#wank fodder

[dragynkeep]

Ironwood: *Provides Yang with a prosthetic arm, Immediately releases the heroes from the arrest, lays all his cards on the table at once, trust them to keep a world-changing tool in their posession, upgrades the their weapons and gear, promotes them all to professional huntsmen*

QRWBY & JNOR: Imma pretend I didn't see that, I don't like this dude's vibes, he shady

Emerald: *Manipulates the heroes by putting up a friendly front, kills Penny, traumatizing Ruby and Pyrrha, helps orchestrate the fall of Beacon that entailed hundreds of casualties, takes part in the fall of Haven, assists Cinder in trying to kill Penny (again) and stop her from launching Amity like a day before she joins the team at the eleventh hour, doing little to nothing to regain their trust*

RWBY & JNOR a few hours later: awww she mad haha welcome to the team Em

The fact that ~Emerald, who cause the deaths of countless innocents, Penny, Pyrrha, indirectly led to Yang losing her arm, Weiss nearly dying, attacked Penny AGAIN, and was with Salem for over half of the invasion of Atlas that killed more countless people-

was welcomed far quicker than the man who literally helped RWBY every step of the way, put his upmost trust in them by giving them their licenses, new weapons, housed them, trusted them completely with the plan with no secrets, and even listened to them up until they literally went behind his back and their lying was exposed, is my villain origin story.

The fact that the heroes were shown as justified in their reactions to Ozpin, who didn't even do half the shit they did, while painting Ironwood as irrational and should be lied to when he'd done nothing to justify that beyond the American white writers getting scared that a shut down country reeling from a terrorist attack would enforce a curfew, is aggravating.

And it shows because so many people before V8 were actually on Ironwood's side, or at least pointed out that RWBY were being hypocrites and not being held accountable by the narrative! So the writers went "We'll just make him stupid evil and a genocidal general so everyone who sided with him in the previous volume was wrong to do so".

Like, can we all agree they just fucked up writing actual nuance and grey morality already? It's far easier than trying to justify their dogshit writing.

[coldpintglass]

Watching Luke Shaws fat fucking caked up arse in slow motion, sublime!

[augment-techs]

Hi (I swear this is Power Rangers related) but did you see the music video for "I Should Have Fucked Your Brother" by Olivia O'Brien? Because I'm freaking out about it and I don't know who else to tell.

Oh yes I've seen it; it came through by recommendation via @skyland2703 and...I can understand the hype. I am mostly floating through the ocean of awareness that this set of actors, like most previous Ranger teams, are going to be in each others lives probably for the rest of eternity. And since these two got to be in a music video where their type casting was put through something that will better them tremendously down the line, I am very happy for them. Not too thrilled about the music's implications and what was heavily implied throughout, but if I shove all of that out of the way, I can mostly just settle for the fact that the boys look SO PRETTY. And actually their age, which is preferable.

[innerempire]

a continuation of this

Sweet Peter still thinks it’s an inside joke between them; him calling Tony “daddy” and being called “baby” in return. Thing is, Tony’s not laughing.

The first time Peter had texted him “thank you, daddy” as a goddamn goof, he had used it as fodder for wanking for a solid week straight. Because hey, he does, in a way, sees himself as that older male figure in Peter’s life. And because he’s a glutton for whatever-this-is, Tony wants to see how far it’ll go. Each candid playful text from Peter addressing him as daddy has Tony in complete disarray.

And so, he finds every single excuse under the goddamn sun to purchase things for Peter. Kid complains about his squeaky thrifted computer chair? Tony buys him a $2,300 Herman Miller ergonomic chair.

He gets a call right in the middle of a meeting, and Pepper instantly recognizes the ringtone. Quick on her feet as always, she briskly calls for a short break and the meeting room is cleared out within seconds.

“Tony.” Peter doesn’t even give him a chance to slip in a “hi”. “…when I complain about something, I…it’s not because I need you to do something about it. I’m just being a typical teenager.”

“…do you like the chair?”

A pause.

“Yes. Very much.”

“That’s all I need to know. Besides, that’s what daddies do, don’t they? Fix problems.”

Peter laughs, and Tony wishes he was there to hear it.

And he thinks that’s the end to it until he gets a notification that night notifying him that Peter has uploaded a new post on his Instagram account. He had not-so-shamelessly created a throwaway account to follow Peter, despite the fact that the other wasn’t a frequent poster.

The new post was a photo of Peter in his spanking new Herman Miller chair and he had it captioned as, “whew thank you daddy!”. It takes a couple of seconds for Tony to realize that from head to toe, Peter is decked out in items that Tony had purchased for him. The shirt, the satiny black sleep shorts.

He doesn’t think it’s intentional, but fuck.

If this was a game, then Tony doesn’t think he can emerge victorious from it.

