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ohtobeleah · 8 months

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Panic Room // Jake Seresin

Summary: Between his ex, bird strikes and suicidal mission parameters it’s hard to keep a lid on things. So when you help Jake through a panic attack in the locker room, you become his lifelong lifeline.

Warnings: Panic Attacks. Mentions of bisexuality. Jake Seresin x Platonic!F!reader.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author Note: Day Eight of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Panic Attack. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It’s the way Jake's flight suit feels on his body that comes first. Usually the Normex onesie doesn’t bother him, but as he made strides up the tarmac straight for the hanger, it felt like the weight of the world had come down on him. Crushing his existence, petrifying his soul.

“Hey Hangman—“ He doesn’t register whose voice it is until he sees Fanboy racing up beside him. “You okay man?” Jake doesn’t respond, he just keeps putting one foot in front of the other until he’s found himself back in the locker room. It’s empty, thank god.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Next it’s the heat, his body temperature has skyrocketed. He can feel his skin boiling against the surface of the sink he’s choosing to rest his palms on while he stares himself down in the mirror. Jake can recognise the reddish hume that’s taking his cheeks hostage and the ruby red rash that’s littering his neck. A physical attribute that gave away immediately what was happening.

But he couldn't stop the fear from consuming him entirely.

“No no no no no—“ Not long after the heat had started to overwhelm him, the palpitations began. Jake could feel his heart hammering away inside his chest and while he tried to calm himself down by splashing water across his face, it didn’t seem to help. It didn’t curve the rise of his panic—the overwhelming sense of fear and anxiety that crept up on him like a title wave growing and growing and growing in the distance.

You know something’s building, but by the time you understand that it’s a wall of water heading your way you’re already caught in its deathly path. Unable to run, unable to get out of the way. You have nothing left to do except to hold your breathe and hopefully float up to the top of the wall of water coming at you at a hundred miles an hour.

“100–“ It’s a coping mechanism. “96, 92, 88–“ Jake Seresin has done this for many years and he’d continue to do it for many more. “84, 80–“ But it’s not helping, nothings helping. “Okay, you’re okay—“ Nothing ever helps, not the usually cool, calm and cock sure Aviator that people look at for reassurance in themselves. Jake wasn't afraid of anything–not according to his fellow aviators. So when he watched from the rec room as Bob and Phoenix burned in, he knew that he had to get out of the line of sight before he completely lost his mind.

“Fuck!” Jake pushed himself away from the sink and started to make his way over to his locker, he’d just watched Natasha Phoenix Trace and Robert Bob Floyd fall from the sky before their F-18 crashed into a fiery ball of debris and it sparked the fuse, the ever looming presence of existential danger that lingered over Jake. The fear he had since day one, that he’d burn in and burn in alone.

The panic attacks though, they started right after his first air to air kill. Something about the gravity of taking another life really made his heart race. They got worse however when Bradley Rooster Bradshaw broke his heart, left him high and dry and said he couldn’t do their relationship anymore. Jake thought it was ironic that his callsign was Hangman when it was always Bradshaw that was leaving him out to dry.

And being here? In Miramar with his ex boyfriend skulking around like he was the most downtrodden man on planet earth and his colleagues falling from the sky and the goddamn mission parameters that sounded an awful lot like a suicide mission, made up a perfectly concocted environment to seemingly disintegrate the facade of an egomaniacal man who just couldn’t stand to be second place.

Jake had worked too hard on his exoskeleton persona for it to be flawed by panic attacks. He wouldn't let his colleague see him like this, so weak and broken and–

“Hangman?” Fuck….

Your voice sounded muffled at first, maybe it was because of the buzzing in Jake's ears or the fact he could practically feel his blood pumping in his veins. “Jake?” But the more you spoke the clearer your voice became. “Fanboy said he saw you run in here, you alright?”

“Fine.” Jake struggled out as he undid his flight suit and ripped his arms from the sleeves. “All good.” You knew he was lying, you could hear the struggle in his voice. But when you saw how soaked his black T-shirt was against his skin, you knew it had to have been bad.

“Hangman?” You stepped a little closer, slowly, like you were trying your very best not to spook a wild animal. “You can talk to me, if you want to.” You and Jake were considered for the most part to be friendly. For a little while before you were called back to TopGun—you were his wing woman when you were both assigned/attached to the strike fighter squadron VFA-151 Vigilantes. “But if you say you’re okay, I believe you.” You and Jake had gotten close there at one point, and maybe in another life the two of you could have been more.

But it wasn't meant to be. He was far too arrogant for his own good and you were far too inside your one head to be able to deal with such an extraverted soul.

“I’m—“ Jake stopped himself for a moment as he spun around to lean against the lockers. He couldn’t stop the panic as his hands shook and his heart raced, causing him to hyperventilate. “It’s just a—“

“Panic attack.” You finished Jake's sentence for him as you moved closer to sit on the bench in front of where he stood. You didn’t want to invade his personal space, but you wanted him to know that you weren’t going anywhere unless he asked you to leave. “My uh—my sister would experience them pretty frequently when we were teenagers, she always felt like she was dying.”

“I can’t breathe.” Jake had all the coping mechanisms he ever needed in order to persevere through an attack. But right now? With you sitting in front of him as he leaned up against the lockers with a heavy heart inside his chest and skin that looked flushed to the touch—he’d forgotten them all. “I can’t breathe!”

“Okay.” You stood slowly, reaching out for Jake’s hands to give them a firm squeeze. “Here, squeeze my hand back.” You’d never seen your wingman like this before, so vulnerable. Jake was normally this broad shouldered man with emerald green eyes who could conquer anything. He’d said it himself at the Hard Deck, the mission didn’t confront him. But it clearly did. “Come on, squeeze my hands.” When Jake finally did what you were asking him to do, you smiled softly up at him and reached out for his cheek to gently rub the pad of your thumb across the flushed skin of his cheek.

“Good, now look at me Hangman.” Jake again did as he was told and you really had to stop yourself from getting lost in his emerald gaze. “Take a deep breath in, hold it just for two seconds, and slowly exhale alright? I’ll do it with you, keep squeezing my hands.”

Jake never took his eyes off you as he slowly but surely did as you instructed. He slid down the lockers, his knees had become too weak to hold the weight of the world that had crumbled around him.

“I don't even know why–” Jake tried to speak as he slowly but surely slid down the lockers, his back scratched against the doors as he did so. “Why you’re doing this?”

“Easy, easy big guy.” You cooed as you followed Jake down as his back slid down the lockers. You sat next to him, taking deep breaths in and exhaling just the same. Still squeezing each other's hands until Jake wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. “And we’re friends aren't we? Or something like that, it's what friends do I guess.”

“Are they alright?” Jake sighed as he let his head fall to your shoulder, exhausted and completely numb. “Phoenix and Bob?” You knocked your boot against Jakes in return.

“Yeah, they’ll probably be kept overnight for observation but I’ll check with Mav once I’m finished with you.” You replied as you just sat with Jake, still hand in hand. He didn’t want to let go. “And for the record, I don’t think you should be picking fights with your ex in the middle of debriefing sessions—if you still love him, just tell him man, my god.”

“Bradshaw doesn't deserve it, he likes to play the victim of his own confidence.” It was the first time Jake had actually confirmed to you that Bradley was in fact the ex that left him out to dry. There had been a few nights over a few beers that Jake had mentioned his ex boyfriend, but never did he ever mention a name. You only started to connect the dots once you were here and had seen the pair of them interact. “I just like stirring the pot.” Jake smiled as he felt his heart rate settling. “Probably stirred the pot a little too much though.” He sighed before admitting defeat. “I haven’t had a real bad one like that for a while.”

“If you ever have one again, you can always call me.” You say without hesitation. “I mean it, I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me do you?” Jake asked as he raised his head from your shoulder. You turned to look up at him and nodded. “Best wingman around, aren't you Ace?” You could tell Jake was settling into his skin again, the panic had begun to subside into his mind again, the adrenaline had begun to deplete and he was mellowing out. He was calming down. You had calmed him down.

“Someone’s gotta look after you.” It was the nonchalant shrug that made Jake chuckle. He liked you, he always had. You were fun and energetic and never had a bad thing to say about anyone, including him. Which was refreshing all things considered, everyone always had someone bad to say about Jake Seresin.

“And that someone’s you?” Jake even thought to himself a time or two that he could see himself rebuilding his love life with you. Meaningless one night stands were fine, but he wanted more—he needed depth and intelligence that buckle bunnies and Bradley Bradshaw never seemed to give him. All the lights were on and yet no one was home with that man.

“Unfortunately that responsibility was bestowed upon me.” You teased as you stood and reached out to give Jake a hand up. He took it even though he didn’t need it. “So yeah, I’ve got you anytime you need me.”

“I’ll do my best to remember that.” Jake replied as he cleared his throat, the room spun for a moment but he caught himself quickly. “I should probably have a shower.”

“Yeah—just don’t have the water too hot, it can mess with you after an attack.” You explained like it was knowledge that just roamed free in your kind. Jake raised a single brow your way. He knew. He knew by the crescent moon scars in your palms that you knew what it was like to drown on dry land.

“Like I said, my sister gets them bad too.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt t

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #jake seresin x reader #Jake Seresin whump #jake seresin x bradley bradshaw #jake seresin angst #top gun fanfiction #topgun maverick #TopGun hangman #tw: panic attacks

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andyeddieeee · 4 months

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What Your Favorite Pacific Character Says About You (based on personal experience)

Sledge- Type 1: You’re learning to find joy and beauty in everything you do and see. You’ve lived most of your life as a cynic, but you’re learning how to have hope. U got this brother

Type 2: Horny Joe Mazzello superfan and 80s fanatic. Put down your iPad that has queen‘s rock in rio pulled up on YouTube and go outside.

Snafu- OKAYYY WE GET IT you think he’s hot!! stop being so horny on the internet!! You also have AWFUL taste in men, but GREAT taste in music. You were probably raised Southern and smoke a LOT of pot.

Burgie- You either have a savior complex or ur fav BoB character was Shifty.

Sydney- You describe your type in men as “golden retriever” and tend to have relationships that all of your friends are jealous of. You also more than likely have a hyper-feminine aesthetic and a weird thing for Robert Irwin.

Basilone- You probably have a thing for firefighters, but not cops, and like to stalk gym rats on instagram. You like your men beefy and a little stupid.

Lena- You’re either a lesbian or you were just really happy to see a woman with a real personality in wwii media.

Leckie- You REALLY liked lord of the flies and great gatsby in high school are more than likely one of those cinephiles who prioritizes look and aesthetic over plot. You also have a journal that you take VERY seriously.

Hoosier- You just want someone to boss ur ass around. Don’t think I don’t see it. We all do.

Chuckler- You’re just kind of normal. Like there’s nothing really wrong with you, you just have common sense and a somewhat stable sense of self.

Runner- I literally don’t even know how to describe Runner fans. They’re kind of jacks of all trades, but also they just kinda keep to themselves? Y’all r an enigma.

De L’Eau- You listen exclusively to sad bisexual girl music and talk about your “babygirls” that are just grown men with mental illnesses.

Ack-Ack- Daddy issues.

Hillbilly- Daddy issues but somehow more complicated.

