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paigebueckersmommy · 3 days

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hotel - p.b

paige bueckers x uconn wbb player

requested by anon

warnings : fingering, p eating, teasing

you and paige had been going out for 4 months, after playing on the same team 4 years. you and paige had both decided to stay a 5th year, not knowing what it would lead to. you and paige share a dorm, so one night when you and paige had had too much to drink, things got steamy, and ever since then..

your former teammates nika and aalyiah were getting drafted at the WNBA draft, so you, paige and azzi went to support them. azzi was staying in a room with nika in the room a couple doors down from you ima gorgeous hotel. when paige told you that you two would be sharing a room, there was a grin across both of your faces.

azzi came into your room to get ready with you and paige, azzi was sitting on the couch in your room waiting for you to get done with P’s hair. “OHHHH MY GOD COULD YOU GUYS MOVE ANY SLOWER.” azzi groaned out of frustration. paige smirked then moved herself close to your ear to whisper, “little does she know how fast we go.” you giggled then playfully slap her arm. azzi could see in the bathroom door from the couch. with a grossed out look on her face, “i don’t wanna know.” she says as she pays her attention back to her phone.

you guys continued getting ready, and walked the orange carpet and got interviewed before the draft stated.

you guys sat down, you on the end of the row, paige in the middle and azzi on paige’s left. still waiting for the draft to start, and azzi conversing with someone else in our row, and paige lays her hand ok your inner thigh, dangerously close to your heat.

you gasp and make eye contact with her as she grins, “what you don’t like my hand there ma?” you giggle. azzi turns around from her conversation, making contact with paige’s hand on your thigh. “ew. can you two not wait till we get back? you act like you don’t have a king bed all to your self for the next two days” she says with a fake, over dramatic gag. paige quickly removes her hand, her hand flying to her head in a command way, “yes ma’am sorry ma’am.” azzi laughs and she puts her hand back on your thigh, azzi jot saying anything else about it.

you’d spend the night cheering, crying and hugging.

when you get back to your hotel, you plop yourself on your bed. paige goes to the bathroom and undresses herself all but the gold chain around her neck. she climbs over to the bed and hovers over you. “hey ma” she says. “hi P” you say with a giggle. “y’know all i could think about the entire night was your pussy. i’m soaked.” she whispers, even tho your alone. you don’t mind, it’s incredibly sexy.

you starts to rip all you clothes off, leaving you completely naked. paige hovers her mouth over you, licking a single stripe down your body. “mhm fuck paige please” you say, desperate. “please what sweetheart? where do you need me?” she says, acting clueless as if she doesn’t know your body inside out “p i need your mouth on my pussy”

she immediately follows your request, circling your clit with her tounge. you let out moans that satisfy paige. she enters her toung inside you, and your legs already start to shake. “fuck i’m close P,” you release on paige, her licking up and down your folds twice more before coming up and kissing you for the purpose of tasting yourself. “u taste so good baby” paige says in a raspy tone.

you were now on top of paige, kissing. you seperate your faces, shoving 2 fingers into paige’s mouth as she swirls them with her toung. when she’s done, she bites her lip, knowing what will happen. you rub her clit, earning gasps from paige. “fuck baby,” paige says breathing out moans. you shove your fingers into her sopping wet cunt. she moans out loudly, murmuring curse words.

after a minute or two, paige’s legs start to shake while she continues to moan your name and cursing. you saw her making the face she makes before she cums, the face you love. she relases under you when you bring your fingers to your mouth, savoring paige’s taste. after you lick her juices off, you bring them to paige’s mouth, still recovering from her orgasm. “taste yourself baby.” you say in a sub tone.

“holy fuck baby.” paige breathes out.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball

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storiesoflilies · 2 days

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juicy fruits

synopsis: in which toji just knows her too well.

no warnings at all, just one lil swear word! a little indulgent toji fluff for the soul. please reblog if you liked it! <3

“oh my god, toji baby! look how good this looks!”

“ugh, can i just be there right now?”

“this looks too good to be real. seriously, how do they grow them like that?”

toji knew it was coming, just knew it. he glanced over at her from his spot in the kitchen. she was sitting there, all curled up on the sofa, with her fuzzy socks peeking out from underneath a woolen throw, scrolling away at her phone.

“you still watchin them videos, sweets?” toji hummed as nonchalantly as he possibly could, avoiding direct eye contact.

she sputtered excitedly, peeking her head over the sofa to look at him with pure starlight. “toji you should see it! when they cut into them, i’ve literally never seen such juicy looking fruits!” and then she disappeared into the sofa again.

“you know it’s probably not real, right? just some dumb influencers makin fake stuff look better than it is,” he mumbled, more so to himself, bitter as an old lemon, as he dried off the sopping wet dinner dishes.

toji heard her hands grip the edge of the sofa with a loud thwack! as she pulled herself up again, glaring at him. “they’re not dumb, and i like em!” and she vanished into her haven of heat in a dramatic huff.

he put down the wet dishrag, old as bones and quite filthy now, and started counting down from ten in his head.

ten.

nine.

eight.

sev-

“toji?”

bingo.

“yes, sweets?”

a few delicate lip smacks, little popping bubbles, sealing in the pattern of hers that toji knew how to draw even in his sleep. “i kinda want some juicy fruits now.”

and there it was, he was in for it now.

toji groaned, and wrung the rag with fervor. “oh baby, the shops are going to close now. there’ll be no good fruits left.”

she sputtered an unintelligible noise that was unequivocally hers. “But, but!” As if her cravings could somehow bend the rules of time and space, and open up the doors of the store just for her.

“we’ll get some juicy fruits tomorrow, how about that?”

and toji could feel that big dopey heart of hers crack just a little, her taste buds crying into a fit of not having their – her – cravings satisfied at that very moment.

“you promise?” she mumbled, throwing her phone somewhere in between the rolling hills of the throw, and crossed her arms over the sofa to look up at him.

look up at him with those big, beautiful eyes that were a book to her soul; an instruction manual on how to build together the entirety that was her. those eyes of hers, melting all the hard edges of him into something softer, more malleable.

dammit.

hook, line…

and sinker.

he is toji fushiguro after all, procurer of all the weird and wonderful things of his sweetheart’s passing whims.

toji sighed deeply, giving her a pointed look as he strode over to her and held both sides of her face, planting a well-earned kiss on her forehead. “i promise, sweets.”

the next morning, at precisely 9:37 a.m., she woke up to find no wonderfully warm embrace from her big, burly man. she frowned, patting the immediate vicinity of the bed with her eyes closed. when that didn’t somehow magically make toji appear, she cracked open her eyes like a teapot lid and heard the rustling of plastic bags somewhere in the apartment.

