#she seems so deeply uninterested in men to me

[museumgiftshoperaser]

you know who else has off the wall aromantic swag??? nancy wheeler.

the pure horror on her face when steve mentioned wanting six kids and settling down??? me too bestie!!! can't say I love you to any of your boyfriends?? I see you girl!!!! She's such a woman who comes out as a lesbian in college only to realize that... wait a minute??? I don't like romance with women either???

#stranger things #nancy wheeler #aromantic nancy wheeler #if you let me loose i'll aromanticize all your faves #just watch me #she seems so deeply uninterested in men to me #it's honestly kinda iconic #but i like to think she's not all that romantically interested in anyone

[totesnothere04]

Unexpected Turn of Events Pt.4

Tonowari x Fem!Reader

I do not own any of the fanart or screenshots used with my stories.

Contains smut reader's discretion is advised.

Slight mention of mating kink, primal urges, oral (f receiving), fingering, mating press, very vulgar language.

Pt.3 here. Pt.5 here.

It had been about two and a half weeks since Tonowari had started courting you. Two and a half weeks of all of your friends teasing you by calling you Tsahík. Two and a half weeks of near bliss as Neytiri started to introduce you to Na'vi traditions. She started helping you make your song cord and learning to make things to court Tonowari in return. Currently, you were putting the finishing touches on a spear that both Neytiri and Jake were helping you craft. It wasn't for you, it was for Tonowari. You wanted it to be perfect for him, and to reflect the strong and wise leader that he is. You started to put the inlay of pearls in the handle when you heard footsteps approaching your marui. You quickly put away the pearls and hid the spear behind some of your stacked belongings. You had just barely tucked it away when Ao'nung and Rotxo poked their heads into your marui.

"Can I help you?" You asked them. They both fully entered the marui and sat down and you sat across from them.

"We came to ask you for advice." Rotxo finally admitted and you were shocked. You hadn't been a big part of Rotxo's life in any way, so you had a hard time believing he'd come to you for advice.

"What for?" You asked them.

"Well, Rotxo has fallen for the Sully girl." Ao'nung answered for his friend who seemed too bashful to answer for himself.

"And you? I sense you didn't come here just for Rotxo's obvious crush on my niece." You say and Ao'nung blushes deeply.

"Ra'ina's eldest daughter has held his attention since we were children." Rotxo says and you smile lightly.

"Oh to be young and in love." You say with a joking reminiscent tone.

"Why didn't you have a mate then? You were old enough to have had one, and many children when you came here." Ao'nung said trying to shift the focus off of him.

"Human men were insufferable on the human base. I spent all of my adult life here on Pandora there at Hell's Gate. It was either unattentive men that were focused on fighting the local life or men that were uninterested in relationships. Having children with people like that was off the table for me." You tell them and Ao'nung scrunched his face up in disgust.

"The decision is understandable." Ao'nung said and you laughed.

"Alright but why come to me for advice when I'm still learning Na'vi courting myself?" You ask them.

"Well, Kiri is your niece, and you're good friends with Zyti's mom. We thought you'd know things that they like." Rotxo explained.

"Kiri loves nature. Loves to observe it and respects it and the Great Mother. Taking her on ilu rides and she is pretty traditional in the people's ways. Hunt, provide, show her you can provide for her and your possible future children." You tell Rotxo and he nods enthusiastically. "As for Zyti I do not think you will have a problem with courting her." You say to Ao'nung.

"What do you mean? Out of all the girls that throw themselves at me, she is not among them." Ao'nung says confused.

"She was raised by a mother who was pursued and courted traditionally. The girls that throw themselves at you chase for the future Tsahík mantle, not you. Zyti prefers for you to go to her, and she revels in the feeling of security. So I tell you the same thing I told Rotxo. Prove to her that you can provide, but one big difference between her and Kiri... Zyti loves small heartfelt gifts. A necklace, a shell, a pearl, or a pretty rock. Does any of what I just said help in your pursuit?" You ask them. Rotxo nods happily and Ao'nung cracks a small smile and nods. "Then go, go and pursue your mates of choice." You say, but the boys look at eachother and smirk.

"Let us help you finish the spear for my father." Ao'nung said and you felt shock run through your body.

"Jake or Neytiri?" You ask them.

"Lo'ak." Rotxo says and you groan.

"I need to finish it on my own. I want to show that I'm a good choice for his mate." You say and Ao'nung rolls his eyes.

"You are already a prime choice for Tsahík. Father will love anything you give him. You helped us let us help you." Ao'nung says and you sigh then stand up. You retrieve the bag of pearls and the spear. You set it down in between you and you started to continue to place the pearls in the wooden pockets you carved for them to go into. Ao'nung and Rotxo were in awe of your craftsmanship. Both of the boys were admiring the designs and embellishments on the spear.

"Ao'nung is right. Olo'eyktan will love this." Rotxo says.

"It is not finished yet. I still have to finish putting in the pearls and the clear waterproof adhesive. Don't even get me started on the handle wrap yet." You say as you focus on the pearls and ensure their placement.

"You do realize the implications of giving this to my father?" Ao'nung asked in a soft voice.

"Yes. It means that I choose him. Which I do choose him." You tell them truthfully.

"She'd be your new mom Ao'nung." Rotxo said.

"I do not seek to replace a parent." You say while still preoccupied. "I seek to provide a stability that I did not have with my own parents. Though neither of my parents passed." You said absent-mindedly.

"What do you mean?" Ao'nung asked as his curiosity was piqued.

"On Earth, you don't mate for life. Humans have a system called marriage, but it is a bond that can be severed if they so wish. My father cheated on my mother and she severed their marriage. I haven't seen my father since I was only 10." You told them and finished with the pearls, and picked up the clear adhesive mixture that was as close to epoxy as you could get. You started to apply it to the handle as you listened to the boys talk shit about Earth. You had to hold in your laughter so you wouldn't waste any by spilling it.

"But what about your Mom? Isn't she sad that you aren't on Earth with her?" Rotxo questioned.

"She was in one of the first groups to land on Pandora. She had gone back to Earth to marry my father then she had me and decided to stay until I was a little older. After she and my father divorced she came back to Pandora, and I was left in my grandmother's care. My mom was an amazing woman and constantly fought with our bosses to save Pandora from Earth's fate. She was shot and died from her injuries when we were trying to escape from the human base in the forest. Her name was Grace. Grace Augustine." You tell them as you weave the handle with the fabric you made specifically for the spear. "Huh, you two were able to help me concentrate enough to finish this." You say and the two boys look very proud to have helped out somehow. "I just need to let it dry now." You tell them and leave the spear level so it can dry properly. "Now shoo. I have things I must attend to." They left and you turned back to the gift you'd just finished making. It would be a few days until you'd be able to give it to him because it needed to dry. You could only hope that he liked it, because of how long it's taken you to make it.

Waiting for the longest three days of your life was nearly unbearable, but the fourth morning you woke up and checked it to make sure it was dry. When you realized it was dry you nearly jumped from excitement and anticipation. It was barely dawn and you knew Tonowari would be coming by soon. He always grabbed healing herbs before he would go on bigger hunts. You readied a pouch of the herbs and waited for his arrival. Not long after you heard a knock on your marui and you turned to find Tonowari standing there. However. You were confused when you didn't find any of his hunting gear.

"Good morning, ma 'Wari." You say and he cracks his usual smile.

"Good morning, ma (Y/n)." He says as he leans down and plants a kiss on your cheek.

"Close your eyes." You say excitedly and he quirks a brow in question. "Please trust me." You say and he closes his eyes. You pick the spear up gently and hold it flat in both of your hands infront of him. "Open them." You say and he does so. The moment his eyes land on the spear in your hands he seems taken aback.

"Did you make this for me?" Wari asks and you blush and nod.

"Yes, I did." You tell him and he looks directly into your eyes.

"You know what this implies?" He asks to make sure you understood what you were saying.

"Yes, yawne. I want you to know that I choose you." You tell him and he finally takes the spear from your hands and looks closely at the handle.

"It is beautiful ma muntxä." Tonowari compliments and your ears perk up as he says that. "I accept your offering and have been preparing my home for days to accept it." He says and you look up at him surprised.

"Who told you I was making this?" You asked him.

"Jake does not speak softly." Tonowari says feeling a little bad that your surprise was ruined. "Come. Let us spread the news." He takes your hand and leads you through the village. You both stood at the entrance of Jake's marui where his family was still suffering from early morning grogginess. Tonowari knocks on the entrance and everyone turns to look at the two of you. Their eyes flick over to the spear in his hand.

"Good morning Olo'eyktan." Neytiri greets him first.

"A good morning it is. I have accepted her gift." Tonowari shows off the spear and Jake trips over his own feet to be able to get a closer look. "We are to mate before Eywa at eclipse." Tonowari announces. Kiri, Lo'ak, and Neteyam look at each other then run over to give you a hug.

"Mom would be so proud of you (Y/n)." Kiri acknowledges and you sigh sadly. You both technically had different mothers so you tended to keep your relationship more toward Aunt and niece. After you were evolved Kiri took to referring to you more as her sister. Beforehand you would've shot down the idea, but now you were Na'vi. You had more in common now.

"I know. I just wish I would've been able to save her. More for your sake than my own." You tell Kiri and she dives back into your chest for another hug.

"Come! We must retrieve Tsireya and Ra'ina to prepare you!" Kiri says then grabs your hand and Neytiri who was holding Tuk. You yelped a little as you were dragged behind the excited teen in the direction of Tonowari's marui. Kiri barely knocked on the entry frame before she was barging in dragging you and her mother behind her. The two teens inside were slightly confused but accepted the intrusion.

"What's going on?" Tsireya asked.

"He accepted her gift and they are to mate infront of Eywa at eclipse!" Kiri said excitedly and Tsireya jumped up.

"Really?" She asked and you nodded. Tsireya and Ao'nung both ran into your arms to embrace you in a hug.

"Come we have much to prepare you for." Neytiri said and she sent Kiri with Tsireya to retrieve Ra'ina while you went with her and Tuk to your marui.

The day was filled with celebrations, bestowing of titles, and preparation of your appearance. It was all a big blur until eclipse started to approach and you were nervous. Your nerves were slightly cleared when Neteyam told you that Tonowari would show the spear you made to anyone who seemed interested in it. When you reached the water's edge you separated from your family to join Tonowari. He was taking you to the Cove of Ancestors to connect with your family before you mated. Jake had told him of the tragedy that befell your mother and he wanted you to feel like she was involved. You mounted his tsurak behind him and the two of you were off in an instant. You could feel yourself almost melting into his back as his muscles flexed and relaxed. You allowed one of your palms to lay flat against his abdomen as you tighten your grip around him. You felt him shiver from the intimate contact and he seemed to lean back into your warmth. When you arrived at the place where this journey started to slide off the tsurak with Tonowari following behind you. You both took deep breaths and swam down to the leaves of the tree. You grabbed your queue and connected it to one of the leaves. You were transported back to Hells Gate in the link room and you looked ahead to see your mom. She was grumbling over some paperwork and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Even in the afterlife, you find a way to grumble over someone's reports. Whose is it this time Norm or Jake?" You ask her and she laughs as she looks up at you.

"Both. But let's talk about you, my baby. You're Na'vi now and about to mate with the Metkayina Olo'eyktan. I'm so proud of you and Kiri." Grace says and you sigh.

"I'm sorry I didn't step up into a mother role for her Mom." You say and she gives you a small smile.

"Jake and Neytiri were meant to be her adoptive parents. She was the same race as them and you weren't. It would've been more difficult for you to care for her than it was for them to care for her. Besides something tells me you're about to have two children of your own." Your Mom says and you smile when you think of Tonowaris children.

"Yeah Ao'nung might be a handful, but he's a good boy. Once he grows a little more he'll be an even better man. Tsireya is beautiful, smart, compassionate, you name any good quality and that's what she is. She's basically the spitting image of her father." You tell your Mom and she looks down at her watch.

"(Y/n) it's almost eclipse. You need to rejoin your mate." Your Mom says and you nod.

"I love you Mom and I miss you everyday." You say and she hugs you close.

"I love you too honey, but I'm never far. I'm always right here." She says as she lays her hand over your heart. Though her voice grows distant and you pull out of the trance. You turn and smile at Tonowari who returns with his own smile. He pulls you closer to him and connects your lips in your first actual kiss. He pulls away and the two of you swim to the surface.

"Come this way." Tonowari says and leads you over to one of the surrounding shores. "I am ready when you are." He says as he brings forward his queue and you do the same. They connect after the two of you inch them closer together. The feeling from the connection was surreal and the growing arousal between the two of you was intense. He leans his forehead on yours and you lean into his warmth. He reaches a hand up and tilts your head till you're looking into each other's eyes. You both meet in the middle in a heated kiss which leads to both of you lowering onto your knees on the floor.

"We can wait to try for children later if it makes you more comfortable." Tonowari whispers against your lips.

"I want nothing more than to bare more children for you." You respond and you can feel something near primal awaken in him. He works on removing his loincloth while you do the same. When you're both completely bare Tonowari takes in your body with hungry eyes. His cock was already at full attention and throbbing for any kind of friction. He leans over your body and starts leaving open-mouthed kisses and love bites all over your skin leading down your torso. Without warning his mouth attaches to your weeping cunt with his tongue diving right into your hole.

