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@bruniiiswrld
karen faye will forever be a weird, funky, and awful person who never deserved to be in michael’s corner because why would she even think it was okay to leak intimate pictures of him when he didn’t even want them out and shame on the photographer for even letter her get it in her possession and yall spreading it around and gagging is making it ten times worse
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Human Nature | Wembley Stadium, 1988
༏ིྀ 𓂃 ﹫ 𝐍𝐘𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐞 ‘𝟖𝟓™
18+ 1985 ꜰᴀᴍᴇ ꜱᴇʀᴠᴇʀ slice of life
[ 🎉 ] Welcome to NYFame '85, the fame/slice of life themed roleplay that you've all been urging to find on discord!
▬▬▬ ♱ It's 1985, and the world *has* shifted into a new __pop culture__ format. In **NYFame '85** you can become whoever you want to be, rather you're a *established singer* coming back with a new dominating pop-era, a *wall street* corporate giant making money at the expense of others, or a neutral player watching as everything goes on. It's your *choice* to choose.
. . . ( 🏆 ) — 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗪𝗘 𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗥!? ➺ [ Fun roleplay, new interactions. ]
⤷ @here we offer a connections and semi lore-based storyline open for public interaction, where players can engage in dynamic events and shape the way things might happen. With unique systems and consistent world-building, every action has actions that impact the world and your character's journey. The question remains, what path will you choose?
. . . ( 🥂 ) — 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗘𝗫𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗧!? ➺ [ Exciting and *non-toxic people*, fruitful connections. ]
⤷ As a member of our community, you should expect an interactive staff team, engaging events, and an overall safe environment inside and outside of roleplay. We hope you have fun @here in our server, and make sure to follow our guidelines.
[SERVER THEME]: Jem & the Holograms[!](https://24.media.tumblr.com/762acb45f8cabfbb949b4d0226d83c61/tumblr_n1y2ozDNlv1sqxlxlo1_500.gif)
https://discord.gg/7aqNweRD5d
sleepy days and rain.
pairing: michael jackson x fem!reader
warnings: none, mostly about being overworked and overwhelmed, faint mentions about his father / the victory tour .. mostly michael centric. no mentions of “y/n”. reader is still nameless, though
word count: 1.3k
author’s note:
bahhhhh it’s been so rainy where i live … and it makes me sleepy. so yeah. figured i’d write something on that. thriller era mostly, but imagine any era u want .. it takes place in hayvenhurst. anyways, my second fic!! enjoy!!
he just couldn’t get up.
the rain was calming, the sky was dark and gloomy.
in turn, that made his room dark. he felt his eyes drooping every five seconds, no matter how many times he knew he needed to get up at the ass-crack of dawn to do his self care and then straight to the studio.
it was just one of those days where everyone was out and about doing what they needed to do. his older brothers were with their families, his younger siblings (and latoya) where with katherine, and joseph was out doing whatever he was doing. who knows. michael could care less about the shady business his father was conducting. he found it odd enough that he met up with don king to talk about the ticketing situation for the victory tour.
that he was forced to do, by the way.
michael opens his eyes, blinking a few times as he looks outside at the slither of window showing through his curtains. his eyes were still droopy, he wasn’t sure if he’d even have it in him to get up and out of the comfort of his own mattress. but there was a voice in the back of his mind telling him that he’d better get up, nothing will get done if you just lay there.
his mind says so, but his body says otherwise. he feels physically tired. physically exhausted. like his body is telling him he needs a break.
michael turns onto his back, hands at his sides. his eyes follow the figurines, comics, books, albums, and whatever else he has in his room all the way over to the phone on his nightstand.
call her. she can help you feel better.
he nods to himself, shifting over towards the phone and punching in the numbers that he memorised oh so much these past couple of years since moving to california. he twirls the cord around his finger as he waits for her to pick up. it took more than a few rings. michael was about to give up until he heard shifting on the other line.
“… hello?”
a tired voice rang on the other line. michael sighed quietly, thankful that she was up and that she even answered in the first place.
“um .. good morning, first of all. sorry for waking you, i know you’re usually asleep right now .. ” he laughs wistfully, just a little under his breath as his eyes trail back over towards the window. “but i, uh … i wanted to ask if you could just .. y’know ..”
he pauses. shrugging as if she could actually see him. they’d been dating for over 3 years now, and he still gets nervous asking her to come over.