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 5 days

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medialog march 2k24

yes it's june don't @ me

watched

dune 2 - a gorgeously executed commitment to a story i literally cannot imagine being emotionally invested in and find very silly. i had a great time seeing this in IMAX but was puzzled by how reverentially silent our audience was towards a movie that had me giggling from the opening title (he who controls the flow of spice controls all... hee!) and laughing out loud every time christopher walken appeared. i said this on letterboxd and it's still true: timmy & zendaya are in a muppet babies version of their own movie whenever they appear but it's basically fine. in a just world rebecca ferguson would be julia roberts in the 90s levels famous by now.

killers of the flower moon - i hate leonardo dicaprio so much i can't really figure out how i feel about the rest of this movie because i spent the whole time thinking about how much he sucks and can't act

anatomy of a fall - i went into this pretty agnostic about the oscar race and came out thinking it was super embarrassing for everyone involved that this wasn't going to sweep everything it was nominated for, although i think screenplay was probably the ideal trophy for it to take home. this movie combines two of my obsessions, one long-standing (the inherent brokenness of the way we talk about women's art & women who make art) and one more recent (the lies of forensic "science" as presented in the courtroom), and it also manages to capture something specific and maybe inarticulable about being a child forced into contact with the court system (family, not criminal, in my case, but either way: no one gets to be a judge because they're good with kids lmao), and it's also about an off-putting bisexual woman writer... i mean. i was truly never not going to love it! i have seen some people say that the prosecution seemed cartoonishly evil and like idk about the situation in france but my brief obsession with wrongful conviction longreads a few years back has led me to believe truly nothing about it was over the top by the standards of americans convinced they've got a murderer on display. relatedly, if you watched this movie and thought it was genuinely trying to cast doubt on the question of her culpability, you have true crime brain poisoning and should seek help immediately. what this really is about, IMO, and what unites the women & art strand & the true crime brain poisoning strand, is how badly people want other people's lives to "cohere" according to their own pre-existing expectations and assumptions about what "anyone" or any good person would do in a given situation, and the ways people have responded to this movie have really emphasized how unwilling people are to waver on this. (i found myself thinking about it again peeking in on some reddit threads about the rachel aviv article about the lucy letby case that were filled with comments that amounted to, "americans just tuning in don't have critical information, such as: she acted so weird!!!! only a murderer would act weird!!!!!!!")

love lies bleeding - this shit rocked!!!!!! what a fun fucked up tense horny time; i found myself truly on the edge of my seat, like physically leaning forward in suspense. i was a kristen stewart skeptic walking into this having only seen her in spencer, which i thought was pretty bad and she was terrible in, but this movie singlehandedly explained to me why she is a movie star and also convinced me she's hot. i can't believe the kids today can just go to a normal theater on a tuesday night and see kristen stewart suck on some buff lady's toe. like what a time to be alive for real

the godfather - this didn't quite click with me personally the way some other belated canonical classics have (citizen kane, lawrence of arabia, casablanca are the three that come to mind), partly because i always struggle to parse mob narratives and was pretty lost on much of the actual plot, but it's very beautiful to look at and has many great performances

the godfather part ii - i liked this one better than the first one mostly because it gets more explicit about the gender of it all, especially in the fight between keaton & pacino, which was my favorite scene in either one, and also because of the closing flashback, which is the kind of shameless manipulation i unabashedly support

problemista - we saw a screening of an unfinished cut of this AGES ago and i fell in love with it and have been dying to see it for real and was so happy to do so!!! the movie has a fairy-tale gloss but a genuine steel and some real anger at its heart and the way it combines those two elements was extremely effective for me. i really really love that this is a story about an economically struggling el salvadarian immigrant struggling with the byzantine immigration process who comes to feel genuine kinship with a total nightmare of an entitled white american woman not because she learns or grows or softens but because he recognizes in her a hardness rooted in her commitment to her desires that ultimately he sees as a mirror to his own and something to admire. there's something about how staunchly it refuses common assumptions about who can or cannot understand or empathize with whom that i found so bracing. but also it's really fucking funny! i am so excited for whatever julio torres does next.

slap shot - i had never heard of this movie and kind of still can't believe that it exists and is like kind of famous apparently? and that paul newman did it? it's a story about a bunch of hockey losers but really it's just a satire about gender with the kind of ending that is astonishing in how it first shocks and then settles in as absolutely the only way it could have gone. like the movie is funny and weird if sometimes unpleasantly committed to a certain veracity about the language used by a bunch of idiot hockey goons in the 80s but the climactic sequence is a 100/10, all-timer hall of fame no notes movie magic moment.

god respects us when we wok, but loves us when we dance - 20ish minute documentary about one of the first love-ins and you know what? the hippies made some points and we all lose when we shrink ourselves to the demands of the god of cringe

read

sofia samatar, tender - samatar had vaguely been on my radar for years because her poem "girl hours" came across my dashboard ages ago and has made me cry like six separate times. tender, a collection of 20 short stories ranging from the very short to a proper novella, exploded my brain open in the best way possible (and also made me cry), such that i feel inadequate to the task of describing what makes it so awesome. she's so obviously fucking smart and so inventive with form and such a great stylist, adopting convincingly a wide range of styles but always feeling somehow distinctly like herself, and her imagination is so rich, that even the stories i didn't love were still a huge pleasure to read. these are stories that are engaging with history and playing with myth always in the service of wrestling with the question of what does it feel like to be alive, often specifically what does it feel like to be alive in the shadow or in the face of calamity and horror, with an insistent recognition of the fact that human beings react to calamity - they make choices, they tell themselves stories, they go deep into themselves to try to get at the truth. like she just Gets It. it's also a really well-sequenced collection in that it feels like her themes build on each other without repeating themselves, and in that as i went on i could tell that my response to certain stories was deepened by what i had read before. like, the first story that truly knocked me out was "walkdog," but i think i would not have been as disarmed by that story's youthful narrator if it hadn't come right after the learned tone of "ogres of east africa" (and both stories, i am only now realizing, are stories told in marginalia, essentially). my favorite story was the novella, "fallow," which is about a space colony of mennonites, and the final paragraph of which i will be thinking about for probably the entire rest of my life.

zadie smith, intimations - this is a collection of not-quite-essays released during the first months of the pandemic as a fundraiser and intended to serve not as a statement but as basically a set of personal snapshots from that time; it reminded me that zadie smith is reliably one of my favorite voices to let into my head. i would read her talking about literally anything.

kelly link, get in trouble - i honestly went into this book very excited having meant to read link for years on the recommendation of many people i know who love her but unfortunately i hated it! the prose was so clunky i could not get into the vibe at all. i almost don't want to say other things i didn't like because i disliked the prose so much that other things could have been good and i probably still wouldn't have been into it... but either way i didn't like other things either! it was like all the dumb bullshit of bad genre fiction combined with the emotionally withholding distance passing for sophistication of bad literary fiction (written with the banality of bad commercial fiction). the book felt very dark and unpleasant and cynical but not in a way that lent itself to like insight about or reflection of the way the real world merits this kind of description... just sort of off-putting for the sake of it. "edgy" one might say. not an actual character or believable relationship at ny point to be found. i did not at any point care about anything that was happening, even to be like "oh that's cool" or "oh that's fucked up." the hype around her is really rooted in her amazing imagination but her imagination is like quite literally not that amazing... i feel like multiple reviews or profiles of her i've read have alluded to the story in this volume where a teenage girl goes to a hotel that is harboring a dentist convention and also a superhero convention like WOW ISN'T SHE WACKY? but like none of the stuff about superheroes (in that or in the other EVEN MORE BORING superhero story) is nearly as weird as the shit that goes on in actual superhero comics... which btw also have absolutely engaged with the question "what if superheroes but also the normal world." like i don't even read superhero comics and i know this. anyway. the stories i disliked the least were probably the one about the demon lover, which was like a francesca lia block rip-off but more self-consciously jaded, and the one about the rich kids and the pyramids, which actually almost managed to be an interesting story about how growing up rich ruins your brain, but unfortunately was still badly written and also had this super fucked up chronology for as far as i could tell no reason at all and also did this dumb little typographical thing where names were always circled, which felt very cutesy. the best thing i can say about this book is really that usually when i find a book this boring it is very slow going for me (hello current book club book i have been reading for more than a month) but this one went down pretty easily.

isaac butler & dan kois, the world only spins forward: the ascent of angels in america - butler & kois expand their oral history, initially written for slate, to more than 400 pages, and i would have happily read 400 more. obviously on some level i just love this play and love to read people talking about it, so i am not impartial here, but for what it's worth i did think this book was very well done in terms of how it organized a mammoth amount of information and in terms of how it edited & arranged its quotes to highlight recurring themes and interesting frissons. the oral history format is well suited to the historical elements of this particular play (the sections that most directly touch on the outbreak of AIDS are devastating to read even if you're familiar with the history) and is also well suited a work of theatrical history, given that a play is a living thing and each production is its own work of art (more true of angels than of most plays, given kushner's famous eternal dissatisfaction with perestroika; i learned from this volume that the most recent major revival DID have an updated script published, meaning at some point i will have to buy a third copy of a play i already own two editions of). it's clearly a work of deep love for the play that also gives space to critical voices (including, at times, kushner's - i was struck by his comment that after reading an essay by toni morrison on a related topic, he reflected that he would have thought differently about making belize a nurse), and, like the play that it's about, explores big ideas while being unafraid to be an extremely fun ride.

listened

kacey musgraves, deeper well - i feel like this album, which drops a saturn return mention in its title track, will be incredibly annoying to people who are allergic to the phrase "self-care" or anything that smacks of woo, but i found it really lovely and perfect for being in your thirties and in some ways so content with life that you're overwhelmed with tiny everyday beauties you can't believe you're lucky enough to have and also you are thinking about death and god, like, constantly. like this one really met me where i was at. i think i'm still not convinced she's ever written a better song than merry-go-round but after giving up on musgraves halfway through golden hour, which everyone loved and i found unlistenably boring, i was totally won back over by the sheer humble prettiness of her melody & her sparse accompaniments here. also writing a love song called "anime eyes"... real people's princess shit i have to say.

rosie tucker, utopia now - this album rules! you should listen to it! clever and weird and inventive and funny, not lacking in anger or even in bitterness but rooted in a sincerity that keeps it from being a downer or feeling cynical. some of the most interesting lyrics i have heard all year by a long shot. my favorite track is probably "gil scott albatross," which spends its first half touring breezily through contemporary gloom (the dark side of moon colonization, landfills filled with consumer waste) before announcing "i wanna turn the argument around" and declaring, in my favorite line of the year, "if you're holding for hope, then it's time for you to learn that where there's pain it means you still got nerve" - all before landing on a surprisingly sentimental tribute to the centrality of personal connection: "cuz i love you now and i always will." in less than three minutes! really cool stuff happening here.

beyonce, rennaissance - ok listen so i didn't have HBO Max when lemonade came out and i didn't want to listen without watching because i didn't want to do it Wrong and then i just kept never getting around to it and then i felt like i couldn't listen to any of her other new stuff and also i heard break my soul and it didn't grab me... anyway this album is awesome and i was wrong about break my soul

beyonce, cowboy carter - this album is also good and taking a friday long walk to give it a devoted first listen was a great time but i think for the most part i sort of admire its ambition more than i enjoy it

#media 2k24 #isabel 2k24 #i keep feeling like i don't have time for these and today being like #still too sick to Do Stuff but less Must Sleep All Day than yesterday... felt like a good excuse

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foreverrandomwritings · 9 months

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Two Turns Into Three

Summary:You and your boyfriend Fanboy propostion your close friend Bob with a threesome request.

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x afab!Reader (Reaper) x Robert "Bob" Floyd

Warnings: Explicit, Threesome (m/m/f), Masturbation, strap on anal, FanboyxBob anal, kinks, dildo, kissing, praise kink, fingering, a little bit of nerves, MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

Word count:3643

Masterlist

A/N:Written as a sequel to Schoolboy Crush but can be read alone. Written for @sushiwriterhere threesomeissance challenge.

You and Fanboy had been dating for about three and a half months when the topic of kinks and fantasies came up. The relationship had been a slow one at the start. He had finally gotten the courage to ask you out after months of showing up to your Nerds United store. You had built a good rapport with him over those months and had even played some video games with him occasionally after swapping gamer tags before he had popped the question. Then about two weeks into you officially dating he had gone onto a three week long mission.

Neither of you wanted to rush into that level of intimacy before he left so you had waited until he had gotten back to have your first time together. You both enjoyed each other immensely and had a great time with each other since then. But even though things were going great there were still some things you wanted to try. After a day at a convention with Mickey and a certain glasses wearing aviator, you had dropped Bob at home. Which wasn’t abnormal, he spent occasional time with you guys. Going to D&D nights, going to movies or even conventions with you both. You both somehow got onto the topic of a threesome on your way back to your apartment.

The first time you had seen Bob, Mickey had dragged him into your store. It was while you were both still friends, he assured Bob that the small business was the place to go. Which was flattering and definitely one of the many reasons you said yes when he eventually asked you out. Bob had been bashful but had quickly warmed up to you. He was the perfect person to include in your outings as you all had similar interests.