"Tonowari..." You moan his name on repeat like it's your favorite song. You feel something different prod at your entrance and soon after two of his fingers make their home in your womanhood. Your back arches off the ground at your impending orgasm and it's getting hard for you to breathe. "Wari... I'm c-lose." You moan out and he hums against your pussy. He adds a third finger and angles them just right to hit your g-spot and it sends you over the edge. He pulls away while you're still coming down from your high so you can catch your breath. When you look at him after you've calmed down a bit he's spreading your slick over his massive cock.

"Are you ready, my mate?" Tonowari asks with a possessive edge and you moan when he calls you that. He leans forward and collects your legs to sit on his shoulders. Slowly pushing forward until the head of his cock was probing your hole. You moaned in anticipation of possibly getting pregnant.

"So ready, ma 'Wari." You all but begged for him to continue. He guided himself into you and a low moan left him as he entered you. At first, the stretch hurts but soon lights the fire of pleasure in your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and your fingers bury themselves into his scalp. He was being surprisingly gentle, especially after you felt that surge of primal need flow off of him earlier. He nuzzles your cheek with his nose and inhales deeply.

"Beautiful. My beautiful mate and Tsahík." Tonowari says and emphasizes each term of endearment with a peck to your lips. When he finishes talking his lips make a permanent home on your own. His length dragged over every pleasurable part of your spongey walls. He was getting close and you could feel it as his balls tightened against your ass. He moved to get a better angle into you by getting onto his feet and pulling your hips up to reach deeper. You felt his tip hit your cervix and you saw stars as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your walls so suddenly clamped around Tonowari and he couldn't tell if he was moaning, growling, or purring as he continued to fuck you through your high. He buried himself deep inside of you and released with a guttural moan. This was your first time having sex in over 15 years, and it was Tonowari's first time since he lost Ronal. Neither of you were quite used to the feeling as he stayed seated inside of you, and you didn't mind. You felt full. So full and so pleased and Tonowari felt his chest swell with pride from being the cause of your current state of euphoria. Tonowari situated the two of you to lie down while he still remained in you. You rested your head on his arm and threw your left leg over his hip. The two of you were wrapped up in each other in your own bubble of happiness knowing you would need to go back soon. But for now you were content just snuggling on a shore in the Cove of Ancestors.

#tonowari #tonowari x reader #avatar twow

[lordeasriel]

What don’t you like about the tv show version of Marisa

Well, it's not Marisa, for one thing. It's a very crude and poor attempt at bringing her on-screen. Talking about what I dislike about her means this gets intrinsic with the show's greatest flaws, because they are a big part of what is wrong with her portrayal.

First issue I have is that she is a very washed down version of what Marisa is. She's soft, purposeless other than "Lyra is my daughter" and overall she is a dull character. Had Book! Lyra ever met her, she would have found Show!Marisa boring.

Marisa's lack of purpose is deeply tied with many narrative problems, such as shallow worldbuilding (the non-women scholar bullshit from season 2, for one, and the lack of daemons) and even with Boreal, they played it very safe and boring. When Marisa deals with him in the books, she is power-playing and very strongly too; he isn't a nobody. In the show is very meh, Boreal is almost on even grounds with her, which makes her scheming silly and uninterested. Worse than that, she whines and cries so much in front of him (in episode 5, season 2 specifically, and this is where I left the show and I do not intend to come back lol) that it makes no sense. Marisa's vulnerability is only seen in specific moments of the book — with Asriel at the bridge, then later at the abyss, once with Lyra in the caves. There is a reason why she is vulnerable in those instances, and only then. Making her open herself to Boreal is utter garbage, plain and simple.

Second issue I have is how they set the tone for her to be a scorned mother. The show plays, again and again, the "I've always wanted you Lyra but--" card. They make it seem like Asriel stole Lyra from Marisa's throbbing chest and disappeared into the night, and oh! how desperately she has looked for her beloved child. Honestly! All the fucking books, even TBOD, show how she didn't want Lyra then and when she finally did, it was out of self interest and vanity. Only later, in TAS, is when she finally warms up to Lyra. They erased her character development for the sake of some motherly tears and I loathe it.

This pair's with Sami's latest post which just proves what I've been saying since season one: they took a great, leading character female character and they made it all about motherhood. It's insulting. Marisa is so much more than a mother. She never wanted to be a mother.

Third issue is the "She is bad because of how oppressed she has been" issue. Northern Lights, chapter four - Lyra dines with the women and the master and you have a whole discussion on female scholars and how Lyra felt pity for them and so on and how Mrs. Coulter was very different. Like, anyone who had actually bothered reading the novels could tell you that Lyra's world is a patriarchal world, but the women still find their way around, as they have since forever in our world.

Now for the show, this pisses me off on many levels, but my main issue is with how they try, so hard, to have Marisa say - and this is important, it's never shown, it's only ever said by her - how men get the better end of the deal, how she had to work so hard to get where she was and blah blah blah. Honestly, this is very true for the show; they bothered very little to write meaningful women into it, the one change I would have appreciated very much, but as in regards to the truth of the character, it's just nonsense. This whole shenanigan could have been fixed with Hannah Relf's presence, because she alone would prove that Marisa's cruelty and malice are innate traits, not a byproduct of her world being sexist. It makes no sense.

If you're looking for more insight into that, I recommend Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss which is an analysis of episode 5, season 2 and this patriarchy business on the show. It's very good and insightful and more reasonable than I will ever be discussing the show lol

There's no excuse for Marisa's poorly written character. It's a waste of Ruth Wilson's acting and a damn shame for a studio that so often claimed to have learned from the movie's mistakes (which they, very very obviously did not as Marisa from the show and the movie are very, very similar). That's why I've only stuck with books since season 2, because while Philman sometimes does stuff I don't entirely agree with, he has a great grasp on the woman he wrote, which is why I leave you with Madame Delamare's own words about Marisa, something the show writers failed utterly to understand and therefore could never truly bring her to screen:

"Delicately and subtly," she mocked "Marisa would know how to show some force. Some character. She was all the man you'll never be."

#marisa coulter #meta by effie #hdm meta: marisa coulter #thanks for the ask! sorry for the rant!

[guttabutta00]

Plus One

To say ‘today was a horrible day’ would be the greatest lie in history. He lost his promotion to an incoherent, insignificant, dumbass jock, and that's to put it nicely. His date was canceled, and a pipe burst in the bathroom and flooded his entire loft, just before heading to work. So now he’s in a hotel for the time being. 

He walks through the lobby and straight towards the bar, sitting at an unoccupied stool and waving the bartender over. “Scotch, make it a double.” Within moments the bartender returned with his drink. Taking a sip of his scotch he began to ponder, getting lost in his thoughts. 

He put his all into the project he was working on for work, he sacrificed most of his nights proofreading, the most tedious documents making sure everything was pure perfection. So when the boss announced who ‘deserved’ the promotion, he wanted to pull out his .22 magnum and blow their fucking brains away. Respectfully of course.

Taking another sip from his cup he thinks about his date.They have been on a couple of dates and she was tolerable and not particularly annoying. He enjoyed her company, but the past few weeks she couldn’t see him because of work she grew distant and decided today would be the day she stops seeing him. Which is just fucking awesome.

“Long day?” he was so lost in his thoughts he didn't even sense you sitting in the stool next to him. He takes another deep breath looking into his glass which is almost empty. “That obvious, huh?” He waved the bartender over for a refill before looking your way.

You had a small smirk on your face looking at the man before you who seems uninterested but in all reality, he’s entranced. You are the most beautiful woman he’s seen ever, and that's the truth. But, it's like the liquor has already rotted his brain and he can't speak. Which to him is simply embarrassing and unacceptable, he’s no longer a teenager, he’s a man for crying out loud.

He takes another sip from his drink before speaking. “Today was an absolute shit-show” You gave him a light laugh taking a sip from your glass. “I could tell the moment I walked in here. I just had to come and figure out why someone as handsome as yourself is frowning so deeply.” He lets out a deep chuckle at her boldness. “I don't wanna bore you with my shitty day.” He removed his glasses and rubbed the tiny indents left behind. Tucking away his glasses he looked at you once more.

“Well, what about you? Don’t tell me you go around trying to find miserable men to cheer up” At that comment you laughed. “Awe man, you’ve caught me” You took another sip from your drink. “I’m also having a pretty shitty day. I caught my boyfriend and ‘best friend’ together in my bed.” You let out a humorless laugh this time. “So before I did something irrational, like pulling out my pit-pat and blowing away their fucking brains I just left.”

His eyes widened and his lips tilted upwards softly. You sound just like him, I guess it's true when they say great minds think alike. “I'm sorry you had to go through something so trashy” He frowned his brows and you gave him a sweet smile. You pushed your hand forward and introduced yourself. He returned the smile and grasped your smaller hand into his larger hand and kissed it softly. “Nice to meet you, beautiful. I'm Kento.” He returned your hand while you cleared your throat. ``Well Kento, I didn't tell you the other reason I'm here tonight.”

“Oh?”He cocked his brow. You turned on your stool to face him completely. “I’m here for revenge,”

Part ||

#jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x y/n #reader insert #female reader #revenge sex #fanfic #writing

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Toad for the ask game

1: sexuality headcanon - I generally imagine comics Toad as being straight (Evo Toad obviously has a thing going with Nightcrawler), but if someone wanted to ship him with a dude, I'm down with that, too. In my headcanons, almost everyone is bi.

2: otp - I really don't know. The closest thing he had to a requited romance was Toad/Husk, and that seemed unhealthy, and they would both need to be in a better place mentally for it to possibly work. For Evo Toad, I'd be down with Todd/Kurt. Toad is like Rebecca from Crazy Ex Girlfriend, I don't care who he winds up with romantically, I just want him to get therapy and be happy. Toad/Self-esteem.

3: brotp - I feel like Toad and Blob could enjoy hanging out together. I'd really like to see Toad befriend another engineer, like Toad and Forge being machine buddies, but it'll never happen. Maybe he can bond with Madison Jeffries since they are both in exile together. Or let him hang out with Frogman again.

4: notp - Toad/Wanda, obviously. In the comics, it's creepy. Even in Evo, where Todd is much less creepy, it's still too much "unrequited crush guy pursues uninterested girl incessantly." Please let that trope die, writers.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head - He likes reading children's books sometimes. It feels like a comforting way to reclaim the shit childhood that he had, and he enjoys the relative simplicity of knowing that things will turn out okay. (Probably.......although some kids books can get pretty dark. Don't ever let Toad read Animorphs.)

6: favorite line from this character - That line he says to Husk about how he's not the kind of toad that turns into a prince. He just stays a toad. Awww, buddy.

7: one way in which I relate to this character - I mean, he is deeply sympathetic, no matter how much the writers try to make him nasty and pathetic so we'll all be okay with the "hero" characters and the "noble" Magneto treating him like dirt. But I guess I can relate to self-esteem issues.

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character - the poor is so utterly pathetic in the earliest X-Men issues, and a nasty kind of pathetic, where he is eager to see the other Brotherhood members punished (probably so it takes the heat off him). I think the writers were going for some kind of creepy "Igor" type figure, without thinking through how much readers might sympathize with this poor abused guy. But his Wanda obsession is the worst of it. Wanda is under no obligation to be nice to Toad when he keeps creeping on her, and I'm glad the writers eventually had him get over that. Although it would be nice if she confessed to the Quiet Council that he didn't actually attack her.

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

He's a cinnamon roll covered in slime and pond water. Especially after the end of Trial of Magneto.

#toad #mortimer toynbee

[visenyasnow]

PINNED POST:

just want to list some of my general feelings and opinions so that people know whether we're on the same wavelength or not:

I'm pretty sure we're supposed to consider Targ incest a flaw in their system, and so I'm not really interested in most Targ/Targ pairings except as lore/part of theorycrafting.

I don't think we'll ever find out for sure who's a secret dragonseed or not but my money's on the Lannister twins as Aerys' progeny for obvious reasons.

I don't ship Jonsa or Jonerys, please don't ask me to participate in discourse about either relationship.

I haven't read Fire and Blood yet, nor have I seen HOTD, because the Targs are not particularly interesting to me, but I know enough to say everyone here's a war criminal but Rhaenyra has the best legal claim to the throne, and Aegon II's usurpation of said throne was wrong, so I guess I'm Team Black, but I'm deeply uninterested in the misogyny hate parade I've seen leveled at all the women on either side, so please don't involve me in that discourse either.

Daenerys is 100% Azor Ahai Reborn.

Jon Snow is my tiny emo daughter and also, he's Nissa Nissa Reborn.

I'm an adherent of the Azor Ahai Was the Bloodstone Emperor theory.

I have complicated feelings about SanSan because She's Literally Thirteen, Quit Your Job, Get Away From Her, but like, he does literally do that and I think maybe in the far future I'd be okay with them reuniting and developing into a romance.

Jon Snow doesn't know it yet but she's a trans girl. It's very probable GRRM also doesn't know Jon's a girl. But I'm pretty sure she is. She's also my special princess and she's doing her best and Rhaegar would 100% have named her Visenya if she was cis and he wasn't dead by the time she was born.

Also yeah, R+L=J seems like it's the best supported of the parentage theories.

I really like Ashara Dayne = Jyarra Reed as a theory, I think Meera knowing the story so well lends to the idea that it's the story of how her Dad first saw her Mom.

None of the Baratheon brothers are straight, Renly's just the only one acting on his attraction to men.

Ned and his kids are kind of doomed to be horny for Baratheons. Just, based on the Nedbert of it all and Sansa's reactions to Renly and Mya, and Arya's relationship with Gendry.

I, too, would kill a man for Sansa Stark.

