphs, each with a shift in perspective, for clarity.

Instead of writing:

Yusuke charged at Kuwabara and punched him in the face. Kuwabara punched him in the mouth. Yusuke then kicked him in the stomach.

Try this:

Yusuke had little patience for Kuwabara’s bad jokes, and he rushed toward him, landing a blow square in the side of his head.

Kuwabara flew backward with a grunt, stabilizing himself before launching himself at Yusuke, returning the favor. His fist collided with Yusuke’s jaw, a blow hard enough to knock the teeth out of any regular human.

Yusuke expected him to retaliate, and although he was nearly knocked off balance, he swung his leg around, making full contact with Kuwabara’s stomach.

You may also find it useful to deviate from the fighting itself. You can speak to a character’s inner dialogue or thoughts, whether about the fight or something else. You may choose to have them begin a brief conversation. Or you may describe what other characters are feeling about the fight as onlookers.

There are many ways to make these fight scenes seamless and interesting — take some time to explore your options!

Just a few more general tips that might help:

If you’re going to use a thesaurus, be mindful about it. I use a thesaurus when I write because I suffer all day, every day from tip-the-tongue syndrome. But words, even if they generally fit the same definition, can have vastly different connotations, so before selecting a word from the thesaurus, do some digging. Look at the exact definition and perhaps Google some common usage. Punch, slap, and stroke do not mean the same thing, even if a thesaurus might say otherwise.

Read your writing out loud. If you’re unsure, this is the best way to understand your cadence, the flow of the battle. Use your best Morgan Freeman or Jorge the Ogre voice.

Consider a beta reader. Sometimes having a second opinion is immensely helpful.

Remember that there are no strict writing rules. You write whatever your heart desires in whatever manner your heart desires. Experiment and explore with different styles and techniques to find whatever works for you.

I hope you find this information useful! Please feel free to suggestion additional blog posts you would like to see from me in the future. ^_^ Of course, please reblog this if you found it helpful!

Pictures are, of course, not mine. They are shots from the anime or other official derivatives.

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH tutorial #YYH fight scenes #Writing fight scenes #Fight scenes #Writing #Writing tips #Writing help #Writing tutorial #YYH resource #YYH fanfic #YYH fanfiction #Writing fighting #Writing how-to #Fanfiction #Fanfiction writing #YYH headcanon

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ldcu-12stem1-group5mil · 3 years

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“On Becoming a Medium: Gen Z Individuals as Modern Communicators”

Facebook. Instagram. Twitter. YouTube. Google.

If you are au courant with technology, you may have used these at least once in your life.

The world is changing at a rapid pace. Modifications, transformations, and advancements in all fields are constantly happening around the world. For instance, a few decades ago, the words 'social media' and the 'internet' are still unknown. Nevertheless, these soon played pivotal roles in revolutionizing and modernizing the society that we know of nowadays. People likewise attune and habituate themselves to various changes, hereby adapting to the new and evolved manner of living and communicating with others. The youth in the 21st century is no different. Individuals who were born alongside this expeditious technological and scientific progression are collectively referred to as Gen Z, and they might become the prominent catalysts of change in this modern era.

What year were you born? If you were born after 1997, then you belong to Generation Z (Gen Z).

Generation Z, often shortened as Gen Z or iGeneration, is a demographic cohort for those who were born between the late 1990s and early 2010s, succeeding the Millennials. Despite labeling them to the last letter of the English alphabet, they contrarily have a lot of firsts compared to the previous generations. To name a few, they are considered the pioneering generation of digital natives; they can now reshape the power of technology for the betterment of themselves and others. Moreover, they are also the first generation that was raised in the era of smartphones and the internet. Since Generation Z was born together with the rise of digital technologies, they are more oriented and used to having widely available information anytime anywhere. According to Katie Young of GWI, it has been estimated that Gen Z typically spends around 3 hours and 38 minutes online, 50% higher than an average mobile user. Internet became a fundamental part of today’s society, and it is inherent to Gen Z as well. Their use of the internet on a daily basis has influenced their interactions and patterns of communication with others, both positively and negatively.

Having been accustomed to the technology we have nowadays, it is unquestionable that this generation is considered 'tech-savvy'. Come to think of it, they have not experienced a world without these technologies. They can quickly create documents, presentations, and journals with ease, especially with sufficient internet speed and fine gadgets, like laptops and phones. Additionally, they can share it with their friends, classmates, teachers, or coworkers, making it systematic and efficient. These increase their overall productivity and connectivity with one another, allowing them to multitask on various activities within a short period of time.

More than half of the internet users across the globe are under the age of 24. Additionally, this group of people tends to spend roughly 70 hours a week on their devices (Metafacts, 2018).

Whatever they want to learn, it's readily accessible for them to read and practice. This gears Gen Z towards excellence and discipline, and the earlier these are practiced, the better it is for the maturity and growth of an individual.

The integration of technology into the lives of Generation Z is indeed highly powerful. Before, millennials use SMS and voice calls to connect, and prior to the invention of any telecommunication device, mailing a letter is the only way of communicating with others from afar. Unlike the previous generations, online and digital communication through various social media applications has become the predominant means of communication among Gen Z individuals. It doesn't matter where they are, they are all connected virtually, may it be a virtual conference call or a simple text message. Moreover, as technology made its way to almost everything, collaboration with one another is a crucial aspect that Gen Z individuals would prefer to have. Using popular messaging applications like Messenger and Discord, many of them can keep in touch with one another and easily collaborate on projects, tasks, or any activities.

Over the recent years, communication among people has transformed and changed. Aside from the technological advancements, the way we communicate with others both digitally and personally is now different compared to the previous generations before us. We now commonly see abbreviations and slang in chat messages and comments online. This is often used in casual conversations among friends and family. However, this is also a piece of evidence on how our language adapts and evolves to the changes we create over time.

These are the most common slang and abbreviations used in social media. How many of these have you used?

Despite the rise of messaging apps and virtual calls, face-to-face or personal communication is still the widely preferred form of communication among Gen Z individuals.

With the frequent use of social media and the internet, Gen Z individuals tend to acquire a lot of ideas and information from others. YouTube and TikTok trends are great examples of this. As a result, they become more creative and imaginative when performing or doing something, especially when it strikes their interest. Besides, they can also create content to share with their audience. It may be for entertainment, education, information, and many more.

On top of that, Gen Z is also considered the most diverse generation, as they openly accept and embrace diversity and differences of everyone. No matter where you came from and what you define yourself, you are accepted by this generation. They are generally open-minded to the issues and taboos we commonly avoid to discuss. Moreover, they enthusiastically engage in various activities that support equality and transparency, and actively protest against racism, discrimination, hatred, and corruption which have long plagued our society. These actions, together with the rising influence of social media, may pave the way for the young generation’s voices to resonate around the world, making an impact to the society in the process.

Furthermore, these social media platforms gave them the chance to become more knowledgeable and updated on what is happening locally and internationally. They can be easily informed of any recent events by simply browsing the web or opening any social media app. Social media applications like Facebook and Twitter are the common avenues for this up to date information. However, remember that some of these may be false information, especially if the author or account who posted it is not a verified media outlet. Fact checking and verifying the sources of the articles seen in these platforms are easy and common ways to affirm their legitimacy.

Additionally, these social media applications also allow them to share their thoughts and comments regarding different posts, not to mention that may post something as well, provided that it is credible, verified, and factual. This consequently enriches their vocabulary and skills in writing, speaking, and debating, especially when involved in topics that are deemed controversial. As opposed to the millennials and previous generations, Gen Z is more open to voicing out their opinions, ideas, and thoughts to the world, candidly expressing their freedom of speech to everyone.

They don’t want to continue being a follower, they want to lead. They want to make change.