Mickey and you had both been open about your sexuality with each other and you were very aware that Mickey was pansexual. He never hid it from you or from any of his team members. Bob had at one point told the both of you that he was bisexual, though he was a bit more shy about telling people.

So when your loving boyfriend mentioned a threesome and you shared your interest in it as well it seemed clear as day who you would ask to join you both. The only problem was going to be how you approached him. He was still a reserved person even though he was comfortable with you both. So you had decided to invite him out for pizza and bring up the topic there.

“Hey Bob, could I ask you a question?” Mickey had his fingers wrapped around yours as he shot the question at the fellow backseater. Bob finished chewing his bite of pizza, wiped the sauce off of his lips with his napkin and nodded his head eagerly.

“What are your thoughts on a threesome?” You had agreed it was better not to beat around the bush. Even though Bob had just swallowed his food you saw him swallow again, his cheeks becoming increasingly rosey. You were thankful for the corner booth and pretty empty dining area that allowed you to have this conversation a little bit discreetly.

“Uhm. What do ya mean?” His country drawl was thick as he spoke. Something you noticed would happen when he got flustered.

“We’ve been talking about it for a while and we are both interested in having someone join us. We would like for that person to be you Bob.” You paused for a moment letting him take in the information before continuing.

“You don’t have to say anything now if you’d like to think about it. However if you don’t want to then we just leave it at that. We’ll act like this conversation never even happened.” Mickey squeezed your shaking hand.

The confidence you were showing was all a facade. The only one here that usually showed any confidence was Mickey. Bob was normally quiet unless engaged in a conversation involving something particularly interesting. You were confident in your store because you knew the store, you knew the answers to the questions that customers would ask and it was easy for you. But this was unnerving, the unknown of the outcome had you chewing your lip and trying to remain emotionless.

“Could I just have the night to think about it?” His voice was dripping with hesitation but you nodded your head reassuringly. He gave you a thankful smile at the action.

“Of course, take all the time you need. We aren’t in any rush.” Mickey gave the glasses clad aviator a beaming smile and the topic was dropped. You talked about an upcoming D&D campaign you were currently putting together and then went your separate ways at the end of the night. It was two days later on Sunday that you saw Bob again. Neither of you had heard from him since the night at the pizza place. You had both taken that as his answer to not wanting to join you for a threesome.

You and Mickey were closing up the store since Jeremy was away for the weekend at an event trying to gather more items for the store. Neither of you minded the late night, your apartment was above the store so it wouldn’t take you long to get home. You had just locked the money away in the safe when you heard a knock on the door. Mickey had been stocking a box of trading cards so you went to tell the person you were closed. But as you got closer to the door you noticed a familiar tan carhartt hoodie and quickened your steps. You unlocked the door and opened it, licking your lips as you made eye contact with the man standing in front of you.

“Hey Reaper, Is Fanboy here?” His eyes wandered over your shoulder briefly as he asked the question.

“Yea he’s farther back stocking some trading cards. Do you want me to grab him?” He nodded his head at you and you ushered him into the building.

“I’ll go get him.” You turned on your heels quickly and with fast steps you were standing in front of your aviator boyfriend.

“Hey sugar plum. I’m almost done with this box. Are you almost ready to go up?” He looked up from the cards in his hands briefly. He noticed your hands playing with the lanyard around your neck that you had yet to take off.

“What’s wrong? Was the person at the door giving you issues?” He had heard the knock at the door and hushed voices but figured you could handle it and would holler if you needed anything.

“Bob is here, Mick and asked to see you.” His eyebrows both shot up at the words. You shifted from one foot to the other.

“Did he say what he was here for?” You shook your head quickly. He came to stand in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“We’ll go out there and see what’s going on. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He kissed your forehead quickly before dropping one of your hands and leading you out to where you left Bob.

“Bob, great to see you man! What’s got you here so late?” It was odd for the blonde to be at the store so late on nights that weren’t reserved for D&D.

“Yes.” Was all he said. His fingers playing with the strings of his hoodie pulling on them and twisting them around his fingers.

“Uh yes what?” Mickey briefly looked at you before cocking his head to the side in question at Bob.

“The threesome. I’d like to have one. With you guys I mean.” You and Mickey both stood straighter at the confession. Hands squeezing each others with hope.

“That’s amazing to hear. Did you have an idea of when?” The words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them. Your cheeks heated up at the eagerness that was evident in your voice.

“I was actually thinking tonight if it’s not too soon?” He looked between you and Mickey as you and he looked at each other. A silent conversation quickly transpired between you.

“Tonight works great! We were about to close up anyway. You guys can head on up, maybe have a drink or something and I’ll get everything done down here really quick.” You really just needed some time to cool the nerves that had suddenly built up inside you. Mickey understood what you needed and kissed your cheek before nodding his head to the door that led up to your apartment.

“We’ll see you up there soon babe.” Bob’s hand brushed against yours as he passed you and he gave you a shy smile which you returned. You made quick work of finishing the box of trading cards, double checking the doors were locked and turning off all the lights. You took a deep breath as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. The walk up gave you more confidence. You were sure in this decision and you were positive it would go well. As your hand hit the doorknob to your apartment you took one last deep breath and pushed it over.

You heard them before you saw them. Mickey was saying something to Bob causing him to let out a loud laugh. A smile adorned your face instantly at the thought of your boyfriend making this situation more relaxed. He was always the best at reading people and figuring out how to make them laugh. When you rounded the corner into the living room you spotted them both on the couch. Both of them had a root beer in hand and wide smiles on their faces. Even with the large couch they sat practically on top of each other.

“What’cha boys talking about?” They kept the smiles on their faces as they looked at you. There was excitement and mischief in their eyes as well.

“Talking about Mav beating Hangman in another exercise this week.” You were standing in front of them at the end of your boyfriend's sentence.

“Why don’t you sit down, honey blossom.” You shook your head at the pet name, he was always making up random things to call you, keeping you on your toes. You hummed in reply however and sat yourself down on Bob’s lap much to his surprise. You threw your feet into Mickey’s lap and gave him a sweet smile which he returned.

“Is this okay?” You’d get off if he said no, but the hand placed on your back told you he was fine with it.

“It’s alright, darlin’.” The country drawl was back again and shot a feeling of desire through you.

“Do you want to go ahead and talk about boundaries?” You looked between them both and they quickly nodded. The conversation went quickly, you talked about a safe word and hard limits. Your hand had wound up in Bob’s hair, his hand was on Mickey’s thigh and Mickey was running his hand up and down your leg. Both of them had placed their drinks on the end table. As the conversation came to a close your lips were laid upon Bob’s and Bob’s hand was working over the bulge growing in Mickey’s pants.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” Mickey’s question was breathless as he held back a moan. You and Bob broke from the kiss and you stood up. You held both hands out to them and they took the invitation. You pulled them both to the bedroom and worked on taking your shirt and shoes off. The vans were easy to toe off and the t-shirt ended up somewhere in the room. Mickey had flipped on the ceiling light. Bob played with his hoodie strings again. But his hands were caught by Mickey and dragged to his sides as Mickey planted a heated kiss upon the blonde's lips.

The simultaneous moans they both let out had you letting out one of your own. Mickey’s hands worked into Bob’s hair while Bob’s worked under Mickey's t-shirt pulling it up until they broke from their kiss to toss it onto the floor. Their lips met again quickly and you gathered up your double ended strap on and the lube. You placed them on the bed and came up behind Bob. You ran your hands from his upper back down towards his ass then wrapped them around to the front of his pants. Your fingers quickly found the button and zipper of his jeans. You worked the button open and unzipped his jeans.

You slipped your hand into the top of his boxers. He was already exceptionally hard, precum leaking out of the tip. A moan slipped from his lips right into those of your boyfriends. Mickey’s hands worked themselves under Bob’s hoodie and t-shirt this time. They broke apart briefly so they could pull them off his body. Then you were laying your bra covered chest against his bare back, reveling in the heat of his body. Bob’s fingers ran up from Mickey’s stomach to his nipples rolling them both between his fingers eliciting a moan from the cheeky backseater.

You pumped Bob’s cock a couple times, working him up and down. The hand that wasn’t working him over slipped into your own pants, finding your clit you started to rub small circles over the sensitive nub. A moan slipped through your lips into the toned back of the man sandwiched between you and your boyfriend. You started to leave open mouthed kisses along his shoulders, nipping his skin occasionally.

Moments passed and before you knew it you were all three on the bed the rest of your clothes strewn around the room, a mess you’d have to sift through later. Mickey had lubed up his own fingers and began to work himself open. His eyes focused on the way Bob slipped his fingers in and out of your pussy. You slathered your own fingers in lube and slipped them between Bob’s legs. You found the tight hole quickly, you were slow as you slipped a singular finger inside.

“That feels so good.” Bob had his eyes squeezed together tightly as the finger fully sheathed inside of him. His glasses had been placed neatly on your bedside table.

“She’ll take such good care of you Bobby. She’s such a good girl. Always treats me so good.” He slipped his fingers out of himself. Mickey maneuvered himself across the bed so he was sat next to you. His mouth found your own, his tongue slipping inside instantly. Moans were swapped back and forth as the pleasure you were experiencing worked through your every nerve.

“I need more.” Bob’s voice was a whine as he spoke, you slipped another finger inside him, scissoring the two gently.

“Patience Robert, I’ll make sure you feel good.” You knew you’d be true to your word. You were desperate to be inside of him. To hear the noises that he’d make as you fucked him. You wanted to know how he’d moan as he was seated inside of your boyfriend. You needed to know how your boyfriend would feel with Bob fucking into him.

“Can you help me with my harness Mick?” Your eyes connected to his and he was already up gathering the strap on and making his way back to you. Bob’s fingers slipped from inside of you and you slipped a third into him. It was only seconds before Mickey was opening the bottle of lube and covering both sides of the strap on. He slipped the straps up your legs and settled the end facing you inside of your pussy. You gasped at the feeling of the purple dildo stretching you out slightly. Mickey moaned at the sound it made as it slipped inside of you. He finished tightening the straps and made sure it fltl fine before stepping away.

“Can you get on all fours Bob?” Mickey was stroking his fingers down his face. But Bob couldn’t seem to form a sentence because his mouth was open in a gasp as your fingers found his prostate.

“Use your words Bob. Be a good boy for me.” You stilled your fingers allowing him to clear his mind for a moment.

“I can do that.” The thick country accent had you smiling. It had gotten progressively richer throughout the night. Even slipping in occasionally through his moans somehow. Your fingers slipped from where they were buried between his cheeks. You stood from the bed and waited for him to move. When he was finally on his hands and knees you moved back to the bed. You grabbed the lube from Mickey and poured some onto Bob’s hole and rubbed some up and down the purple dildo that would soon be buried inside him.

“Let me know if it’s too much honey.” Those were your only words as you slipped the tip inside him. The moan he let out was quiet and whimpery. You continued to push inside him until you were all the way settled.

“Oh my- oh- it feels.” His sentence broke off as he buried his face into the mattress.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to say anything. Just enjoy how good it feels.” Mickey ran a hand along Bob's back reassuringly. You stayed still until you felt like he was ready for you to move.

“Mick.” Bob all but whispered the name. If the room wasn’t otherwise silent you wouldn’t have heard it.

“Yea?” Mickey’s brown eyes met your own and sent you a wink. You sent him one back.

“Want to be inside you Mick.” It was a desperate cry.

“Please, Mick.” Mickey placed a kiss on cheek before whispering into your ear.

“You look so hot buried inside him sweetheart.” Your cheeks heated at the words.

“He is gonna look so good buried inside you.” Your words were quick as he slipped himself under Bob’s body. He handed him the lube and Bob was quick to squeeze some out onto his cock and between the cheeks over the tight hole of Mickey. The cold feeling had a gasp leaving his mouth.

“You boys are doing such a good job. Taking everything so well. Making me so proud.” They both preened at the praise. Bob was soon slipping his cock inside of Mickey, a moan leaving the both of them. You couldn’t stop the buck of your hips at the sound. A moan slipping through your lips as the dildo settled inside you shifted slightly.

“Can I start moving sweet boy?” Bob nodded his head that was laid upon Mickey’s back. That was all it took for you to be pulling back and pushing back in. One hand was on his hip and one was on your breast, rolling the nipple between your fingers, pinching occasionally.