Dawn is probably either Lightbringer, the Last Hero's dragonsteel sword, or both.

I will probably add more as I get further into the books and the fandom.

#pinned post #incest mention

[13uswntimagines]

She Might be a Forward, but You’re a Keeper (Emily Sonnett x Reader)

Request: Emily x reader where r doesn’t have the best reputation and is sorta known for being a troublemaker but once Emily comes into the picture everything changes. Livin’ The Dream by Morgan Wallen is what made this pop into head.

Author’s Note: Firstly, Firerfly and i thank the one voter so much for voting for this fic. Secondly this almost didn’t happen because my dumbass deleted from the doc just seconds after we had finished it. Thank you to @literaryhedgehog​ for saving it. 

“You have to do it Sonnett,” Lindsey said sternly, taking a sip of her drink and ignoring Emily’s puppy eyes. She wasn’t going to feel bad about this. It was only fair, since she was the one who got them caught. 

“Yeah,” Rose added, crossing her arms. “consider it your punishment for not following through on our prank on Pino.” Meghan had been pissed, and the lecture they had gotten did not seem to fit the crime, especially since they had been stopped. All they wanted to do was start an itsy bitsy prank war. Where was the harm in that?

“Oh come on.” Emily whined, glancing back and forth between the two girls and the woman standing on the other side of the room. “She would have murdered me if I let you put blue dye in her shampoo,” Emily said, her bottom lip trembling. 

“And now Y/n might kill you so we’re even,” Lindsey shrugged, fighting a smile. Whatever way this ended, it would be entertaining for her. 

Some might think that that it was a gross overstatement, but it wasn’t. You had a reputation. A terrifying history of explosions on the pitch, and a complete lack of approachability off of it. You didn’t give a shit what anyone thought, Alex and Kelley being the only exception, but you had known them forever so it didn’t count. 

You didn’t have many friends (contrary to what the public though), but you were viciously loyal to the people you actually let get close to you. 

The youngins had been warned that you did whatever (and whoever) you wanted and they should steer clear. You wouldn’t mess with them as long as they didn’t mess with you. 

The problem was that the blond defender was smitten from the first moment she saw you this season. When she had first joined the team you had just been another veteran and the excitement of joining the national team had overshadowed everything else. But then you transferred to Washington during Club season and she started noticing you everywhere.  Partially because you were everywhere- weaving around the field and her vision, at team events and now here at camp, and… she might have been caughts staring once or twice. Maybe Emily had tripped over her own feet a few times because she accidentally got distracted by the sight of you pouring water over your head after a hot practice, who's to say. Either way,  her two meddling best friends knew about her little crush and had decided to use it as blackmail. 

“I hate you guys,”  Emily said, downing half her drink for liquid courage. 

Lindsey rolled her eyes and shoved the defenders shoulder. “No you don’t,” 

“You better get your ass over there before she starts flirting with another girl,” Rose said with a disinterested wave of her hand, motioning towards the dejected Brunette walking away from you. There was a parade of women all night, and it seemed none of them were having any luck. 

Your eyes followed the woman as she left, but your face didn’t betray any emotions, appearing completely uncaring to anyone who happened to glance in your direction. 

Emily nodded. It was now or never she supposed. 

*****

You took an uninterested sip of you beer, swirling your finger around the glass when you set it back down on the bar. You had never exactly found team bar nights fun. It felt like thousands of people would come up and talk to you (and call you by name) and expect you to instantly be their friend. 

You didn’t need anymore friends. 

You took another sip of your flat beer, making a mental note to chastise Alex later for her terrible bar choice, and stared listlessly at the football (American style) game on the tv. 

“Hey, wanna hear a joke about paper?” You turned slowly to look at the speaker. You squinted at the blond defender, tilting your head to the side, not letting your surprise that a youngin actually had the balls to talk to you off the pitch show on your face. 

She scratched the back of her head grinning impishly at you. “Never mind, it’s tearable.”

You raised your eyebrow at the woman, you lips ticking up slightly at her adorable fidgeting. 

That seemed to give her confidence, as she set her drink down and slid into the unaccompanied stool next to you. 

“Why didn’t the vampire attack Taylor Swift? She had bad blood.” 

You suppressed your snort at the terrible joke, hiding it behind a sip of your bad beer. 

“It’s more fun if you actually let me respond before you hit me with the punchline,” You smirked, thoroughly entertained by the pink starting to bloom on the defenders cheeks. 

“Oh, my bad.” Emily said, making an embarrassed face. “Sorry, I often tell dad jokes- most of the time he laughs!’

This time you did snort, the smile you were holding back finally cracking across your lips. 

“Just most of the time? Sounds to me like you need to get a better one,”

“Is that a challenge I hear?” Emily said, a wicked gleam in her eye. A terrible joke competition was right up her alley.

“Not at all. I could never compete with someone with your… particular skill set. You should be a magician because you just make girls disappear,” You wiggled your fingers, mimicking a magical motion. 

“Ouch,” Emily said, holding back giggles. 

“You could let me ice that burn as consolation,” You shrugged, also holding in a giggle. 

“Nah, I just need to wait a little for it to warm back up. You know what the hottest time of day is?”

“No, what?”

“Two- flirty!”

You cackled loudly, nearly throwing your head back. 

****

“Is the Ice Queen actually smiling?” Kelley asked, sliding into the booth beside Alex, passing a disgustingly fruity drink to her girlfriend. 

“It appears so,” Alex nodded, pushing the stupid mini unbrella out of her way to take a sip. 

Her eyes followed your laughing form, taking in how your eyes lit up, and the way you leaned closer to the blond defender. It wasn’t your typically cocky posture when you talked to girls, you seemed much more unguarded. 

“Who knew Junior had it in her. I never thought she’d work up the courage,” Kelley smirked over the edge of her drink. Emily’s crush on you wasn’t a secret (to the two of them at least), but they never dreamed Emily would actually make a move. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Y/n look at anyone like that.” Alex started thoughtfully. “Well maybe-”

“We don’t speak her name Alex,” Kelley interrupted with a glare. They didn’t talk about your previous relationship. It had nearly ruined you completely. 

Rose and Lindsey joined Alex and Kelley where they were standing, all four trying to hide the fact that they were staring at you and Emily together. 

“You enjoying the show too?” Rose said, shaking her head slightly as she watched. What the heck could you two be talking about? For a few seconds she saw you talk animatedly then - in unison with Emily - double over in laughter. 

“You know something about this that we don’t?” Alex asked, glancing at the two younger players. 

Rose and Lindsey exchanged a look. “Sonnett’s only over there because we made her,” Lindey said. 

“How?”

“Told her we’d rat her out to Vlatko for the snack incident last camp,” Rose shrugged. Revenge was best served with blackmail. 

“I didn’t know she had a soft side,” Lindsey said after a few minutes. 

“Only a few people actually get to see it,” Kelley shrugged. You were guarded but not heartless. It just took a special touch to break that cast iron shell. 

****

“Okay, okay. So I know a guy who's great at soccer but is super untidy.”

“You do?” You asked, biting your lip. You weren’t sure why you were suddenly nervous. 

“Yeah, he’s just a Messi guy!” Emily said, already laughing on the last word. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I think these are just getting worse,” 

“Oh come on, you were the one who told the one about a frog liking hoppy beer,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “I think that one was objectively worse.”

“Whatever you say cutie pie,” you said, leaning forward on your hand. You weren’t usually this interested in conversation. You were more of an… in and out kinda girl. But there was something about Emily that intrigued you. That pulled you in and made you want to know more about her than just her bedroom preferences. 

“Pie sounds so good right now,” Emily said sighing deeply. “I don’t even have a joke to go with that, I just like pie. Although I think I read one at some point for Pi day, I could google it…” 

“I don’t know any jokes either, but I do know a place pretty close to here if you wanted to ditch these losers,” You offered, picking idly at your napkin. 

“Losers? I didn’t know the men’s team was here!” Emily smirked. You didn’t know if she was blowing you off, or just completely missed what you were implying. 

“See that one was actually a good one. Those idiots wouldn’t know how to score if they were shooting at the broadside of a barn,” You shook your head. Half of the women’s team midfield had better finishing stats than all the men’s forwards. They were terrible. 

“Oh come on. They’re not that bad. At least 9% of them are keepers,” Emily laughed. “Well that’s their position anyway. But yes, I would love to go get some pie with you. Just don’t tell Dawn I broke my diet.” 

“No promises Princess,” You said standing, and holding out your hand to the woman. You kissed the back of her hand when she laced her fingers with yours, earning yourself another giggle. 

It made your heart flutter, and you just wanted more. 

“You sure you’re okay missing the end of the party?” Emily said hopefully, scanning as if to make sure no one would waylay you on your way out the door. The last thing she wanted was to get stopped by one of your parade of brunettes. 

“Better than okay. The word happiness might start with an H, but mine starts with U.” 

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #emily sonnett imagine #emily sonnett x reader #literalhedgehog

[qqueenofhades]

So like. What if there were a fic of Ivan and Fedyor falling in love? Just saying. Someone could write that...(and could that someone be you?!)

Fedyor Kaminsky is brought to the Little Palace when he is nine years old. Before that, he has lived his whole life in the place he was born: a small village about twenty miles southeast of Kribirsk. It is just close enough for him to be constantly aware of the Shadow Fold, looming like a thunderstorm on a hot summer day, and to know, also, the honor that it is when the examiners arrive, he receives a sharp prick in the arm, some sort of strange result takes place, and he is formally declared to be Grisha. His parents know it too, and are eager to tell him of it. They are not well off, and Fedyor is the sixth of seven children. The payment for their patriotic service will be welcome, and while his mother hugs him tightly and tells him to make the Saints proud, he feels, somehow, that they are not that grieved to see the back of him. He is the only child from his village that has been picked, and they all assemble to see him off. Just think. One of their own, in the Second Army.

Fedyor cries himself to sleep his first night in the dormitories, as most of the children do. But he wakes fully rested, hungry for breakfast, and eager to throw himself into his new life. He has a sunny temperament, a personable nature, that serves him well here, and any talented Grisha can climb high in the ranks, almost as high as the Black General himself. Back home, what did he have to look forward to, aside from the taunts and punches of his brothers, who always saw him as more like one of their sisters than one of them? He is learning things here. Religion and medicine and geography and history. And, of course, the arcane art of the Small Science, the one thing that binds these young people from all across Ravka. Their power, their responsibility, and their upcoming effort in the endless wars.

His first few years pass rather well, all things considered. When he is thirteen, it is officially declared that he will be taken onto the Order of Corporalniks, and – somewhat to everyone’s surprise, including his – he is best suited not as a Healer, but a Heartrender. It turns out that unassuming, smiling, friendly Fedyor, who knows everyone’s name and is always given an indulgent second portion of dessert from the doting canteen ladies, packs quite a punch.

It’s here where he first puts Ivan Sakharov on his back, and his whole life changes.

Fedyor and Ivan have known of each other, ever since they arrived in the same class of recruits. Ivan is a tough, taciturn northern boy from Chernast, skinny and scowling and always displeased about something, no matter what. Fedyor once saw him brood through the whole Winter Fete, and he has taken it as a professional challenge to get Ivan to smile. Once Fedyor plays a practical joke on him, to the awe of the entire dormitory, who would not dare to even imagine such things themselves. Ivan scowls at him like the Black Heretic himself, and stomps off to have his important life problems somewhere else. But now they’re both thirteen, Ivan is shooting up like a weed and channeling all that pent-up resentment into some really effective Heartrending, and Fedyor is regretting all his previous liberties. As they face each other and bow, thus to commence the duel on Botkin’s word, he thinks, Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.

Then he remembers that he’s the same Order, he has the same red kefta awaiting him when he finishes his trials, that he has as much right to be here as some tight-arse bastard from the frozen northern wastes, and that is why, thirty seconds after the duel has begun, Ivan is flat on his back and looking astonished. Everyone is applauding, and Fedyor feels somewhat confused. He strides over to his fallen adversary and offers him a hand. “Good job.”

Ivan glares at him, exquisitely sensitive to the possibility that he’s being mocked. “You’ll regret this, Kaminsky,” he says, low-voiced. “Mark my words.”

After that, for several months, Fedyor lives in terror of going anywhere in the Little Palace alone, lest Ivan suddenly leap out from behind a shrubbery and murder him. He and Ivan spar in their classes, in practice, in trying to outdo each other in Baghra’s ridiculous lessons, throwing all their effort into the sort of stupid, pointless rivalry that can only be maintained by teenage boys with too much pride and too little sense. They start to look for each other wherever they go, waste no opportunity to glare heatedly, and they are sixteen years old when Fedyor notices to his extreme vexation that during all this time spent staring at him until he has memorized his face, Ivan has gotten a little… handsome.

(What? No? Ivan? Horrifying.)

Fedyor himself isn’t exactly cursed in the face department, once a persistent bout of acne clears up. With his wavy hair, dark eyes, and easy smile, he provokes his fair share of sighs and pining among the female Corporalniks, but he is oddly uninterested in reciprocating their advances. Then he and Ivan get paired together on some training exercise that goes horribly wrong, they are trapped in the woods for hours until someone comes to find them, and with nothing else to do, they are forced to actually talk. Ivan has that northern chip on his shoulder that they all seem to, and probably started fighting Fjerdans when he was two years old, but what he says next takes Fedyor completely aback. “You’re… not that bad,” he says grudgingly. “You’re the only one who’s brave enough to actually talk to me, not just tiptoe like a mouse.”