Twitter and its tagline, "What's happening?", describing the purpose of the social media platform, to connect people and to allow them to share their thoughts with a public audience.

However, it is worth noting that knowing how to navigate the internet and media does not necessarily mean that you are already digitally literate. It is essential that as users of media and spreaders of information, we know what are the proper things to do online. Intently spreading disinformation is just plainly wrong, no matter what the reason is. It does not only cause confusion but also panic and hysteria, especially when that false information is an alarming threat to security and lives. In general, we need to be responsible and disciplined all the time. You may think it is harmless, but it may actually be harmful and damaging to others. Remember, think before you click.

Communication has always been an integral part of being a human. It is the sole reason why we progressed into the civilization that we live in right now. As we reach the digital age of our civilization, the new generation of digital natives, Generation Z, will soon become the contemporary modern communicators of this society. This generation is a vocal and active group that can be a great catalyst for change. Their fervent principles, philosophical beliefs, and prudent judgments may serve importance later on as the world progresses. However, to express these to the world, we need to become a good communicator — an effective and influential communicator. And to do that, we need to be genial, compassionate, and rational to others who wants to become a communicator as well. Let them speak and let them be heard. That way, you too will be heard by others.

Generation Z is a unique generation on its own, and with their power to become a powerful communicator, they can become a medium — a medium with a potential to spark change to the society we live in.

As digital natives and users of social media, we need to be responsible for using the technology given to us. Do not make it a place for false information and hatred. Instead, use it as a platform for various purposes that everyone can benefit, learn, and enjoy.

References:

Seymour, E. (2019). Gen Z: Born to be digital. Retrieved from https://www.voanews.com/a/student-union_gen-z-born-be-digital/6174519.html.

Rapacon, S. (2019). How Gen Z is redefining their world through technology. Retrieved from https://garage.hp.com/us/en/modern-life/generation-z-redefining-the-world.html.

NDMU. (2019). The evolution of communication across generations. Retrieved from https://online.ndm.edu/news/communication/evolution-of-communication/.

Belinne, J. (2019). Gen Z - The communication generation. Retrieved from https://community.naceweb.org/blogs/jamie-belinne/2019/07/23/gen-z-the-communication-generation.

Barcelon, B. (2010). The life of Generation Z. Retrieved from https://teenlife.blogs.pressdemocrat.com/10220/the-life-of-generation-z/.

Image & GIF Sources:

https://www.social-babies.com/post/2017/01/27/5-social-media-platforms-to-explore-in-2017

https://www.thedailybeast.com/generation-z-is-already-bored-by-the-internet

https://uploads0.jovo.to/idea_attachments/840592/homework-dribbble_bigger.gif?1544706789

https://gifer.com/en/gifs/syntax

https://hips.hearstapps.com/hmg-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/images/slang-1624575149.gif?crop=1.00xw:1.00xh;0,0&resize=980:*

https://ar.pinterest.com/pin/99994054211311292/?amp_client_id=CLIENT_ID(_)&mweb_unauth_id={{default.session}}&simplified=true

https://cdn.dribbble.com/users/1308476/screenshots/3438418/beboldforchange_dribbbleloop.gif

https://business.twitter.com/content/dam/business-twitter/basics/twitter-basics-2-tweetideas.gif

https://giphy.com/explore/online-safety

#MediaandInformationLiteracy2021

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ldcu-12stem1-group4mil · 3 years

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Breaking through the years of relying the television for information, technology in today’s generation has finally given birth to effortless spread of figures through the medium of media. In 2020, there are approximately 79 million of smartphone users in the Philippines as reported by Statistica. Given from the data, just by simply posting what you think can easily scatter all around the internet and eventually may turn out as trending. Possessing media communication tools is very powerful in this period, and turned out to be even more functional ever since the widespread virus struck the lives of every person. From different forms of communication involving; selling, services, news, and memes it significantly progressed our way of living. Communication pays a critical role in our sociability, it is just one way to survive the never-ending nightmare of being alone, just as they usually say “Communication is the key”.

www.facebook.com/Bakkler (Recently Removed)

Though communication is widely used as the foundation for data gathering and the spread of information throughout media, it can also be misleading and untrue which is cynical to the public that might create confusion and misunderstanding especially in the field of social and political matters. Hiding and concealing the fact of the matter from the people that should know the truth is inequitable and must follow serious consequences, yet satire pages and false news are becoming rampant in today’s period because from our situation now, the news is given more contrast and it could cause large impact to the media if wrongfully used. We may find satire pages as humorous and fun but others take them as truthful and it is alarming especially when it is mostly emphasized politically whereof the country has a controversial issue about governing. Aside from these satire pages, “Secondary school teacher in Zamboanga City noted that during the 2019 Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA), the Philippines, among 79 participating countries, scored the lowest in reading comprehension” (Rimando, 2021). From this very information, Filipinos often misapprehend the headlines or the media information itself even if it is viable. Quantities of conditions are at stake if the following issue would precede in the following years, having this kind of issue might also lead to false news if media and information illiterates continue to fail in recognizing facts, as well as constructive criticism about a piece of said information.

Image by Buena Bernal via Rappler

Although hindrances are present in media and information allocation, just by the existence of media and information communication topics that are not conversed about are contrasted which is very essential in the progress of elevating. Topics such as LGBTQ+ which are mostly taboo to some countries, forbidding people with different gender identities to reveal their true nature. With the use of media, people are enlightened that it is no different from the norms where gender is only referred to men and women, and people from LGBTQ+ must also be treated the same. Topics such as mentioned must be taken gravely since LGBTQ+ are often being discriminated against in today’s society. I mean, there is nothing wrong to be yourself, why stop others from trying to achieve their true essence? They are themselves and you are yourself, simply respect that thought.

In this day and age, media and information literacy taught us that it is not concerning how old or how young the communicator is but “It is the capacity to recognize, comprehend, interpret, produce, communicate, and compute utilizing printed and written materials from various contexts” (UNESCO, 2011). Though in our country, invalidation of opinions is still a thing from people who thinks that the youth has yet to grow and learn more in the process. For everyone to know, “Literacy is a skill” everyone who possesses such understanding about the proper use of media and information literacy is free to voice out their opinions without worrying to be compromised by the adults. Remember, it is our opinion and they are obliged to respect it the same as theirs.

Communication is always developing, and the only thing that must be considered is the viability and precision of the information that will be sent through the media via the internet. It may get out of hand, but with the spirit of unity and peace, we young people will accomplish the diversified integration of media and information integrity that is essential in every aspect of our life.

REFERENCES:

https://www.statista.com/statistics/467186/forecast-of-smartphone-users-in-the-philippines/

https://www.manilatimes.net/2021/01/21/campus-press/low-reading-comprehension-impacts-ph-education-quality/830118

https://www.rappler.com/nation/lgbtq-rights-philippines-tolerated-not-accepted

http://www.uis.unesco.org/Communication/Documents/media-and-information-literacy-assessment-framework.pdf

#MediaandInformationLiteracy2021

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simonalkenmayeris-still-dead · 3 years

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That Post (2/???)

Just between you and me and everyone reading this post, I would not have started with “how this began”. I’d have got straight to the point. Nobody really wants to read the backstory, they want to know the terrible things I’ve done and the horrible consequences that are going to come of my actions.

Simon says he asked me why I used his name in my url. That’s not true. He asked whether I was afraid of trademark infringement, and only just fell short of an explicit threat to take me to court.

In the time between me starting to write this and his followers spamming my blog, he’s written another post alleging that I had some sort of contact with him prior. That’s also untrue. He might be mistaking me for another tumblr user with a similar name, but I did clarify that I was not that person.