“You feel so good Mick.” Bob’s voice barely sounded like his own, his accent was so thick it was unrecognizable.

“Your cock feels so good.” Mickey was quick to send praise back. Those words spurred Bob to start moving; he matched your pace with ease. Then you were all in a lust filled haze, moans and whispers of pleasure filled the room. All three of your orgasms approached rapidly. The noises only spurring the three of you on. You felt the stutter of Bob’s hips first.

“Are you close honey?” You already knew the answer but wanted to hear the words from his lips.

“It sure feels like it. I can feel it in the way you’re moving.” Bob let out a loud whine as his back arched, chest connecting with Mickey’s freckle covered back.

“So fucking close.” You and Mickey both swelled with pride. The night was way better than either of you had planned. The pure pleasure you were both giving Bob had both of your heads spinning. You both frequently switched between dominant and submissive. Tonight however was all about Bob. You had both discussed that before when you were originally talking about a threesome. The idea seemed to be paying off perfectly.

“You can cum whenever you want to Bob no one is going to stop you.” His hips stuttered again, a breathless whimper leaving his lips. Mickey spit into his own hand before wrapping it around his own cock. It was overwhelmingly sensitive from the lack of touch. But that was what he wanted. He had purposely kept his hand away so the pleasure would be mind blowing. You heard the tell tale sign of his release coming before he came, recognizing the moan was easy, your body reacted on instict.

“Come on Bobby, you can cum with Mickey.” That seemed to be all he needed as his hips finally stilled, sweat covered forehead crashing down onto Mickey’s back. His whine was caught in his throat as Mickey squeezed around his cock. Mickey’s own orgasm rocked through him and sprayed across the bed spread underneath him. The moan he let out which was more of a praise to you and the blonde between the two of you had your own orgasm rolling through you. Your own walls squeezing around the purple object buried to the hilt inside you. You let out your own praise to the two men in front of you. Both of your hands squeezed Bob's hips. Your head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. All three of you stayed like that for seconds or even minutes, basking in the euphoria.

“We definitely need to do that again.” Mickey’s tired voice spoke into the silence of the room. Laughs erupted from you and Bob at the words, but you both knew you also wanted to do this again. You were also thankful for their long weekend in celebration of Labor day.

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I had such a fun time writing this piece.

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell @kmc1989 @eternallyvenus @loving-and-dreaming @princess76179 @coffee-prince-kyungsoo @starset21 @gspenc @witchybabel

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meraki-yao · 9 months

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Ok I saw a post before saying what if we put all of Nick’s characters in one room (I can’t find op anymore) and after the last reblog it got me thinking so here’s some weird multiverse imagination

Note that I’m only gonna use the characters I’ve seen/know about, so that’s Henry (RWRB, duh), Conor (Handsome Devil, watched the whole movie and really liked it), Timmy (The Craft: Legacy, only watched Nick’s part lol), Robert (Cinderella, the first time I actually saw Nick, I watched… enough, plus a bunch of video essays on it because I am a musical theatre person and a fairy tale person), Jeff (Bottoms, from what I can get from the trailers), and Luke (Purple Heart, which I love you Nick but I will not put myself through that, based on what I’ve heard about it and reading the synopsis on Wikipedia) if you can think of more please join in on this mess

Let’s say some weird random ass multiverse magic got all of them into a room. After the initial “Good God is that what I look like with a buzzcut?” and “Why the fuck are they British- is that kid Scottish?” and “HE’S A PRINCE? OH THAT GUY WHO’S SINGING IS A PRINCE TOO? HOW AM I A PRINCE???” then someone (honestly out of the six I listed probably Henry or … Luke?) telling everyone to settle down and introduce themselves so they can figure out their differences, what’s gonna happen?

Well...

Luke and Jeff will definitely get into a fight at some point. Maybe Robert gets unintentionally involved too

I dread to imagine the conversation/confrontation between Luke, the conservative marine and Henry, now a gay icon in a loving, committed relationship with the bisexual POC son of a democratic female president (I’ve heard some folks call Henry the rainbow prince and oh my God I love that) interacting, but Henry is still a prince and a lot stronger and willing to stand up for himself and his relationship at the end of the movie, I want him to win in that argument

Henry and Robert will definitely judge each other. Robert on Henry’s clothes and how proper he is (think about his fucking line “dancing at these things are so mannered! And formal! And we look like fools!” and oh God I hate that I can quote that line) and Henry on Robert’s eccentric, borderline-childish mannerism, and wonder how on earth is this guy a prince (I know royal protocols are strict and Henry does definitely find them stifling at times but a large part of that is just… manner and etiquette? Like look at the pained face he makes when Alex devours the cornetto and then speaks with his mouth full of ice cream, he was definitely exasperated by his choice of men at the moment)

Luke and Jeff will get annoyed at Robert spontaneously bursting into song and tell him to shut the fuck up, but Henry might find it amusing and somewhat charming (come on I absolutely don’t believe that Alex and Henry don’t sing to each other, especially when they have Taylor and Nick’s beautiful singing voice in the movie verse) and maybe Conor starts shyly strumming his guitar to Robert’s singing

Jeff trying to bully Conor and Timmy then realizing these boys are no less strong than he is and gets his ass kicked

(The next couple of points are the main reason I wrote this post lol)

Henry recognizing Conor and Timmy’s struggles, seeing bits of his younger self in these queer kids that look like him, remembering what Alex said about getting to be someone his father didn’t see growing up, thinking he can do something similar for these two boys and taking them under his wing, pulling the both of them to a corner to talk

Conor telling Henry that he doesn’t believe there’s a place in the world where he could just be himself, and Henry remembering feeling the same until a certain American boy with fucking eyelashes, black curls and dimples stormed his castle

Timmy explaining how he feels like his bisexuality isn’t being validated (Nick did amazing in that scene please go watch it) and Henry gently telling him that that’s absolutely not true and that his boyfriend is in fact, bisexual, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with liking both boys and girls

Henry and Timmy sharing their grief over their lost parents

Conor and Timmy suddenly having a man who looks like them, who's in a position of power and in a committed relationship with another man in a position of power to look up to

Henry telling them his story and how he found love and support, giving the boys hope, and realizing that this is what making history can mean

I don’t know how my brain came to this but Henry as an older brother to Conor and Timmy now lives rent-free in my head, might write more on that alone

Very intrigued about how this is gonna be expanded when Mary & George comes out and we add George Villiers to the mix, Henry will pass out

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #henry hanover stuart fox #henry fox mountchristen windsor #nicholas galitzine #rwrb thoughts #handsome devil movie #conor masters #prince robert #cinderella 2021 #bottoms movie #not tagging a certain film because I don't want to deal with that crowd #please make this a thing this was so much fun to think about and write

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 1 month

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By: Helen Dale

Published: Apr 29, 2024

A new book raises tough questions about the history of gay liberation

Trans activism has caused bitter divisions within the gay rights movement

Medical professionals responding incorrectly to gender nonconformity has dire consequences

When scriptwriter Gareth Roberts was 14, he called a helpline promoted by a new organisation, one dedicated to helping gay and lesbian youth. The operator tried to set him up on a date with a 19-year-old. Fortunately, the young Roberts had the wit to realise this ‘was a very bad idea’.

A related organisation opened the first – and, at the time, only gay youth club in the country. Roberts joined, only to discover meeting rooms and communal areas littered with literature from PIE. That, for readers who aren’t gay or lesbian and of a certain vintage, stands for ‘Paedophile Information Exchange’.

What you need to understand – as Roberts argues in his first book, Gay Shame: The Rise of Gender Ideology and the New Homophobia – is ‘that there was a prominent streak of gay activism that was absolutely insane’. And, despite major successes borne of both a mature response to the AIDS crisis and opposition to Section 28, the bonkers quality never went away. That said, he admits he didn’t expect ‘the gay rights movement transmogrifying into a cross between the Church of Scientology, Heathers: the Musical and Act 4 of The Crucible’.

In Gay Shame, Roberts does two things. First, he explains how and why trans activism has become the ‘official’ gay rights movement that now (bitterly) divides gays and lesbians. It’s impossible not to notice the extent to which fights over trans issues often involve two opposed teams of homosexuals: Stonewall vs LGB Alliance. Roberts is a gay man and directs ordnance (for the most part) at gay men while also contextualising this division in an intelligent way. However, when feminist and lesbian adherents of the religion he calls ‘genderism’ cross his radar, they cop a similarly witty serve.

Secondly – and in a way that tracks the careful evidence-gathering of the Cass Review – he conveys the extent to which transgenderism represents ‘transing the gay away’. Most of the children who went through the Tavistock – 9,000 of them in all according to Cass – were same-sex attracted or simply gender nonconforming. Rising numbers, year-on-year, of glittery, swishy little boys and even more sporty but quirky little girls.

‘This is an ideology,’ Roberts points out in a coruscating passage, ‘that says there is something wrong with camp little boys and butch little girls and that they need to be fixed’.

This is impressive despite its grimness. Gay Shame only came out last Thursday, and – due to typical lead-times in publishing – was written in 2023. Despite a stint as a writer for Dr Who, Roberts didn’t nick the Tardis and get early access to the Cass report. This care and foresight has the effect of forcing readers – both heterosexual and homosexual – to think about how we respond to gender nonconforming behaviour.

Most people do not understand what it’s like to be gender nonconforming or appreciate the extent to which gender nonconforming people stick out like sore thumbs. Gays, lesbians and bisexuals won social acceptance before everyone else properly ‘got’ us. Roberts’ hands must be a mess, because he grasps every bloody nettle on the gay male side of the equation: from the extent to which gay male sexuality is utterly unlike straight male sexuality (because it does not involve women) to taking aim at a string of overpraised, low-quality gay male contributions to popular culture.

Does that mean every gay man on the planet sleeps around and adores Eurovision? No, of course not, but there are also no lesbian chemsex parties and heterosexuals really don’t have to pretend Eurovision is bloody marvellous. Meanwhile, if a straight man wanted some sort of chemsex equivalent, it would involve handing over a lot of cash to a group of women he doesn’t know in icky bits of London he would prefer not to frequent.

This absence of theory of mind – common but not universal when dealing with people unlike oneself – has implications. In a discussion of what he concedes is ‘a small minority of gay men,’ Roberts observes how ‘the Metropolitan Police’s shockingly inept handling of the case of the serial rapist and murderer Stephen Port in London in 2014/15 was partly down to their assumptions about the chemsex deaths of gay men’.

Of value is Roberts’ account of what he calls ‘the fall of Stonewall’, which was, in retrospect, astonishingly swift. ‘You can literally narrow it down to about three weeks in late 2014,’ he told me last week. He documents the extent to which Stonewall’s pivot to trans activism arose in part because it fell for queer theory (‘peer review is the process by which academics mark each other’s homework,’ he observes, tartly) and partly because it had won. ‘What was Stonewall for?’ Roberts asks. ‘It had no active political campaigns left to fight in the UK. But it had a huge staff, and a massive engine room of fundraising and campaigning machinery. A tender full of coal and no track’.

One effect of Stonewall’s pivot – and later persecution, along with Mermaids, of the LGB Alliance – was that the latter organisation spent years fighting off attacks on its charitable status, unable to do much else. Only recently has it been able to work normally, ‘doing,’ as Roberts says, ‘exactly the same work as Stonewall did before its fall to genderism’.

Gay Shame raises all sorts of difficult questions. It’s really striking, for example, what a recurrent feature the sexualising of children is within allegedly ‘liberatory’ streams of thought. This manifests in something Roberts calls ‘The Leap’. The Leap consists of the belief that ‘people (including, incredibly, children) are always what they claim to be, rather than what they are’.

Roberts’ discussion of gay men and gay male sexuality – and of male and female gender nonconformity more widely – also serves to remind the rest of us that we know very little about homosexuality. I know loads of ‘right-on’ straight parents who bought their son girl toys or their daughter boy toys. The kids simply blew them off. This, I’m afraid, is because most children are gender conforming. Gender has biological roots: the stereotyped behaviours it produces mean that deviations are really going to show. The thing is, gender nonconforming behaviour and the homosexuality and bisexuality that often accompany it also have biological roots, but we don’t know why.