“Well.” Fedyor throws a stick of wood at him. “Have you considered being less of a total grouch all the time?”

Ivan scoffs, lunges at him, and they end up wrestling in the leaf mold, an exercise that both of them enjoy a bit too much and take extreme care that the other not notice. By the time the search party from the Little Palace comes to retrieve them, they have forgotten all about being lost. In fact, as they were lying on the ground together, tangled up and panting and staring at the stars, Fedyor had the strangest thought that it was the best night of his life, and he doesn’t have a clue what he should make of that.

After that, an even stranger thing happens: they become friends. Well, sort of. Ivan maintains his default posture of appearing to hate everything and everyone, but Fedyor is the only person he tolerates, or allows to yank his chain in any way. And in turn, though Ivan Sakharov is the last person who would seem to need any kind of protection, the favor is returned. Once, when a city boy from Os Alta starts going on about how savage northerners are, staring pointedly at Ivan the whole time, Fedyor launches him halfway across the room. He gets in trouble, but it’s worth it. And they do undoubtedly work better together, Fedyor fighting right-handed and Ivan fighting left. They cover each other’s weak sides, learn to anticipate each other’s moves, and…

It’s a deeply inconvenient fact of life that when you are a Heartrender, and are exquisitely sensitive to pulse rates, you notice when yours starts going consistently haywire around certain people. Especially when, the year they turn eighteen, they are assigned to room together. The Little Palace is spacious, but not enough for every Grisha to have his or her own room, and since they’re no longer children, they’re not expected to share with the entire class. So Fedyor and Ivan end up in a garret room of their very own, and it is here, to his extreme consternation, that the next phase of Fedyor’s torment re: Ivan begins.

It is difficult to share a small room with Ivan and not want to look at him, and unless he is much mistaken, Ivan always seems to be concentrating a little too hard on his books whenever Fedyor is changing clothes. Fedyor is self-aware enough by this point to know that he prefers men, but he has absolutely no idea as to Ivan. Do they do this sort of thing in Chernast, or does it distract from arm-wrestling bears and shooting drüskelle? Ivan is so constantly unwilling to admit any kind of weakness or effeminacy that Fedyor figures gloomily he’s just doomed to suffer in silence. Naturally.

Except then both of them start rejecting any other romantic overtures, and they even go to the Summer Fete dance together, and Fedyor is taken aback when Zoya Nazyalensky asks bluntly the next day, “So, you and Ivan? Really?”

“What?” Fedyor is aware that Zoya and Ivan cordially hate each other, though she and Fedyor have always gotten on. “We’re not – Zoya, it’s not like that!”

He pauses.

“At least,” he adds guiltily. “It’s not like that as far as we’ve said?”

Zoya gives him a look silently agreeing that for the sake of their friendship, they will never mention Fedyor’s terrible taste in men again, though that doesn’t mean she has to like it. As for her, she’s pining after Kirigan, as almost all Grisha do at some point. Fedyor did so himself – the Black General is gorgeous, all right, shoot him – but he cares about nothing except finding the mythical Sun Summoner and engaging in a busy schedule of brooding even more intense than Ivan’s. Ivan, for that matter, seems to have struck it off with him, as Kirigan always values talent, and Fedyor has to fight down an unbecoming surge of jealousy. It’s not like they’re something. Not really.

(Though not for lack of wanting.)

After that, an even stranger thing happens, which is that people start assuming that Fedyor and Ivan are, in fact, a couple. Fedyor gets asked how his boyfriend is doing (sometimes sardonically, sometimes in a tone that turns genuinely surprised when he hastens to correct them) and he minds it less and less. Of course, for his part, Ivan is utterly oblivious. They’re sitting in a sunny hallway one day, Ivan tolerantly letting Fedyor play with his hair (though he keeps it military-short and it’s not like there’s that much of it) when Genya Safin walks by, glances at them archly, and says, “You know, Ivan, you’re much nicer now that you’re going out with him.”

Ivan turns such a deep shade of purple that Fedyor’s afraid he’s going to blow a gasket. “What?!” he splutters. “We are not – we are not – we are not going out! Never! I don’t – what are you talking – I don’t even like him!”

Fedyor’s lip quivers, despite himself. “Come on,” he says, failing to make it entirely lighthearted, wounded deeper than he wants to admit. “You don’t mean that, right?”

Ivan turns to him, flustered. “No,” he says convulsively. “Don’t look sad. Don’t look at me like that. Shh. Of course I like you.”

Fedyor brightens.

Genya gives them an obnoxiously knowing look and walks away.

By now, they’re twenty-one, old enough to be properly deployed as soldiers to the front, and Fedyor can’t help but thinking about where Ivan is, what he’s doing, if he’s all right, whenever they’re apart. He doesn’t like it, it feels wrong and unnatural, they always did better side by side anyway. Finally, they both get back to the Little Palace after a grueling campaign of many months away, Ivan against the Fjerdans and Fedyor against the Shu Han. They see each other, and it’s like lightning, rooting them to the ground. They’re dusty, dirty, banged up, bruised and bloody, but they know as a simple truth, beyond any doubt or questioning, that Fedyor will be coming to Ivan’s room tonight, and that Ivan will sit up and wait for him.

And that, therefore, is what happens. Fedyor can barely concentrate on washing up and fetching supper because he is so fixated on the knowledge of what’s coming later. He goes through the motions, barely hears his friends, barely tastes what he’s eating. He scarcely manages to wait until it’s dark. Then he gets up, slips through the corridors – they no longer bunk together, but he knows the way – and reaches the door. Fights a final attack of nerves, about how long he’s been waiting and how it might go wrong – then knocks.

“It’s open,” Ivan calls from inside, his voice dark with wanting. Of course it is.

Fedyor steps inside, and looks at him. After all this time, it feels like he should make a speech, have something more grand to say, or perhaps even an I-told-you-so. He doesn’t get around to any of that. He can’t stand it. Instead he shucks his kefta in a quick, practiced movement. Runs across the room, and climbs, claws, into Ivan’s arms.

Their kiss is rough and wet and wild, mouths open, teeth dragging, tongues scraping, trying to get as close as they possibly can, and then closer. Ivan’s hands, deft and eager, rough with calluses, spread across Fedyor’s arms and shoulders, the neat muscled column of his torso. “You should have let me do that,” he scolds between kisses, evidently referring to the business of undressing Fedyor. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

“You’ve been waiting long enough – ?!” Fedyor Kaminsky really does love this man, but Saints help him, he is dense. “You could have said something!”

Ivan looks at him with pure wickedness in his eyes. “I thought I just did.”

Fedyor groans, grabs Ivan’s head to kiss him again, and they roll down onto the covers together, tearing at the remaining clothes in their way. It’s raw and agonized and real, this coming together, this needing, this consummation and completion, and afterward, as Fedyor lies gasping on Ivan’s chest and Ivan sleepily strokes his hair with a tenderness that seems totally inconceivable to anyone who has met him at literally any other moment, Fedyor knows, in some way, he will never truly leave this room again. That he’s here. Home.

(Later, Fedyor finds out that Ivan actually asked his boss for help with his romantic quandary, and Kirigan’s advice was evidently so terrible that Ivan decided to just give up and go for it with Fedyor rather than trying that again. Even if Aleksander Kirigan is the Black General, the Shadow Summoner, the most powerful Grisha in the world, Ivan does not intend to let him forget it. They are all fortunate that Aleksander thinks it’s funny.)

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #henchmen deserve happiness too okay #<<is my tag for them #oops now i ship it #mearcatsreturns #ask

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2022 #17: In which Cameron is in the minority in her family

(by me!) 

[CN: food and major spoilers for season 1 of Halt and Catch Fire]

It’s the summer of 2017 and Cameron is baffled, bemused, and ultimately (secretly) endeared by Donna and Haley’s new obsession: a cable drama about a deeply dysfunctional family of career criminals that is quickly approaching the end of its second season. Donna dvrs each episode, and then Haley comes over on the weekend with bags of greasy take out and/or fast food so that they can retreat to the couch, watch their show, and then discuss it at length over dessert. 

Cameron doesn’t like the show, but she joins them anyway. There is literally nowhere she’d rather be than watching her favorite people get overly invested in something, even (especially?) if it’s something that appears to be highly questionable. “Really?!” Cameron needles them, hamburger in hand. “This is what we’re into, now? Emotionally stunted grown men who rob high end stores and boats for their bank robber mommie dearest?”

“She’s not a mommie dearest, she is a MILF,” Donna sniffs, reaching for a french fry. “And she has a son who’s gay, who is obviously our favorite. We relate.”

“Um, one, she’s not a MILF, she’s deranged, let’s start there,” Cameron argues, “and Gay Son is a self-hating rageaholic who is clearly terrified of his mom, what do you even mean you ‘relate’ to them?!”

They bicker through the rest of the commercial (Donna is too distracted to fast-forward through it) until Haley interrupts them, “It’s back on!” Soon, they’re watching the gay son have sex with a tertiary male character that was introduced early in the season, but Cameron can’t remember what his name is. 

A silence that Cameron finds slightly awkward settles over the room, but neither Donna nor Haley seems to feel any discomfort. “Ugh,” Donna sighs. “Don’t you love it when men are gay and hot?” 

Haley nods in agreement as she sips her milkshake, and then says, “It’s wild, isn’t it, how straight male character who is supposedly good-looking is totally uninteresting, even when he’s having sex with a hot woman, but a gay guy? I wanna know everything single detail of his tragic backstory, and then I wanna take him on a hike and give him a pep talk about how he should be proud of who he is. It’s like, I could fix him - with mlm-wlw solidarity!”

Cameron shoots them both an incredulous sideways look. “Are we sure that the you two are the lesbians and that I’m the only one here who is a so-termed ‘chaotic bisexual’ who experiences attraction to men?”

“I beg your non-lesbian pardon!” Donna huffs, throwing a crumpled napkin at Cameron. “I’ll have you know that what I really like about him is his long hair and the muscles! He’s like a hot woman with long hair and muscles!” 

Cameron strains to not laugh directly at Donna, and Haley deadpans, “Honestly, with all the moping and pining he does for his gay guy best friend that he used to sleep with he might as well be a lesbian.”

“Yes, exactly, thank you! At least someone here gets me,” Donna says, pouting at Cameron.

“Totally,” Haley nods. “Gay shipping, it knows no gender bounds. It’s kind of beautiful, if you think about it.”

“Right,” Cameron smirks. “Beautiful.” She gets up to go to the kitchen for more food, and over her shoulder she says, “I don’t know, I’m just still stuck on the whole ‘we rob banks and ruin peoples lives’ thing.”

“Oh, like you didn’t already basically rob a bank to finance a computer!” Donna shouts.

“Wait, what?” Haley interrupts again, bewildered.

“Oh, not like a real robbery with guns,” Donna explains calmly, “she hacked the company’s account to move some funds around, that sort of thing.”

“Oh. Okay,” Haley nods.

From the kitchen, Cameron bellows, “That was technically Bos, and he served his time and paid his debt to society, as you well know!”

Haley looks at Donna, who says, “I’ll explain after we finish this.” Then she calls toward the kitchen, “Should I pause this until you come back? Or is it so offensive to you strict moral code that you’re okay with missing some of it?”

After a second, Cameron responds, “Could you pause it? And also maybe rewind it if there was any more gay sex?”

With a smug grin, Donna lifts the remote. “That’s what I thought.”

#watched seasons 1 & 2 of animal kingdom (another show from halt's first showrunner!) and this is how i'm coping with it #also watched the old guard and feel like hot gay couple nicky and joe merit a mention here #anyways your reminder that cameron howe robbed a bank #happy sunday bbys! to us and to the housewife star trek shippers who invented slash #femslash february #femslash february 2022 #fic #fan fiction #cameron howe #donna clark #donna emerson #haley clark

[madamewriterofwrongs]

Soft Eddie thought: the first time he mentions Buck in passing as 'my husband' and then all of a sudden it hits him for the first time that, holy shit, he has a *husband*! And either tears up a little or can't stop smiling.

Hey Nonny, I hope you see this, I know it’s been awhile. 

Subconsciously Drawn Together

911/Buddie

Eddie would never call what he feels a crush – after all, he’s a grown adult who hasn’t had a crush on anyone since Jenny Rodriguez broke his heart in eighth grade by picking Eugene as her lab partner instead of him. (Coincidentally, they are both married to someone named Makayla and neither of them lived outside of Texas for more than a few months).

He always thought that would be him. Not, married to Jenny or Eugene (or either Makayla for that matter), but there was a part of him that knew he was destined to live a quiet life. Marriage, children, maybe a dog and a white picket fence if they wanted to be really cliched. And he was okay with that – he really was. For Eddie, there was no other life than the one laid out for him.

Going to war didn’t change that. A poor country boy joining the military to provide for his pregnant wife back home? Even pulp fiction novelists thought it was too obvious. But, again, he never minded living an uninteresting life. Not everyone was destined for adventure and drama. Most people were made to get through the day.

Even when the nightmares came and he struggled to keep his family together, it just seemed like the next chapter in his boring novelization of a life. Everyone had marital troubles after coming home, everyone had bad dreams and phantom pains. Everyone worried where the money would come from to support their family. Everyone snuck into their son’s room to watch him sleep because they were afraid to admit that they’d forgotten what he looked like while he was away. Everyone felt guilt and shame and fear and regret. It was a part of life.