“right. ok, ow! fuck sa-!”

“toji?”

the scuffling stopped, as if she wasn’t supposed to hear whatever toji was up to. she got out of bed, placed her slippers on her feet, and went out at once to investigate. what she certainly didn’t expect to see was toji grappling with a pineapple, and an array of brightly colored fruits on the countertop like a feast of rainbows.

mangos, oranges.

strawberries, peaches.

grapes, grapefruits.

raspberries, blackberries.

even pink and yellow dragonfruits! she couldn’t even recall ever trying one of those before.

her heart melted into tiny teeny snowflakes as she licked her lips; the craving in her brain sent signals for her mouth to prepare to eat, and eat well.

“sorry, did i wake you up?” toji grumbled, glaring daggers at the prickly fruit he was gripping. “this stupid thing. i should have just paid for precut pieces, but i thought it was a waste of money.”

“wha- did you wake up early to get all this?”

“uh, yeah. the fruits would be freshest first thing in the mornin, right?”

she giggled, and he barely had time to turn around before her arms were wrapped around his midriff, her face buried in the dip of his back.

“you’re the sweetest, most juciest fruit i could ever find,” she said, as if that was the most sensible thing in the whole world to say.

the tips of toji’s ears turned a shade of strawberry red, and he mumbled something along the lines of, “yeah, yeah, you’re my sweet fruit too. you wanna help me cut this damn thing?”

general taglist: @tadabzzzbee

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fluff #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji drabbles #jujutsu kaisen toji #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #toji my beloved #jujutsu kaisen

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murdockparker · 1 day

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Of the Same Mind

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: A mutual distaste in a certain author—should he even have the grace to be called that—leads to an unexpected meeting.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, pregnancy, fluff, time skip

A/N: a cute lil request! made me actually read a little Byron myself to get the gist! and it wasn't that terrible I'm so sorry to disappoint

Dull.

Everything was dull. What was supposed to be the social event of the season was shortened due to poor weather—an outdoors event of sorts, it seemed, Benedict really didn’t pay his mother much attention when she explained the whole ordeal. Thus, half of the ton was crammed into Lord Whitehill’s home instead of his luscious grounds, all due to the pouring rain. Most conversation was boring, most of the ladies were whining about the rain, the men whining about their whining wives and daughters.

At least the drinks were good.

“…seriously think that fodder is worth your breath?”

Benedict’s ears perked up, focusing on a conversation that was decidedly not about the current weather. A breath of fresh air.

“I-I did not mean to insult you, miss,” a young gentleman sputtered, his face rosy red. “I only meant to indulge you in poetry of the highest regard—”

“If that was your intention, you would have chosen from a finer list of poets. Byron?” The lady nearly laughed out loud. “Byron is the bottom of the barrel, as it were, so your intention was ill-placed.”

“Byron is a well-regarded poet—”

“By who? Chamber pots?”

Benedict nearly spat out his drink. The action alone brought the attention of the arguing couple to him—both sets of eyes trained on the tall Bridgerton at once. “Oh,” he fake coughed, “it seems the drink went down the wrong way, please, forgive me.”

The man—who Benedict now recognized as Lord Whitehill’s son—scoffed. “Bridgerton. You are well versed in the arts, are you not?”

Benedict nodded. “I dabble.”

“Would you please explain to Miss (Y/L/N) that Byron is a novel poet,” Mr. Whitehill asked, “and that she should be flattered I recited poetry for her, regardless of the poet?”

Miss (Y/L/N). So that was the lady’s name.

“But that would be lying, Whitehill,” Benedict gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “And I am ever a gentleman, raised to never lie, especially to a fine lady such as Miss (Y/L/N).”

She smiled at that.

“You do not agree?”

“Oh I certainly agree with Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict said quickly, setting his glass down. “Byron is a mockery to the art—meaningless words and jaunty titles, why, I tried to read his latest and it put me right to sleep.”

“I fear I had the same reaction,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, turning to Benedict in earnest. “Right before I decided to throw it to the flames.”

They both laughed.

“Imbeciles, the both of you,” Mr. Whitehill said, pushing past the newly acquainted pair. “Keep insulting me like that and I’ll have my father throw the both of you out into the storm.”

“Mr. Whitehill,” Miss (Y/L/N) said softly, her eyes melting into puddles of apology. “I fear we were not insulting you, but rather your taste in poets. I also fear there is a stark difference in that, for if I were to insult you, I’d make a more fitting jab, more educated in that regard.”

The shorter gentleman stormed off, steam nearly pouring from his ears. Benedict laughed.

“I must say, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict leaned down. “You have quite the sharp tongue.”

“I am known to be rather well spoken,” she beamed, standing a little straighter. “Perhaps it is my taste in literature?”

“For that, I believe we are in agreement,” Benedict said, grabbing a fresh glass from the table beside him. “May I offer the lady a beverage?”

“Only if you decide to share whatever’s in that pocket of yours,” she pointed to his chest. Benedict’s ears went pink. “Do not think I did not see you pour an added flavoring into the lemonade—it seems impolite that you would neglect to share.”

“It would be impolite,” Benedict said, carefully pulling his flask out of his coat. “I am surprised you saw that, though, given the crowded room.”

“You are a tall man, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, taking the glass from his hand. Benedict poured a healthy amount of clear liquor into her cup before adding the rest to his own. “I would have found it hard to ignore you.”

“Your first season? I presume?”

“Technically,” she said, looking up into his blue eyes. “My family, we just moved to Mayfair. My father came into some money and relocated us here this year, my brother is set to study at Eton in the fall.”

“And you?”

“I am now expected to marry a rich and eligible bachelor,” she laughed into her glass. “Which I really have no problem doing, save for the fact that gentleman is nothing like Mr. Whitehill.”

“Mr. Whitehill is rather rich,” Benedict smirked. “Would that not placate you?”

“And listen to him dribble about Byron? Perish that thought,” she said. “When I do marry, I expect my husband to be of the same mind, a similar taste in the arts.”