“come over.” he finally says. tapping his fingers lightly on his nightstand. “i, um .. really need you right now ..”
there was silence on the other side of the phone. then more movement. then a yawn.
“should i stay in my pajamas?”
michael smiles at that, another quiet chuckle coming from him as he begins to speak. “i want you to be comfortable, so .. yes.”
more silence. like she was delayed in response due to being sleepy. to be fair, it was pretty much 5 in the morning. she’s usually still sleeping at this time.
“i’ll .. be on my way.”
a couple more words were exchanged, i love yous were exchanged, and then a click on the line followed. michael put the phone back to where it needed to be before turning back onto his side. he waits patiently, more than a few topics floating around in his mind .. the fact that she was coming over, the fact that he has to do this godforsaken tour with his brothers even though he really wanted to do a solo tour, pushing for thriller to be the best of all time … he was pulled in every single direction, but the only think that sated his mind was her.
about thirty minutes had passed. wheels were heard pulling into the driveway of hayvenhurst. it was her.
wasn’t too long after until he heard the door open, one of the cleaners had let her in. footsteps were getting closer and closer, first on the staircase, then making a beeline towards his room. a gentle beeline, not rough or harsh like his father. after years and years, he could still tell the difference of everyone’s footsteps. that’s how he knew it was her.
there was a gentle knocking on the door.
“yes? come in, please ..”
michael says quietly, turning over onto his side where his door was. it opens, revealing a sleepy girlfriend with a little bit of a bedhead. her robe had been decorated with rain droplets, and so had her pajama pants. but she didn’t seem to worry about it. her eyes were barely open. something about the warmth of michael’s room made her sleepy. not in a temperature type of way, but a homely type of way.
“there she is ..” michael sits up a little, holding himself up with his arms. he wore a baggy white t-shirt, and some black sweatpants and socks. his hair was a little messy too, and he was barefaced. no makeup, small blotches of vitiligo across his arms and jaw, and rosy cheeks.
just as much as he liked seeing her in her natural state, she liked seeing him in his.
“look at my girl.”
he smiles, looking her up and down with happy eyes. he removes his sheets, shifting his legs over the edge of the bed and holding his arms out for her to come to him. which she does, rather slowly as she is still tired. once she’s close enough and standing in between his legs, he wraps his arms around her tightly, resting his head upon her chest and listening to her heartbeat. it was slow, rhythmic. it pretty much inspired him instantly. though, he could admit .. it could be for later. no one can steal that idea from him. not even prince.
“thank you.” he speaks into her chest, moving his head upwards to look at her. there’s a little twinkle there as he moves to pull one side of her button up over. he presses a few kisses there, and she practically melts at this.
“mhm.” she says, drawing it out a little bit before nodding.
he loosens his grip on her, she wiggles out of it. she walks over towards the other side of the bee, he watches intently. his eyes never left her figure as he wraps himself back up within his sheets.
wasn’t too long until they were both tangled up in each other, two bodies practically sleeping as one. she fell asleep first, which was no surprise. it was too early for her, and michael couldn’t help but find it amusing that she snored just a little bit and that she just couldn't hang. he watches her, eyes drooping again since now he’s wrapped in the comfort of his girl.
just let yourself sleep.
he hears her voice say it this time around, and he continues to look at her. she’s said this before, when it was late at night and he felt as if he still needed to work on something until the break of dawn. she always reminded him that he was human, and that he needed rest just like everyone else.
everyone else. he isn’t everyone else. but he is human.
so, he succumbs to it.
his breathing steadies, his eyes close, and he allows himself to drift off into sleep again. this time with dreams of her and him growing even older together. he knows that in a few hours he will eventually have to start his day, but he’s even happier that she is by his side to start it with him.
the rain is pure background noise at this point. ambience of the calm day ahead of them.
my handsome man (we’re going to ignore karen’s hand)
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I can’t be the only one who loves this hair era
more people need to appreciate the Afro liikkkeee
Michael Jackson in Captain EO (1986) dir. Francis Ford Coppola
𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒾𝓃 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ ꫂ᭪݁ 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝗃. ⸝⸝
𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍.
『late 70s michael』 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈 ── .✦ 𝗐.𝖼. 4,000+
𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
The argument starts before midnight.