And then his wife left and his parents offered to take Christopher and for one moment, the thought crossed his mind. Could he let his son go (be with people who could stay at home and give him the care he needed)? Could he forget about Shannon and move somewhere else? Could he start over (relive his 20s in the carefree manner he’d seen others struggling to find)? Could he run away again and make it stick this time?

By the end of the week, he and Christopher were packed into his truck and headed to Los Angeles.

It didn’t feel like running away when he was mumbling his way through the Frozen soundtrack or listening to his son talk about his old school’s pet turtle that he’ll miss (and wonder what kind of pets the kids in Los Angeles got to have). It didn’t feel like running away then. It felt like they were running towards something.

Running towards a new life, of sorts, as it turned out. Sure, he still dealt with his parents’ criticism, and Shannon came back into their lives and for a moment, it felt like she’d never left him. But in LA, he had a purpose, he had freedom. For the first time in a long time, Eddie looked forward to opening his door in the mornings; for the first time in a long time, he never knew exactly what to expect, and LA was full of surprises.

The biggest surprise of all was named Evan Buckley.

Buck was a lot of things: a friend, a skilled firefighter, endearingly enthusiastic, subtle as a brick, and the first person outside of his real family that he called ‘family’ and truly meant it. He loved the men and women he served with in Afghanistan, but the moment they departed at the airport, he lost that connection. Joining the 118 had been a way to get that back and it had worked out fantastically. He had sports fanatics to cheer with, parents of blended families to vent with, people who knew his past and loved him despite it all.

Eddie never told anyone (except his therapist who never commented on it, but made a face that said they’d circle back to it at a later date), but he felt as though he’d known Buck for years. Once the man opened up to him, the trust he felt was strong, and the way he took an instant affection to Christopher made it easy to let this man into his life.

Within less than a year of joining the LA Fire Department however, his world imploded.

Or exploded, actually. First Shannon died, then Buck was injured, then his son was nearly taken by a natural disaster and he didn’t even know it. He spent so much time after that trying to put the pieces back together. For all the things he’d assumed his life would be – a wife and kid and a white picket fence – the only thing he had left was a son now dealing with immense trauma for such a young child to handle. And he had Buck (who was so bright and eager to please that one might describe him as a puppy at times). Nothing of his life had turned out the way it was meant to.

Suddenly, a year had passed since Shannon’s death and his life was still an unrecognizable sort of decagon shape instead of the standard cookie cutter circle. But none of that mattered because he was staring into bright brown eyes and a luminescent smile that was telling him that he was doing a wonderful job of raising Christopher on his own.

Others had been trying to tell him that for years (never the ones whose opinion meant to world to him, but he was learning to let that go) but that beautiful face was so sincere that he forgot himself. He forgot that he was a widow with a grieving son. He forgot the fear and regret that went along with the phantom pains when the weather turned cold. He forgot that he had failed in his ambition to live an entirely ordinary life. For a moment he thought: ‘when she smiles at me, I feel happy’.

He wanted to feel that way again.

There were several reasons that things just wouldn’t work out with Ana. For one: she was Christopher’s teacher, and even if it wasn’t against the rules, it still felt wrong. Two: he’d seen the moment she thought differently about him after he yelled at her at school. She was too professional and kind to say anything but even if it was possible, she was definitely no longer interested. The third reason was that he was a firefighter who worked insane hours and when he wasn’t at work, he was home with his son. There wasn’t exactly a lot of time for dating. Fourth: she wasn’t Buck.

That thought had been the one that kept him up at night. It had come to him while he stood in the shower, recounting his day, wondering how long he had until it would be time to pick up Christopher from school. He wasn’t feeling overly ambitious so he figured spaghetti and meatballs would be perfect for supper. He wondered what it would be like to cook for someone who wasn’t ten years old. Someone he could cook beside without having to keep a constant eye. There were times (in the early days with Shannon) where the two of them would cook together, do laundry, clean, do all the domestic things side by side. She had been insistent that they both learn to care for the house that they shared and he was happy to stand beside her in all things.

Remember to throw Buck’s gym clothes in the laundry next time he comes over. He keeps forgetting to throw them in his basket.

A simple little thought, really. He’d thought it before. His friend would leave his gym bag by the door for work and forget to empty it out when he went to do laundry. It was unlikely that anyone other than Eddie noticed the state of Buck’s clothes, but he’d been paying closer attention to him lately. Like how after the train derailment, his smile seemed easier; his shoulders relaxed more often – especially when he was with the 118 or Christopher. Buck seemed happy now that he’d gotten his closure from Abby.

He deserves to be happy. He makes me feel happy.

Buck did make him feel happy. The way he interacted with Christopher, the way he entrusted his son to this man without a second thought. But even when Christopher wasn’t around, Eddie enjoyed Buck’s company. Going to baseball games (dragging him, more like), sitting together when the crew went out for drinks after work. With Buck, he felt…

Safe.

Which wasn’t surprising, really. Buck was a kind man. Sweet and thoughtful. He put other’s first – just like Eddie does, he could hear Frank’s voice in his mind – and cared deeply about the people in his life. Not to mention, he was physically a very strong figure. In some other life, he and Buck met on the wrestling circuit but never fought. Him: with his MMA, and Buck: with his Greco-Roman Wrestling. With those broad shoulders and firm arms, he wouldn’t mind being pulled into a stronghold once or twice.

He knew Buck was conventionally attractive from the day they met. There was no hiding the sharp blue eyes or curly blond hair and rounded jaw.

Nothing like Ana.

Another correct statement that still seemed ominous in context. Why was he comparing Buck to Ana – or Shannon, for that matter? It wasn’t fair to compare friends to lovers. Although, Buck did fit into several categories on both sides.

Buck was a loyal friend, caring and trustworthy. He made Eddie and Christopher feel safe and loved. He wanted to do Buck’s laundry. He thought he was attractive. Slowly, one side of the column began to build in size.

Perhaps Buck was a bigger part of Eddie’s life than he realized. He hadn’t thought seriously about dating anyone until Ana and that never felt right but Buck…

Buck always felt right. Like he belonged with them. Like he’d known them all his life.

Could it be that Eddie wanted something other than friendship? Had he been climbing the wrong ladder all this time only to find himself at the top with no way across? After all: Buck had never given any indication that he was romantically interested in Eddie.

Though, to be fair, Eddie had given no indication either.

But that was because he’d just figured it out. Surely Buck had some idea that best friends didn’t act the way they did. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t interested, in any way, with Eddie. Could he forget it and go back to the way things were? Now that his fingers seemed to tingle with the new realization, could he take it back? Could he put those feelings in a box until someone else came along?

Would there be anyone else?

What did he want to happen with Buck?

Kissing him, for starters, might be interesting. Those plump, pink lips exploring his entire body. Having someone in his bed every night would be nice – and not just anyone, but someone who understood his work and the stressors of the day. If anyone was going to stand by his side while he freaked out about Christopher going on his first date, it should be Buck. Next to Eddie, that man was the most protective when it came to that little boy. He’d only seen it once or twice but Eddie knew that Buck looked good in a suit. Would he look even better in a tux? Years from now, when he retired from the LAFD, it would be nice to feel the weight of a ring on his finger, knowing he had someone he loved waiting at home.

Oh.

Oh damn.

Eddie’s shower ran a little bit longer than expected that day.

That simple thought had sent him on a spiral two weeks ago and every night that he struggled to fall asleep, he found himself rolling to the empty side of the bed, wondering what it would be like to wake up next to his best friend.

The conclusion he inevitably came to: it would be wonderful.

If the worlds aligned, of course. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about his sudden, escalating realization (not even Frank). There was no way to know if Buck reciprocated his feelings in any way. Though he knew with uncanny certainty that he would be safe to confess his feelings without fear of losing his relationship entirely, it still seemed safer to gather more information before making any sort of move.

I’m safe with Buck no matter what.

So, no. Eddie would not describe what he felt for Buck as a simple ‘crush’.

It was everything.

------------------------------

The accident scene was a mess. It always was. They so rarely rolled up on an event that was neatly organized – not that it would make him any less stressed or worried for the safety of his patients. It was his job to worry, to be surrounded by chaos. Perhaps that was his new normal now, and his idea of an ordinary life had shifted to one that involved heavier boots.

There was still a sense of satisfaction and ease, knowing that he got to go home to his son every night, that he was helping people, and there were people in his life who loved and supported him. Unlike his old army mates (as strong as those relationships were), he also knew that if he woke up and decided to be a baker instead of a firefighter, the 118 would still treat him as one of their own.

Perhaps ‘baker’ wasn’t the best example, baking had never been one of his favourite activities. A florist, or a construction worker, maybe. Firefighting meant a lot to him but it wasn’t his calling – the way it was for his… for Buck. How would the man react if one day, Eddie told him that they would no longer be partners in work? There was no doubt in his mind that Buck would still be over on Thursday nights with pizza and video games. And perhaps if Eddie was working more regular hours, he could go over to Buck’s on occasion and make dinner for the three of them. That would be a nice surprise. Buck would smile that impossibly bright smile and open his arms to Christopher, swinging the boy around gently because he was overly cautious about roughhousing with him – something that only made Eddie’s heart beat faster. Then, Buck would make his way over to Eddie and kiss him with a sort of reverence; like he can’t quite believe that Eddie’s real. He could rest assured that the feeling was mutual.

What a ridiculously outdated fantasy. He’d clearly grown up watching too much ‘I Love Lucy’.

The firefighter shook his head as he hopped out of the truck, turning his thoughts towards the work at hand.

That was something he’d always been good at: focus and calm under pressure. It was what had made becoming a firefighter so appealing. Sure, being a combat medic meant he was more than qualified for field rescues, but all that stoic strength he possessed was better used at work rather than at home. At home, he could be Christopher’s dad. At work, he was Firefighter Diaz.

There was no room for fantasies in Firefighter Diaz’s mind.

The chaos of the accident mostly consisted of cries of pain from passengers trapped in their vehicles as they tried in vain to free themselves before the qualified company could arrive. It wasn’t uncommon to come across a major pile up in the middle of the day, when Angelenos weren’t kept at a complete standstill, and impatient drivers were a staple of life in the LAFD.

Eddie took his orders from Bobby, clearing a path of bystanders for the heavy equipment, and assisting those who were stuck somewhere between freeing themselves and receiving a particularly crude hemicorporectomy. For all the noise, it was a relatively calm affair. Sure, some were screaming and crying – and one woman definitely threw a fit when told to climb out the passenger-side window of her shattered vehicle. But those in need of help received the assistance they required, and the worst injury they encountered was a broken rib and neck bruise from a young man who remained conscious throughout his entire extraction.

It was messy, it was chaotic, it was loud, but it was all right. There were still a few people with minor concussions and bloody wounds that could hopefully be tended to at the scene (most of them unwilling to take the ambulance ride if it wasn’t strictly necessary). He was admittedly a little hyper-focused today, his mind fighting the urge to wander away from its regular duties. Eddie chided himself for feeling so lovesick at work. He’d gone all this time loving Buck, he could handle a few more hours. It was that hyper focus which would be his undoing.

“All right, I think you’re going to be just fine. Head on over to my husband over there and he’ll get you some gauze for your arm.”

An innocent enough sentence – one that didn’t register in his mind through the haze of moving from one patient to the next – but one that only fed into that dangerous fantasy of his.

“What did you call Buck?”

And one that Chimney had apparently heard loud and clear.

Eddie blinked, as he kept his eyes trained on the man before him (some poor bystander who’d bumped his head when he’d stumbled backwards to avoid the oncoming collisions), determined to remain professional in the face of his own idiocy.

Clicking his penlight on with a little too much enthusiasm, he shook the device over his patient’s face. “Can you look up, sir?” Eddie felt his coworker’s eyes trained on him but he kept his focus on his work. As he continued his examination, Chimney crept closer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and amusement but still, the ex-soldier remained stoic as ever. Some part of Eddie knew that ignoring his friend now would only lead to a confrontation later but right now, he had work to do. And dividing his attention between his duty and his teasing friends was not how he wanted to spend his afternoon. So, he stayed focused. After a few moments, he saw Chimney shake his head and move away, letting Eddie take a much-needed breath of relief.

He was safe from his own stupid brain. For now.

Eddie knew it was coming when Chimney let him be during the rest of their scene cleanup. It was inevitable; but knowing and experiencing were two entirely separate matters.

“So.” Chimney wore what could only be described as a ‘shit-eating grin’ as he began his sentence, pulling all eyes in the back of the truck to him. “Is there something that Buck and Eddie would like to tell us?”

Buck, innocent as ever, turned to Eddie for guidance. “No…?” Eddie could only stare out the window, sorely tempted to remove his headphones if only to prolong the inevitable conversation. Was he blushing or was his face simply burning from the inside out?

“Are you sure?” The man was unrelenting, his voice growing higher with his escalating amusement. As if giving them a chance to confess would be easier than Chimney spilling the truth.

Not that there was any truth to confess. There was just one, very, very, idiotic man who got one simple crush and couldn’t keep it in his pants.

“Chim, what’s going on?”

There were two options Eddie faced in this moment where his head filled with warning sirens (not dissimilar to the ones that normally filled the truck). He could come clean and confess his sins to the team, facing the consequences with what meager amount of dignity he had left. Or, he could lie and pretend Chimney had misheard him, and they could all go about their day. That seemed the safer option. Of course, he hated lying to his team – to his friends – but what was the alternative?

“I called Buck my husband at the scene.”