- / -

Tony hears from Peter that May hadn’t been too pleased when she came to visit. with just how much Tony was spending on Peter. Thing is, he doesn’t understand why she wouldn’t want him living far away from home in comfort.

“She says you’re over-indulging me. Which you are, by the way.”

Tony adjusts the earbud to sit more snugly in his ear, “Well, wait till she finds out I’m buying you an apartment so that you can live off campus next year.”

“…nothing I say is going to change your mind, right?”

“With each protest, I’ll add on more unnecessary furnishings.”

“Ugh, fine.” Tony hears the kid muffling a yawn on the other end.

“Go to sleep, kid. Or whatever it is that college kids do at this timing. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Peter snorts in response. “Fine, whatever you say, daddy.”

“Good boy.”

- / -

peter: lol something funny happened.

tony: funny ha-ha or funny-I-nearly-crashed-face-first-into something.

tony: because that’s more concerning than funny

peter: funny ha-ha

peter: so I was texting with Ned, and like I think I got so used to calling you daddy over texts.

peter: and like Ned was asking if we could work on some stuff over the winter break in your lab, but I know the lab’s like your sacred mancave so I told him, “okay, let me check with daddy and I’ll get back to you”.

peter: Ned was just ???????

peter: isn’t it hilarious???

peter: anyway, can I? please daddy

peter: ooops i mean pretty pls daddy

Thirteen minutes and two orgasms later, cum splattered against the metal edge of his lab table and a handful of tissues littering the floor, Tony replies: sure, baby, since you asked so prettily.

Winter break begins with a “hey, kiddo” and “missed you, mr.stark”. As promised, he allows Peter and Ned usage of the lab for a couple of hours.

“FRIDAY, you up?” Tony clicks his fingers twice.

“Always, Mr.Stark.”

“Keep an eye out for the kids. Especially Peter, he’s precious cargo.” He turns to Ned with a nonchalant shrug. “No offense, Ned.”

The color creeps up on Peter’s cheeks.

“I mean it, FRIDAY. Eyes on him.”

- / -

[aamputation]

SVSSS AU ... Benevolent System 0.4

related to [THIS] Shen Yuan art and -> [1st][2nd][3rd][5th]

Shang Qinghua is no stranger to his own misery. Having reincarnated into the world of his own Proud Immortal Demon Way, he had quickly learned that setting the world of his web novel in one full of wank and shitty porn tropes was a terrible idea. But that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was that he had been reborn as a canon fodder character, the snake-like traitor destined to be tossed aside and murdered by the very demon king he’d become a traitor for in the first place!

But what really irks him now is not his imminent demise. It’s Wu Shuang Huang Gua—Peerless Cucumber.

Shang Qinghua has always been overly aware of Peerless Cucumber—this ridiculous, scathing, critic with an endless vendetta against his web novel. Everything the guy wrote cut to the quick with the sharpness of a blade, each flaw magnified and publicly mocked. Shang Qinghua always knew that Cucumber was an online force to be reckoned with, even if the guy was one of the few he could count on to help pay his bills! What he hates to admit the most about the persistent bastard even now, is that Shang Qinghua actually likes the guy. Yes, his reviews were scathing and harsh and sometimes they made him cry when he was at his lowest—frantically typing out absolute garbage just to pay his bills—but beneath all the vitriol Shang Qinghua sees the guy’s intention. Cucumber had been around since the beginning, after all. He remembers the first few reviews, excited while praising his world-building and his plot hooks, rooting for Binghe and overall positive. Anything negative in those early days were primarily critiquing his actual grammar like a real beta reader or editor would, and Shang Qinghua had been so grateful for the feedback.

When he’d fallen on hard times, he’d had to lose his artistic integrity to write what paid the bills. He’d been so afraid that he would lose his favorite supporter, that Cucumber-bro—as he’d taken to calling the faceless guy in his head—would abandon him and his story entirely as the things that Cucumber-bro’s had loved the most took an unfortunate backseat to the typical YY stallion genre smut tropes. He’d been surprised but ecstatic that his favorite reviewer hadn’t up and left as the guy continued to review, chapter after god-awful chapter, but Shang Qinghua despaired that he’d lost the beloved excitement from Cucumber’s reviews. Partially for himself and partially as a way to keep some integrity, he’d promised himself that when he’d finished Proud Immortal Demon Way, he would somehow get the world-building document he’d been compiling into Cucumber-bro’s hands, as a way to thank him for being such a loyal fan-turned-antifan; for sticking by his side even through the rough patches.

(There were times, dear reader, that Shang Qinghua had felt so downtrodden and alone, that he would go back to re-read those initial reviews from the beginning chapters, if only to feel that kind of uplifting support again.)