You hear it through the phone first.
Not words exactly—just shouting. Muffled and sharp. A door slamming hard enough to make the line crackle.
“Michael?” you ask quietly, sitting upright in bed.
For a second there’s only breathing on the other end. Uneven. Angry. Hurt.
Then his voice comes out strained and shaking.
“I gotta go.”
The line clicks dead.
You stare at the receiver for a moment, your stomach twisting.
Something about his tone makes your chest ache.
You’ve known Michael Jackson long enough to recognize when he’s pretending to be okay. He does it constantly—onstage, in interviews, around fans, around his brothers.
But not with you.
Never with you.
Rain taps softly against your bedroom window as you throw on a robe and walk downstairs. The house is dark except for the kitchen light you left on earlier.
You don’t know why you suddenly feel restless.
Maybe because you know exactly who the shouting had belonged to.
Joe Jackson.
And if Joe had gotten angry enough to yell like that…
You don’t even want to imagine what he said.
Twenty minutes later, headlights sweep across your driveway.
Your breath catches.
You hurry to the front door and pull it open before the car fully stops.
The familiar Cadillac sits idling in the rain.
Bill Bray steps out first, umbrella already open.
Then Michael climbs out from the backseat.
And your heart nearly breaks.
His curls are damp from rain. His eyes are red. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his dark jacket like he’s trying to hold himself together physically.
Bill gives you a small nod.
“He just needed somewhere safe tonight.”
“Thank you,” you whisper.
Michael won’t look at you.
Bill squeezes Michael’s shoulder once before returning to the car.
The second the Cadillac disappears down the street, Michael finally lifts his eyes to yours.
You’ve never seen him look this shattered before.
“Hey,” you say softly.
That’s all it takes.
His face crumples instantly.
Michael crosses the porch in two quick steps and wraps his arms around you so tightly it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.
You feel him shaking.
Actually shaking.
“Oh, baby…” you whisper.
He buries his face into your shoulder.
And then he starts crying.
Not quietly either.
The kind of crying that comes from holding too much pain inside for too long.
You guide him into the house carefully, shutting the door behind you while he clings to you like letting go might destroy him.
His tears soak into your robe.
“I got you,” you murmur, rubbing his back slowly. “I got you.”
Michael can barely speak.
“He—” his voice cracks badly. “He said I ain’t nothin’ without him.”
Your chest tightens.
You pull back just enough to cup his face.
“Don’t.”
“He said I’m selfish now… said I think I’m bigger than the family because of the album…”
His lips tremble violently.
“And then he said nobody would even care about me if I wasn’t a Jackson.”
You stare at him in disbelief.
Anger burns hot in your chest.
“How could he say that to you?”
Michael laughs bitterly, tears still slipping down his face.
“That’s not even the worst part.”
You guide him toward the couch.
He sits beside you heavily, elbows on his knees, hands covering his face.
“He kept sayin’ I wasn’t tough enough,” Michael mutters. “Said I’m too sensitive. Too soft.”
You gently pull his hands away from his face.
“Michael Jackson,” you say firmly, “look at me.”
His glossy brown eyes meet yours.
“You are one of the most talented, loving, beautiful men I’ve ever known.”
His expression breaks all over again.
“You hear me?”
He swallows hard.
“But what if he’s right?”
“He’s not.”
“But—”
“He’s not.”
You brush your thumb beneath his eye carefully.
“Your father doesn’t get to decide your worth.”
Michael’s breathing turns shaky again.
“He’s been tellin’ me things like this since I was little,” he whispers. “Sometimes I start believin’ him.”
You lean forward and kiss his forehead tenderly.
“Then let me remind you who you really are.”
His eyes close instantly.
Like he’s exhausted.
Like he’s been waiting for someone to say that his entire life.
“You’re kind,” you whisper against his skin. “You’re brilliant. You work harder than anybody I know. You care about people even when they hurt you.”
Another tear slips down his cheek.
“And you are so loved.”
Michael finally looks at you again.
The vulnerability in his expression nearly undoes you.
“You really think that?”
“I know it.”
His lips part slightly.
Then he kisses you.
Sudden.
Desperate.
Like he needs affection as badly as oxygen.
You kiss him back immediately, your fingers sliding into his curls while he grips your waist tightly.