“You know,” Benedict nearly whispered, “that is an admirable thought. But how will you find this man?”

She looked him up and down, quickly and all at once, returning to drink from her glass.

“I suppose I will know when I find him,” she smirked.

Benedict smiled back. “Well, please let me know when you do, I feel rather invested in your prospects.”

“You will be the first to know, I assure you,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, nodding her head. “But, if I may be so bold, if you are not currently preoccupied, would you care to further our discussion on Byron? It is hard to find someone who agrees with such a… contrasting opinion of the poet.”

“Why, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict finished his glass, offering his arm, “I was afraid you’d never ask.”

—

The gardens on the property were lovely, so lush and full of life. She made good on her promise to keep them well maintained, only keeping the finest blooms and plants in their care. It was always the perfect place to spend time on days like today, sunny, a gentle breeze.

They had given the governess a day off, her mother had fallen ill, it was the least the Bridgertons could do for her.

“Mother!”

The lady looked up from her book, eyes meeting with her eldest daughter. Blue eyes, just like her father.

“Yes, darling?”

“Might I go inside to grab other books? Aunt Eloise recently sent some to Father and I want to read them.”

The lady gave her daughter a trying look. “Do you not think they may be above your comprehension level, my love? They were intended for your father, after all.”

“No need,” a looming voice bellowed. “I have them right here.”

She didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to. “Benedict, I thought you were spending time in the studio this afternoon.”

“And miss spending time with my darling wife and children?” Benedict grinned, the crooked way she fell in love with. “That seems foolish on my part.”

“Father!” Their eldest exclaimed, running over to the tallest Bridgerton. “You brought the books?”

“Indeed,” Benedict nodded, handing the parcel off to his daughter. “Aunt Eloise thought we may have better use of these than her and Phillip do.”

Their daughter lit up with excitement—ever the reader, she was. It took a village to keep their library stocked with appropriate books for her age, but she was quickly out-reading her entire family’s collection. “Thank you, Father!”

“Well,” Benedict said modestly, “you must write to your Aunt Eloise and thank her, I had little to do with such a gift.”

“What about me, papa?”

Their son, only a few years younger than their daughter came bounding up past his escaping sister, clearly having been playing in the mud. “Do I have any gifts from auntie?”

(Y/N) opened her arms. “Not this time, sweetheart, but come here, let mama wipe that dirt off of your nose—”

“No!” He exclaimed, turning from his mother. “Dirt makes me ruggable—like Uncle Colin!”

“Rugged,” Benedict corrected gently. “And, no, dirt makes you dirty. You need to stop spending so much time with Colin…”

“Once baby brother is here I will,” their son nodded, putting both hands on his hips, looking down at his sitting mother.

“Oh darling,” (Y/N) said, trying to raise to her feet. Benedict quickly offered his hands, pulling her up. “Baby will not be here for a few more months.”

“Then more time with Uncle Colin!”

Benedict and (Y/N) sighed, watching their adventurous son run back to the mud. “We must write Colin, tell him of the monster he has created.”

“Our eldest is such an easygoing flower,” Benedict said, noting how she was carefully skimming through the various books on her lap. “Our son tests our patience.”

“And how do you think this one will be?” (Y/N) asked, placing his hand on her swelling stomach. She only had two or so more months until the delivery, if she had been correct on the conception. The latest Bridgerton wedding seemed to be the culprit, stolen kisses and a romantic rendezvous to the greenhouse away from the party—it was a perfect recipe for baby number three. “Calm and collected? Devilish and adventurous?”

“I pray they are just like their mother,” Benedict rubbed her belly affectionately. “And perhaps a bit more behaved than their brother… I suppose I should also write my mother an apology.”

“Whatever for?”

“I reckon my brothers and I acted much like our son,” Benedict said sheepishly. “Acting like Bridgerton boys, I am afraid.”

“As if that is the only explanation,” she giggled, leaning into his side. “But I am sure your mother would appreciate such a gesture. Perhaps you should send her a bouquet from our garden, too?”

“An excellent idea, my love,” Benedict said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “What a brilliant mind you have.”

“Father, Mother!” Their daughter called out, waving them towards her. “Aunt Eloise sent a book by an author I have never heard of before.”

“Oh?” Benedict quirked his brow, walking with his wife over to her. “And what author may that be?”

“A Lord Byron,” she said, showing the book with a deep brown cover to her parents. Benedict scooped the tome quickly from his daughter’s grasp, holding it close to his chest.

“And you shall never read such filth,” Benedict said seriously.

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) laughed. “Perhaps we should allow our daughter to expand her mind—come to her own conclusions on the matter? Surely Aunt Eloise meant the gift in kind.”

“Aunt Eloise clearly meant to send it as a cruel prank,” Benedict corrected.

“What is so wrong with that author, Father?”

“A shorter conversation would be what is not wrong with this author,” Benedict said, turning to call his son. The little boy ran over to his father’s side, ever eager. “Take this and bury it, preferably far away from here.” His wife could not stop her laughter, watching their son hurriedly run over to the new rose bushes, making good work at digging a deep enough hole for the book. “You,” Benedict pointed at the girl, “are forbidden to read anything written by that lowly man.”

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) admonished, trying hard to stop her laughter, “forbidding her from reading seems silly—”

“Are we not of the same mind on Byron?” Benedict asked. “I rather think that is how we met, is it not, dearest wife?”

She pursed her lips, fighting a smile. “We are.”

“Besides,” Benedict stood a little straighter, “the roses could use a bit more sustenance.”

She could only roll her eyes.

#Bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x Reader #Benedict Bridgerton #Bridgerton x Reader #bridgerton imagines #if this title has been used before i apologize!#still not sure if I'm digging the whole... photo thing with the post #but it's cute no?

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 3 days

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HAPPY 1K!!!! That's SO exciting and well deserved!!

Might I humbly request a ficlet with...

Z. "You'll do anything for attention, won't you?"

and ⭐Celebrity AU

Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! 🍓

I'm celebrating 1k followers, requests are open

Just how much I'll do

Rated: M

Words: 989

Tags: Celebrity AU, modern AU, rockstar Eddie, nepo baby Steve, fake dating, sexual tension, finger sucking, enemies to lovers

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

“Ah, there they are,” Eddie says. “Took them long enough.”