I expect Simon’s writer was assuming I would be so intimidated that I would back off. They definitely didn’t expect to be speaking to someone who’d already considered that they might be threatened with legal action and had checked to make sure that what they were doing was perfectly legal.

I voluntarily told him why the blog is called Simon Alkenmayer is dead, because it seemed to be making him upset. You can see the entire exchange here.

When Simon says he “asked” me to stop using his name, he means he asked me to stop, after he tried to threaten legal action.

Simon then lists a bunch of reasons he told me for needing to change the blog name. And this is true, but none of them are particularly realistic.

To put this in perspective, I need to emphasise that Simon is not a real person. He is a character someone made up and is roleplaying as.

But sure, I’m using his intellectual property. I was not at the time using his intellectual property, aside from referencing his name on my blog, which is to be expected, considering I was using my blog to record his responses to me.

Even if we agree that I might end up in the public eye, and I might make missteps, which he seems to take for granted (flattering), there’s no reason to believe we would be confused. For one thing, he is a fictional character whereas I am a real person. For another, nobody is getting Michael B Jordan, actor, mixed up with Michael Jordan, basketballer, and they only have one letter difference in their names.

And the dangerous, angry people who target Simon are part of his plotline. If they exist, it’s as weirdos trying to prove he’s not real, and have no reason to target me, since I also don’t believe he’s real.

Then, instead of calling me The Fool, or even just Fool, as it says on my blog and which would actually be kinda funny, he lets everyone know he’s going to refer to me as “isdead”. This person thinks they’re a trans ally but they can’t even figure out how to use the correct name? Obviously, he’s trying to copy the fact that I’ve said I’ll refer to his writer as Si, which I only did because I need a way to distinguish between the character and the writer, and I really want to give Kristina the benefit of the doubt here.

But mainly, I want to point out that the sentence where he does this begins with the word heretofore. Simon’s writer probably thought it was a suitably old sounding word, and it really is. Unfortunately, it means “up until now” not “from now on”. He really should have used henceforth.

It’s excessively picky, and I’m only mentioning it because Simon lived during the time when these words would have been used. And later on in this rant, he complains that one of the reasons people hate him is because he never breaks character. Except that he breaks character all the time.

I’d like to be clear that I’ve never said that I used Simon’s name in homage. I’ve said it was a reference. If I have used the word homage, I would have been referring to a homage to Rozencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, not a homage to Simon.

But I don’t think I’ve ever used that word, it implies a level of interest in Simon that I’ve never had. I think he’s used it here because he likes to say and imply I run this blog as an attempt to lash out after he didn’t pay me attention I thought I deserved.

Simon then tries to accuse me of not caring about his feelings. Which is true. Simon is a fictional character and I do not care about his feelings because like the character, they don’t exist.

His writer is certainly very angry about me using Simon’s name, but they’ve made a choice. They have decided that it’s more important to them to remain anonymous than it is to stop me using the name.

When I’ve said that I have a right to use Simon’s name, it’s merely in the way anyone can use any name. Simon’s name is not trademarked and you can’t copyright a name.

He’s then gone on to try to explain the original conversation, which I’ve already explained above, so I’m not going to cover it again.

I don’t see why Simon is trying to stain my character by saying I called him a liar, since he admits he did say the wrong thing. I think it’s pretty reasonable to assume someone is lying if they threaten you with legal action that they can’t go through with.

Simon then tries to assert that the pen name is actually protected anyway, which is simply untrue. I’m not attempting to profit off this blog, and libel does not cover products, or fictional characters.

It’s also worth noting that libel must be untrue, which I don’t think anything on my blog is, or I wouldn’t be writing it.

Simon goes on to say that he blocked me because I was lashing out in a negative way, but I was just refuting what he was saying. I know I’m not the only person who he’s blocked because Simon didn’t want his followers to see any inconvenient truths.

I wasn’t actually openly hostile to Simon for a long time, although I doubt he sees it that way. I used to go to his blog and ask anonymous questions, and then reblog the screenshots to my own blog to point out the inconsistencies in his characterisation or the conflict in what he said, and what my research had produced.

When I first created this blog, I wasn’t at all interested in proving anything about Simon, I was interested in the experiment, and how well Simon’s writer had researched the character. That’s one of the reasons I quickly lost interest in him, because it seems they don’t even do a cursory wikipedia search on most things.

I haven’t sent an ask to Simon since September of this year.

Simon also references his IP tracker as though it lets him know when I’m sending him asks. Either he’s bluffing, or he doesn’t have one. If Simon had my IP address, he would know that the three other people he’s referenced in this rant aren’t me.

It’s convenient for Simon to say that I think he’s a villain because he didn’t want me to use his name. What could be more petty? In actual fact, I think he’s probably well meaning and more dangerous because of it.

He then goes on to list a number of things I’ve allegedly done, that prove my blog is a hate blog – is this the thing I’m being called out for?

It seems to me that the thing Simon dislikes about my blog, aside from the name, is that I don’t run it the way he wants.

He himself says, in his FAQ, that to interact with the experiment, you don’t have to consume anything that isn’t free. So it’s interesting that he’s suddenly accusing me of not reading enough of his book.

Simon thinks that his blog isn’t literature, his followers seem to think it’s not literature, but it is still an interactive storytelling medium. That’s what he’s using it for. Simon’s opinion doesn’t change that the blog is part of his canon.

For someone whose writing is fairly average, Simon is very good at using emotive language when he wants something. His blog is a community, the rest of the internet is a cesspool. One that I’ve been rooting around in, apparently.

What actually happened is that I was sent an anonymous tip off which I then investigated. And I didn’t “accuse” Kristina Meister of anything other than being the person behind Simon.

And I’m not sure you can call it fielding mean spirited asks when those asks are about Simon. What the person writing Simon, and what many of his followers seem not to understand, is that I’m critiquing a fictional character. There’s no reason for me to tell people not to send asks pointing out Simon’s flaws, because Simon is part of the fiction. He’s part of the critique.

And if the person writing Simon doesn’t understand that distinction, they probably need to take a bit of a break.

The reason I’ve not brought forth a single argument that gives Simon pause, is because nobody can. Regardless of what they say or even what they think about themselves, I don’t think the person who writes Simon is open to persuasion. I’m not writing this blog for Simon’s benefit, I never have been.

You can see it in his attempts to paraphrase me. I don’t think Simon’s antisemitic for referencing the lizard people conspiracy, I think he’s antisemitic because in reaction to the observation about antisemitic tropes in his work, he doubled down and referenced the lizard people conspiracy in an attempt to lure me into sending him angry asks.

Which I didn’t do, but other people did, and he thinks those people are me. Thus, why I say he probably doesn’t have an IP tracker.

The reason I don’t engage with Simon using logic is because there is no point, and even if there were, I don’t think he would understand. I have studied logic, and his writer doesn’t even bother to google historical periods he allegedly lived through. Why would I waste my time with that?

I don’t hate Simon, I just don’t think he’s a real person, and I treat him as accordingly. That’s allegedly what is experiment is investigating, but he interprets it as hate.

#hashtag called out #simon alkenmayer #the post that never ends

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ts1989fanatic · 4 years

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Taylor Swift is the millennial Bruce Springsteen.

If there were any doubts about this, they should have been dispelled by her latest release: the haunting Folklore, which filters the exact kinds of story-songs Springsteen excels at through Swift’s modern, orchestral-pop aesthetic. The album has been one of the best-received of her career, but then, the response to essentially everything she’s produced since her 2010 album Speak Now has involved critics grudgingly being dragged toward having respect for her skills.

The overlaps between millennial Swift (30 and born in 1989) and baby boomer Springsteen (70 and born in 1949) — both of whom are among the best songwriters alive right now — are considerable beyond their songwriting prowess. But comparisons, by necessity, must start there.