When he’d accidentally electrocuted himself with cup noodles while trying to finish the real final chapter—the one without a cliffhanger, that is—only to find himself as an infant in another world, he’d despaired losing the one potential friend he’d had in a long time. Growing up as Shang Qinghua with a solemn, insistent System dictating his life through mandatory missions was unbearably lonely, even after meeting Mobei-Jun—and oh, his ideal man in the flesh was perfect, even all beat to shit—leaving him to long for the days of opening his inbox to yet another scathing, bitchy message from his favorite anonymous person.

Shang Qinghua realizes something’s off when he’s poring over intake forms after the latest acquisition for Cang Qiong’s libraries. Part of his duties as An Ding’s Peak Lord is handling trade agreements and the Sect’s import-exports. Both Qing Jing and Ling You had requested a significant number of new texts this time, although the former’s request was not as much of a surprise as the latter. Normally, such documents just gave him anxiety, but for some reason the fact that the Beast Peak was requesting books of all things rather than the usual feed or other tools captures his attention. The overlap is bizarre, and he squints at the name of the text that appears on both Peaks’ lists, frowning in confusion.

Now, it’s been a while since Shang Qinghua has reincarnated into PIDW, but as the author of the damn universe he can’t remember including the Complete Compendium of Beasts: Volume 1 in his canon. Dropping the intake forms and adding to the already massive mess on his desk, he calls for his head disciple Yan Qi. He requests she bring him a copy of one of the requisitioned Bestiaries, and of course as efficiently as ever, she gets it into his hands within minutes. He examines it, curious as to what makes this Bestiary so special that not only the Beast peak is requesting it, but the Scholarly peak as well. At first glance it’s nondescript, but well bound. Paper being as expensive as it is, it’s clear that this is a luxury item, specially designed for cultivation sects or wealthy patrons. His curiosity gets the best of him, and he opens the book. 

The first thing that strikes him is the overwhelming level of detail. There are illustrations—meticulously drawn, filled with sophisticated textures. Each entry chronicles a creature, beast, or monster that had appeared in the original text of Proud Immortal Demon Way—analyzed in painstaking detail. Descriptions of these beasts are paired with psychological analyses of their behaviors, notes about ecosystems, hierarchical structures, and even speculation about the emotions of each creature. The Proud Immortal Demon Way he’d written didn’t have such elaborate and creative lore about these creatures in the text. Sure, they were mentioned in passing as stepping stones for his son’s growth and development, but not anywhere near this level of detail. One particular illustration catches his eye: a massive, mythical beast called a Veilclaw Phantasmal Stag. Its spindly antlers somehow glow, its body translucent as clouds of mist billow around it; twisting and bending as though the tendrils might lash out and strangle him from the very paper itself. The description accompanying it is just as meticulous—its behavior, the way its hooves leave no trace in the world, even how its mournful cries can influence the mind. 

“Wait a minute…" Shang Qinghua mutters to himself, his breath catching, "this… I never actually put this one in PIDW.”

Shang Qinghua remembers creating this creature. The only reason he hadn’t included it was because he hadn’t wanted Cucumber-bro to berate him for the obvious comparison to Shishigami from Mononoke Hime. The Veilclaw Phantasmal Stag only ever existed in his massive compilation of world-building notes, never making it into his actual web novel text as a true canonical creature. And yet…

“Ho- How does the author know about this? Did… did my notes somehow become canon?”

That’s a scary thought.

Feverishly, he reads on. What strikes Shang Qinghua the most as he reads is the way each entry is written. The entries aren't cold or dismissive, but passionate, lively. Thorough, yes, but never dry or boring. There’s a love for these creatures that is so genuine Shang Qinghua can’t help but wonder what kind of person the author is, and honestly kind of wants to meet them, this person so enamored with the fauna of his world. The footnotes are even more bizarre, seemingly the author’s afterthoughts. It gives him minor tonal whiplash but it’s still just as brilliant, pointing out subtle contradictions in Shang Qinghua’s web novel’s lore about similar creatures, snarky and pointed. The writing there, tucked in those footnotes, feels... familiar; personal. The tone is scathing, yes—ridiculously so, actually—but there is also a deeply intimate understanding of Shang Qinghua’s world-building; a hint of nigh omniscience that he hasn’t experienced from anyone else aside from himself, as the author and creator of this universe. No one besides him should have this kind of encyclopedic knowledge…

As he flips through the other pages, each one more well-researched than the last, something clicks in his head.

Shang Qinghua frantically searches for the author’s name and upon finding it, drops the bestiary as if it has burned him.

Wu Huang. 

Peerless Cucumber. 

The bitchiest, most critical, most sarcastic, and most self-righteous anti-fan of his work; the biggest Binghe-stan and the ultimate hater of anything papapa, the most loyal of all and the only one he could count on to pay his bills. And now—now—Cucumber-bro is somehow here, in the same world Shang Qinghua is trapped in, living out the very thing the guy had spent countless hours tearing apart.

What–and he cannot emphasize this enough–the fuck!?