Steve stops chatting with the waitress to follow his gaze. Something is glinting beyond their window, in the tiny space between two cars on the other side of the dark street. A camera. The waitress hurriedly puts down their dessert and scurries off. Steve watches her go with a disappointed frown. Using the moment of distraction, Eddie reaches out across the table and tangles their fingers together.

The frown melts into a bitchy scowl and Steve flinches like Eddie’s hand is something gross.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Eddie laughs, loud and unashamed in the hushed quiet of the restaurant.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos. He flips their entwined hands so they’re facing the window, running his thumb over Steve’s knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion. His smile is wide and teasing as he leans over the table and into Steve’s space. “I must admit I’m a tad bit insulted. I make an effort to look nice for you, take you to the fanciest restaurant in town, and you’ve got nothing better to do than flirt with the waitress all night? Why, Stevie, do you even still love me?”

“Quit it, Munson,” Steve snaps, trying to yank his hand away, but Eddie holds firm. A few quizzical heads turn in their direction and he’s quick to stop struggling. When he speaks again, his voice is a low hiss. “You know as well as me that this is all a publicity stunt. Don’t forget about the deal.”

“Sure,” Eddie drawls, snatching a chocolate-coated strawberry from his plate and popping it into his mouth. The chocolate bursts between his teeth and tangy, juicy sweetness explodes all over his taste buds, making him hum in pleasure. The place may be way out of his comfort zone, markedly different from his usual dark and edgy night clubs, but at least the food is excellent. “We go on a few dates together, let our friends out there take their little photos, write their little news stories. After a few months, we break it off amicably - no hard feelings, you’ll always be special to me, yadda yadda. My label gets off my ass about my ‘out of control’ lifestyle, your old man gets to beat those completely unfounded allegations of homophobia just in time for the big election. Look how supportive he is of his queer son, after all. A true champ, a beacon of tolerance and open-mindedness, a shining example for all of us.”

Steve, who has just taken a sip of his wine, snorts so hard, Eddie’s surprised it doesn’t come shooting out of his nose. He has a nice laugh - pretty like the rest of him, but there’s a bitter little twist to his mouth that never seems to quite disappear. Eddie catches himself wondering what his smile would look like without it.

“Please,” Steve sneers, putting his glass back down with a bit too much force. A few drops of wine splash over the rim, staining the table cloth red. “My dad’s a bigoted old asshole and we both know it.”

The hand that’s still tangled with Eddie’s tightens, almost painfully. A small part of Eddie imagines the things Senator Harrington must call his darling son behind closed doors.

“Makes me wonder, though,” is what he says, “why you agreed to play along in this little farce? Why help him out if he’s such a douchebag?”

For a second, something pokes through the facade of bored indifference on Steve’s face, something open and vulnerable and honest. Eddie wants to grab a hold of it and pull it all the way to the surface, lay it bare and never let it go again. But it’s gone as quick as it came, slipping through his fingers like mist.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and the bitter curl returns to his lips. “Not like you’d get it.”

He's right, Eddie thinks. He probably wouldn't. He hasn't seen his own sperm donor in twenty years. He doesn’t know what it's like, growing up in the shadow of an overbearing father, constantly forced to uphold your family's image, to live up to expectations.

But something in the way Steve says it, all haughty and derisive, like Eddie isn't even worth an explanation, makes something ugly stir low in his belly.

“Oh, I think I get it,” he says, plucking another strawberry from his plate. Steve watches with a furrowed brow how he lets it dangle between them, waving it idly about as he speaks. “I think it must be hard, constantly begging for daddy's love and acceptance, but only ever being fed the scraps. Always so eager, always so willing, but never quite good enough, you poor boy. You'll do anything for attention, won't you?”

Steve's eyes go wide, perfect lips parting around a punched-out little sound. Eddie grins triumphantly, lifting the strawberry to his mouth.

But he never makes it there.

Steve surges forward, fingers closing around Eddie’s wrist. Eddie watches, heartbeat pounding in his skull, how Steve sucks the fruit into his warm, wet mouth. How pink lips slip over his fingers, all the way down to the first knuckle. Chocolate cracks and a thin rivulet of red juice trickles down Eddie's thumb. Steve darts out his tongue and catches it, never once breaking eye contact.

“Holy shit,” someone whispers. It takes Eddie a moment to recognize his own voice. He knows it's impossible through the glass and the distance, but he swears he can hear how the camera shutter on the other side of the street goes crazy.

Steve releases his fingers with a slick sound, tongue licking over plush lips to gather the last traces of strawberry and chocolate and Eddie still clinging to them. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, breath cool against Eddie’s wet skin.

“Let's get outta here … and I'll show you just how much I'll do.”

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

And then they went home and had hate sex. The end.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #1k followers #Hype's 1k follower ficlets

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youandiwerealive · 3 days

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It’s alright to hate me now [rd]

Author’s note: this one is sad and heartbreaking babes, don’t say I didn’t warned you 🫡 hope you enjoy it!

wc: 1369 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

Also, requests are open! For Rúben or any other football player. Come share your thoughts with me 😌

It all started with a fight. You can’t even remember what it was about anymore - feeling so stupid and frustrated that you got into such a huge argument and made your worst mistake that can cost you your relationship now.

You were angry, feeling your blood boiling inside your veins, you weren’t thinking straight. You definitely wouldn’t had slept with one of Rúben’s best friends if you were thinking clearly about it.

The way Rúben screamed at you for something so trivial, really made you believe that he was done with you. You could swear that you saw a breakup right then and there. That’s why you went out for a few drinks - well, maybe way more than just “a few”.

Drunk out of your mind, you decided to reach for your phone. After opening instagram and check some people’s stories, you land on José Condessa’s profile. You smirk to yourself while seeing that he also posted some videos drinking in a bar with his friends. The place where he was, wasn’t far from you, so you decided to walk there, thinking devilishly that maybe you could still find the boy in the bar.

And you did. Meeting José was the first part of your mistake.

You were drunk, mad at love, firmly believing you were single. So you decided to display your worst behaviour through that night. Two drunk minds that ended up moaning together under the sheets.

You and José didn’t talked about it, you left early in the next morning, way before he woke up. You knew that sleeping with him was dumb, but you were angry at Rúben for breaking up with you, so the thought of revenge tasted pretty sweet in your mouth.