He tastes like rain and tears.
The kiss grows deeper within seconds.
Michael makes a soft broken sound against your mouth that nearly destroys your self-control.
“You always make me feel safe,” he whispers shakily.
Your hands cradle his face.
“That’s because you are safe here.”
His eyes flutter closed again.
Then he leans forward and presses his forehead against yours.
For a long moment neither of you speak.
The rain outside grows heavier.
The room feels warm and quiet compared to the storm in his head.
You brush your fingers through his curls slowly.
“Do you wanna talk about it more?”
Michael shakes his head immediately.
“No.”
“Okay.”
“I just wanna stay with you.”
Your heart melts.
“Then stay.”
He exhales shakily.
And suddenly you realize how exhausted he looks.
Dark circles sit beneath his eyes.
His shoulders are tense.
He’s still trembling slightly.
“You eaten anything tonight?” you ask.
Michael gives a tiny shrug.
“Don’t remember.”
You narrow your eyes.
“That means no.”
A faint smile finally tugs at his mouth.
“There’s my girl.”
You stand and hold out your hand.
“Come on.”
He takes it instantly.
You make him tea first.
Then toast.
Simple things.
Michael sits at the kitchen counter watching you quietly the entire time.
Like he’s trying to ground himself just by looking at you.
When you place the plate in front of him, he murmurs a soft thank you.
You move between his knees, resting your hands on his shoulders.
“You okay?”
He leans into your touch automatically.
“Better now.”
You smile gently.
“Good.”
Michael’s hands slide around your waist slowly.
Then he presses his face against your stomach.
The affection is so soft it makes your chest ache.
“Nobody talks to me the way you do,” he whispers.
You stroke his curls carefully.
“They should.”
He looks up at you.
The sadness is still there.
But softer now.
More manageable.
His fingers trace lazily along the fabric of your robe.
“You think I’m weak?” he asks quietly.
Your expression immediately softens.
“Michael… no.”
“But I cry too much.”
“That doesn’t make you weak.”
“My brothers don’t—”
“You are not your brothers.”
He goes silent.
You tilt his chin upward gently.
“Feeling things deeply isn’t weakness.”
Michael studies your face carefully like he’s searching for any sign of dishonesty.
He doesn’t find any.
And you watch his walls slowly start crumbling.
“I hate disappointing people,” he whispers.
“You disappoint yourself more than anybody else ever could.”
That earns a tiny laugh from him.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Probably true.”
You smile softly.
“There he is.”
His eyes linger on your lips.
Then he kisses you again.
This time slower.
Softer.
The kind of kiss filled with aching tenderness.
Your fingers slide beneath the collar of his shirt while his hands settle on your hips possessively.
Michael deepens the kiss carefully, almost shy despite the desperation underneath it.
You can feel how badly he needs closeness tonight.
Needs reassurance.
Needs love.
When you climb onto his lap, he exhales sharply against your mouth.
“Baby…” he whispers.
You kiss along his jaw slowly.
“You’re okay.”
His grip tightens instantly.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Michael hides his face against your neck.
And suddenly he’s emotional again.
Not crying this time.
Just overwhelmed.
You hold him quietly while his breathing steadies.
Then he whispers against your skin:
“Can I stay in your room tonight?”
You smile softly.
“You even gotta ask?”
His cheeks flush faintly.
You take his hand and lead him upstairs.
The second you enter your bedroom, Michael visibly relaxes.
Like the entire world exists outside those walls and nowhere else.
You sit him down on the edge of the bed.
Then stand between his knees.
His hands immediately find your waist again.
“You know somethin’?” you murmur.
“What?”
“You’re beautiful when you blush.”
Michael groans softly and hides his face in your stomach again.
“Don’t start.”
You laugh quietly.
“It’s true.”
He peeks up at you through thick lashes.
“You always say things like that.”
“Because they’re true.”
Michael’s expression turns unbearably soft.
Then he slowly unties the belt of your robe.
His touch is careful.
Reverent.
Like he’s asking permission without words.
You lean down and kiss him gently.
“Yes,” you whisper against his lips.
His breathing immediately changes.
Warmer.
Heavier.
Michael slides the robe from your shoulders slowly, eyes drinking you in with quiet awe.
“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs.
The sincerity in his voice makes your stomach flutter.