[1st] | [3rd] < > [5th]

shout out to adornedwithlight for the reblog banner

[antspaul]

maxiel forcefem below the cut exclusive for my 2am girlies. who up forcing they fem

“I wore them… what you said,” says Max. His eyes are wide and so focused on her face that it sends a shiver down her spine. 

Her booze-logged brain lags. For a moment, she doesn’t get it. And then she does. “Max,” is all she says. 

“You said I had to,” says Max, “for luck.”

No, she hadn’t, she’s pretty sure. She never said Max had to do anything. It’s been a game, hasn’t it? A game of kinky chicken, her pushing his buttons to see how far he'll let her go. Pulling pigtails, a friendly antagonism she has with almost every bloke on the grid.

Had she actually believed he would take it further? Not really. The idea had been wanking fodder from time to time, and she'd known the same was definitely true for him. That was really all she'd wanted. All she'd expected.

“Oh, Max,” she says, her heart beating so fast in her ears she's scared she might pass out. “During the race? Really?”

“For luck,” Max says. “You said you wore them here last year.”

“Hm. I did say that, didn't I.”

His coked-up gaze searches her face. His expression droops, just a bit but she sees it happen. Confusion laces his voice when he says, “You made me wear them.” He says, “You made me shave my legs and arms and... everywhere else.” He says, “You wanted me to do it. You made me.”

It occurs to Daniel, with a momentary intrusion of sobriety, that Max wants her to have coerced him into it. That he's been playing a game, too, not one so different than Daniel's. Maybe he likes her murky boundaries, how far she'll go to remind him of the humiliating moment when she found him in her bedroom last year.

Maybe a part of Max had wanted to be found.

“Oh, Max,” Daniel says again.

She puts one hand to his face, grasping gently, the other falling to the soft curve of his hip, stroking there for only a moment before she dips her fingers right inside the waistband of his jeans. There her fingertips press against his bare skin until they reach what she'd been hoping they would: the sweat-soaked twisted lacy string of the panties she'd sent him in the post months ago.

“You did good," she tells him.

[olderthannetfic]

So the thing with "content" is that is literally means "that which is contained". Calling something "content" positions the object or objects in question as being contained by another thing, defines them in relation to that thing, and implies that the container is more relevant in this specific context than the thing contained.

This is a very useful term when discussing things that contain other things. In website design you might say that the menu goes to the left of the content; this is useful because you're discussing the layout itself, and what the website is actually going to contain is not relevant when you're talking about the visual design.

A website's Content Policy describes what you may and may not upload to the website. It is a policy about appropriate use the container itself (the site), and does not concern itself with what the contents actually are. A content policy like Tumblr's is only trying to define what it means by "obscene"; the actual posts themselves are irrelevant, all that matters is that they have a legal framework for removing your posts. It is irrelevant if your female presenting nipples are a photograph or a drawing or a documentary or an aesthetic wonder or a quick snapshot or wank fodder, all that matters is that Tumblr is not a container which is meant to contain female presenting nipples.

The heating directions on canned food might say say "empty contents into bowl" because it's more important to tell you not to microwave the can (the container) than to talk about what types of foods can be canned (contained).

So to the ragey 21 year old anon, I ask, what makes your jellyfish hat content? What is it the contents of? It's just a hat that exists on its own. What contains it? What ads are being displayed next to it? What legal agreements or style guides are governing its existence within a certain space? Why must the hat be defined by its relationship to something else instead of just being a hat that you made because you were inspired by a manga you enjoy?

--

[eisforeidolon]

The writers were aware of fandom wank, which is why a lot of the “Dean/Cass” stuff ends up on the cutting room floor. It’s like they’d write something that seemed fine on paper, the. they realize people will read too much into it when performed and cut it out.

That was some of it. Like the infamous fake heaven scene they thought would be so hilarious to fill with pictures of Dean - where Jared had to point out some fans would take it seriously as a hint to where the story was going. So they removed it because that wasn't the intent. Like the crypt scene were Jensen pointed out Dean would not say I love you there. So Robbie changed it to what he more explicitly meant in terms of it being familial affection by his own direct admission.

Hellers want to insist all those little cut moments are PROOF of a conspiracy to ~*cheat them*~ out of an intended D/C story the writers were trying to give them, damn the meddling network and producers! However, what all the details we've actually heard about show? Is the ship being a thing in canon was so far outside of the genuine agreed intent multiple writers not only didn't think about the implications and not only used it as a punchline? But usually immediately removed those supposed hints when anyone pointed out the prospect of it being taken seriously by fans. Of course, when you have fans so desperately searching for clues they can turn literally breathing in the same room into ~*epic romance*~ it's hard to remove everything unless the characters literally never interact (and then you end up with "negative space" meta, so there's no winning).