Apparently, the alternative was exclaiming his idiocy in front of his teammates and denying the flash of a smile on his partner’s face. It was a simple upturn twitch of his lip, hardly noticeable, but the only opinion that mattered to Eddie as he gave his confession was from the man sitting across from him – and he was decidedly attuned to Buck’s ever-changing expressions. On a normal day, he enjoyed the way their knees bumped as the truck bounced through the streets of Los Angeles; it was just another reminder of how connected they were. Now, it made the space between them feel too close – yet still not close enough.

Buck’s face, upon hearing the news that Eddie had tied them together in the mind of some random stranger, flickered once before falling to something neutral and curious (almost amused). As if he was studying something.

“Oh, I don’t mind.” His partner shrugged and Eddie’s heart stopped. “Were they hitting on you?”

Again, Eddie appeared at a crossroads. “No.” And chose the more embarrassingly honest answer.

“Were they hitting on me?”

“No.” So many forks in his path but he continued to veer in one direction, as Buck furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Then why did you”

“I don’t know.” Eddie tried to sound casual as he grumblingly cut him off before he could continue his innocent interrogation. Through the headset, he could hear Chimney snort in disbelief but his eyes remained solely locked on his partner.

He knew why Chimney might scoff at his dismissal – those type of slipups didn’t ‘just happen’, after all – but it was as close to the truth as he could muster. He didn’t know why he’d said what he said. His mind was still frazzled from long hours contemplating what he wanted and what he felt.

Apparently, his subconscious had taken over and now he had his answer.

An answer which was decidedly too large to attempt to unpack while he was still on duty.

He wanted Buck to be his husband. He was ready to get married again – and to his best friend, no less. All wonderful information to process at another time.

The rest of the trip back to the station was filled with noise: the roar of the engine, the shout of the horn when someone inevitably cut them off, the clank of metal against metal. Eddie’s head was silent. He stared out the window at the passing world, feeling the eyes of his partner drilling into his cheek for a time, and then return to his phone. No one spoke, but the absence of voice was deafening. Teasing or pestering would have been better than the juxtaposing silence that told him everyone knew what he’d meant.

Buck had given him every out for his little mistake and, instead, Eddie had barreled straight into his own demise. There was no other explanation as to why he’d said what he said: he’d meant it. Or wanted to mean it, rather. Sure, his dirty little secret had been outed, but Buck had yet to make a comment one way or the other.

I don’t mind.

One friend helping out another: that was what it meant to Buck. And he loved that. But there was no mistaking now what Eddie felt in his heart.

He wanted it to mean something else.

Climbing out of the truck at the end of their journey was harder than usual. The silent stares wouldn’t stop because they were back at the station, it would only be worsened by the fact that there was nothing else to focus on. Eddie never prayed for a call – and he still wouldn’t now – but if there was any mercy in the world, he could avoid all of his friends and co-workers for the rest of their shift.

Simple enough.

“Hey.” Eddie cursed at the familiar voice following him towards the cubbies. Naturally, they were alone, naturally, there was no real excuse to leave – and apparently, he’d decided to suppress his ability to tell white lies for the sake of his pride today – naturally, his heart pounded behind his eyelids as Buck stopped jogging in front of him.

“I just want to say…” and here came the inevitable turndown Eddie dreaded and secretly hoped would never come. “It’s okay, I get it.” Buck’s smile was small but sincere. That man couldn’t be anything less than sincere.

It’s one of the reasons why I lo-

“It was just a slip of the tongue,” Eddie cut off his own thoughts before they betrayed him the way his subconscious had. He needed at least some of his faculties to survive the day. “Don’t worry about it.”

He stepped to the side, intending to escape his own personal hell – was it always this hot in the station? Did they always stand so close to one another? How had he never realized his feelings before now? – but Buck blocked his path.

“No, really, it’s fine.” Was Buck blushing now? “I kind of think of you as my work-husband, too.”

Another perfect opportunity for an out. He could flounder excuses about being tired and meaning it in a work-related setting the way Buck implied.

“Right.” His words sounded weak to his own ears. Who knew what they sounded like to Buck, as the man finally let him pass. Freedom secured, Eddie quickened his pace so as to escape the curious eyes of his fellow crewmates as quickly as possible.

Or at least, that was the plan, until Buck called out: “But you know, I’m free tonight if you wanted to talk about it.”

It felt as though the world stopped spinning – but the distant sound of clanking cutlery from the loft reminded him that it had not. His stomach dropped into his shoes, and his skin burst into flames from the buzzing in his ears. Eddie pivoted on his heel slowly to face his partner, uncertain he’d even heard the words he’d said. But there was Buck, blushing as brightly as he felt, but smiling a much more lopsided grin.

“Talk about what?” He cautiously asked.

Buck moved first, filling the minimal space Eddie had put between them with his broad chest and bright, eager eyes. He smelled of smoke and pine (despite interacting with neither today) and a thin sheen of sweat made him appear more disheveled than perhaps he was. Had he always been so intoxicating? What were they talking about?

“About being husbands… outside of work.”

“What?” Now Eddie was certain that he’d misheard his friend.

Buck simply smirked in response to his question, eyes moving slowly over Eddie’s face. He was always examining, questioning, confident. He had been doomed from the start.

“Christopher’s in bed at eight, right?”

“We’re pushing it to eight-thirty.” His mouth moved on autopilot, too stunned to comprehend the sudden shift in subject.

Again, Buck’s blue eyes circled his face slowly, absorbing all Eddie’s focus as he felt himself physically affected from the mere sight of his partner with his knowing grin and wandering eye. So entranced was he, that he didn’t notice how closely the other man had leaned into his space until he felt his hot breath against his skin. Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat.

He was absolutely doomed.

When Buck spoke, his tongue danced along his teeth, an enticing show of some unfulfilled fantasy that had never occurred to Eddie in the first place.

“Then I’ll be there at eight-thirty-one.”

Buck’s flirtatious demeanor melted into a giddy smile that snapped through the tension he’d pulled between them. “I was a little- a lot worried you didn’t feel the same.” He confessed, still filling Eddie’s space with his infectious energy. One word from him, and Eddie melted.

“You…were…” No more words filled his mind beyond a string of victorious swears and the sound of panicked cheering, but Buck seemed to understand him nonetheless. Buck had always understood him.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with using the truck to keep his legs underneath him, he would have turned to see Buck walk away, pumping his fist in excitement. As it was, several crewmembers looked on from the balcony, shaking their heads at the pair of idiots acting like lovesick teenagers over a single date.

Chimney shooed them all away before taking the opportunity to shout: “Buck, tell your husband that lunch is ready.” Which earned him more than a few chuckles from the firefighters upstairs, and two overexaggerated groans from the men below.

They were definitely not going to be living this down for a while.

For once, Eddie didn’t mind – and if the grin plastered on Buck’s face for the rest of the shift was any indication, neither did he.

#cj writes things #911 fox #911 on fox #911 fic #911 fan fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie fic #friends to fiances #introspection #pining

[taehyungsbabyygirl]

Socialità

Chapter 1

Genres: Light fluff, tinge of romance and wholesome(?)

Warning(s): The littlest bit of sexual tension if you squint

----------

Fortune, fame, beauty.

Those are the things that people had associated you with.

Who does not know Y/F/N Y/L/N? You're basically in every magazine cover, every Youtube thumbnail and news headline. Surpassing Kylie Jenner as quote unquote The World's Richest Young Businesswoman and even beating Ariana Grande as the most followed female influencer on Instagram.

Who really are you? Well, to explain it simply to people who are unaware of you, your businesses and socialite status, you are the owner of a multi-billion dollar brand.

What started with a small online business at 16 which sells nightwear for women with affordable, cheap prices had bloomed into a luxury brand known for their elegant, classy clothing line, ranging from lingerie to formal clothing such as glamorous dresses to charming suits and tuxedos for both men and women.

The brand name? After years of rebranding, it's finally official that the name is, Socialità. Fitting with your brand's target market which were rich socialites from across the globe. Of course there was a reason for that, considering that the materials were high quality, imported ones such as satin and silk from Japan, Egyptian cotton, and French lace, also the designing and productions team who were amongst the best in the art of fashion and exclusivity of everything that was made under the brand, without a doubt would result in a higher cost of production and simultaneously a higher price for the merchandise itself.

And all this success did not come easy, there were countless times when you wanted to hideaway and give up on everything you had invested on. At the age of 28, you finally got to where you are now, thriving with the business that you had built with your own bare hands from the confines of your own bedroom.

But, there was one thing that you were lacking in, the love department. Although you were pretty much well-known by youngsters to elders alike, luck does not seem to be on your side when it comes to romantic relationships. It's not that you weren't romantic or sweet enough, gosh you are a hopeless romantic actually, but you just somehow fall for the wrong person, time and time again.

All the people you had dated once you established a name in the fashion world were either self-centered jerks or gold-digging leeches who were only there for the fame and riches. It's as if you had dated way more men than Taylor Swift ever had, except, you don't call these people out in songs.

Aside from owning a lavish clothing brand and billions to your name, having to work with socialite circles, had granted you the socialite status too. You'd be lying if you say that no rich bachelor had tried to flirt around with you but, your previous horrible experiences with dating as a successful businesswoman made you put your guard up and in the end turning you into the most sought after bachelorette of the 21st century.

-----

"What??? The Bachelorette?? Gosh guys, that would be a horrible idea." You shook your head, swirling the red wine in your glass before sipping on it.

It was a normal weekend evening for you and your peers aka your personal management team which consisted of Selma, Carrie, Lulu, Trey and Giovanni. Sitting in the dining room of your enormous mansion in Calabasas while drinking cheap wine and munching on Cheeto Puffs.

You just finished ranting about how you are so unlucky in love and that you're almost turning 30, without being cuffed to someone. In your opinion, people in their late 20s had already met that person and having good balance in their work, social and love lives but you're here having a nonexistent love life instead.

Tired of constantly listening to the same rants over and over again, Giovanni proposed that you put yourself in a controversial yet exciting TV show, The Bachelorette.

"Girllll you should give The Bachelorette a try, I mean I know that the show is basically scripted but it seems exciting, no?" Giovanni chirped.

"Oh my god yasssss! I'd have the time of my life if I'm surrounded by a dozen of good-looking hunks!" Carrie joined in and daydreamed.

You snorted and put your glass down on the marble surface of the table.

"Yeah but the men on there are usually insincere and only in it for their 60 seconds of fame and the winner of the show is probably just motivated by money. What difference does it make with me going to a private party or nightclub and getting to know dudes there?" You retorted; brow raising to your two friends.

"Sis, the difference is, these men would have to submit a form regarding their background and audition for the show! If you want, we could even be your reps during the audition. We know who are the best people for you!" Selma answered your rhetorical question while pouring herself another glass of wine. She's your PA and bestie so she knew how to reply with the same energy as yours.

Sighing deeply with your fingers pinching your nose bridge, you thought once, twice, thrice and made your decision. Well, what's the worst that could happen right?

"Fine, fine! I'm in with the idea. But if this thing goes south, I.Am.Out." The dominant businesswoman persona in you presented herself whilst the others, especially Giovanni, cheered upon your agreement with their idea.

-----

After months of preparations for your big reality TV debut, it was finally the day for the first week of The Bachelorette. Although you're the one being the prize and the one being chased, you felt uneasy and nervous to meet the men who had passed the auditions to become contestants.

"Don't worry! Me and Giovanni made sure that we only let the best ones pass the audition. And when I say the best ones, I meant, socialites, doctors, businessmen and even kinsmen of royalty!"

"Only the best for our QUEEN!"

Those were the words that came out of Selma and Gio's mouths. Thankfully you have these reliable people to help filter through the applicants of the program. If you gave the show's producers 100% control over who comes in and comes out of the show, it'll be a hot mess and they'd probably choose the men based on their looks and bulkiness but not necessarily the brains and skills.

Throughout the audition process, all of the men's background and names were kept a secret from you by Selma and Gio, it'll be a surprise, they said and you trusted them with it.

Sitting at the back of a limousine alone, you started to fidget with the dangling diamond of your earring subconsciously; a habit that you developed whenever you had cold feet.

The vehicle was heading towards the villa where the first meeting would happen between you, the bachelorette and your suitors.

You and the production team had discussed about how the first meeting would be. You thought that the idea of having to stand in front of the villa's front door while the men arrive in limos were quite cringy and not to mention time-consuming and unnatural so you proposed the idea of having the men arrive in a first come first serve basis and sit in numbered rooms in the villa while awaiting you. In that way, you could see who was punctual and who was late. But the catch is, the contestants only have 5 minutes to chat up with you and leave a good first impression.

-----

Alas, you finally reached the villa and stepped out of the automobile. Your dress was a satin, rosé coloured one with a modified A-line, basque waist and halter neckline; glamorous yet not over the top, suitable for a socialite like you.

Not wasting any time, once the cameras started rolling, you entered the ginormous villa and headed upstairs to the rooms, knocking the door gently before entering the space.

The first man you met was Kim Namjoon, he introduced himself as an engineer, a sound engineer. He was confident from the get go and eloquent too.

"Hmm an engineer ay?" You propped your head with the palm of your hand; leaning against the couch's back pillows.

"Yeah.. My family insisted I do that. I wanted to be a musician at first, and that's why I took up sound engineering now." He gave out a dimple smile which you couldn't help but grin at. They're adorable.

You liked his presence and how outspoken he was but sadly the 5 minutes were before you knew it.

Next, you met up with a gentleman named Im Jaebum. A winery owner. He gave you a warm hug from the first time you entered the room.

"I heard that you're a wine conoisseur yourself Y/N? I'd love to take you to Napa Valley where my winery is. I'm sure we'll have a blast there." He smiled and acted a bit smug.