In biology, a spandrel is a phenotypic trait that’s a by-product of some other evolved characteristic, rather than a direct product of adaptive selection. It’s a term borrowed from cathedral architecture, where it refers to something decorative, but which provides no structural support. Maybe some homosexuals don’t mind the idea that we’re just the fancy bit at the corner of an arch, but we’re too common to be an evolutionary spandrel. We exist for a reason. Why would evolution throw up a group of people of both sexes who are attracted to their own sex? Not exactly going to contribute to reproducing the species, are we?

Gareth Roberts isn’t sure that ‘genderism’ will collapse. At the end of Gay Shame, he presents two plausible scenarios. One depicts a world where queer theory and all its works and all its ways has gone down the long slide and all seems well. The other shows what things look like in the event of a genderist win. And in that world, the grim joke that emerged among staff at the Tavistock has come true. There are no gay people left.

#Helen Dale #Gareth Roberts #homosexuality #bisexuality #gay conversion therapy #gay conversion #gay rights #genderism #gender ideology #gender identity ideology #gay not queer #queer theory #intersectional feminism #gender nonconforming #gender non conforming #trans the gay away #medical scandal #medical corruption #religion is a mental illness

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rapeculturerealities · 2 years

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The Link between Hurricane Katrina and Anti-LGBTQ Rhetoric | Dame Magazine

for the last 17 years, I have kept a list. It is a list of pastors and preachers and spokespeople for religious organizations who blamed Hurricane Katrina on the “sin” in New Orleans. Those that said the city deserved it. Purveyors of the notion that the hurricane was God’s judgment on the city, that the dead had it coming, that America had it coming, that, especially, the LGBTQIA+ community was and is such a moral abomination that God smote the city to punish it for supporting them. That Southern Decadence, one of the largest celebrations of the gay community in the Crescent City, that opened my eyes to how much bigger and brighter and more beautiful the world could be outside of my small Missouri hometown, was why the city had to be destroyed. The idea that my gay, bisexual, and transgender friends, all of whom were scattered and hurting in the aftermath, were why New Orleans was drowned by their God.

Pat Robertson. Franklin Graham. John Hagee. Rick Joyner. Bill Shanks. Jennifer Giroux. Gerhard Wagner. John McTernan. Hal Lindsey. Charles Colson. Michael Marcavage. Rick Scarborough. Fred Phelps. A droplet of names out of a sea of hate. Anti-LGBTQIA+ violence has always been a bedrock of Christian nationalists, and that the renewed fervor of it, combined with the ignoring of natural disasters and pandemics—or blaming them on LGBTQIA+ communities, as is happening with monkeypox—is not new, it is what the Christian right in this country does. And as much as we like to think things have changed, that list? Those people? They are still at it.

Fourteen days after the levees broke, Pat Robertson got on The 700 Club and blamed both terrorist attacks and Hurricane Katrina on abortion, while discussing Supreme Court nominee John Roberts

#Religion #evangelicals #LGBTQIA #Homophobia #Abortion #Victim blaming #Hurricane Katrina

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angelofverdum · 6 days

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Station 19 S07e10

19!

I'm overwhelmed by feelings. It's amazing how much fictional characters can make you feel.

My hope and wish for the end of these characters was for them to have a resolution and be happy.

Honestly, I can't complain. Maybe I should wait for the excitement to die to write anything about it.

But I love the ending for every character. I loved how they incorporated these "dreams" into the action scenes.

Andy as Chief is a great resolution for her. Jack being her true love was not something I was expecting. I feel it was something they pulled out at the last minute, and don't get me wrong I'm not opposed to it, Andy and Jack could have worked if they had more seasons and Grey wouldn't have left.

Ross. I'd hoped Natasha had something more in mind than marrying Bob but she is always being "My man My man My man" so it's fitting

Robert. One thing I loved about these flashforwards was that they were connected. Sully dreamed of that because in Ross's dream, they were already married, so he got to be with her.

Travis's most important relationship is with Vic. If I had Vic as a friend, I'd be like that too. Uprooting your life like that to move with your best friend is really brave.

Warren is probably my least favorite character but that's because he is boring but he is a good man. I was emotional watching his kids all grow.

Beckett is so unserious because why is he dreaming of Ross' sister.

Vic. She made me cried because she deserves everything that it's good in life. I'm so so so happy she didn't end up with Theo. She is helping people and living her best life. My beautiful queen.

Carina's dream is so important bc she had no one, her brother and mom died, and her father is trash. She was alone and then met this stubborn firefighter and said I want a big family with her, and that's what she did. Bring her back to Grey's you cowards.

Maya. My sweet beautiful, reckless, bisexual, hot, brave, selfless, stubborn, broken Maya. Her future was so bright without clouds. She falls asleep thinking about her wife and three kids. Maya who made me come back for season 2, and here I am seven seasons later, just a mess of emotion.

When I saw Carina enter that bar, it took me a whole ass minute to realize what they were trying to do. Why Carina was there. I'll never forget that excitement and I'll always be thankful for pairing them.

It's so weird to see that kind of representation. We didn't need coming out stories or the usual homophobia. Also, they were proud bisexuals and I'm always thankful that Maya said that with her whole chest. That was so important.

Now, my random thoughts about the episode.

I love the scene with the aluminum thing. That was cool and terrifying.

I loved it when Andy showed up. I was crying like she rescued me.

Danielle is so bad at screaming, her voice cracked up so much.

I loved Maya worried about Andy

I loved Carina suiting up finally. It was so funny.

I loved that we got to see adult Prue, and my god the legacy she is carrying.

I loved to see Andy as chief and Maya as captain.

I loved Carina doing what she preaches. Like Maya my god make yourself useful and give that woman an orgasm.

I'm not a fan of the Deluca-Bishop name tag because I just don't like hyphenating last names in general but I think it is cute they did that little detail for the fans who have really been asking for it.

Now for the last scene, keep in mind, that I've been crying the whole episode. Then this hit

I just laughed out loud. Omg, those are some terrible wigs. What was the point? What were they trying to achieve? To make them look older?

You should have put some gray hair and move it along. Like why they were having a bob off. Why would you do that to them?

Let me clean my eyes with Maya's real bob and the hottest she looked in the show.

Anyway, I'm always thankful when I get to experience a TV show so deeply. Even tho the cancellation is unfair. At least we got a proper ending.

I'm also glad that we got actors who cared deeply about their characters and respected them so much.

I'm a mess but 19 forever.

#station 19 #maya bishop #carina deluca #andy herrera #vic hughes #danielle savre #stefania spampinato #jaina lee ortiz #barrett doss

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pin-crusher2000 · 1 month

Note

Earth 66 Headcanon Asks Time

1) What was the first mission/adventure the Young Titans embarked on, maybe the one of anything was the one that got them together as team in the first place?

2) Does Jon have any friendly yet intense rivalries with any other of the heroes in his generation?

3) When does Jon find out and fully embraces his Bi orientation?

4) Speaking of Orientation, what are the orientations for the New Young Justice?

5) similar to 4 but for the Young Titans?

Good questions! @paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 :D

1: the first mission Young Titans went on was the same time they first form: Saving their parents from a “mini” version of Brainiac. Kid Brainiac kidnapped the Titans in a much smaller version of the skull ship & brainwashed them. (Pretty much suicide squad: kill the justice league minus the killing) All together, with Jake being the leader (mar’i being the co-leader) defeated Kid Brainiac & save their parents.

2: Yup, mostly with Jake, mar’i, Hunter, Robert, Hector, Arthur Jr, & Cerdian since they are “super-human” like Jon himself. (Imagine the dragon ball type of fights with them 😮)

3: Jon is canonically hetero in my universe (nothing wrong with him being bi in canon or in other ppls fanon, I feel like in my opinion that bi stuff came out of nowhere & unnecessary to the character; if he was bi, being with Damian Wayne makes 100% more sense than Jay) however:

I say he found about his bisexuality during mid-middle school to early high school (puberty XD) & has a tiny crush on Damian Wayne himself. (Jondami “canon” XD)

Jon Kent: Hetero; in a relationship with Beacon (Kathy Branden) became a thing in late elementary to early middle school.

Damian Wayne: Hetero; with ThunderHeart (Irey West) met around 10 & 8, became a thing around 12-10.

Arthur Curry Jr: bi; in a relationship with Hunter Trevor.

Hunter Trevor: bi, (you can guess who XD)

Connor Queen: Hetero

Hector Hall: Hetero

Jake: bi; started being with Robert during his preteen years to about early high school; until realizing they are better off as BFFs. Jake later gets with my version of Meredith & the rest is history.

Mar’i: Hetero; with some “playfulness” with Irey & Lian.

Robert: bi; with Jake up until early high school.

Irey: Hetero; with Robin (Damian Wayne)

Jai: Hetero; with Animal Girl (Maxine Baker)

Lian: Hetero; once with Jai, decides to be just friends later on. (Late elementary to early middle school)

Cerdian: Hetero; in a relationship with a dolphin 🐬 XD kidding, he’s single.

Love the questions! Give me more! I’m hungry for questions XD I’ve got plenty of answers

#youngtitans #jake grayson #mari grayson #robert long #robbie long #irey west #jai west #lian harper #cerdian #newyoungjustice #jon kent #damian wayne #arthur curry jr.#hunter trevor #hunter prince #connor lance queen #hector hall #hawkboy

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salvador-daley · 1 year

Text

Clone | Part 2

Robert Sheehan x Reader x Female!Robert Sheehan

A/N: Oops - forgot to post this earlier in the week. Forgive me, I am old and senile.

CW: No filth, just some very intense flirting. Bisexual awakenings akimbo. But the next instalment? Pure wall-to-wall smut. 🍑🍆

Words: 5.5k

IRISH STEPS forward and so does she. His mouth falls open and so does hers. He reaches out to touch her and she reaches out to touch him. Their fingertips meet in the middle and he tilts his head in awed fascination. Her head tilts in the opposite direction, but instead of looking back at Irish, her eyes meet yours.

“Aren’t you guys gonna say something?” the woman asks.

“Oh my God, she talks!” cries Irish, leaping backwards with a squeal.

“Of course I talk,” she says in the same Irish accent as his, looking a little offended. She gazes around the room, taking in the long lab benches, the cages filled with small animals, the woman in the long white lab coat, the naked man in front of her. “Who are you? Where the hell am I?”

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” you say, trying to sound authoritative and calm. “We can explain everything.”

“Can we?” Irish squeaks in your ear, staring at you now with a look of blind panic.

“Look, just fucking calm down, okay?” you hiss at him. “You’ll freak her out. And put some fucking pants on.”

“Pants… pants…” he mutters, searching the floor for his discarded clothes. He manages to find his underwear and stumbles into them.

You step towards her with your hands out, as if approaching a wild animal. “Do you feel ok? Are you hurt?” you ask the woman, whose truly striking resemblance to your boyfriend is all the more apparent the closer you get.

“I feel fine,” the woman says with a shrug, fingering the tube she just stepped out of and taking in the rest of her surroundings.

“She seems very chill for someone who was just magicked into existence,” Irish whispers.

You nod. She’s certainly the calmest person in the room at this moment. Her whole demeanour is one of zen stillness and quiet curiosity, despite being thrust into being just a few seconds ago.

“W-what’s your name?” you ask.

She thinks for a second, her brow furrowing in an uncanny way.

“I-I don’t think I have one,” she says, approaching the desk now and proffering her fingers for one of the rabbits to sniff.

“We should give her a name,” says Irish into your ear, still cowering behind you.

“We can’t name her, we’re not… we’re not qualified!” you say in a hushed voice.

“Well, we created her,” he says, insistent. He thinks for a second. “I think she looks like a Robin.”

“Robin?” you repeat.

“Ooh, that’s a nice name,” she says, apparently listening the whole time.

“See, she likes it,” says Irish.

“Robin it is, then,” you say with resignation. “Robin, sweetheart, we’re going to explain everything, okay? But first, we have got to get you out of here.”

Irish grabs you by the shoulder. “Get her out of here? You want to take her with us? Shouldn’t we call someone? Isn’t this kidnapping?” he hisses at you.

You turn to him and level your gaze at him. “Look, she can’t stay here, okay? And we can’t call anyone, I’ll be fired. And they’ll do all sorts of experiments on her and shit. We’ve got to get her out of here, right now. Understand?”