Sure, there's a deeper question there as to whether they thought that specific pairing was ridiculous in the context of the canon (absolutely) or they generally thought m/m pairings were only fodder for jokes (not cool). Except that's a whole different discussion, because either way? What is clear is there was never some intentional secret storyline in easily cut throwaway moments leading up to making D/C canon the REAL story of the show. And not just because the idea anyone would tell a story on tv that way is fucking bonkers.

The writers definitely became more aware as time went on about fandom wank in regards to the subject? Though I think it was complicated a bit by them also having some quote unquote writers join the team towards the very end who were desperate for attention and actively wanted to bait those unhinged fans, like Bobo the Assclown and whatsherface the minion underling.

[fandom-hoarder]

Happy wincest Wednesday! It's been too long since I've done this. I keep forgetting when it's Wednesday, lol.

Case in point: I meant to ask this one last week for aro week. Any aro Dean Wincest headcanons? Just like... Particular ways you think it does or doesn't impact the relationship. Or how it changes how they get together. Or their opinions on monogamy or the relationship in general. Or changes the sex. Or like. Anything.

- @schizosamwincester

Happy Wincest Wednesday, @schizosamwincester !

My main headcanon regarding aro Dean + Wincest is that they operate mostly as a qpr, except they have few physical boundaries and sometimes they fuck. When it comes to their sexual relationship, to them it's different from relationships with other people. Their relationship isn't really defined, but outsiders might call it "open." Dean just calls it being brothers---listen, they've had their hands all over each other's wounded and dead bodies, what difference does it make if they get into each other's guts for orgasm purposes, too? Especially when Dean strikes out at the bar and Sam is in a giving mood?

Late seasons Sam isn't threatened by Dean's sexual proclivities, because he knows Dean isn't looking to settle down (with anyone else), and as great as they can be together, and as wild and kinky as they can get, Dean's appetite is bigger than Sam's, largely because I also headcanon gray/ace Sam. Though Dean can still get jealous when Sam has the rare outside hookup, because Dean gets a complex about Sam's romantic attachments, and what kind of white picket fence life he's keeping his brother from. Dean can be a little oblivious to the fact that Sam gets a good bit of romantic fulfillment from spending his time with Dean.

Dean doesn't really know about aromanticism for a long time, until things settle down post-Chuck and Sam brings it up. Even after that, Dean doesn't really like being introspective enough to label himself. He is what he is---they are what they are. Mostly Dean just thinks he tried the relationship thing and it wasn't for him. It felt like pretending to be someone else, and he does enough of that while hunting that he needs to be able to be himself at home. When he'd "settled down" with Lisa, it had been easier to fall into the role of family caretaker than it had been to fill the boyfriend/husband role. Even the idea of settling down with another hunter doesn't really tickle his fancy. He's got Sam to spend time with and understand him, and he doesn't have to worry about dating and domesticity---well, except when he worries that maybe Sammy wants more than this...whatever it is they have.

Sam knows all his brother's insecurities, but trying to reassure Dean can toe the line past chick flick moment into smothering, and then Dean gets antsy. It doesn't help matters that Sam's relationship to sexual attraction usually requires an emotional connection, because that's the real threat whenever Sam feels like fucking someone else.

Maybe sometimes Dean fantasizes about a girl or guy he's fucking coming back with him to play house with Sam, like he's taking interviews for Sam's spouse---but beyond the wank fodder of it, Dean's interest in it fizzles out when he tries to imagine it longterm. What are they gonna do---Sam handles the romance while Dean handles the fucking? What if Dean didn't feel as attracted to the new person once they settle in? What if Sam decided that new person was all he needed, and went off to make a new family, sans Dean? What if they're not even worthy of his brother, pretty as they may be?

Besides, Dean doesn't want to have to pretend they're not brothers when they're fucking. And, anyway, who besides Dean can Sam really let go all the way with?

Then they'll get back on the road, driving away from whatever hookups, and go back to being brothers fighting over music and directions and where to stop for dinner...with maybe a pullover for a handjob and a beer. And maybe Sam peeks over at Dean while they're looking at the stars in companionable silence, the smell of the road and the hunt and their spunk between them, and smothers his smile with the lip of the beer bottle before Dean catches on to how Sam finds the whole thing to be damn romantic.

[garagepaperback]

trash tuesdays:

thanks to the widely-coveted @yiiiiiiiikes25 for newly minting this approach to the day. i'm happy to have re-discovered this scrap from two months ago, which didn't go anywhere because i was like 'this is just about the nervous game', but now it can be that and also be here.

-

The night's half-past past sloppy, careening towards shit-show.

Everyone's focused, so intense that it’s kind of dumb, an over-acted show of dedication, but Harry keeps catching Dean’s eye, and Blaise’s—even Malfoy’s once. Soon, without really ever actually committing, he's entirely in.

“How fast are you supposed to move?” Ginny asks.