You push his jacket from his shoulders next, then his shirt.
His skin feels warm beneath your fingertips.
You kiss across his collarbone gently.
Michael shivers.
“You always know how to calm me down,” he whispers.
“That’s because I know you.”
His hands slide up your thighs carefully before pulling you closer against him.
Then he kisses you deeply again.
This time there’s hunger behind it.
Months of tension.
Need.
His mouth moves against yours with growing urgency while your fingers tangle in his curls.
Michael groans softly when you tug them.
“God…”
You kiss along his neck slowly, feeling his pulse racing beneath your lips.
His head falls back immediately.
“Baby…”
You love how responsive he is.
How honest.
Every sound he makes goes straight through you.
His hands wander across your body carefully at first, then more confidently when you melt against him.
“You’re so good to me,” he whispers breathlessly.
You cup his face.
“Because you deserve it.”
Michael looks wrecked by those words alone.
He kisses you harder.
His emotions pour into every touch.
Every shaky breath.
Every desperate pull of his hands.
When you push him gently back onto the bed, he looks up at you with flushed cheeks and blown pupils.
Beautiful.
Absolutely beautiful.
You climb over him slowly, kissing him until neither of you can breathe properly.
The storm outside fades into background noise.
Everything becomes warmth.
Skin.
Soft sounds.
The ache of being wanted.
Michael touches you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
And when things finally deepen completely between you, it’s emotional as much as physical.
Slow.
Tender.
Needy.
He hides his face against your neck halfway through, overwhelmed again.
“I love you,” he blurts suddenly.
The words surprise both of you.
Michael freezes instantly afterward.
Your heart skips.
He pulls back slightly, panic flickering across his face.
“I—I didn’t mean—”
You kiss him hard enough to stop the sentence.
“I love you too.”
Michael stares at you like the world just stopped spinning.
Then he kisses you with enough emotion to nearly make you cry.
Afterward, you lie tangled together beneath the blankets while rain continues tapping softly outside.
Michael rests against your chest, tracing lazy patterns along your skin.
He seems calmer now.
Safe.
“You still think I’m amazing?” he asks sleepily.
You smile and kiss the top of his curls.
“I think you’re extraordinary.”
He hums softly.
“Even when I’m a mess?”
“Especially then.”
Michael finally laughs quietly.
The sound is small and tired and real.
You hold him closer.
And for the first time all night, he finally falls asleep peacefully in your arms.
˖᯽ ݁˖
a/n : still mad over the fact that joe outlived michael like just overlyyy irritating 😒 michael in the last 70s was honestly one of his best eras like that afro looks sooo adorable i just wanna pinch his cheeks 🥺🥺 hoped yall enjoyed this onee i lowk wanna make more similar to this and the other one i made a couple days ago !!
── ⟢ MICHAEL DOESN’T WANT YOU TO LEAVE…
⁀➴ on borrowed time, you and michael are tucked away in the solitude of his hayvenhurst home. as time mocks your momentary peace, he devotes those fleeting seconds to implant the words i love you without actually saying it. and when the time comes? well, he doesn’t want you to leave!!!
⁀➴ off the wall! clingy! michael x actress! secret girlfriend! reader
⁀➴ fluff , making out
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
WOAHHHH 245 LIKES ON THAT BLURB ARE YOU SERIOUS ???
I HAVENT GOTTEN THOSE NUMBERS IN FOREVER THANK YOU GUYS SM
just a phone call away. | michael jackson
pairing: michael jackson x reader
warnings: none
word count: 612 words
author’s note:
i saw the biopic the night it came out. i’ve been a michael jackson fan since i was a child… he’s been a lifelong fixation that i keep coming back to—him as a person and a musician 😭 my top musician ever. its been forever since i last wrote a fanfic about him. years. so, this is my attempt at getting back at it. enjoy! its short and sweet.
you sit there on the couch, staring at an aged crumpled up piece of paper with a phone number scribbled onto it. why are you contemplating this? the phone is right there. just call him. reach out. yeah sure, it’s been years since you both have had a decent conversation … he’s been busy. the times you see him you both can’t do more than a hug and “how are you”. maybe a quick kiss on the cheek .. but that’s it. no deep conversations or anything.
is this even his phone number still? gosh, is he still living at hayvenhurst? all these thoughts and more surge through your head. a noise comes from in front of you, something soft rubbing against the wall. you look up, and it’s your cat. a white and orange ragdoll, green eyed and sleepy. staring at you as if you had woken her up. she’s been with you everywhere, for everything ever since you adopted her. unfortunately you’ve been contemplating for too long tonight, and she thinks you could make better use of your time by petting her and giving her food.