But you were wrong. God, you were so wrong.

The day after your stupid decision, Rúben called you and ended up meeting you at your place. He showed up with flowers in his hand and an apologetic look in his face.

After a long conversation, you realised you fucked up really bad. Rúben didn’t broke up with you after that night, he explained to you that he just needed some space so he wouldn’t say something he might regret later. You were now the dumb one, the unfaithful one, that went out after a fight and cheated on your boyfriend - with one of his closest friends.

Panic creeps all over you. You try to play it cool, but in your mind you can only think of one thing: Rúben can’t know about what you did. Never. It has to be your best kept secret.

And… it kind of was. For some days.

You were in the kitchen of Rúben’s house, preparing dinner for both of you, when he storms inside his place, slamming the door shut behind him. He meets you with a hurt and disappointed look in his face, those feelings way more visible than anger - that you believe he is definitely feeling too.

“How could you do this to me?” - Rúben asks you with an angry tone - there it is.

You start shaking, not wanting to believe that he’s referring to what you’ve done that night. There’s no way he could have found out about it.

“What are you talking about?” - you try to stay calm and play it cool.

“What am I talking about?!” - he loses his patience and screams at you. “How about you start explaining how you ended up in one of my best friend’s bed?” - he questions you harshly.

You stay silent, your worst nightmare now becoming reality.

“Are you really choosing to stay silent right now? You fucking cheated on me with one of the closest persons that I kept in my life. How could you? And then I made a fool of myself, going to your house with flowers, telling you that I was sorry. I was so fucking stupid. And you were so fucking fake, pretending that everything was fine! How do you sleep at night? Tell me! How can you act so calm when you know damn well all the shit that you’ve done!” - he continues screaming the entire truth right in your face.

You feel the tears that you’ve been keeping inside, spilling from your eyes. All the regret that you’ve been feeling since that dumb night, is now showing in front of Rúben.

“I’m so sorry” - you say while sobbing. “I’m really fucking sorry. I know I fucked up”.

But you know damn well that there is no turning back. No matter how hard you try to explain yourself, how many times you could say you are sorry. Rúben won’t listen nor forgive you.

“Oh, you’re sorry? That’s funny” - he laughs ironically.

“I really am, Rúben! I know this sounds so ridiculous now, but I really believed that you had broken up with me. We had that stupid fight and I really thought that you didn’t wanted anything to do with me anymore. Please, you have to understand my side” - you plead, but he doesn’t let you explain.

“Please, Y/N, stop wasting my time. I don’t want to hear a thing anymore. You are the biggest disappointment that I have ever had in my life. I trusted you, gave you everything. I gave you my love, my trust, let you inside my house, opened up to you and confessed my feelings. And you cheated on me while I was at home, fighting mentally with myself about how could I be better to you. I don’t want to see you anymore, get out of my house” - he tells you coldly.

You look at Rúben’s features and you can see the disappointment evident in his eyes. It’s like someone punched you in the stomach. You know there’s nothing you can do now, you should have thought about that before getting in bed with another man. The tears keep falling in your face while you gather your things and get ready to leave Rúben’s house and life.

“I totally understand your side, I fucked up. But I hope you know that I really regret what I did, and that I will always love you” - you confess while taking one last look at his face. He doesn’t say a word, and you turn your back and leave.

Once you close the door behind you, it’s like the entire world shatters around you.

You can’t help but think about how he found out about it. But soon, your mind clears a bit and you understand what happened. Your best friend was the only person - beside José, that knew about your mistake. You confessed it all to her and she kept nagging you about how you should come clean to your now ex-boyfriend. You feel betrayed. Everything was fine now, why did she had to get in the middle of everything and fuck your life? Your life has took a huge turn, and you feel lost without Rúben by your side.

Leaving your love because of the dumbest decision you’ve ever made, is something that will haunt you forever. And the thought of being away from Rúben without the possibility of going back to him, is a huge regret that will forever hurt in your chest.

You can die from suffering, you can die from disgust. Your feelings can consume you, but love was the only thing that would fill you up. And now, you can only replay the happy moments that you’ve spent with Rúben, when you were just two happy love birds, feeling like nothing in the world could destroy the strong connection you both shared. Some say that you can die from love, but all your life you believed that you could only live because of love, not die from it.

Now, you fear that this really might kill you. And if it doesn’t kill you physically, it damn sure is going to destroy you emotionally. But you know this is all on you. You did this to yourself, and you will end up alone because that’s what you deserve, after hurting the person who truly made you happy and who you loved the most.

#ruben dias #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #ruben dias oneshot #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #thoughts about football players #football imagines #football fanfic

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gojosbf · 3 months

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with gojo, geto and even kenjaku dead, do you think satosugu's story is completely over? because for me personally, if this is the end of their story, it feels kinda unsatisfactory and inconclusive. i hope we get more content and there are so many questions about their story that still need to be answered. i dont expect gojo's censored last words to geto to be revealed ever but i hope we get at least a somewhat conclusive ending.....

Their story had a conclusive ending, they're not the main characters so no matter how much we crave for more bits of satosugu this is what we have and this is how they ended. I don't necessarily find it unsatisfactory considering both of them served their purposes and we got another top notch satosugu angsty crumb till gojo's last breath (that panel of him saying "my only disappointment is that you weren't there to give a slap on the back" and geto's tears). I don't think we should drag it out or find any other means to insert more stsg when it isn't even their story, sad but true. This is it for us, they happened, it was beautiful and then it ended.

#i am sorry anon i cannot give you fake hope #trying to forcibly focus on their story when it isn't needed by the plot would ruin every nostalgic and nice moment of theirs #some things are better left untouched and hey tragedy isn't so bad #atleast it's way better than a forced happy ending that'll leave a bitter taste in our mouth because though most us stsg shippers love to #cry over them we have made peace with the kind of end they had and it's fun (lwk sadistic too) thinking of what could've been and #wondering about ifs and buts #but let's leave the canon untouched meanwhile #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #ask #jjk spoilers #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu #stsg

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separatist-apologist · 7 days

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Okay so apparently you need to put things in tea to make it palatable?