“Whatever pace you like, I think," Blaise smiles, a very public, somehow private way, turning it toward Malfoy this time. Malfoy’s cheek tugs up like Blaise caught it on a hook. 

Harry’s palm skims up Blaise’s trousers, black denim so sleek it seems insulting to think of the fabric as the same genus as jeans, like a phoenix and a pigeon both being associated with a feather, while Malfoy slides his hand, smirk blooming, to the inside of Ron’s thigh, flexing two fingers out long, then curling back, like pressing a slow-rolling quotation mark into the leg.

Ron yelps, jumping up, and almost taking Dean out of the game as well with the force of it.

“Well,” Malfoy announces, shifting with a little shake of his head, already smug.

“You only win if you don’t say you're nervous," Harry reminds him.

Malfoy sniffs, “Fine.”

Across the thin plane of Malfoy's thigh, Blaise's fingers press a tight circle, striking it through with a line and just before Harry realizes he's likely writing a word there, letter by letter, Dean's hand scales Harry's leg with a heavy sort of heat. Harry slides him a ratifying glance. And still, Harry stays half-stuck in the fence of Blaise’s gaze.

Harry hasn't noticed before, maybe, or not this close, or not also while he's got a hand on Blaise's leg—which is so warm, summer trapped in the lean length. And he's got these steady brown eyes, half-lidded, fixed and laden on Harry even as Malfoy slinks his legs open a little wider so that Blaise can stride his fingers teasingly up along the inseam. The bored look on Malfoy's face does nothing to stop the blatant flush sullying his throat, mottling his stern jaw.

Even sloshed, Dean moves cordially. He makes it to just about the bottom hem on one of Harry’s pant legs, rucked just slightly under his jeans, and Blaise tilts his head just as Harry surpasses probably that exact threshold. Though, he doesn’t really seem like the sort to wear pants. 

“All right,” Blaise sighs thickly, and Harry pulls away. They smile at each other as Harry’s spine sinks back slowly into the stingy padding of the booth for only a moment.

Malfoy's hands stays unsettled and slack against his seat, looking off to the side pointedly bored, even though he hasn't really been able to keep himself from looking down that end of the table. He doesn't even glance up as Blaise presses against him, settling back in to drag more letters on Malfoy's trouser leg. A t, Harry catches, then maybe a cursive ch.

It’s an odd combination, all of it. Buzzed and comfortable in the uncomfortable booth, heat licking all along Harry’s chest and shoulders, a swamp of it in the belly. This is the molten middle of the otherwise pretty forgettable evening; nothing, and sensation stacked, Blaise’s gaze and Dean’s hand, wank-fodder for a few solid months, even if Harry has to surgically remove Ginny, Ron, and probably Pansy from the situation. And Malfoy.

Harry's scalp feels tight, a prickling up the neck that’s way-back and familiar, just the same.

“They're going to go on forever,” Ginny declares, leaning her cheek onto the probably un-plush pillow of Pansy’s skull. “Can’t we call it a draw?”

“Kind of cheating to play with someone you’re shagging,” Harry says, rushing the words out to soften the way he adjusts in his seat. It spreads Blaise’s grin. 

“You and Thomas are shagging?” Blaise tilts his head mock-wondering, and Harry snorts. His hand drapes elegantly against Malfoy’s pleated trousers, an easy centerpiece to twill table. Or, if Malfoy’s button fly is the center, an uninteresting epergne, Blaise’s grasp is placed neatly, a well-stacked plate. 

“Not yet,” Dean replies cheerfully, and squeezes Harry’s bicep with his other arm.

If he were smart, he would call it. If this were just about a game, or salvaging the Friday for parts, trying to make something out of the last few hours, he would. He’d laugh and hold Dean’s hand when Dean reclaimed it from Harry's jeans, squeeze the soft of his palm, wait for a lull in everyone’s fractured goodbyes later and maybe grab it up again, quickly, to ask if he wanted to come back to his. But Malfoy’s staring at him now, the practiced way he's never managed to get good at that’s so fake and full of himself and perfectly, awfully Malfoy. And when Malfoy doesn't look over determinedly at Pansy, or reproachfully at Harry, or a little ransacked with Blaise, his gaze skitters back over to the floating bounty, the collected hoard of pocket gold hovering at the far end of the booth. Hungry. The way Blaise is looking at Harry, the way Dean’s hand feels.

-

tagging anyone who sees this! lemme see your scraps/darlings/deleted things!

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

Yachting selling , of people

Since breaking out of the matrix slowly, since 2014, I have noticed the sinister undertones and also while listening to certain podcasts and certain blogs, I realise that a lot of these actresses, models, singers, and many others in Hollywood , move them into a certain place in Hollywood, when new stars come to live, I can’t remember the name of the place but it’s like an apartment block.