"That sounds like a plan.. I'm not a person who would say no to wine." You replied with a light wink, returning the smugness to him.

Continuing on, after Jaebum, you entered a room which looked bigger than the previous two you'd been in.

By the big window, there was a man with broad shoulders who introduced himself as Kim Seokjin, as he turned around, he greeted you and pecked your hand.

"Nice to meet you I'm Kim Seokjin, just call me Jin." He smiled softly, inviting you to sit down next to him.

"Nice to meet you too Jin.. So what do you do?" You asked carefully; quite intrigued by how good-looking he is with the slicked back hairstyle he has.

"Well I'm a professor of English and Korean Literature. Probably one of the most uninteresting jobs among the other guys." He timidly admitted; being quite humble.

You immediately disagreed with his statement, telling him that literature components are fascinating and that educating people about it is a magnificent job.

Afterwards you conversed with a man named Park Jinyoung. He was also extremely dashing and he's a car dealer. But not just any car, the ones he sells are top brands such a Lamborghini, Maserati, Tesla and Ferrari.

"My job is amazing. Good money, good image, but there was something missing and I think we both could relate to that, we both are looking for love." He half-bragged which didn't really impress you but you agreed nonetheless.

As you politely excused yourself to move on to the next room, where the man was leaning back and scrolling through his phone. Fair skin and contrasting ebony coloured hair.

This guy gave off a cold vibe to you but that made you even more intrigued to get to know him.

"Hi..." You sat on the couch with him and he gave a small smile as he put his phone the side.

"Min Yoongi.. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand out to shake yours. A pretty formal greeting despite the consequences you two were in at the moment.

You two kept the conversation going by talking about your jobs and background. Everything you asked, he answered in all honestly and you liked that. The push-and-pull game was a fun one to play but with Yoongi, the small talk you had was chill and relaxed, the most natural one you had the whole night.

Up next was a kind looking male, taller than Yoongi who seem to be nervous about meeting you for the first time.

"Hello!" You greeted him with a bright smile to ease his anxiousness.

"Hi, hi.. I'm Mark Tuan. I'm an artist.." He abruptly greeted you back.

"Ooh! Like musically or..?" You tilted your head.

"Visually.. I draw and paint."

You led the conversation with the man since he looked very hesitant and awkward the whole time.

The next room had a bubbly and energetic man who was basically radiating good vibes as you entered the room. His name was Jung Hoseok. As you peeked into the room, he immediately walked towards you and gave you tight bear hug with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"Well besides my job as a paediatric specialist, I also enjoy dancing. Do you like to dance?" He jumped off the seat and proceeded to pull you up with him to playfully salsa. His actions made you laugh happily.

"You're so spontaneous!" You hit his chest lightly, still laughing at you guys' actions.

After the exciting interaction between you and Hoseok, you had to calm down and lower your expectations again after it skyrocketed because of the doctor earlier.

That's when you met a muscular man, if Hoseok earlier had radiated good boy vibes, this one radiated bad boy vibes.

He was Jackson Wang, a well-known socialite who is the heir of Wang Co. Ltd. A company which sells electronics such as smartphones, tablets and computers.

"Hello.." You said softly, slightly intimidated by the man's comparably bigger size to you.

"Hello, pretty lady." He took your hand in his and kissed it just like Jin had but his way of executing it was different. The male kissed each of your knuckle and it got you culture shocked.

"Oh wow.. Okay.." You laughed awkwardly as you looked at the man kiss your hand.

The conversation went well with him despite you noticing that he was practically staring at your with those deep brown eyes while you spoke about yourself to him.

The sexual tension was there and you were hoping, praying that the next man would tone down a bit and let you relax, thankfully custom jeweler, Park Jimin did.

"I'm a jeweler.. And can I just say, I adore these diamonds. You have remarkable taste." He proceeded to run his hand gently through the diamond earring you were wearing.

"Thank you! And I absolutely adore this choker you have on.." You reciprocated his action which made him smile softly.

Next up was the room of a private jet pilot named Choi Youngjae.

"Nice to meet you Y/N! I hope we could create good memories here. I'd love to bring you on a helicopter and show you the aerial view of California." He mused but you're not entirely impressed but acted as if you were in order to not hurt his feelings.

"Aww I'd like that. The view must be amazing!" You cringed at your own words but smart enough to mask it.

Hmm, you foresee someone who's potentially going to go home first in this show. His words lacked personality and character and not well thought.

Come on, you obviously had rode a helicopter and saw the aerial view of California. You ride it to work whenever the traffic is congested. He could at least thought of another country or state but instead he settled with Cali, the state where you are based in.

Disappointed, you moved on to the next room, surprisingly, the atmosphere was different, the area was dimly lit and the man sitting on the chair had his legs spread.

"Hi.." He spoke with a deep, low voice that caused you to bite your lip.

"Hello.." You smiled amidst the tense situation, making your way towards him.

"Kim Taehyung.. Fashion designer and owner of TH Couture." He answered without you asking.

The male was quite blunt but his demeanor was alluring. There was a mysterious aura circling him, totally someone to keep an eye on. The conversation was as intense as Jackson's but the two of you had the same interest which was fashion so you didn't feel as awkward as when you were with Jackson.

After Taehyung, it is down to three more people, you were already losing momentum and excitement as you already had spoken to 11 men that night. Before entering the next room, you took a deep breathe and loosen up your shoulders.

In the room was a man, he looked the most different, he had a lengthy name, a Thai one.

"Kunpimook Bhuwakul, but just call me Bam Bam.. I know my name's quite long and I'm also more comfy with Bam Bam.." He bowed to you like a gentleman and smiled handsomely at you.

"That's an adorable name! Bam Bam huh?" You sat down and grinned at the latter.

"You think so? You're adorable-er" He winked at you and caught you off-guard.

As the five minutes of jokes and flirty pickup lines ended, you bid farewell to the Thai man, little did you know that the person you just talked to was related to the Thai royal family.

Entering the 2nd last room, there was a tall man, looking around the well-furnished room but as soon as you came in, his attention diverted to you.

He greeted you with enthusiasm, introducing himself as Kim Yugyeom, an app developer and gaming streamer.

"Gosh you're pretty." He said straight-forwardly while smiling brightly and hugging you snugly.

"And GOSH you're tall!" You replied with those words and the same smile as what he had on his face. At this rate, reciprocation is really your best friend when you don't know how to react or reply to a certain remark from the suitors.

You talked about the apps Yugyeom had developed and the variations amazed you. He had created tons of apps such as games, workout apps, e-commerce platforms, online stores and sorts. But when he started talking about games, you began to lose interest in the chatter. Games weren't your strongest suit but you were happy that he is passionate about them and sharing it with you.

Finally! The last room! Which meant that this person is the last person to arrive to the villa. You wonder who this latecomer is and when you got into the area, your eyes widened.

Jeon Jungkook? He was somebody you had worked with and still actively working with. He is the person in charge of the photography and videography for Socialità and seeing him on The Bachelorette is a huge surprise.

"Wait.. JK?" You didn't know how to react.

"Hey! There's my girl!" He walked towards you with his bunny smile and gave you a hug. You couldn't believe that this was happening, Selma and Gio must've put him in to pull a prank on you.

"One question. Why?" You laughed in disbelief.

"Can't a man try?" He questioned back cheekily.

You two continued the conversation casually without any awkwardness as the two of you had known each other already. That was when you got to know that he had taken a liking on you ever since you two started working together. Everything he told you had sounded sincere so far.

-----

After the first meetings were over, all the men were put in the lounge to get to know each other's competition while you were interviewed by the crew regarding your first impressions of all of your suitors.

"Well everyone was pleasant. But there were a few who didn't pass my vibe check. I guess we just gotta see how it goes." You gave an ambiguous answer to the camera.

"Who do you think caught your eyes the most?" Henry, the producer asked.

"Hmm.. I don't want to seem bias, I mean this is the 1st episode after all but... Hoseok was fun to be around.. Jackson came off very strong. And well Jungkook too of course!"

"You seem to know him.." The producer stated.

"Yes yes.. We actually work together.. I didn't know that he'd want to participate in this show too." You shrugged and flashed a pearly white smile.

"Do you see anyone who might be going home soon?"

"Oof.. That's a dangerous question. That'd probably be ..."

To be continued (3 March, 12 AM, KST)

Author's note: Sorry for the delay guys! I underestimated the length of this chapter but I hope you guys like it! Don't forget to like and reblog this to show support! Also follow so you don't miss out on updates! This chapter is more of an introductory chapter so we'll be seeing more action and interaction between Y/N and de boyzzz.

Who do you think would be eliminated first?

Tagging @aretha170

#bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #rm x reader #taehyung x reader #v x reader #jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #suga x reader #bts ot7 #ot7 x reader #jimin x reader #bts #got7 x reader #jackson x reader #jaebum x reader #bambam x reader #jinyoung x reader #yugyeom x reader #youngjae x reader #mark x reader #bts x reader #kpop fic #jb x reader #jackson smut

[aurathian]

thank you so much for the tag @zelink-prompts !! the prompt here was ball/masquerade so this is what i came up with :) hope you enjoy!

Masquerade

Princess Zelda adjusted her necklace to lay flat across her collarbone and stared down the door in front of her. Tall, dignified, royal. Just like the man she was dreading to see that night. He was egotistical, full of it, vain, and they’d been sworn enemies since the day they met when he stepped on her foot while dancing. Yet, a part of her couldn’t help but feel something—admiration? Infatuation? Attraction? She couldn’t pin a name to how she felt when she saw him, and she certainly didn’t want to.

The doors creaked open and she tried her best to look uninterested and bored. The meaner she looked, the less men that asked to dance with her. That was how she preferred it. Because of that, she was overjoyed that this time around, the ball was a masquerade, but she was disappointed at how tiny and ineffective the masks were. A glance around the room and she instantly knew who everyone was, despite what was supposed to disguise them.

Making her way across the dance floor to a table, she happily accepted a glass of champagne from a passing servant. She drummed her fingers on the clothed surface and took a sip when a man came up to her, just another suitor, and asked for her hand in dance. It was painfully obvious that everyone could tell who everyone was but, for the sake of not offending the king who’d organized the ball, they feigned ignorance. The suitor had even stuttered her name before correcting himself.

She danced with many men like that that night, all of whom she knew. They were different princes from the many different kingdoms surrounding Hyrule, each one seeking her hand and, ultimately, her kingdom’s bountiful resources. She resolved that she would never marry any of them.

She locked eyes with him, however, from across the room, and she hastily went back to sipping her drink when he began to stride over to her. She only noticed that she’d downed her glass when he was about halfway to her, and she began to try and blend into the crowd. She weaved in and out of people, her own personal waltz, politely greeting them as she passed. Eventually, she lost sight of him and exhaled.

She turned around and her eyes met his—Prince Link’s.

“Oh, excuse me, sir, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, eyes downcast.

“Nothing to be sorry for, milady.” He spoke smoothly, almost seductively, each word carefully laced together, and his eyes sparkled behind his mask. It was a glittering mix of grey and black, shaped much like the snout of a wolf and embellished with stunning blue crystals. She tilted her head in question. “It was my intention to run into you.”

“I see.” She pursed her lips.

“I like your mask,” he offered, a hand reaching out to graze it before he withdrew it, just a hair’s breadth away. She longed to have that hand caress her cheek.

What? No, she didn’t. How silly.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she replied cordially. She felt stiff and locked in place, but she wanted so badly to turn around and leg it out of the ballroom. Instead, she reached up to her mask where his hand had meant to touch, feeling along the golden gems embedded into the white fabric.

“Perhaps we could have a dance?” he asked as he held out his arm to her. She glanced between his arm and his eyes, which glinted mischievously. He smirked and she inhaled deeply.

He was enjoying this, she knew. Watching her squirm uncomfortably, her eyes darting around, restraining herself from saying the snarky remarks she could only say in private. He reveled in their rivalry, and so did she, but each encounter with the prince caused her stomach to flutter. He was dangerous.

“Of course,” she said at last, placing her hand on his arm and walking out to the dance floor with him. They swayed carefully to the music played by the orchestra and Zelda did her best to avoid eye contact.

“You know, milady, these masks are useless,” the prince whispered in her ear. “I know exactly who you are.” His grip tightened on her hands as they spun and glided across the floor.

“D-do you now?” she gulped, refusing to look at his covered face.

The Princess Zelda had to agree with him that the masks put to use for the masquerade ball were, as he put it, useless. She could tell who he was, because his eyes were too blue to ever be hidden and his sharp jawline was one of his main features that she often caught herself staring at.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of agreement, though. “I think they’re quite effective,” she commented before he twirled her in time with the music. “I have not a clue as to who you could be.”

She watched as he licked his lips and chuckled. “Really?” he drawled. “Not by my stunning good looks, my charisma, my movements?”

“Not at all.”

“You’re lying to me, Princess.”

Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. “Tell me why I should ever give you the satisfaction of being right,” she hissed back. “You’re already conceited as it is; why should I fuel that even more?”

He hummed in pretend thought and grinned. “I like being right,” he answered.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m never going to prove that you are.”

“Same ol’ stubborn Zelda,” he sighed. “You never change.”

“Would you prefer if I did?” she snipped back. “‘Oh, Sir Link, please take me away and ravish me! You’re so handsome I can’t even behold it!’ Just like how the court ladies would say it, yes?”

He cringed. “I never said I wanted that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“Using such undignified peasant language at a royal ball, are we?”