#will it make it taste less wet?#idk how else to describe whats happening in my mouth #like you guys are so mean about lacroix and then you drink this???#fake

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bumblingbabooshka · 3 months

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Fake Voyager Episode: Tuvok gets kidnapped and forced to compete in an arena where telepaths fight one another to the death for a shot at fortune and prestige. He was initially kidnapped as 'fodder' - the aliens who run the arena will grab any telepathic alien they can find regardless of skill and they're essentially just there to be killed by flashier veterans of the bloodsport. The episode is mainly Tuvok showing off his tactical know-how and combat skills. We also get several flashbacks to him as a young man, learning how to fight both on Vulcan and in Starfleet. There's a concern that he will lose himself when forced into this seemingly endless battle, surrounded by violence, but in the end he prevails and manages to escape without killing a single person. He leaves the arena after giving a message of peace. Patreon | Ko-fi

Unnamed Goon: [Laughter] That puny 'Vuulcan' didn't land a single hit for all his bluster. Once I sealed his telepathic powers it was over! Huh huh huh… If I keep up this pace I should have him crushed beneath my fists in- What...? I can't move...? Tuvok: By now you have surely noticed it.

You are certainly a formidable opponent. Most would assume you to be a simple bruiser but that is not the case. You are a knowledgeable telepath - able to not only bolster your own physique but nullify the telepathic capabilities of your enemies.

However. You rely too much on one tactic and are too proud to allow yourself to look 'weak.' This was the ultimate cause of your ruination. While you gleefully battered my body about the field I was able to locate twenty two out of twenty four 'kobat sfek' on your body - points which will render you immobile for approximately…four minutes. More than enough time. It was a shrewd precaution to nullify my telepathic ability. However. I do not need them to best you in combat.

Even now, I am ten times stronger than you. Unnamed Goon: T-Ten...TEN TIMES!? [Imagining the sort of gruesome end that might await him, the unnamed Goon faints - leaving Tuvok the victor.]

#the B plot of this episode is that Neelix is trying to make a certain Vulcan dish juuust right so Tuvok can have it when he gets back #(In the opening pre-theme Tuvok comments on how it didn't taste right)#the episode ends with Tuvok (after a long meditation) coming into the empty mess hall and Neelix being like OH!! You're here!! Quick - try #this! I think just about everyone on the ship helped me make this! I hope it tastes alright I mean I'd just (Neelix.) sorry! Of course I'll #be quiet. I'll just - sit here and won't say a word! (...) -Tuvok takes a bite- ...#-silence- Well????? (Well what?) How is it? It is...sufficient.#& Neelix cheers and sing songs that that's among the HIGHEST of your compliments Mr. Vulcan~! (Hm.) Hmm~....#Peaceful night isn't it? ...Indeed. (cut to young Tuvok looking at a similar star filled sky on Vulcan) END.#fake star trek voyager episodes my beloved #comix #Tuvok #st voyager #voy #star trek #Tuvok being cool...needed to see it <3 #bea art tag #we only really see him show off his tactical skills innn that episode where Janeway chases a monkey on that one planet #and he's COOL!!!#art that makes it painfully painfully clear that the person drawing it read shounen manga as a kid

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minimujina · 1 year

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the stimmies and the shimmies !

hi i wrote a self-indulgent drabble about kuni (wanderer) where u do some happy stimming and he wants to know why!!

ᴄᴡ. written with a neurodivergent reader in mind, but anyone can read and relate as stimming is not at all exclusive to neurodivergency :] i do not at all wish to encourage harmful stereotypes or put this behavior on a pedestal—this is simply a silly happy drabble building from my own personal experiences and i wanted to share it for anyone to enjoy!!

ᴀ/ɴ. happy flappy happy flappy flip flop flappy pap :D also this actually turned out to be really cute and doesnt only have to do with stimming—its very fluffy and funny and i really like the dialogue!! not super proofread and im very proud of myself for not hoarding this in my drafts for months!! im really happy that it only took me an evening to write this!! WEEEE

“…why are you flapping your hands?”

you stopped moving abruptly, staring at the wanderer with a blank face, expression unreadable.

it took you a moment to get the words out (because he was staring at you expectantly with his arms crossed, and that was rather intimidating), but you managed to squeak them by after some self-encouragement.

“well… im happy.”

kunikuzushi seemed to scrutinize you for a moment, and you were afraid that this had only given him another reason to dislike you. “happy? why would you be happy? i hate happy people.”

(…that’s what you imagined he would say.)

though, you obviously didn’t know him perfectly well, because what he said next was far from the venomous reply you’d feared.

he simply hummed, gaze softening a bit. “alright then.”

alright then.

you had finished your happy flapping due to the interruption, no longer feeling the urge to happy flap, but you still felt calm and content, and maybe even more so thanks to his almost… sweet response. sweet for him, at least.

the expression on his face made you feel a bit warm all of a sudden—he wouldn’t stop looking at you. it wasn’t hard to tell that his eyes were boring into your own even if you weren’t meeting them yourself. you felt like a little pot of boiling water under his gaze. a little soup. a soup of happy and confused feelings. happy soup.

what was it that had made you so very happy, kunikuzushi wondered? he kept replaying the past couple minutes in his head, trying to remember what had occurred just before this, but the only pictures in his head were of you, all bouncy and flappy and so very pleased.

perhaps he should’ve just asked you, he mused.

perhaps he would just ask you.

“what made you so happy?” he inquired, as blunt and flat as ever. but you knew him just enough to know that he would never ask such a thing if he didn’t really care—and the tone of his voice was irrelevant. he always sounded rather uninterested with anything.

you grinned, meeting his gaze. it looked as though you were holding yourself back, buzzing with a chained excitement again.

“kuni, i was happy because of you!”

a most incredulous expression crossed the wanderer’s face.

“me?”

what could kunikuzushi have done to make anyone so happy?

he studied your smile, your hands, your eyes—and he could not figure out how he could possibly be a reason that all of those lovely features of yours contained such absolute joy.

you nodded confidently. “do you want me to explain?” you could tell from kuni’s horrified expression that, firstly, he did not really believe you. and secondly, he held a deep-seated loathing for himself, which was why he could not believe you. he could not accept that there was anything good about himself.

“knock yourself out,” he murmured, still seeming dazed.

you motioned for him to sit next to you, looking like you would start jumping up and down at any second. seriously, why were you so happy?

“i was just thinking about how far you’ve come, kuni,” you began. you already looked like you were in the middle of one of your long spiels that the wanderer was so often obliged to listen to. “and it makes me really happy.”

he had to hold himself back from scoffing—not because he thought anything bad about you, but because he thought badly about himself.