In fact, what made me want to write this?, My favourite model Bobbie Jean brown.and find in out she was actually with rob Pilatus, of Milli Vanilli , and I thought was a odd pairing , but it’s were they all meet , and do modelling , sadly rob died in 98 , I can’t remember what Bobbie said of him ,but they both are almost one hit wonders , which are the people , I having more respect ✊ for, as they don’t seem to sell their soul?

Anyway, said entertainment Entertainer, comes here to get a life of glitz and glamour, only to hear about stuff like yacht, and escorting, and you see it for what it really is the picture, or Photoshop?, Being very sexually provocative., or having or having the ,undertones of it, and you see it there bared for all.

Massive example is, Sydney Sweeney she seems to be that girl, the girl that is just a sex object kind of like what they did with Kate Upton, but didn’t make it she’s just a girl with a massive pair of tits that fodder and wank over , i’m not a lot more , which is very unfortunate for her because since being in euphoria that’s all she seems to have her focus on , sadly a lot of actresses have had this , Marilyn Monroe being one they didn’t take seriously , obviously I don’t put her in the same class as Marilyn because nobody is .

If anybody else has noticed this weird pattern , if they’re not in the matrix of everything just looking like people for sale . 

[mzminola]

I don't know if I'll ever actually go through and pull panels to illustrate this, but art design and framing has a huge impact on how sexist a comic feels, and that will impact whether I bother reading it, regardless of the writing.

Costume design is part of it. Does this fit the character's personality and history, and is it practical for what they do? Original Dick Grayson Robin fighting without any leg coverage is not practical, but it fits with his backstory. Helena Bertinelli Huntress, who is also a normal human fighting the mafia but with a very different backstory, fighting with no leg coverage and often compromised torso coverage is neither practical nor in character. So I'm more likely to read Huntress comics from eras where her costume does fully cover her than when it doesn't.

Within costuming, we also have "Does real clothing work this way, or did they just color over the body sketch?" For most superhero costumes that's fine because everyone is drawn that way (boob socks aside), but if it's supposed to be civilian clothes? I'm sorry, t-shirts don't work like that, and very few people tolerate their jeans giving them constant wedgies.

Beyond that though, there's framing. What is the focal point of the page? In what way does the layout lead your eye? Does the focal point flow serve the story, general comic book spectacle (check out this roundhouse kick! look at that robot's cool design! isn't this monster weird!), or is it blatantly a pin-up?

How is the character posed, and why?

Sometimes the camera angle and character pose giving us a butt or boob shot actually does make sense. Generally you can tell by asking "If this was a guy character, and we assume the artist is not attracted to guys, would this be drawn the same way?"

Unfortunately, in a lot of older comics (but not, I'm pretty sure, the earliest ones?) it's really blatantly obviously just for wank fodder. Not as a flow of action, not to set a scene's mood, it's just to titillate.

Titillation can be fun and has its place in entertainment...but so does hard science fiction, and I'm not coming to superhero comics for that, you know? Incidentally getting some cool science facts is different from the story bending itself into a pretzel to justify why this character operates under Real World Physics while this other character is basically a Looney Tune.

From what I've seen, superhero comics are getting a lot better about this! But it can still be a problem, and for fans getting into older works, it can be a genuine hurdle.

And with a backlog of thousands of stories? I'm not gonna spend time on the ones where the art skeeves me out, not matter how good I'm told the writing is.

[chaifootsteps]

Been playing BG3 again (I stopped at a certain point because I disliked enough of it to shelve it) but I'm back at it to actually form a good opinion on *why* I dislike it, since the refund period was already well out the window by the time I was fed up the first time around.

Why am I coming to you about this? Because I noticed something while playing and doing some digging on the other romance routes that I will not be doing. Astarion and Stolas are incredibly alike. It's fascinating to me, Astarion literally admits to the player that he manipulated you so you wouldn't ever cross him, but only after *he* fell in love does he decide you get agency. Which sounds very similar to how a certain owl treats a certain imp.

Honestly the more I play the game and do some digging on the fandom the more BG3 feels like Helluva Boss. Both stories had initial premise (for BG3 it was the Early Access, for HB it was the pilot/season 1) but fell into just being romance or focusing on the writer's pet (for BG3 this is Astarion). Both stories handle abuse abysmally (Wyll and Gale are both victims and yet their abuse isn't treated as serious? There was even a 'patch' where the PC could pressure Gale into group sex and he still expresses being uncomfortable the entire time, Wyll's abuse is... A fucking lot to get into) and both stories are just. Flat out racist? HB has the whole... Imps and Hellhounds metaphor going on (that gets conveniently forgotten about when we need to focus on how sad Stolas is) and BG3 also has fantasy racism (playing as a Teifling apparently has NPCs call you slurs right out the gate) but also just has normal, everyday racism in the foundations of the game (Wyll is the most lacking companion in content while Astarion gets more and more content, the lack of options for POC to make a character that even looks like them). *This* was 2023's GotY?