Both musicians love songs about a kind of white Americana that’s never really existed but that the central characters of which feel compelled to chase anyway. They use those songs to tell stories about those people and the places they live. They’re terrifically good at wordplay. Both are fascinated by the ways that adolescence and memories of adolescence continue to have incredible power for adults. Both are amazing at crafting bridges that take already good songs to another level. And both write songs featuring fictional people whose lives are sketched in via tiny, intimate details that stand in for their whole selves.

For example: The opening lines to Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” (“The screen door slams / Mary’s dress waves / Like a vision she dances across the porch / as the radio plays”) tell you everything about that woman and the man observing her.

Similarly, the opening lines of Swift’s “All Too Well” (“I walked through the door with you, the air was cold / but something ‘bout it felt like home somehow and I / left my scarf there at your sister’s house / and you still got it in your drawer even now”) tell you everything about this doomed relationship and the nostalgia both people involved in it still feel, compressed into a tiny little stanza.

Springsteen released “Thunder Road” when he was 25; Swift released “All Too Well” when she was 22. Both songs continue to stand as touchstones for who the artists were at that point in their lives.

But leave this comparison aside for a moment. What’s most interesting about drawing this connection are the ways in which the overlap between Springsteen and Swift’s styles can tell us about how our culture treats art made by men versus art made by women — and art made by baby boomers versus art made by millennials.

Springsteen and Swift each entered the music industry as young wunderkinds with lots to prove. Springsteen’s first album — the loose and rambling Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J. — was released when he was just 23. He had been playing in bands all around New Jersey for most of his teens, and signed a record deal with Columbia Records at 22.

He was expected to become an acoustic folk singer in the vein of Bob Dylan, at a time when the music industry was uniquely preoccupied with finding the “next” Bob Dylan. Springsteen quickly flaunted those expectations, assembling a group of musicians who would go on to be known as the E Street Band, in the name of creating a sound that captured a massive, orchestral blast of rock. Springsteen would finally perfect this sound on his third album, 1975’s Born to Run, and he’s been a global superstar ever since, even decades after reaching his pinnacle with 1984’s Born in the USA.

Swift’s rise was slightly more meteoric. She released her debut album, Taylor Swift, when she was just 16, and it featured songs that she had written as a freshman in high school. Swift broke into the industry via country music, and her country-ish second album, 2008’s Fearless, won her the Grammy for Album of the Year.

Just as Springsteen shirked folk in the name of rock, Swift’s sound quickly shifted away from the girl-with-a-guitar country archetype and more toward pop. By her fourth album, 2012’s Red, she had largely left country music behind.

(A fun game: If you line up Swift and Springsteen’s album releases roughly by how old they were when they recorded them, you’ll find surprisingly similar career trajectories. For instance, Born to Run and Swift’s 2014 album 1989 were released when their respective artists were 25. Both broke the artists through to even wider acclaim than they had before.)

Yet the two artists’ backgrounds are quite different, which may explain the different ways in which they’ve understood American political divides. Springsteen grew up in a blue-collar family in New Jersey, while Swift is the daughter of a former Merrill Lynch stockbroker who could afford to move the entire family to Nashville, Tennessee, when his daughter showed a talent for songwriting.

Springsteen’s songs have always reflected growing up in a world where poverty is just a lost paycheck away, even as he’s become incredibly rich. Swift has no such perspective. Her songs take place largely in a wistful world where money is rarely an object. And the artists came of age in very different political climates, too.

But the political divide has narrowed in recent years. Swift has taken a recent turn toward more political topics — particularly social justice issues involving the mistreatment of women and LGBTQ rights. That turn stems from her struggles to differentiate herself as an artist in an industry that routinely turns young, beautiful women into disposable products, wringing out of them a few years of hit singles and then tossing them aside. Her embrace of the ways her growing sense of (extremely white) feminism helped her attain more artistic control over her image has slowly but surely led to a greater understanding of the yawning disparities inherent to the US. She is more tapped into the ways that power is unequally distributed throughout American society and increasingly speaks out to that effect. (She’s still pretty lousy at confronting class issues, though.)

But even with all of their similarities as songwriters and increasing similarities as explicitly political artists — and even with all of the awards they have won and records they have sold — there’s still a knee-jerk insistence that Swift is either too self-obsessed or too much a creation of the music industry, while Springsteen went from being rock’s heir apparent to an elder statesman with only a few bumps along the way. And the reasons for that disparity go well beyond any artistic differences or similarities they might possess.

The most obvious difference between the reception of Springsteen and Swift is also the most obvious difference between the two of them as people: He is a man, and she is a woman.

Swift didn’t exactly discourage listeners from constantly parsing her lyrics to figure out which of her famous exes she was singing about early in her career; she even hid hints in her liner notes to help fans decode her clues. But the degree to which she was written off, for years, as a fundamentally unserious and self-involved artist reflects the ways in which domestic and romantic concerns are written off as unimportant when women talk about them.

By comparison, Springsteen has so many songs about teenage boys crushing on teenage girls, but few people try to figure out who he’s talking about when he mentions the almost mythical “Mary” in songs throughout his career. Perhaps it’s because he wasn’t dating famous people as a teenager, and perhaps because it’s sadly still too common to think a man singing about an adolescent crush has more artistic merit than a woman doing the same thing.

Even in the wake of Folklore’s release, many corners of the music-discussing internet insist upon talking about the album more in terms of Swift’s male collaborators — namely Aaron Dessner of The National and Justin Vernon (a.k.a. Bon Iver), both indie-rock royalty — than in terms of her own talents, even when, say, Dessner does a whole interview with Pitchfork talking extensively about Swift’s preternatural songwriting talents. The idea that Taylor Swift has somehow been “created” by someone is one that seems to persist, regardless of how much control she has over her own image.

But the ways in which people doubt Swift’s talent, or her control over her image, reflect larger questions about how baby boomers remade pop culture in their image versus how millennials continue to do.

Baby boomers were born into the era of radio’s dominance over American airwaves, and television entered their lives during their childhoods. The presence of these mass media influenced how much pop culture boomers could be exposed to, pushing into hyperdrive the artistic loop of influence becoming creation. American popular art exploded and proliferated as a result.

Whether that explosion led to the rise of rock and pop music or the invention of the cinematic blockbuster, baby boomers took the popular forms their parents adored and accelerated them toward something more raucous and purely entertaining.

The dominant new medium of millennials’ lives was the internet, which arrived when we were still very young. And a major element of internet culture is remix culture. From the earliest days of the “information superhighway,” jokes that mashed up disparate elements of pop culture — now we’d call them memes — were incredibly common, because the central idea of the internet has always been many people iterating on an idea rather than one person releasing that idea into the world.

Inherent to this kind of remixing is the idea of transforming something, often something disreputable, into something else. Thus, many of the greatest millennial artists work in forms that have previously been written off as unworthy — like, say, pop music — because the gatekeepers in those areas weren’t as likely to be aging baby boomers whose taste was ossifying. (This progression is not all that dissimilar from what the boomers did to the popular culture they were born into.)

Millennial artists grew up amid the splintering of the monoculture and, therefore, feel less of an obligation toward it than older generations might. When all you’ve known are niches, it’s better to try to find a niche that appeals to you and explore it as much as possible, then hope enough people come along for the ride.

Swift’s eagerness to collaborate with other artists who really excite her isn’t a uniquely millennial trait: Artists have been doing this since artists have existed. That she is only too happy to spread that credit around (even as her increasingly well-known “voice memos” that show her coming up with the central ideas behind her songs center her authorship first and foremost) is a testament to how millennial artists feel comfortable with both celebrating their influences and revealing how their art gets built, brick by brick, often thanks to the work of other people.