“remember when nahida first made you come work with me in the nursery?” you grinned. “you were so mad. it was hilarious.”

kunikuzushi averted his gaze to the ground with a grumble, suddenly finding his shoes very interesting.

“okay, i was not mad.”

“yes, yes you were! oh my archons, you were so grumpy, kuni! you-”

“no, you are so delusional,” he retorted. “i was just-”

“grumpy?”

“no.”

“ooohhh, yes, kuni was feeling a bit grumpy, i think. you were a little grumper.”

the wanderer opened his mouth to retaliate—but he faltered, a new hint of amusement smothering his gaze.

“…you are incredibly annoying, did you know that?”

in any other situation you would’ve taken that very literally, but the faintest of smiles itched at his lips, and you knew for certain that that was his way of conceding.

you probably should’ve stopped there, but something inside you just couldn’t continue in life without saying this one last thing.

you feigned pity with a pout, widening your eyes and clasping your hands.

“...did nahida forget to give you a juicebox that day?”

kunikuzushi thrust his hat onto your head, shoving you and your hysterical laughter aside. if you could’ve seen from under the big ass hat, his glowing cheeks and sheepish grin likely would have sent you into a fit, and the wanderer just couldn’t have that.

“i am so funny,” you cackled, very obviously pleased with yourself (but you were still trapped under his hat, so your voice was very muffled, and it was much more difficult for him to take you seriously this way).

“yeah, yeah. whatever helps you sleep at night, flappy.”

“flappy?” you knocked off the hat with one sweep, an incredulous smile dancing on your lips. “you jerk!”

“yes, i know.”

“oh, you are so mean,” you grumbled, though your expression said the exact opposite.

“i’m well aware, flappy.”

“you just make me wanna—wanna—oh, why i oughta-”

“oh, please, do tell!” kunikuzushi drawled, resting his chin in his palm.

when you couldn’t seem to say anything at all, mouth agape, he closed it for you—pushing your jaw up with his pointer finger—grinning smugly like he always did.

“as auntie nahida says,” the wanderer murmured, “if you have nothing nice to say…don’t say anything at all.”

and with that, he grabbed his hat from the floor, exiting the nearly empty nursery with a dramatic flourish that was so characteristic of him. you were left sitting there for a few minutes, aghast at what had just happened, until you came to your senses.

you did a bit of happy flapping after that.

thank you for reading :)

#kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche imagines #something about kuni reminds me of autism LMAO??#since he’s not fully human and he spent some of his life being around people and learning how they act #learning what is ‘normal’#that reminds me very much of my own experience with autism #looking to others constantly to know how to act normal and never actually knowing yourself outside of this fake little unautistic identity #LMAOFHDJDGD #OH MY GOSH and his voice line about bitter taste #how when someone gave him coffee he didnt actually like it but he kept drinking it because.. he had to (he didnt have to but he thought so)#skdhkshdkdd just you know. he is very gorgeous to me !#and i cannot explain in words how much i adore him and his redemption arc #BOY YOU ARE SO DEEPLY REDEEMED IN MY EYES #COME HERE BOY GIVE ME A KISS #mujimade #scaramouche #wanderer #kunikuzushi

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lord-squiggletits · 2 months

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Idk if my previous posts were unclear but I don't remotely hate any Optimus version that isn't IDW or think they suck. Every Optimus is good and there's a fan (or multiple fans!) of every version of OP no matter how obscure or underrated (as well as all the other characters).

What's more questionable (or at least annoying) is when fandom ignores canon character personalities in favor of writing specific archetypes that are either out of character or repetitive/stereotyped to the point of annoyance. As an example of this, it would be a female character being called the Team Mom just because she's a woman existing in a group of (primarily male) characters even if she's not remotely motherly or nurturing. Or, as a more topical example, how often I've seen Transformers ships where even though both characters are canonically masculine (or gender neutral), fanartists love to turn one of the characters small and weak (or even outright feminine) to turn the ship into Strong Dominant Seme and Sweet Cute Uke to fit a specific kink or romantic fantasy, even if it's a disservice/OOC to portray those characters like that.

In other words, a fandom's popularity of certain characters, ships, headcanons, etc is often more informed by tropes and forcing canon to adhere to one's personal tastes, as opposed to approaching canon and trying to understand it on its own terms. I'm not talking about the quality of the source material, but rather the way that the fandom interprets the source materials in ways that don't make any sense, approach it in bad faith, or just generally don't care about canon at all. So I'm not saying one OP is better than another, my problem is when fandom consistently focuses on certain stereotypes or flanderizations of a character, and then any character that doesn't fit the popular (often stereotyped) mold is ignored or virulently rejected. In other words, I think popular fandom often does a DISSERVICE to characters whether they love them or hate them, it just takes different forms.

So, just as an example, I think one fandom caricature of Optimus that I see a lot (and heavily dislike) is making Optimus some sort of shrinking wallflower type who's innocent, sweet, and virginal, in contrast to an opposite caricature of Megatron that's big, strong, dominant, and rugged, and making ship art that forces the characters into some kind of seme/uke or borderline heteronormative romance. Despite the fact that canon Optimus (in, say, TFP for example) is tall, broadly built, deep voiced, dignified, assertive, and strong (physically and morally), completely incorrect interpretations of him as a shy feminized uke type are still pretty common to find. And it makes you ask yourself why it is so many people make MOP ship art of them of The Small One and The Large One or The Small, Cute One and The Big, Violent One when it's completely different from canon. It feels as if such fanart is made by people who just want to see seme/uke style slash ships, and if canon doesn't give them what they want, they'll simply trash it and replace it with their own version, even if it's completely OOC.

So when I said in my other post that people don't like IDW Optimus because he can't be fit into caricatures like happy dad or shy twink, I'm not saying it to say "other OPs who resemble that suck," I'm saying it to express "Fandom tends to simplify characters into easily palatable and comfortable tropes, and when they encounter a character they can't do that with, they respond by ignoring or even hating on that character."