“ bambi .. “ you sigh, pursing your lips and glancing back down at the piece of paper in front of you. swiftly, you pick up the phone and your fingers hover over the numbers. you look to your cat in desperation for a decision. “should i?”
bambi just slow blinks at you, and sits down. her tail moves back and forth, and she lifts her head slightly—accompanied by another slow blink.
you take that move as a yes, even though it might be a ploy for her to get fed more than what she needed to be. you still seem nervous. what’s changed between the both of you? why would the conversation be different? well .. he’s more mature .. both of you are. but it shouldn’t change anything, right?
you take a deep breath, next thing you know you’re punching in the numbers written on that piece of paper. the phone on the other line begins to ring, and you wait.
each ring feels like five minutes too long. too far and in between. regret seeps in. he might not answer, he’s probably too busy. probably might’ve called him at the wrong time.
and just when you’re about to give up ..
“hello?”
that signature softness in his voice. you choke out a few words, a hello and introduction. unsure of if he even knew—
“y’know. you’ve been on my mind recently, i wasn’t sure if your number even worked anymore.” he chuckles on the other line, you feel relieved. your shoulders drop, an exhale escapes you.
meanwhile, on the other side of the line, he’s pacing around his hotel room until he finds a doorway to lean on. once again, he’s out touring. but this time, it’s on his own. not with his brothers. now he doesn’t have to risk anyone listening in to his phone calls.
“gosh, y/n, it’s been forever. i’m so glad you called.” he pauses, looking outside his window and then back at the patterns of the carpet on the floor. “i know i’ve been busy and .. i’m not the best with communication..”
“you’ve been doing big things, michael. why would i blame you for that?” you lean back on the couch even further. sinking into the cushions and twirling the phone cord around your fingers. “i’ve been following your journey for as long as i’ve been able to. i’m not gonna fuss at you for life getting busy.”
michael smiles on the other end. rather bashfully, as if you were standing there talking right in front of him. “i .. yeah. you’re right.”
you know, at some point in my life i used to write mj fanfics.. i could get back to that, deff could. i have like two ocs based off of him lol it would be easy
i need ideas 😞
hello hello!
im turning this tumblr into a regular degular blog... for anything! music, fandoms, etc. ocs .. whatever!
the things i do when i'm bored
i've expanded on the list
okay so now fast forward about 2-3 years later i got diagnosed with adhd & autism and i shouldve known this was a sign
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UPDATED DISCORD FORMATTING ♡ updated reference sheet for those newer to discord (or those who aren't familiar with markdown in general) ! my last post didn't include links, headers, or lists. you can access the google doc version in the source link.
So, while I am happy that Sinners is/has been receiving so much love and acclaim, drawing in a big fanbase and such, a discussion needs to be had. While I normally don't go telling people what to write, there's something deeply unsettling about how certain fics for Sinners are being made. While I don't necessarily mind Remmick fics, as I see the appeal, it's deeply uncomfortable to hear about some writers creating a Remmick x reader, who is the daughter of a slave owner, or having the reader be a part of the Klan (this is wild just to say alone). Sinners features a predominantly Black cast and has a large Black fanbase, some of whom can be found on Tumblr, so imagine this being the case and coming on to this app and seeing someone write such a thing. That, on top of how many instances there are with the Black characters, who are the main characters, being pushed out or written in ways that go past mischaracterization to borderline dehumanizing/stereotypical (the Sammie/Remmick fics being in more abundance than Sammie/Pearline, who often gets ignored or is villainize....tale old as time, but disheartening none the less). Don't even get me started on the incest fics. There's something deeply disturbing about, again, a predominantly Black movie with majority Black characters, being, not only, misinterpreted but also sidelined for the minor white characters, especially when Black people already struggle with attempting to get representation as a community in fandom spaces, let alone on the big screen. And for a movie like Sinners, which holds deep historical ties within the narrative, it makes it even worse to see.