He nods, realising the gravity of the situation. “Okay, okay, w-what do we do?” he asks.

You start to shimmy out of your lab coat, going into problem-solving mode. “There’s some flat shoes in my bag under the desk, go grab them.”

He darts under the desk while you attempt to dress your boyfriend’s naked double.

“Here, Robin, put this on,” you say, holding your lab coat out for her to slip into.

She inserts her arms into the sleeves, then turns so you can do it up, watching you with quiet fascination as your shaking fingers fumble with the buttons. She tips her head slightly as she observes you, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Irish returns with the shoes and you help her to step into them.

“Hey,” she says once dressed, looking down at her body and smoothing the lab coat with her hands: “this is kinda sexy.”

Irish pauses and smiles, then looks at you: “See? Told you so.”

“Get dressed!” you growl at him.

“Right, right,” he says, searching the ground again for his scattered clothes.

��Okay, g’night Joe! See you on Monday!” you call out to the elderly security guard, hoping your voice sounds breezy but so breezy that it sounds like an invite to conversation.

“All finished for the night, are we?” Joe asks. To your disappointment, you see him moving around the reception desk, clearly looking for a chat.

“Yep, all done, gotta head on home,” you say, attempting to usher Irish and Robin through the building’s revolving door.

“Oh, I didn’t realise there were three of you here tonight? I was sure I only counted two,” says Joe, checking the sign-in sheet on his clipboard.

You realise now that despite Joe’s advanced age that it was ambitious to imagine you could smuggle out a 6ft tall adult woman wearing nothing but a lab coat.

“Nope, three of us,” says Irish, stepping in with his characteristic charm. “You’re going senile in your old age there, Joe.”

“Oh, I feel I would’ve remembered you,” says Joe, looking at Robin. He proffers a hand to introduce himself.

“How nice to meet you,” says Robin with a wide smile, shaking his hand.

“This is my friend,” you say, improvising now. “Professor, um, Doppelgänger.”

Irish shoots you a look that says: Doppelgänger, seriously?

“She’s been helping me with some research,” you add.

“A professor?” says Joe, impressed. “And what’s a smart, beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this?” he chuckles.

Robin’s mouth falls open as if to reply.

“Oh Joe, you old flirt!” says Irish, slapping him on the back before Robin has a chance to answer. “Anyway, we better be off. The, er, professor has a train to catch,” he adds.

Irish bundles you both through the door before Joe can say another word.

“You guys are terrible liars,” says Robin once you get outside. “Even I could see through that, and I was literally born five minutes ago.”

You wake up late, the excitement of the previous day having expended all your energy. The soft sounds of a high-pitched tune spread through the flat on a gentle wave, rousing you from your slumber. There is no sign of Irish - he must have gone out. You rise from the bed and head into the living room. Robin is sat cross-legged on the pull-out bed. The wide neckline of the oversized T-shirt you gave her the previous night has slipped down over one of her shoulders, her curly hair haloed by the morning light as she plays happily on a penny whistle. She stops when she sees you, flashing you that familiar smile.

“You can play that?” you ask.

She shrugs: “I guess so.”

Even Irish can’t play it that well. You wonder for a second what else she can do, then you remember you’re being a bad host to your new houseguest.

“You must be starving,” you say, heading to the kitchen. She follows you and perches on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “What do you like?”

She shakes her head and waves her hand through the air.

“Of course,” you say, “you have no idea what you like because you’ve never eaten before.”

Following last night’s escape from the facility, Robin had taken the news that she was a clone created in a lab accident surprisingly well, you felt. She didn’t panic or freak out or try to call the cops.

“So I’m… you?” she had said, pointing to Irish. “And you’re me?

“Yes, well, technically you’re female me,” he had said, foundering in his attempts to explain.

“And how did you end up inside the machine?”

“Err…” Irish’s mouth had fallen open and his eyes had darted to you in a panic.

“You know what, we can go over all the details in the morning,” you had said, stepping in to spare him the embarrassment. “I’m sure you’re tired and it’s been a crazy night. A lot to take in.”

“That’s a great idea,” Irish had announced. “Let’s all get a good night’s sleep and we can talk some more in the morning.”

You open the fridge and peer inside. Amid all the chaos, you had forgotten to buy food. All you have is gin, milk and orange juice.

“Let’s start with some coffee,” shall we?

You head over to the coffee machine and begin to fiddle with it, becoming aware of her 6ft form looming over you as you work.

“You put the water in here,” you say, demonstrating, “and then you put this in here, and press this button, and then the coffee comes out here.”

She’s watching you, but you have no idea if she’s listening. Silently, she reaches out to brush a stray strand of your hair behind your ear and you catch yourself blushing.

You clear your throat. “Cereal? I have cereal.”

You grab a couple of bowls from the cupboard and begin to pour corn flakes into them.

Watching you, she rests one elbow against the counter, stretching her long body out in front of her. She seems just as comfortable in her own skin as Irish is, a quiet confidence exuding from every pore.

You fill the bowls with milk and press one of them into her hands. She looks at it, then at you.

“Spoon!” you remember. “You need a spoon.”

Her ass is blocking the cutlery drawer and you have to nudge her out of way with an awkward “‘scuse me” in order to reach inside, your hand brushing against the silky smooth skin of her hip.

“Here you go,” you say, plopping the spoon inside her bowl.

She gives you another blank look.

“See?” you say, raising your own bowl and lifting the spoon to your mouth, “like this.”

Although seemingly a little hesitant, she follows your lead and you both stand there for a moment staring at each other and eating corn flakes in silence until you hear the door opening and Irish clattering through it with handfuls of grocery bags.

“How are my two best girls this morning?” he sings, plonking his bags on the breakfast bar.

“Your girlfriend is teaching me how to eat cereal,” says Robin.

Suddenly feeling quite stupid. You turn to look at her now. “You already know how to eat cereal, don’t you?”

Robin shrugs an apology. “You were on a roll, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” she replies. “I know how to do a lot of things.”

Before you can question her further, Irish grabs you and pulls you to one side, leaving Robin to eat her corn flakes in the kitchen.

“So, how’s it going?” he asks in a low whisper.

“Really bad, Irish!” you say. You try to keep your voice down but it comes out as a high-pitched squeal instead. “You left me all on my own and I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“Calm down, okay? I went to get food, there’s only gin and orange juice in the fridge.”

You put your hands to your temples and squeeze. “I’m freaking out, man. I mean, how does this even work? Does she have your memories? She can play your penny whistle!”

“Really?” he says. “That’s interesting.”

Irish cranes his neck back into the kitchen area. “Hey Robin, how many siblings have you got?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” she says, munching a mouthful of cereal. “I don’t think I have any.”

“How’d you get that accent?” he asks.

“What accent?” she replies, giving him a quizzical look.

He turns back to you: “She doesn’t have my memories.”

“This is so crazy. Your genetic double is eating corn flakes in my kitchen and I think I’m losing my mind,” you say, hyperventilating now.

“Look,” he says, holding you by the wrists. “Everything is going to be fine, okay? Let’s just get to know her a little bit.”

He leads you back towards the breakfast bar and you sit at the twin stools as Robin finishes off her breakfast.

“You still hungry, Robin?” asks Irish, reaching into one of the grocery bags. “Why don’t you try some of this, I just got it from the Japanese place down the road.”

He removes the lid from a small sushi platter and places it on the breakfast bar.

She selects a piece of nigiri and holds it up to her face.

“Go on,” he urges.

She pops the fishy morsel in her mouth and chews, her eyes widening as the novel mix of flavours ignite her tastebuds.

“Wow, that is amazing,” she says. “What is that?”

“Yellowtail,” he says. “My favourite. Here, have another. What’s mine is yours.” He pushes the platter closer to her and her fingers dance over it as she decides which piece to eat next.

“No offence,” she says to you, “but this is much better than cereal.”

“None taken,” you say, holding your hands up in defeat. “Okay, so we’ve established that you both like sushi. What next?”

“Ooh, I know!” says Irish, jumping down from the breakfast bar and running over to the bookcase in the living area. He returns with a book of collected poems and flicks through it until he finds what he’s looking for, passing the open book to Robin. “Have a read of this, tell me what you think.”

Robin scans the page for a few minutes, absentmindedly scratching her neck as she reads. You watch as Irish raises his hand to his own neck, floating his fingers over the same spot.

Eventually, she rests her hand on her chest with an awed expression. “That is beautiful,” she says.

“I know, it’s one of my favourites,” he says.

“So you’re both poetry fans,” you say. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but how do you know how to read?”

“I don’t know, I just do,” says Robin. “It’s like muscle memory. I can do everything he can do.”

“Can you drive a car?” he asks.

“Yes, but not very well.”

“Bit hurtful. Can you ride a bike? Can you ride a horse?”

“Yes. And yes.”

“Do you pee standing up?”

“Do you?” she returns, one eyebrow cocked.

“Fair play,” he says quietly.

You give him a look.

“What?” he says, “I like to read.”

You shake your head. “I think we’re getting way off track here,” you say. “Robin, do you have any questions for us?”

“Not really,” she says. “Although you never did tell me how you ended up in the cloning machine.”

Irish releases a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I don’t think we need to get into all that,” he says, bringing his hand down hard on his forearm to swat a mosquito. “Ah, you fucker!” he exclaims, inspecting the site for bites.

“Ow,” says Robin under her breath, rubbing her own arm in the same place.

“Guys, let me just try something,” you say, moving around the breakfast bar. You grab a cocktail stick from the kitchen drawer and return to your seat. “Stick your hand out,” you say to Irish. He puts his hand on the counter and you jab him on the tip of his thumb.

“Ow! What did you do that for?” he says, pulling his hand back and shooting you an accusing look.

At the same time, Robin shakes her hand in the air with a soft “Ah!” and sticks her thumb in her mouth.

“Ok, that’s interesting,” you say. “Let me try something else now.”

You move around to Robin and stand behind her.

“Can you lift your arms for me for a second, honey. It’s for science,” you ask.

“Sure thing,” she says, giving you a sideways smirk.

You tickle her under the arms, knowing that it’s one of his most sensitive spots.

Robin laughs and squeals, meanwhile he writhes in his seat, as if ghostly fingers were invading his armpits.

“Ah-ah! Stop! What are you doing to me?” he screeches.

“Well, that proves it. You two have some kind of weird connection,” you say, releasing Robin and returning to your seat. “It’s like a sensory telepathy or something. She feels what you feel, and vice versa.”

His brow knits in confusion, his mouth gaping. Then his expression changes and his eyebrow curls towards the ceiling as a realisation dawns on him.

“Well, that could be fun,” he says, a wicked glint in his eyes now.

“I’m depending on you not to abuse that,” says Robin, extending a finger at him and wagging it in his face.

“Well, I could say the same thing to you,” he says, turning defensive.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Robin says. “Try not to stub your toe or anything while I’m gone.”

She pats you on the shoulder as she leaves, allowing her fingers to linger on your skin for a split-second too long. The gesture doesn’t escape Irish’s attention and he crosses his brow, watching her with a hint of suspicion as she leaves. His mouth opens as if he’s about to say something, but you interrupt his thoughts before he can articulate them.

“Irish!” you hiss at him, grabbing his attention. “Now what do we do?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Maybe we should take her out, you know, let her see some of the city.”

You look at him with a baffled expression. How is he approaching this whole thing so casually? Did that bump on his head shake some of his screws loose?

“Have you lost your mind?” you say, your voice pitching higher. “We can’t wander around town with your female clone like she’s some kind of visiting relative. We’re not taking her anywhere, we are staying right here until we figure this out.”

“Why not?” he says, leaning in closer to you. “Look, she’s 34 years old and she hasn’t experienced anything of the world. We can’t keep her cooped up in here forever.”

“But she’s not 34, she’s only a day old,” you insist. “What if something happens to her, what if she gets hurt?”

“She’s 6ft tall and she can do everything I can do, right? That means she can throw a punch if necessary,” he replies.

You know deep down that he is right. Keeping her locked up in your flat indefinitely wouldn’t be feasible or fair. And Robin seems perfectly capable of looking after herself, if a little naive.