I'm so, so tired of mediocre at best pieces of work being propped up as 'the best thing ever and if you disagree you're a bad person' by fandom at large. I wish people were more critical of the things they consumed, I wish stories about male victims of abuse were treated seriously and not just made as wank fodder or without the author constantly implying that the victim 'deserved' it.

Apologies in advance if this is heavy, I generally try to form my thoughts about these things more constructively as I believe it's important to establish *why* something is flawed, but I'm so frustrated. It's hard to be charitable and kind all the time when it feels like doing so is coming up against a dead end. It also goes without saying that if any fans of BG3 see this, I don't hate you, I don't think you're a bad person for liking this game I despise, I'm just... Tired.

(I'd also like to request that this ask, if you decide to answer, is paired with the suggestive tag due to the language I've used. It's a personal preference, thank you in advance.)

Haven't gotten around to playing BG3, but between the resemblance to Stolas and the terrible flashbacks to actual worst character Iron Bull sleeping with your Inquisitor as a means of spying on them and then "catching feelings," I'm thinking I might have to skip romancing Astarion. At least there's plenty of other fish in the Baldur's Gate 3.

[esdruxule]

Mornings are For Coffee

Alan eyes widen and his mouth lets a little "Oh" out. Casey wants to strangle him.

Not because he is just a fucking guy. The fucking guy who used his life for wank trauma fodder but he was the guy that had no idea that it hurt him like so.

And for some fucken reason that made his dick twitch.

[olderthannetfic]

I think you've talked before about how it's wrong to assume the only people who enjoy taboo kink like race play are bigoted white people, right? Tumblr's search remains garbage. I've been trying to formulate some thoughts on it after seeing some videos on "bad books" but I don't really know enough about real world kink culture to know what's valid critique of racism or anti-kink just hiding behind it. So I remembered you'd mentioned the topic at some point and might have some thoughts?

--

Well, first, one should apply basic logic: If shittons of women kink on the ways in which society abuses women, why wouldn't at least some ethnic minorities kink on the way society abuses them?

Second, social media overflows with jackasses saying "Listen to POC" as a thought-terminating cliche, but it's good advice as long as you grasp that you do have to evaluate which people you're listening to and what basis you have for trusting that they know something about a subject.

Honestly, I don't think this topic is that complicated. There are just a lot of cowardly white people around who are too scared of ever being seen as wrong to be willing to do a little research or stand up for anything even remotely controversial. They'll parrot the first anti they run across but not bother to engage with the comments of nonwhite kinksters who are long-time community members with informed opinions.

The person I'd listen to, personally, is Mollena Williams-Haas, a kink educator and submissive. She has talked about race play here, among many other places.

Her comments boil down to it being about consent. If kinksters want to play with a concept and everyone involved is on the same page, it's not the business of outsiders to tell them it's off limits.

Playing with heavy topics in an agreed upon way is completely different from having that thing sprung on you without warning. We're used to making this distinction when people are playing with the trappings of rape but, somehow, lose our goddamn minds when the topic is racism.

Now, yes, there are plenty of gross white creeps who think nonwhite kinksters will inherently be interested in this sort of thing and should cater to them... but how is that any different from your usual pest in a bar chatting up uninterested parties and refusing to take no for an answer? The problem isn't squicky kinks that many of us don't want to hear about: The problem is jackasses treating others as a fantasy and/or kink dispenser instead of a person with feelings and needs.

Frankly, most of the arguments against this sort of kink are your usual "As a woman, you should be setting a good example!" bilge that's leveled at all submissive women but on steroids because a woman of color is extra, extra, extra responsible for living her whole life as An Example. (And I notice that it's generally submissive nonwhite women who come in for the most abuse even though plenty of other dynamics exist. Quelle surprise.) It's bullshit. People should mind their own damn business.

As for "bad books"... Are we talking bodice rippers with nonwhite heroines or what? Are we back to colonizer romance wank? Books about characters engaging in race play in a BDSM context? I think it's reasonable to critique books that don't seem to know what they're doing—e.g. not seeming aware that a rape scene is one—but stupid to worry about iddy trash that is trying to be iddy trash. People will always like socially unacceptable id fodder. Some books will always cater to that.

[iphisesque]

i think something people forget about the internet is that ANYTHING can be sexual material to someone. it is not guaranteed that what you post will make its way to the hands of people who will make it sexual but it is always a possibility with everything you post on the internet that someone might find it and bust a nut to it. and of course the more you post a certain kind of content the more its sexual enjoyers are going to gather around your presence. it is preposterous to me that people not only don't realize this but then proceed to directly put other people in the way of this unknowing sexualisation especially their own children. everybody knows who's the main demographic watching family vlogs and pageant videos and it is not lonesome spinsters cooing at the adorable kids it's child predators who are using these children as wank fodder thanks to all the footage the parents provide them with on a daily basis.