This is not to say that all baby boomer or millennial artists operate exactly the same way as Springsteen or Swift. Both artists write music that is equal parts heartbreaking and fun, evocative, and ephemeral. They’re constantly searching for their version of an America that does not exist, while not forgetting to make sure that we all have some fun in the one that does.

The impulse they share to tell stories about average Americans searching for meaning amid a crumbling world is a natural one for artists in the US. Yet Springsteen has so often been celebrated for doing just that, his rugged vision of a fading nation and talent for making national crises deeply personal treated as authentic and brilliant.

By comparison, Swift is often derided for how she digs into the ways personal apocalypses visit themselves onto the rest of reality, making her something like Springsteen’s inverse. The struggles she faces are deeply rooted in biases against women, the genre of music she operates in, and her generation. It’s worth reexamining the notions that drive this disparity in the two artists’ reception, if nothing else.

Perhaps we take Springsteen more seriously than Swift because he’s a man, or because all the great rockers of his generation have been venerated by time and nostalgia, or because his influences were men like Chuck Berry and Woody Guthrie instead of Shania Twain, Patsy Cline, and a litany of contemporary collaborators. But one of art’s great pleasures is finding the ways in which artists of different generations talk about the same topics across the span of years.

Bruce Springsteen and Taylor Swift craft their impeccable story-songs utilizing the tropes of very different musical genres. But they’re equally good at crafting songs built to both sing loudly on the freeway and accompany a flood of tears in the wake of some new heartache. Different as they might be, Springsteen and Swift are always talking about the same thing — all of the ways that every new day, no matter how promising, carries within it the potential to bring about the end of the world all over again. Until then, though, let’s sing about it.

ts1989fanatic all of that just to Tell us something swifties have known for years, the music industry is sexist and misogynistic DUH!!!

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soyouareandrewdobson · 4 years

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The first comic: Maturity or rather the lack thereoff.

Something I commonly saw within the last decade was people arguing that animation has reached a new peak by the amount of quality in storywriting put into them and some even claiming cartoons have become more mature, particularly compared to shows of the 80s and 90s. Dobson too joined the trend and as such made this little comic in 2015 titled “Mature”, in which he argues that cartoons for children are more mature and handle serious subjects better than any media tagged with an r-rating or not following the format of animation.

While I admit that the comic is not the most offensive and insulting thing Dobson has ever created when soapboxing about nerd/american culture, I do think “Mature” actually in composes quite a good insight in how Dobson does not understand concepts of storytelling and overhypes the achievements and merits of children entertainment to a degree that is hurting the “cause”. Which greatly annoys me as a fan of storytelling and animation in general and paints Dobson as incompetent in the field of work (cartoonist, comic writer/artist) he tries to engage in. And I can bring this lack of understanding by Dobson down by just one simple question:

What exactly counts as a mature subject here?

Dobson randomly accuses any form of fiction that is not a children’s cartoon or comic to have no idea how to approach a “mature” subject, but he can’t even give an example of what he defines by this term.

See, for me a mature subject is e.g. an social, emotional or political issue we as humans can correlate to in the real world. Either as a result of personal experience or a bigger picture in our history and culture (such as racism, poverty, existential dreed, personal/emotional growth, any form of oppression etc.) Something that does not only drive a story forward as a source of conflict or a character’s backstory/arc for the sake of entertainment, but may even make us think afterwards.

And as much as I like cartoons, I do not think this is something children cartoons do most of the time.

And before I get accused of thinking cartoons are only something for kids or that a thoughtful story can not be told via the medium of animation, let me put a few things into perspective.

Unlike Dobson, I do not have an educational background in animation. However, I grew up with a lot of cartoons, animated movies and comics from all over the world and thanks to the wonders of the internet read up here and there on the different ages of animation and certain tidbits in what went into the making of certain works of fiction and why they may have been a huge thing in the time periods they emerged in.

As such I know that the medium of animation can be used to not only create “child appropriate” content, but also movies like Barefoot Gen, Fritz the Cat, Felidae, Animal Farm and so on, which tackled themes of social issues, political worldviews and personal/historical tragedies.

Then there is the fact, that depending on the culture, there are very different interpretations in what can be considered “child appropriate” in certain parts of the world and therefore what themes a cartoon may tackle. Like how in European children cartoons such as Alfred J. Quack there was a story arc resembling the rise of Adolf Hitler in power, to tell about the heroes of the show working in the underground against an obvious fascist regime. Or how in certain Japanese children shows the subject of death can be rather common, while in American cartoons just mentioning the word “die” seems a red flag to some studio executives. Lastly, a lot of early animation, (particularly western animation) did not even start off as something targeted primarily at children. Animation started off as a technique to tell a story through “moving pictures” and some of the first animated shorts ever had a huge fanbase of adults and children. “Snow White”, Disney’s first animated movie back in 1933 was a technical marvel at the time. A movie we nowadays mostly consider a children’s movie with a slightly dull story compared to other Disney outings, was back then a risk that earned Disney multiple Oscars and was appreciated more by adults than it was by children, despite being based on a fairy tale. A type of story mostly considered “appropriate” for kids.

What I am trying to say is, that I am aware of how not all children cartoons are the same and can vary in terms of “maturity”. Something I think Dobson can’t, because he also can’t see that there is a huge variety of “children” cartoons.

Despite his background and claims to consider animation an art, Dobson has shown a huge lack of knowledge or admiration for shows/movies that do not fit into the specific mold of “western animation primarily targeted for children and airing on american television”.

And that is not a claim I make half-heartedly. I have done research on the guy, I know how he likes to brag when he considers he found a great cartoon or something interesting. So I find it telling that aside of nostalgia for certain 80s and 90s cartoons we all know, Dobson’s recommendations and taste in shows seems to be primarily focused on just the most recent stuff everybody else likes/a very small pool of rather generic shows. I am not saying he should be contrarian on principal and e.g. dislike Gravity Falls, but he lacks initiative to look out for new and old stuff himself.

I in fact remember when he asked twitter first if he should give Wander over Yonder, one of the best cartoons of the last decade, a chance, cause it seemed he was too chicken to have an opinion on his own.

Then again, weirdly enough, Dobson actually tends to be contrarian for the sake of it, till someone he respects or sucks up to tends to have a different opinion on a show/movie. For example, while he acts like Frozen is a great movie franchise and defends the second movie to the point he becomes anti-feministic when a woman has a different opinion than him on it, he actually gave the first movie a terrible review on deviantart back in 2014. Accusing it of “same face syndrome” and a shame to the name of Disney. Obviously that was also before the hashtag #GiveElsaaGirlfriend became popular and he went so far as to hint he thinks an incest ship with Anna was great. And Legend of Korra? According to first deviantart posts by him garbage. Which was an opinion swiftly changed the moment Korrasami became popular in the fandom by season 3.

The point I want to make with this digression is, that there are a lot of past actions by him hinting on the fact that Dobson kinda despises animation, when it does not fit within a very narrow niche of things he likes. Further indicated by his disdain for “adult” animated shows or hostility towards foreign animation, except the occasional movie by Studio Ghibli for example.

Because of this lack of a bigger picture, I do not think Dobson is aware how in terms of story, cartoons can heavily vary. And when it comes to mature subjects, you can’t really engage with them if you lack a story carrying them in turn. Let’s look again at the comic. What cartoon characters do you see in it, when Dobson talks about how he believes children cartoons “treat these (non-defined) mature subjects with FAR more respect than the hardest “dark, grim and gritty” stories”?

Pinkie Pie from My Little Pony, three main characters of Spongebob, Steven Universe, Courage the Cowardly Dog, Blossom from the Powerpuff Girls and Mickey Mouse. You want my opinion on them? None of them are from any cartoons tackling mature subjects in a huge manner.