“It’s interesting actually,” he continues, “I wonder if she can act. I’ve always wanted to play Lady Macbeth on the stage...” His mind is wandering now, indulging in some egotistical fantasy in which both his faces are on the poster.

“Irish!” you snap, nudging him back to the present.

“Right, yeah, sorry. Come on, let’s just go out somewhere, show her a good time. Everything will be fine.” He rubs your thigh as he speaks. You can already feel yourself giving in to him, once again.

“Ooh, are we going out?” says Robin, returning to the kitchen.

“Come on,” says Irish, pleading with you. “I think we could all use a little fun. What harm will it do?”

You look at Robin, those green eyes begging you to say yes, mirroring Irish’s expression. His persuasive powers are hard enough to resist at the best of times, let alone when there’s two of him.

You sigh. “Oh, fine,” you say, waving your hand in a gesture of surrender.

“Robin, my love,” says Irish, turning to her now, “how would you like to get drunk for the first time?”

Robin emerges from the en-suite bathroom in a towel, a couple of wet tendrils escaping from the nest of curls piled into a loose bun on top of her head, her wet skin glistening in the soft light of your bedroom. A light curl of steam follows her from the bathroom, wrapping around her slim ankles, caressing the tanned skin of her long legs. In her hands, a bottle of lotion, which she applies with care to her arms, allowing her fingers to drape over her skin with gentle, massaging strokes, skimming over her collarbone, the curves of her chest.

She tilts her head to meet your eyes. “Is everything all right?” she says.

In that moment, you realise you’ve been staring at her and you force yourself to snap out of it.

“Yes, er, yes. Let’s, erm, let’s find you something to wear,” you say, heading over to the closet. You throw open the doors and gesture at everything you own. “Just help yourself to whatever you want,” you say. “You are ever so tall, but I’m sure you’ll find something. We will get you some clothes of your own later, this is just for now.”

“Thank you,” she says, allowing the towel to drop to her feet and reaching up for the jeans on the top shelf. Her breast meets your eyeline and you avert your gaze, feeling the blood rush to your face. She certainly seems comfortable being naked, but then that shouldn’t surprise you - Irish seems to resist being fully clothed at every possible opportunity. You head over to your dressing table and finish applying your makeup, trying your best not to spy on her through the mirror.

“So, what kind of place do you want to go to? Somewhere lively with lots of people, or somewhere a little more chilled out and relaxed?” you say, attempting to make casual chit-chat despite the circumstances.

“Well, I don’t really have any frame of reference, so I trust you to make the call,” she says.

“There’s a great little place in town that does cocktails and finger foods. All of the drinks are named after famous… writers…” you trail off as your eyes fall on her approaching form.

She is dressed now and you take in her selection: a pair of extremely tight skinny jeans, in a shade of distressed dark grey with strategically placed rips up the legs, a tiny black bralette you can’t remember buying, over which she has chosen a sheer knitted top several sizes too big, the neckline draping loosely off one shoulder, the front tucked into her belt buckle.

“What’s the matter?” she says, observing your slack-jawed expression as she rolls up the sleeves. “Is this not ok?”

You blink hard and shake your head. “No, no, you look great. It’s just…” You bring your eyes up to meet hers and she shakes her curls loose from her bun. “You dress just like he does.”

“Ooh! These are pretty,” she says, fingering the box of bracelets and trinkets on your dressing table.

“Oh, those belong to Irish,” you say. “But I’m sure he won’t mind.”

She sits down on the bench next to you, rolling his beads and leather bangles up each arm.

“Well, he did say what’s his is mine, right?” She says, glancing at you with a smile. For a split second her eyes rest on your lips and you feel your heart pick up speed.

“Yes, yes. He did say that,” you laugh, trying and failing to hide your nerves. You go back to applying your lipstick under her watchful gaze. After a minute, you withdraw the product from your lips and offer it to her. “You want to borrow it?” you say.

She shakes her head. “That is something I definitely don’t know how to do,” she says with an apologetic smile. “You could do it for me?”

Of course, she can only do what Irish can do and he definitely can’t do makeup. The one time he tried for a Halloween party he looked like a melted Liza Minnelli waxwork.

“Okay, sure,” you reply.

You turn to face her and apply a thin coat to her lips. As you work, her sea-green eyes scan your face, the intensity of her gaze causing your hand to falter.

“Oops, hold on,” you say, correcting your mistake. For a brief second your eyes meet as your hand cups her face, your finger sliding under her bottom lip, your faces merely inches apart. Your pulse beats so loud and so hard that you worry she might hear it.

You pull your eyes away and clear your throat. “There we go, all done,” you say.

But she doesn’t move and neither do you. She holds you captivated in her gaze like a tractor beam.

“How are you girls getting on in here?” says Irish, sticking his head through the door. “You nearly ready? The cab is waiting downstairs.”

You jump as if caught red-handed. “Yes, all done here,” you say, a little too loud.

Robin rises and walks over to Irish, beginning to circle him. The two of them look each other up and down in the doorway like two wild cats sizing each other up.

She leans into his ear as she exits: “I’ll meet you two downstairs,” she says in a low voice. She pats him on the ass and gives you a wink as she leaves.

You hear the front door close behind her and throw Irish a shocked look.

“She is flirting with you!” you say, stating the obvious.

Irish scoffs: “From where I’m standing, it looks like she’s flirting with you!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say, bending down to put on your shoes, hiding your blushing face from his eyes.

“Well, think about it,” he says. “I’m attracted to you, therefore it makes sense that she’d be attracted to you, too.”

“Yeah?” you say, standing now and facing him in the doorway. “Well, why is she apparently attracted to you too?”

Irish gives you a shrug, a guilty smirk passing over his lips. You nudge him in the ribs.

“Because you’re so fucking in love with yourself!” you say, only half-teasing.

Irish laughs, ruffling a hand through his curly hair. You roll your eyes at him and fold your arms with an exaggerated sigh.

“Look, everything’s going to be fine,” he says, holding you by the shoulders. “Let’s just go get a drink.”

“You were getting a blow job?” asks Robin, incredulous.

“The door just sort of swung open and I smacked my head on the wall. I was knocked out cold for a good few minutes. And when I woke up, well, there you were,” he says.

Robin turns to you with an open-mouthed expression.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you say, cringing. “I wish we had a better story to tell you.”

Her face creases and she releases a high-pitched laugh. “You guys are hilarious,” she says. “Do you do that a lot, sex acts in public places?”

Irish shrugs, opening his mouth to speak.

You cut him off before he can embarrass you further. “No!” you insist. “No, we don’t.”

The more drinks that are consumed, the more the conversation veers towards sex. Irish is being his usual giddy self, telling stories and making crude jokes. Robin, meanwhile, is becoming increasingly tactile, clasping your shoulder as she laughs, pressing her long fingers into your arm as she fires questions at you.

Her displays of affection seem to be making him territorial. Every time her hand brushes against your leg, his follows. Or perhaps they are just mirroring each other; echoing each other’s movements and mannerisms. Either way, you are sitting between them and it’s starting to make you feel like a baby goat in the tiger enclosure.

The worst part, you decide, is how alike they are. Robin seems to agree with everything he says, especially his drunken ideas. Stay out longer? Great idea. More shots? Great idea. Go to another bar? Great idea. You are outnumbered. And now everything is starting to get hazy and wobbly, furry around the edges.

“So, do you both have jobs? I know you’re a scientist, but what do you do?” asks Robin, gesturing to your boyfriend.

“I’m an actor,” Irish replies, puffing out his chest. “Been doing it since I was a kid.”

“Wow, that sounds like so much fun,” says Robin, her eyes widening. “I’d love to do something like that.”

“Of course you would,” you mutter under your breath.

“Did I say something wrong,” asks Robin.

Her brow furrows in the middle. You can see Irish glaring at you out of the corner of your eye. He thinks you’re being rude. You instantly feel bad for being crabby.

“No, honey, I’m sorry,” you say, reaching forward to clasp her knee. “It’s just… well, you two are so damn similar! It’s actually kind of infuriating.”

They both laugh at the same time, then look at you: “What’s the matter, are you feeling left out?” they say in perfect unison.

Realising their thoughts have synched, they immediately turn and point at each other: “Oh, we both said the same thing!” they say at the same time.

“Ok, stop that, it’s freaking me the fuck out,” you interrupt, not wanting to find out how long they can do that for.

They share a look, synapses firing at the same time, cogs turning in synchronicity. The chemistry between them, between the three of you, is palpable and it terrifies you as much as it excites you.

Robin looks at you, then at him.

“You know what I think, Irish?” says Robin, leaning her head towards you. “I think your girlfriend…”

“Our girlfriend,” he corrects.

“Our girlfriend,” she says, walking her fingers up your thigh, “needs to lighten up.”

Robin’s face is centimetres away now. Her eyes, at first locked on yours, float down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze again. She tilts her head slightly and you feel your breath deepening, your heart beginning to race in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

She shushes you gently as she cups your face, allowing her thumb to trail over your cheekbone.

“Just relax,” she whispers, bringing her mouth down on yours.

As her plump lips part yours, you are struck by how similar the experience of kissing her is to kissing him - only softer, gentler. And as her tongue inches across the inside of your lips, you feel him join in, trailing a string of delicate kisses down the side of your face, down your neck.

They each wind an arm around your body and you suddenly remember that you are in a public place, giving the patrons of this bar something to stare at. And they are staring - you feel their eyes boring into you as two hands belonging to two separate owners begin to pass over your legs.

Robin lifts her head, moving to your neck, and her mouth is replaced with his.

“Guys,” you say in between deepening kisses, your voice trembling, “we have to get out of here.”

They lift their heads and look at each other, then at you. “Great idea,” they say together.

REBLOGS FEED THE WRITER - PLEASE FEED ME! 🥺🤲

If you’ve been tagged it’s probably because you asked to be a long time ago. If you don’t wanna be tagged in future updates, just send me a DM: @iamsexytrash @pickledbeefwastaken @m0onlitmadness @blog-kyku-us @super-unpredictable98 @love-is-dirty-baby @maerenee930 @simplymesam99 @sheehaniphilia @rob-private @rina-cydonia @icarusklaus @nostalgiawings @orangepear18 @p0tat0nug @21stcenturywitchcraft @ssanjuniperoo @the-freckled-luba @motherofanimals @archivemysins @faceache111 @lezzy-4 @firstpersonnarrator @inspiremeandsetmefree @sands7 @granddeaneaglesports @hanatashii @one-dizzydreamer @itscarolsainz @septicrebel @zombiedixon89 @amanda-hotchner @spaceclone-mom @readersinflammation @jender123 @juicyj28 @badsext @bunybordelaux @vomkimmeren @shaneen828 @klausmikaelsonswolf @kittenqueen04 @itsophiebby @itsjustmylifeconfessions @mypsychoticlove @jizzmans-world @thislovelylife

#robert sheehan #robert sheehan x reader #robert sheehan character fic #klaus hargreeves #robert sheehan smut #Robert Sheehan rpf #robert sheehan fic #the umbrella academy #robert sheehan fanfic #tua #umbrella academy #rob sheehan #Robert Sheehan au #klaus umbrella academy #Rob Sheehan fic #robert sheehan fan #tua cast #tua Netflix #bisexual

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funforahermit · 5 months

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It's funny how being a fan of Rhys Darby has led me to become a fan of a lot of his friends as well. That's never happened to me before, with any of my other crushes, and I don't really know what's different this time?? Maybe it means that I just really have a thing for kiwis, who knows 'xD But let's see -

There's Jonno Roberts of course, absolute comedic GENIUS, pipes like you wouldn't believe, actor par excellence, and sexy as fuck. His on screen chemistry with Rhys is off the charts, even better than Rhys and Taika imo (controversial opinion alert 'xD), but I find that I also enjoy watching Jonno on his own. And the little bit I know of his personal life is endearing as heck, not least because he's a firm trans ally.

David Farrier, irresistable mixture between fearless journalist and complete mess! Dark Tourist, Tickled, Mister Organ - those are all deeply fascinating documentaries, and I can never decide if I want him to tell me more about the deepest darkest secrets of humanity or if I want him to get the hell out of there and stay away from danger for god's sake 'xD Lately I've been going through his podcast Flightless Bird, and just... everything he talks about is really interesting and compelling. And yes, the accent helps, I admit that. Also, bonus points for being a fellow bisexual 🤟

Jemaine Clement!!! God he's hot. Like is it just me or is he just..... SO hot. Like damn. I'm sure I could also talk at length about his talent, but I am kind of distracted. Fuck.