Other versions of Optimus have the problem where fandom turns them into a stereotype instead of the actual character they are, e.g. portraying TFA OP as some poor abused damsel with no self confidence and crippling anxiety being abused by his superiors, and then they talk more about this fake uwu smoll bean cinnamon roll version of TFA OP than they do about actual canon TFA OP. And honestly I can't think of any prominent content/meta about G1 OP that isn't just "he plays basketball and does funny one liners and is Team Dad/Grandpa." (Hell, you even get that with non-Optimus characters that get simplified to just sexy twink, old grandpa, comedy relief, evil ex, Diversity Win-- She's A Lesbian, third wheel to the favored ship, etc even though there's way more depth to them than just their surface level stereotype.)

IDW OP's problem is that he can't be stereotyped like that so instead the fandom ignores him. He's not small, so they can't stereotype him as a skinny twink getting topped by a burly uke. He's not jovial or happy go lucky or extroverted, so they can't stereotype him as Team Dad or Comedy Relief. He's assertive, blunt, and has a temper, so they can't stereotype him as a shy wallflower in need of protecting. He makes catastrophic mistakes and is responsible for bad things happening, so they can't stereotype him into a sweet cinnamon roll who has never done anything wrong in his whole life or The Infinitely Wise and Kind Paragon. There's no Big Bad Authority Figure who was mean to IDW OP and traumatized him, so they can't excuse the bad things he did as "he's traumatized so he couldn't help it" and wave away his flaws as "it's his abuser's fault, they made him this way." IDW OP has the kind of depression where he's grumpy, shut off, and angry-- as opposed to the shy, sad kind of depression that just stares forlornly out of the window in a beautifully tragic way-- so they can't make him into a sad woobie kicked around unfairly by life.

Or I guess they just stereotype IDW OP as "evil bastard with no redeeming qualities that's mean to everyone for no reason, plus the writers forced everyone to like him just because he's Optimus Prime" even though that isn't accurate either.

Put bluntly, IDW OP forces fandom to contend with the idea that someone can be a good person with good intentions but still fuck up on a massive scale and maybe end up hurting more than they helped. IDW OP is messy, ugly, flawed, mean, stoic, closed off. When IDW OP has mental breakdowns or has his feelings hurt, he's loud and angry and harsh, and the consequences of what he did while he was unwell continue to haunt him long after. In other words, he actually experiences negative emotions the way a real person would, and sometimes when he's under the influence of negative emotions, he lashes out or does stupid things (like a real person might) instead of inoffensively crying in a corner somewhere. He isn't sanitized enough for a fandom that only wants Perfect Pure Good Optimus Who Never Hurts Anyone Even By Accident, so instead of IDW OP's mistakes and dark moments being treated as the logical end point of a person put in constant no-win situations until he breaks, he gets treated as if his mistakes and flaws make him an irredeemable bastard with no good qualities who should've fucked up less often to make fans actually like him.

And this is all in a fandom where 90% of the characters are war criminals and a good half of them have massacred organic planets. But god forbid IDW Optimus ever make a bad decision in a stressful situation. Or be mean to someone. Or have a character arc about how blindly idolizing people as paragons ends badly for everyone involved because no one can be that perfect. He is simply The Worst Optimus Ever and there's absolutely nothing about him worth discussing.

And just to be clear, the problem isn't the fact that some people don't like IDW OP, or he's just not their thing and they don't care.

The problem is the fact that he's consistently and actively hated by the fanbase who makes a concentrated effort to say he sucks and make sure none of their fan works ever include him. It's literally at a level where I stopped looking in the Optimus tag on this website because I was tired of people randomly going "and btw IDW OP sucks and I want to drown him in a ditch" in posts that weren't even about IDW, and I stopped looking for MegOP fic on AO3 because most of it is IDW Megatron/clearly TFP or G1 inspired continuity soup Optimus. Places that are Optimus friendly for Optimus fans, where I could reasonably expect to find positive conversations, but instead get sucker punched by hate about the character The Space Is About. And I can't even have conversations asking about why they do, bc the way 90% of them talk, I can tell they literally just didn't read the comics or deliberately misinterpreted the story.

I find it bizarre and frankly, tragic, that the hate train for IDW OP is so pervasive that people actively erase and replace him from fan works IN THE IDW UNIVERSE in a way that no other character is targeted in. I have tried so hard to understand why IDW OP gets this sort of hate and erasure when other characters who were as bad or worse than him have perfectly normal takes about them that go "yeah he kinda sucks but he's cool and I like him" or "who cares if he's problematic IRL, it's a story." The only conclusion I can come to is that because Optimus Prime (TM) has a specific brand image and is locked into being a cultural icon, he's held to a standard of The Ideal Perfect Hero instead of the way better standard of "Is he an interesting, well written character?"

#squiggposting #discourse #i tried my best to phrase this in a way that didnt invalidate different tastes #but like honestly. some ppls tastes suck. or are actually problematic and not in a fake way #like as an example from the main text avoe #i hate it so much when gay ships are made seme/uke - dominant/submissive - fem/masc #when that not only isnt in character or accurate to canon. but is also really boring at best or homophobic at worst #i cant control ppl's opinions but i can still think theyre boring stupid or even downright offensive #i have SEEN pretty much every popular TF character or pairing get flanderized somehow #so it's not just my attachment to OP in larticular #and i find it very frustrating when it seems as if ppl arent fans of the very media they consume #and they turn an interesting story into cookie cutter stereotypes #and then when the story isnt a cookie cutter stereotype easily divisible into black and white #they hate the characters and story and call it trash #might delete later bc i feel cring #but this is oretty much the culmination of all the thoughts and discussions ive had #with multiple people #anyways ive seen enough fandom discourse posts about The State of Fandom #and The Same 5 Tropes Recycled just copy pasted into different fandoms #what i speak of isnt just about my fave. rather my fave is a victim of this fandom tencency #and it is a FACT that fandom will force characters into offensive stereotypes that dont even make sense #tldr sometimes fanon.....is way worse than canon #also i revised and edited this like a billion times to make sure i wasnt hasty or vague or mean #so if i still made a mistake. whatever i guess this post took hours #it's not about wanting absolutely everyone to love my favorite #it's about the fact that ppl actively hate him even in spaces that are about him/ships he's in #to the point i have to not interact with strangers bc i never know if my fsve will randomly get shit on #and on top that the hate is mostly based on surface level assumptions and misinformation #so not only is my fav hated in a way no other character is. they dont even hate him for canon facts #sucks to see the fandom so thoroughly full of hate by ppl who arent informed bc they never gave canon a chance

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