However, they are from great shows. (Well, everyone but Steven, but I explain that later.)

See, this is where putting cartoons into perspective within the vast history of animation, comes in handy. Cause looking at them it is undeniable that people put effort into these shows. Effort in the animation and the writing in order to create an entertaining product, decent enough that not only little kids can enjoy it as a mindless distraction, but even older people can find merit in it, thanks to characters with decent personality, good humor, world building and even an engaging story. But all of that doesn’t make these shows or any story necessarily tackle a “mature subject”. Sure, the latest incarnation of My little pony was not as saccharine as its predecessor but rather cartoony as a good 90s show, but that doesn’t mean the new version is the Schindler’s List of animation (excuse the hyperbole). Same for the other cartoons, with Dobson also not acknowledging the fact that Spongebob e.g. had quite some dips in quality over the years (and even made pretty awful jokes about serious subjects such as suicide) or that Steven Universe, while tending to tackle mature subjects for its story (like trauma, war, abuse, self esteem issues, racism, rape and homosexuality) has failed multiple times over its run (even back when this comic was made) to treat these subjects not just as plot and drama points, but also with enough respect within the narrative, to the point a lot of former fans of the show turned their back on it, cause they had enough of the issues they could relate to being simplified and resolved in a cookie cutter manner so Rebeca Sugar could tell a whimsical story about gay space rocks and forgiveness.

Let us not even forget the fact, that while there is a huge number of cartoons with decent writing and value to them (and that those were not only created within the last 10 years or so), there is also just a lot of garbage out there that counts as “kids animation”. Cartoons and movies that were written with not a care in the world and at times outright more mean spirited as some of the stuff Dobson likely hates in life action. Are you telling me those toilet humor driven garbage piles of creativity are mature?

The point I try to make is, Dobson’s GENERAL statement that kids cartoons tackle mature subjects better than other form of media, is factually wrong, because a lot of shows don’t even try to be mature in the first place. Which however does not mean, there aren’t attempts made at being mature or tackle a mature subject.

Growing up with cartoons since the 90s, I saw quite a few cartoons once in a while having episodes with themes to them that were surprisingly “dark”, dramatic or related to issues I and other kids could also see and relate to in the real world. Bullying going out of control, eating disorders, school violence (even school shootings), dealing with the passing of a loved one, to name a few basic ones. Gargoyles and Hey Arnold were two very important cartoons for me in that regard, with Gargoyles showing me how dramatic a good action cartoon could be when compared to other action cartoons at the time (like Ninja Turtles) and Hey Arnold episodes like “Helga on the Couch” giving me a rather somber look into what “therapy” looks like closer to reality, while normally being a show with the slice of life adventures of a kid in the big city.

And I do highly appreciate that nowadays there are more cartoons doing ongoing storyarcs and as a result of actually having more drama to them, adding tension and character development to their plots. Things we did not quite have to the degree we have nowadays back then in the average show. But it is debatable if those things are equal to “mature subjects” such as racism, abuse or trauma. Cause at the end of the day, a lot of kids cartoons tend to only scratch the surface of those things in order to flesh out a plot, instead of making the plot about those issues. Which at times is even for the best if you ask me. Cause we should not forget, these shows and movies are made for kids. And because of their age, a lot of kids lack at times the knowledge and experience in life to properly understand the themes and subjects some people may try to convey with their work. Particularly when you want to tackle subjects such as trauma, abuse and war which lets be honest, a lot of people can’t even comprehend in their complexity as adults. So how are kids supposed to comprehend them? One way, in my opinion, is by simplifying them and turning them into part of a narrative instead of the main focus of the narrative. But that in itself doesn’t always work and can have negative consequences in multiple ways. For example by making the story suddenly non engaging, delivering the subject in such a manner that people can get the wrong message of what you are trying to say or (at worst) simplifying it to such a degree, it becomes outright offensive to others.

A good example that comes to my mind for that would be how Captain Planet back in the 90s tried to tackle the subject of AIDS in one episode. On one hand, considering how the disease was a big deal back then but no one openly talked about it, you kinda have to give credit to Captain Planet to tackle it. On the other hand, is a subject such as a deadly disease that back then was barely researched and killed millions, really something you want to tackle on an overly preachy (but considering whose company produced it, also very hypocritical) kids show, where most of the time the solution to a problem was not even grounded in reality? And spoilers, the episode treated AIDS not even as the big deal it was, but as something the villain would exploit to spread a rumor on the ill kid, because that somehow equaled a chance to pollute the world more. Not really mature, if you ask me.

What all of this ranting is boiling down to, is that Dobson failed to make a case for how kids animation is able to tackle mature subjects, by not putting his opinion in the bigger context of what animation is/can be and what he means by the term “mature theme”. All he did was just indirectly soapbox that he thinks every other form of media is incapable of being about a serious issue, in doing so also insulting the art of storytelling in itself by disregarding anything not expressed in funny pictures specifically made for children or manchildren on tumblr who want to act they are the big boys, cause a cartoon horse made them feel sad.

He did so by making a very weak argument, not being able to present it in a manner that was hard to debunk and by drawing a comic in which everything looks surprisingly lifeless and like the least amount of quality and effort (things I argued can make a great cartoon) was put into it.

Which ironically, is the total opposite, of being mature.

And lastly, can’t believe I have to say that, but Dobson, the Pokemon’s name is Butterfree, not Butterfry. Butterfry is what you get when you make a statue of a Futurama character made out of something you put on your bread.

#comic #my little pony #adobsonartworks #maturity #western animation #steven universe #syac

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mancillasevelyn · 4 years

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Week 3 Discussion 09/09/2020

Question #1: In the article Automating Inequality, do you think having technology systems input customer information to be more effective or is it causing us more issues?

Based on the article it seems like the automated eligibility system had a few glitches which was causing the Red Flag. When you’re thinking about these types of issues you need to look at it from the customers perspective, in which I would disagree that having automated eligibility systems be more effective. When having a technological system so many different errors can occur which often create bigger issues in the future. Some data can be deleted and in this case, their health insurance wasn’t going through multiple times. Society today is moving into automated systems that are only causing extra trouble for individuals. Eubanks mentions, “ Today we have ceded much of that decision -making power to sophisticated machines. Automated eligibility systems, ranking algorithms, and predictive risk models control which neighborhoods get policed, which families attain needed resources…” The idea that a piece of technology is able to have control over so many things will not be beneficial to the people.

Question #2: Do you think cyberfeminism is effective?

Jessie Daniels mentions, “use of technology is emblematic of an array of new expression of feminist practices called “cyberfeminism.” Among cyberfeminists (Orgad 2005; Plant 1997; Podlas 2000), some have suggested that Internet technologies can be an effective medium for resisting repressive gender regimes and enacting equality, while others have called into question such claims (Gajjala 2003). The idea of having a form of technology space where individuals are able to express themselves and relate to one another about the experiences they have faced, is indeed effective. Not only is this creating a safe space for people, but it is bringing communities together and helping them understand one another. Jessie also mentions, “I argue that the lived experience and actual Internet practices of girls and self-identified women reveals ways that they use the Internet to transform their material, corporeal lives in a number of complex ways that both resist and reinforce hierarchies of gender and race.”

Question #3: Eubank talked about the failures technology has sometimes and the issues it can bring people. With that being said, do you think it’s safe to trust technology systems with your personal information?