Bret McKenzie: I adore his solo album Songs Without Jokes, I listened to it so many times when it came out, and now all the songs are part of my permanent playlist. I love them to bits.

The last two together, obviously, are the best duo ever and I can't get enough of their songs or their comedy.

Steve Wrigley! Now I'm not gonna lie, I'm not the biggest fan of his stand-up and for the longest time I couldn't understand why Rhys would insist on touring with him and make him his opening act all the time. But I get it now. I've grown to love him for the amazing friend that he is, and for looking after Rhys so perfectly - even if some of his jokes make me go a bit :/ (The Ohakune airport story is hilarious though!)

Dan Schreiber - NOT a kiwi! 'xD Amazing brain, amazing way with words, amazing spirit of adventure, amazing sense of humour. One of these days I'm gonna listen to all his other podcasts (beside the Cryptid Factor I mean), just haven't found the time yet.

I feel like this is an uncomplete list, but I gotta go and do some real life stuff now.. Just wanted to say that I love them!! And I've got Rhys to thank for knowing them at all.

#rhys darby #jonno roberts #david farrier #jemaine clement #bret mckenzie #steve wrigley #dan schreiber #....ahhhhh see you know who i forgot?? buttons!!!#sorry buttons! next time

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teecupangel · 1 year

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College is so stressful but anyway what if Desmond wears eyeliner or kohl and wear feminine and masculine clothes depending his mood because he seems androgynous to me and when he timetravels and just go "fuck gender roles" and kills templars while he grows his hair and wears jewellery and lace

I hope you get some time to relax soon! And the awesome thing about Desmond is that he changes face in every game that we can call him androgynous if we feel like it. Dude doesn’t really have a canon face anyway. And even if he doesn’t, this involves time traveling so we can just chalk the sudden androgynous look to some kind of Isu BS XD

Desmond will definitely be the bisexual awakening of a lot of people with his time hopping. Altaïr alone would be more confused than he was when he found out Maria was pretending to be Robert. If anything could be considered sorcery, it would be Desmond’s ability to confuse the hell out of people. They meet him wearing masculine clothes and think “Oh, he’s a dude” and then their next meeting with him, he’d be wearing feminine clothes and be like “??????” and BSOD.

Altaïr would try to push any confusion he might have and focus on gaining the information he needs from Desmond (who may or may not have killed someone to get the information, the Brotherhood can’t be sure) but, goddamn it, that’s hard to do when he’s just standing nearby, watching Desmond put on kohl on his eyes and painting his lips red just because he was ‘feeling pretty’ today, whatever the hell that means and he’s just draped in silk bedsheets because he hasn’t thought of what clothes he should wear today and Altaïr is pretty sure Desmond is doing this on purpose because there’s no fucking way that bedsheet coincidentally just slipped enough that Altaïr could see his collarbone. Then Desmond tells him to check his chest and pick a dress for him and holy shit, there are undergarments there that Altaïr had never seen before and his brain just gives up on him that way and all blood flowed downward after that.

Ezio would know Desmond as Leonardo’s favorite muse and he’d flirt with him, thinking he’s a woman at first. Ezio and Desmond would definitely have some fun and Ezio’s just going to be ‘oh, cool’ with anything Desmond does. Seeing Desmond assassinate someone will always be hot regardless of what clothes he decided to wear during that time. (The Borgias will definitely have a boner for him and it’s half hot-person-yummy and half he-can’t-be-more-beautiful/handsome-than-us, especially from Lucrezia). Ezio and Desmond definitely posed for one of Leonardo’s works (that doesn’t exist in the OG timeline) and it’s the steamiest painting Leonardo had ever done.

Haytham’s prudeness will definitely make him annoyed, both at Desmond himself and at his own attraction to seeing Desmond wearing those infuriating scandalous clothes. Ratonhnhaké:ton, on the other hand, would just think “white people weirdness” when he first sees Desmond. When he learns that other white people think Desmond is weird, at that point, Ratonhnhaké:ton wouldn’t even care anymore as he liked Desmond as a person and he likes seeing Desmond smiles. Desmond is also Ratonhnhaké:ton’s plus one for Myriam and Norris even though Ratonhnhaké:ton told him that he doesn’t understand what a ‘plus one’ even means. Ratonhnhaké:ton wouldn’t say it outloud but he thought Desmond outshone Myriam on her own wedding day.

Shay’s definitely going to be tongue-tied whenever he sees Desmond. Also, Desmond got a few fashion tips from Hope and he looks so good in female Assassin robes that he definitely outshines Hope. Liam likes to tease him about it but even he’s not immune to Desmond’s charm, especially when Desmond stares at him. Even when Shay defected, he could never raise his hand against Desmond and… maybe a part of him enjoyed being stepped on by Desmond’s heels, he’s trying not to think too deeply about it considering he can already see Haytham’s disapproving face.

Arno… Arno would find him strange, sure, and he’s definitely going to ignore his attraction to him because he’s in love with Élise, damn it. But it is becoming too hard to ignore it when Élise always finds ways to leave him behind while he will always see Desmond in the cafe, smiling at him as he welcomed him back. He doesn’t even know where he stands with Élise anymore and Desmond… Desmond confuses him so much but, at the same time, Desmond is the only person who makes so much sense right now that… fuck, Arno’s going to get drunk and just let his drunk self do whatever. He’ll deal with the consequences later.

It’s Jacob who sees Desmond first. Flirts with him ‘cause he thought he was a woman. Evie sees him next while he’s wearing masculine clothes… but Evie can’t be sure. There’s something about the way he moved and the way he looked that just makes Evie unable to fully conclude that she is seeing a man. Jacob and Evie never see him at the same time. Every time they see him, they see him as a woman for Jacob and a man for Evie. Then they finally see him together, wearing formless clothes that could worn by anyone and he’s talking to Ned and they’re both “ooooohhhhh” but they don’t really get it, they just think they do.

#i was thinking how the layla trilogy would deal with this #and the only conclusion i can think of is #bayek shows respect regardless #kassandra/alexios and eivor tries to seduce him regardless #desmond as everybody’s androgynous bisexual reawakening #altdes and ezides definitely fuuuuuuccckkkkeeeedddd #arndes probably fucked too but arno has no memories of it #no usual tags because #altdes #ezides #haydes #condes #shaydes #arndes #jacdes #i guess evie has a crush on him so #evides #ask and answer

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donnydamakkk · 3 months

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What are your unpopular opinions on any/all of the BAU women?

(i saw the word unpopular after so i jus gave general opinions shdgsdjdsdk sorry but some of it is prolly unpopular anyway)

jennifer jareau is the apple of my mothafuckin eye fr. the literal love of my life. i am so serious when i say every blonde woman that i have ever found attractive needs to bow down before her (n samantha stephens) n kiss the mothafuckin ring. she is so slept on n i feel like people don't really understand or appreciate the many layers of her. i feel like she's so widely misunderstood. tbh people's takes on her tend to make my eye twitch real bad. as beautiful as she is, i feel like "soft", beautiful looks contribute a lot to her massive mischaracterization. except rosie's; she understands jj, she gets it. but for the most part, i dont feel like people should b allowed to speak on her bcus they're prolly wrong. (also butch jj is the best hc ever, but we all know i feel that way)

i really love emily prentiss, i do. she's intelligent, soulful, goofy in a way that doesn't feel ridiculous or stupid (contrary to a lot of fanon portrayal) but i mostly feel like that about early seasons emily. the more she left n returned, the less it seemed like the writing for her character was true to her n it started to feel bland. i often ask myself in later seasons where her personality went bcus at a some point she jus feels kinda blank n like shes there for fan service. it isn't emily's fault tho; it's all the writers. i love emily tho. also i hc her as bisexual now bcus idk i feel like u would have to swing from multiple vines to participate in sin to win; i can see her being w women n men equally as far as sex goes but being more likely to fall in love w women but sometimes she'll fall in love w a man n b like, well shit... ok n rockin w it but yes, shes a bi babe. i have also concluded that homegirl has a type n jj would b the exception to her rule/type bcus emily is def robert deniro (iyyk). anyway....

no one is allowed to hate elle greenaway, alright? as much as i do love gideon, everything that went wrong elle is his n hotch's fault n i mean that wholeheartedly. anyway, she was a cool as a fan w ice in it, bruh. i b missing her so much. also, i was proud of her when she shot that serial rapist; he was never gon stop offending. she did the right thing.

jordan todd was such a sweet, sensitive baby but she was functional n driven n i like that. she's also flirty. i like that too. idk man. i loved her so much, and ya know, i really loved her for really highlighting all the work jj does and reminding them all to like really appreciate her. she was a great temp; i hope she's happy somewhere. also i will never not scream about this but HER AND EMILY PRENTISS GOT NASTY n i would like to see it (:

i didn't enjoy ashley seaver or her arc. contrary to popular belief, it isn't bcus she replaced jj. it's bcus shes the only team member they've ever had that was there without any actual professional merit. girl wasnt even finished w the academy, and i, for one, did not enjoy watching what was essentially an internship. also she was boring so.

i like penelope garcia a lot; she's fun n she's sweet. i would like to write for her more but i find it difficult bcus she doesn't feel like a real person to me. which is like not to say i haven't met people like her bcus i have but whenever i do, it's kinda jarring n i always feel like i jus hallucinated. also my view of emotions is... yeah. so, there are times where she's kinda paralyzed w emotions that grind me a bit bcus idk i kinda feel like if ur emotions aren't servicing u in that moment then u needa jus suck it up n deal w them later, u not getting nowhere if u crying to much to function n then u still have this problem; so suck it up n deal w the problem n cry later n she has to b reminded of that often which again grinds me a bit but thats a me thing. i dont hold that against PG but it's jus sumn that we are not compatible on n that's fine. also i love love love love love love her n her dynamic w morgan ofc but some of the nicknames she calls him makes me personally uncomfortable as a black person but i mean hey... also, evolution was a disgusting disservice to her character n she deserves to b happy n at peace w her life away from the bau; she coulda came back without getting sucked back into a job that was messing her up mentally. she deserves better

i don't really have an opinion of kate callahan. i don't like her. i don't dislike her. i simply did not connect to her at all; also s10 wasn't a strong season fr so that ain't even really her fault. i do like that scene w her n my jocks on the plane tho. i like jennifer love hewitt tho (maddie buckley is that bitch fr). she b cool in stuff.

alex blake, my beloved fr; she calms me. i love that. i really really really loved her on the team; i loved how that version of the team functioned so much. it's one of, if not my favorite version of the team. she is the best (later seasons) replacement character hands down. god, i loved everything about her. literally everything about her. i fr don't have any notes, 11/10 fr. i miss her terribly. i would also let her do unspeakable things to my body so long as she talks me thru it n i know she would. anyway, i hope she's happy teaching n living her life <3

okay don't jump me but like the v worst thing any show could do to me w any character is introduce them w terrible hair. it's shallow as fuck, i will admit that but if that's how i first meet them? baby! i will never get over it, i will never unsee it n it will impact my ability to consume that character moving forward. that to say n i do hate to say it but tara lewis is a character who has fallen victim to this. they shoulda never introduced her in that fuckass wig. it pisses me off jus thinkin about it n she was in it for a while so as shallow n terrible as it is, it affected my connection to her. but it is what it is, im not apologizing for it. also, she has the horrific misfortune of being introduced in the late late late seasons when for the most part they wasn't even trying in the writers room fr, which sucks. bcus im gonna b particularly honest here, i dont feel a thing for her or luke. i like matt bcus i watched beyond borders n bcus i mentally connect him to jj as her male tethered. i also, so sorry, don't care that she's queer; i don't like how that whole thing was written. it didn't do shit for me at all. really, in conclusion, tara lewis is a victim to criminal minds writing team n costume department. so justice for tara!! but no yea she not my homie or nothin like that; i don't hate her tho.

#ro's asks #jennifer jj jareau #emily prentiss #elle greenaway #jordan todd #ashley seaver #alex blake #kate callahan #tara lewis #penelope garcia

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