As mentioned before, technology can cause some glitches and errors which can cause some of your personal information to delete or even change a little. Society has made it a normal norm to trust technology systems with our personal information without even thinking about the failures the systems can have in the future. Aside from the technical issues some systems can have, we also have to think about how easy it is for hackers to steal information. In the reading Red Flag, we learned that every time her health insurance was canceled, her information was deleted and or not processed. However, how will we know if our information was truly deleted? How will we know that if our information was truly not processed? In an ideal world, we can assume with peace that our information is being kept private, but so many people and companies have access to our information that we can not trust technology with our personal information.

Question #4: What are some of the positive impacts technology has brought us?

Just like everything else, technology has its ups and downs. However, I believe technology has brought more positive impacts on societies. Due to technology being so easy accessible, we have been able to form different methods of communications. We are able to communicate through social media, text, and email. Technology has also been helpful with connecting people together. For example, in the reading Rethinking Cyberfeminism, they talked about how cyber space and cyberfeminism has made it easier for people to connect through the same experiences and give each other support. Technology has also made it possible for people to have a safe space within technology. In some aspects, people are also able to locate each other through technology. Although this act can become an invasion of privacy, social media has made it possible for these features to be accessible to others. Technology has improved so much and it continues to improve.

Daniels, Jessie. (2009). Rethinking cyberfeminism: race, gender, and embodiment. Women’s Studies Quarterly. 37, 101-124.doi: 10.1353/wsq.0.0158

Eubanks, Virginia. (2018). Automating Inequality Introduction

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doomonfilm · 3 years

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Memories : Top 15 Films of 2020

If 2020 taught movie fans anything, it was that we shouldn’t take things for granted. On the dollars and cents side of things, movie theaters were already facing an uphill battle to stay sustainable, but the “shelter-in-place” practice of March and beyond decimated box office returns, with many theaters yet to reopen (if they will open at all). In terms of famous names and faces, the list of those who passed away featured numerous icons : Kobe Bryant, Kirk Douglas, Max von Sydow, Honor Blackman, Carl Reiner, Ennio Morricone, John Saxon, Wilford Brimley, Chadwick Boseman, Sean Connery, Tiny Lister Jr., Adolfo ‘Shabba Doo’ Quinones and many more transitioned to the great beyond. Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, Shudder and a number of other streaming services saw themselves step into the forefront of the entertainment provider realm, with Warner Brothers and a handful of other studios making announcements that they will be following suit for at least 2021, if not for good.

With all of this uncertainty and chaos, however, the year 2020 was a surprisingly strong one, in my opinion, when it came to cinematic output... so much so, in fact, that aside from a number of Honorable Mentions, my list of top films was expanded to 15 in order to accommodate all of my choices. For anyone who has checked out my lists from previous years, you will know that I did not see every film released this year, but I did make my best effort to cover as wide a range of films as possible. Enjoy the list, and be sure to support film in whatever medium you are able to moving forward so that it can thrive.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

The 40-Year-Old Version (dir. Radha Blank) A nice little personal film that spoke to my hip-hop sensibility, as well as that ever-present awareness of the inevitability of age, and how it can skew our perspective in regards to our achievements.

Ava (dir. Tate Taylor) This isn’t the action film that’s going to reinvent the wheel, but if you look at action films like wheels, this is a quality wheel. Outside of Common, I couldn’t really find much to shoot down... this will definitely be one I consider the next time I have company and we’re looking for something fun to check out.

Bill & Ted Face The Music (dir. Dean Parisot) I honestly would have been satisfied with just two films in this franchise, but surprisingly, a third entry was created that didn’t ruin my overall enjoyment of the previous two films. Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter jumped in without missing a beat, a healthy dose of familiar faces popped back up, and the new cast additions weren’t too jarring... it’s nice to know that a pair of my favorite childhood films are officially now part of a trilogy.

Borat Subsequent Moviefilm: Delivery of Prodigious Bribe to American Regime for Make Benefit Once Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan (dir. Jason Woliner) This was possibly the most surprising release of 2020... outside of a couple of news blips that Sacha Baron Cohen made during production, not a lot about this film was leaked prior to its release. For such a dated character and a seemingly outdated style of humor, Borat once again exposed the simplest parts of society in an incredibly insightful (albeit cringey as all get-out) manner.

Guns Akimbo (dir. Jason Lei Howden) One of the most fun films of 2020. Somewhere, the creative minds behind Nerve are wishing that they’d made this film instead.

Henrietta and Her Dismal Display of Affection (dir. Jeffrey Garcia) Jeffrey Garcia is the homie, and I’ve had the pleasure of being in a number of his short films, so when he announced his intentions to write and shoot a feature film in 2020, I was completely on-board. Miraculously, he was able to film the movie while the world was being ravaged by COVID-19, and though I cannot publicly announce details yet, this film has definitely already met (and likely succeeded) his expectations.

The Midnight Sky (dir. George Clooney) With each film that George Clooney directs, I realize more and more than he is an old soul trapped in a body idolized by the new school of film. That being said, it’s nice to know that there are directors out there willing to embrace patient, silent and contemplative moments while simultaneously withholding from force-feeding viewers exposition.

Tenet (dir. Christopher Nolan) This was possibly the most anticipated release of the year, considering it was the king of the IMAX release crowd in its pre-release promotion. After a small delay due to COVID-19, it was one of the first films released in hopes of testing the movie-going waters during what was sure to be a diminished period of time, which probably hurt its numbers. Too many, the film was confusing, and the nit-picking was fierce from the criticism contingency, but in all honesty, this was pretty impressive Nolan fare... certainly a good second movie in a Nolan double feature.

The Trial of the Chicago 7 (dir. Aaron Sorkin) I cannot tell a lie... I was hugely impressed with how Sorkin managed to reel his personality and voice back in order to let this well-known, controversial moment in time present itself. Sorkin has a tendency to be the star of his films, be it when he is in the writer or director role, but for this film, he managed to focus the best parts of his skillset into a highly respectful, educational and inspiring tale that fit the tumultuous summer we endured.

VHYes (dir. Jack Henry Robbins) I remember seeing this trailer as 2019 was coming to a close, and it was a film high on my list of desired viewing. Then 2020 reared its ugly, stupid head and many releases disappeared into obscurity or found themselves delayed. Luckily, this one slipped through the cracks and found a home in the streaming world, which in all honesty, suited its presentation very well. One of the most delightfully weird films of the year, hands down.

Vivarium (dir. Lorcan Finnegan) Of all the films cut from my Top 15 list, this was the toughest cut to make. I went into the film totally blind (with Jesse Eisenberg and my respect for his acting chops being the sole selling point), but this film really hit a lot of my buttons... it’s trippy as can be, there is a character that is freakishly unique and wholly unnerving, and the production design leaves a lasting impression. Don’t let the Honorable Mention designation fool you... this one is a winner.

Wonder Woman 1984 (dir. Patty Jenkins) The Christmas gift that the masses collectively decided that they did not want. Much like Ava, there is one glaring aspect of this film that I could have done without, but otherwise, I found this to be an enjoyable film. Gal Gadot was made for this role, while Kristen Wiig and Pedro Pascal stepped up to the plate and impressed. If you’re looking to be blown away, the Wonder Woman franchise isn’t the smartest place to go, but if you’re looking for entertainment, there’s plenty of it here.

THE TOP 15 FILMS OF 2020

15. Mignonnes (dir. Maïmouna Doucouré) This one started off the year with plenty of controversy. What was an award-winning tale about womanhood and the difficulties surrounding coming of age in an ever-changing and evolving world quickly devolved into a campaign to ban the film (and Netflix). Many people overlooked the film as a cautionary tale about what access to the Internet and the sexually-charged nature in which women are portrayed can do to developing girls, instead choosing to accuse the film of being fodder for malicious types seeking to exploit the sexualizing of young women. More than anything, in my opinion, Mignonnes served as an example of our outrage-fueled culture and the way it tends to skew our perspective and/or our ability to take art at face value.

14. His House (dir. Remi Weekes) As I’ve mentioned many times over the past week or so on this blog, horror films were one of the few genres that found a benefit from the film industry’s transition to streaming services for primary access to film. While a number of traditional horror films received notice, His House took the opportunity to not only make a pure horror film, but one that spoke on racism and the conditions that asylum-seekers and refugees face. The film is well-acted, the production value is high quality, and it’s paced beautifully... while not the highest film on this list, it is certainly one I will encourage others to see as time goes by.

13. All Day and a Night (dir. Joe Robert Cole) When human nature reared its ugly head during COVID-19 in the form of numerous race-related killings, multitudes of businesses quickly adopted the Black Lives Matter mantra, with film distributors and streaming services taking advantage of the moment to produce and release content relevant to cultural and social awareness. Netflix was no different, and of the many films they released in the wake of the harrowing events, All Day and a Night is the one that feels the most sincere and honest in its approach and presentation. The streets of Oakland are presented with a vast array of characters, each with complex backgrounds and states of mind, all of which helps the viewer understand the pressure many minorities live with and process on a daily basis.

12. She Dies Tomorrow (dir. Amy Seimetz) Execution is king, even when applied to the simplest of premises, and She Dies Tomorrow is a shining example of this. In a very John Cassavetes move, director Amy Seimetz took her payment from her appearance in Pet Sematary and used it to fund a personal project that more than likely would have been ignored by studio heads. The result is a hypnotic, entrancing and haunting film where stillness and anticipation play antagonist, while we as viewers feel the need to transpose ourselves into the protagonists we are presented due to their stilted but emotional performances. Hopefully this one finds some notoriety in the cult classic realm as the years pass.

11. The Vast of Night (dir. Andrew Patterson) For a debut film, The Vast of Night handles itself with a surprising amount of confidence in its vision. The immersion is nearly instant as we are first placed in the premise of a TV show, and then a 1950′s town, but once the actors and camera get going, it’s up to us as viewers to strap in for the ride. The story is deeply intriguing, the performances are strong enough to carry a very dialogue heavy movie, and the final act is chilling in its reveals. I will be surprised if this one finds its way to a Best Original Screenplay nomination due to it being a debut film from a relatively unknown writer/director, but if it manages to get the nomination it will certainly be a well-deserved one.

10. Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (dir. Cathy Yan) The movie that broke the list. If someone would have told me in 2019 that a film directly connected to Suicide Squad would be anywhere on a Top Films list I curated, I would have laughed dead in their face, and yet, here we are. It’s like every good idea that was poorly executed in Suicide Squad found new life in Birds of Prey, which makes the film not only an entertaining watch, but a satisfying one. Not only is Margot Robbie perfect in this film (as well as given a break on the exploitative costuming), but Mary Elizabeth Winstead arguably takes a stab at stealing the show with her performance. Don’t let the DCEU association fool you... Birds of Prey is the real deal.

9. Never Rarely Sometimes Always (dir. Eliza Hittman) Probably the most contemplative film on the entire list, and impressive in its nature for sure. To my knowledge, the cast is made up of mostly unknowns (unless I’m sleeping on actors and actresses, which has been known to happen), and as a result, a tough slice of life to swallow is presented in an extremely grounded nature. Sidney Flanigan gives a powerful performance, hopefully the first of many.

8. Possessor [Uncut] (dir. Brandon Cronenberg) Easily the most “what the f-ck” film on this list, and certainly one worthy of the Cronenberg name. Andrea Riseborough has been on my radar since Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) and Mandy, and seeing her in a lead role confirms her talent. I’m a sucker for science-fiction films that don’t rely on digital effects and elaborate set pieces, and Possessor rings both of those bells with a vengeance. I watched the uncut version, which has a couple of extremely brutal sequences that will unnerve even the most hardened viewer, but these sequences only serve to drive home the lost nature of Tasya, our protagonist. This one isn’t for everyone, but for those who can stomach a bit off graphicness and process a narrative that doesn’t spoon-feed you answers, this one is a must see.

7. Da 5 Bloods (dir. Spike Lee) Spike Lee has always been a huge influence on me as both an aspiring filmmaker and a fan of the medium, but I’d be lying if I told you that his last decade was a memorable one. Outside of BlacKkKlansman, Lee has found himself falling short of his vision more often than not, but Da 5 Bloods is a tonal and stylistic bullseye. Fans of Lee will dig it, fans of Vietnam films will dig it, and anyone who had an inkling of respect or admiration for Chadwick Boseman will be moved. If Lee continues to make films as good as this one, he may find an entirely new generation of fans as a result.

6. Soul (dir. Pete Docter) As mentioned at the top of this list, people love to try and sink films due to their own personal agendas, and Soul found itself in the crosshairs prior to its late 2020 release. Many people were upset that a minority character would not only spend most of the movie as a blue blob, but would also seemingly serve as a tool for another character’s “salvation”. That being said, once Soul dropped, anybody with common sense dropped those stances and realized that Pixar had not only made a stunningly beautiful film, but one that likely spoke to adults more than children. Plain and simple, Soul is a bonafide instant classic.

5. Kajillionaire (dir. Miranda July) If Evan Rachel Wood doesn’t win an Oscar for her performance in Kajillionaire (or at least garner a nomination), Hollywood needs to collectively have their head checked. Every year worth its salt has a weird, quirky but loveable film, and Miranda July more than succeeded in making one for 2020. The humor, both physical and dialogue-based, is on point, and the bittersweet nature of the story is gut-wrenching as the film progresses. This one was probably the biggest surprise for 2020 in terms of prior awareness versus post-watch admiration.

4. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (dir. George C. Wolfe) The final film of Chadwick Boseman’s short but prolific career is one that allowed him to exist in the wake of his reality, making his performance powerful and (seemingly) cathartic. He is surrounded by supreme talent on all sides, as there are no weak performances in this film, and despite it essentially being a play shot for film, it feels far from limited, contained or constrained. Not only does it speak on larger issues of the commodification of Black pain and talent, but it may serve as a vehicle for a posthumous Oscar for Boseman.

3. The Devil All The Time (dir. Antonio Campos) This was the first Netflix original that made me really and truly respect them as a film distributor. The list of talent for The Devil All The Time is truly impressive, and Tom Holland knocked his lead role out of the park. Robert Pattinson is great as always, and the way that the story winds back into itself keeps you locked in and connected until the credits roll. For something that came out so many months ago, it’s respectable that it was able to hold such a high position on a list that was as fluid as any I’ve ever put together.

2. Mank (dir. David Fincher) For a time, this was the hands down film of the year on my list. Gary Oldman has basically become a “can do no wrong” actor, and his performance was amplified by David Fincher’s ability to emulate the look, sound and feel of a bygone Hollywood era. On top of this, the built in intrigue that comes with handling anything remotely connected to Orson Welles is present, making Mank almost feel like a companion piece to the prolific film that is Citizen Kane. If The Devil All The Time was a victory for Netflix, then Mank was the win that put them into a true spot as contenders in the future of film distribution.

1. I'm Thinking of Ending Things (dir. Charlie Kaufman) Where does one even begin with Charlie Kaufman? Time and again, he proves to be one of the most truly unique voices to gain fame. For I’m Thinking of Ending Things, Kaufman seemingly returns to his foundation of odd, offbeat love stories, only to take us on a journey of truly mind-bending and psyche-warping proportions. Of all the movies on this list, this is the one that almost demands repeat viewings, as one must have an idea of the entire journey before they can understand the individual aspects laid out. If dialogue isn’t your thing, then this one may not hold you, but that would be a shame, as this beautiful mystery stands head and shoulders above the rest of 2020′s stellar output.

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