“You have an odd obsession with catching me slip up,” she told him. “One would think you are in love with me.” She smirked. He always seemed to tense up at the idea of loving, or merely liking, anyone.

Suddenly, he pulled her close to his chest, and her face was unbearably close to his, blue eyes piercing into hers.

“And what if I am?” he said, voice deep and hushed. Her eyes widened in shock. He was never this bold.

“W-well, you’re not, clearly.” She pushed away. “A lover would not be so cruel to me as you are.”

“Cruel? Please,” he scoffed. “Someone so cruel to you would never think of flirting with you, now would they?”

“Flirting? But— ow!”

He stepped on her shoe.

“Why, you…!”

She broke free from his grip and glared at him intensely, her fists balling at her sides. Link chuckled as he grabbed the hand of some poor maiden nearby.

“Oh, it appears I am being whisked away for a dance! So long, milady. Hopefully we can chat again!” He waved at her as he dragged the random woman off, but not before giving Zelda one last wink.

As she sat down at a chair along the wall to massage her hurting foot, she wondered why she felt more butterflies than pain.

#zelink #loz #zelda #link #the legend of zelda #fanfiction #botw #tp #loz tp #loz botw #this can be any game you want really #but i imagine twilight princess the most here #also i’m totally obsessed with enemies to lovers ballroom scenes #my writing

[floralkittygambler]

Hello there @hey-erikafebri-blog​, I’m typing this as a response as it appears you’ve either blocked me or deleted the post. Angel is 35, Husk is 75. I never said Husk was creepy at all - you did. Though the video was a joke post amongst friends, it does have some weight to it. Allow me to explain: Had Husk and Angel been real human beings, this is how it would look - an old man with a younger person. However the video also shows her to be rather... Spoilt in some aspects, and much of the time focused on her rather than him. Jay makes the comments about their interactions best - perhaps you should watch it? Now some people make the age comment without knowledge on how age gaps in relationships have impact. Jay again briefly touches on this in terms of compatibility, relatability, life goals, interests, etc - theres a lot more that goes into a relationship that what many fans think. In fact, looking through the IG comments, Husk gets quite some shit if he insults or disagrees with Angel by fans. He wants his money back? Fans think hes awful. He tells Angel to fuck off when he’s being sexually harassed (like in your banner)? Fans tell him he’s just mean and ‘tsundere’. I personally know people like Husk and Angel, enough to know their romantic compatibility is low as well as how creepy Angel people can be. It appears you have overlooked this. Whether you like to admit it or not, Angel does sexually harass Husk - he never accepts no off him and even has a candid photo of him on the wall like Husk is some boy band crush. Whether you like it or not, it’s creepy. It’s disgusting. Angel does NOT respect Husk’s boundaries. I could go on but I’ve already made a post on how it’s a toxic ship as well as gives impressionable fans a bad idea of a healthy relationship as well as feeds into the toxic stereotype of gay men forcing uninterested men into sex. Husk’s body language around Angel is even uncomfortable and turned away, whereas with Niffty he’s relaxed.  Now, people are entitled to ship what they like but with LIMITS. When something is clearly toxic, it’s deeply unsettling for those with similar traumas. If you wish to ship it, I cant stop you HOWEVER you should still consider the impact it has. Normally, I would let this be as a different opinion HOWEVER your tags are antagonistic and immature - THAT needs addressing. Like Viv, you seem unable to accept criticism even to the point of a simple joke being offensive and rather than starting a mature debate, you become hostile and seem to have deleted the post or blocked me. If it’s the latter, then you are an example of Viv’s influence on other’s behaviours - you cannot and should not get away with being hateful and hiding like a coward. It is fans like YOU who give everyone else in the fandom a shit rep. You are no better than Viv. If you wanted an ‘actual argument’ you would ask and I could link you to my post on it. That’s a public cover up to make you seem far more mature and better than you are.

“Shut the fuck up challenge” how... Mature- I neednt say more on that one, just allow it to simmer. The age argument has concrete real world science to why most times it fails. Viv wants her HH world to be more realistic - she said so herself. Yet this is far from that, as well as indulges in a rather toxic relationship. The age gap itself is actually the surface level reason - again, we could have had a mature discussion had you left the window open on that. As for grasping straws, again re-read this post again. 

The fact you display such hostility, sarcasm ‘lmao’ and are willing to reblog without any means for me to access it says an awful lot about you. If you’ve kept up the reblog and blocked me, then you are willing to showcase MYSELF for harassment over a joke and knowing very little on my reasoning outside this joke post whilst you are free to hide. You - much like Viv - seem to find comfort in avoiding consequences and accountability to your own actions. If you’ve blocked me, you are intentionally showing bias to make yourself seem far more open and agreeable than you are. Interesting how you are actively engaging in harassment and bullying this way. With your hostility, there is no means for me to counter with my side. It isn’t a fair debate.

Overall, I ask that people do NOT harass this person nor bully. I am showcasing her as an example of how the fandom often responds and behaves. The side that most see. The side that puts people off this fandom entirely. She is an example of how not to behave. And this I will make clear. Again, DO NOT HARASS OR BULLY HER. Learn from this, be better people.

Just proof that I personally account access the post as well as that I have not blocked them.

#Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #anti huskerdust sorry folks #HuskerDust #hostility within fandoms #toxic is toxic

[mindibindi]

Its the writers that's racist not the fans!

If you're speaking of Ted Lasso, I wouldn't say that the writers are racist but there is a credible case to be made that the writing of Sam Obisanya draws on some black stereotypes that are best left in the past. (That said, I have also seen credible arguments to the contrary). But yes, if you wished to make the argument that there is a flaw in the writing of the character of Sam, then that critique needs to be directed at the writers and creators of the show rather than at the fans. For better or worse, Sam is written as a sweet, naive, young man. Fans of the show who read him this way are simply reading him as he is written. Reading him as written is not a racist act, even this portrayal has a problematic element.

Truth is, this show has always had a problem with representation. At its core, both on and off screen, it is white, het, cis, male and middle-class. It has some great female characters and does some nice work with the representation of female friendships. But percentage-wise, the women are a v small minority. There are NO people of colour in the main cast; they are ALL peripheral, marginal. And as for queer, trans or non-binary folk, they do not exist at all in this universe. With the diversification offered by streaming services, I have certainly gotten used to seeing a more diverse cast on my television screen. The showrunners have made a slight effort with s2 to correct this imbalance by adding Ashley Nicole Black to the writing staff and Sarah Niles to the cast. And I admit that I, along with many others, was happy to overlook this issue (and others) because I was so charmed by the first season. I was also genuinely surprised by the underlying ethos of a show produced by a bunch of pasty, middle-aged comedy dudes. The sensibility was kind, progressive and inclusive, even if the creative process was less than diverse. This is why I have been so disappointed by the show's recent turn. Because I was blindsided by this show. It should not have worked. And I definitely didn't think it would work for me. But I signed up for a show that challenges and undoes. Not one that repeats and cements. I cannot tell you how uninterested I am in a show in which pasty, middle-aged comedy dudes just do what's always been done. Lord help us!

So I'm not sure if these critiques of Sam's character are arising now because the second season has proved a little less charming than the first. This supposed infantilisation of Sam has been consistent throughout both seasons but it only seems to have become an issue for fans recently with the (asinine) twist in the bantr plot. And now, somehow the infantilisation of a black male character is being used to defend a relationship between a young player and his much older boss in which there are multiple levels of glaring inequality. I don't quite see how this logic works. As you say, Anon, if there is a flaw in the writing of Sam's character, that cannot be blamed on fans who are simply viewing him as he is written (i.e. young). But even if we recognise that there may be a flaw in how this character is written, that does not automatically entitle him to a deeply inappropriate relationship with a woman over 25 years his senior. The logic just does not track: Sam's character draws on problematic black stereotypes therefore he should be in a relationship with Rebecca and it is racist for anyone to point out the enormous age difference/power imbalance between them? Sorry, that's too great a cognitive leap for me. That's 2 + 3 = 9.

Also worth mentioning here is the character of Dani Rojas who has (apparently?) likewise been critiqued as an overgrown manchild (I mean, aren't all the players?). On this, I want to point out that Ted Lasso is an ensemble show. Everyone has to share screen time with everyone else. This season has done a great job of fleshing out some of the more minor characters, like Sam, Dani and Isaac. And I think Cristo Fernandez did a fab job of carrying the first episode of the season. But it's worth keeping in mind, in this particular case, that this guy is a former footballer on his first major TV series. They may be making judicial decisions about what he can and can't do (i.e. keeping his character simple, light and close to his true self). He is a relative newbie sharing the screen with a large cast of gifted and highly experienced actors who also need screentime. And I do not expect him to give as nuanced a performance as, for instance, someone like Hannah Waddingham, who gave such a stellar performance in s1 even if she's been given little to do in s2 but simper over men. As with the character of Sam, I think there may be a legitimate argument regarding the infantilisation of Dani Rojas but I've not actually seen a detailed, coherent argument on either that aims it's critique where it belongs: not at the fans who watch the show but at the writers who write it.

#ted lasso #sam obisanya #rebecca welton #dani rojas #ask me a question and i write you an essay #the musings of an inveterate cynic

[drachenonthemoon]

To you, from my heart

Read on AO3

Warnings: Fade to black sex scene at the end, discussions of male elves being able to get pregnant

Aragorn had been planning this for a long time.

First, he had spoken to his sister. She, like many elleths, had dreamt of her wedding since childhood. To Aragorn, a little lost and quite overwhelmed, she seemed like the perfect person to talk to. Arwen had laughed at him, but she had agreed to help.

“There are so many things to consider!” He exclaimed throwing himself down upon her bed in a most dramatic fashion rather reminiscent of Legolas. Arwen giggled, sitting beside the now curled up form of Aragorn.

“You need not take this so seriously, Estel. Our little leaf loves you, I do not think you need to stress.” Aragorn rolled over.

“I know,” he mumbled into the pillow, voice muffled. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

Second, he had spoken to his brothers. They had known Legolas for a very long time and had been there to aid their father in Legolas’ birth. Elladan had laughed, then grew rather overprotective of Aragorn, and even more so over Legolas. Elrohir had laughed, then teased and teased. Aragorn had wanted to sink into the dirt. When the twins finally pulled themselves together, however, they were surprisingly helpful.

“Of course he will want to marry you, Estel!” Elladan cried. “Legolas loves you.” He grinned. “You have not seen the way he looks at you when you are not watching. Our little leafling is smitten.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone love another so deeply before you two,” Elrohir murmured. “‘Dan is right. He will say yes no matter how you do it. You need not worry so much.”

“I just want everything to be perfect.” Aragorn said again, feeling frustrated. He did not need his siblings to tell him Legolas loved him. He knew that. Elladan frowned.

“I have just had an unpleasant thought!” He announced, spinning wildly to face his younger brothers. “Estel, you will be king one day-”

“I know that, why is that so unpleasant-”

“- You will need an heir! At least one.” Aragorn’s blood ran cold. He knew this of course but hadn’t given it any active thought.

“There are, of course, elons who can bear children.” Elrohir said, trying to raise his spirits. “It is possible Legolas is one of those.” Aragorn sighed.

Legolas did not come to Imladris as often as Aragorn would like. He knew all too well the duties the young prince had, and why they meant his lover could not come. The weight of the crown was oftentimes crushing the young elf and Aragorn wished he could take that pain away, take the burden of royal duty for a short time.

And now it was Aragorn’s own royal duty that stood in their way. He felt sick. Sick through the dinner with his family and Legolas, sick throughout their walk in the garden, sick as they stumbled into Aragorn’s rooms, hands roaming roughly and panting into open-mouthed kisses.

They had done this dance several times before, and it had always ended early. Aragorn sighed internally, certain he knew where this was going. It did not bother him, per se. No, the idea of falling into bed with his lover at a time said lover was uninterested was horrible. He only wished Legolas would tell him before they got that far. They didn’t need to have sex. And yet Legolas always seemed to push for it, before pulling away. It was slightly concerning if Aragorn was honest with himself. Was there something wrong with him? Had something happened to Legolas? Was his elf trying to push himself into something he didn’t want and ultimately unable to go through with it?

As expected, Legolas pulled away as Aragorn’s hands reached his belt, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Aragorn stepped back, allowing the blonde room to do whatever he needed.

“I’m not- I don’t-” he looked away. “Can we just sleep?” Aragorn smiled, gently pulling Legolas back into his embrace.

“Of course, melleth.” He pressed a firm kiss to the elf’s left temple. “Would you like a bath?” Legolas nodded against his chest.

Later, as they were lying in bed Aragron’s thoughts drifted back to before. His mind was still consumed with the reality of needing heirs, and what that would do for their relationship. And he was also thinking of Legolas’ behaviour, how he always pulled away. The elf was on his side, curled in Aragorn’s arms, lithe back to the man’s broad chest. He hadn’t fallen asleep yet, at least not that Aragorn was aware.

“‘Las?”

“Hmm?” Not asleep.

“Can we talk?” Aragorn could feel his lover’s heart pick up beneath his palm, resting on the elf’s chest.

“Of course. What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Well, it’s just…” Aragorn trailed off. He hadn’t thought this through entirely, perhaps this conversation should have been held in the morning, when thoughts were planned out and he wasn’t half asleep. Oh well. There was no going back now.

“I love you, ‘Las. I want you to remember that. And I want you to know that there is nothing that you could do that could change that.” Legolas hummed, pressing back against Aragorn slightly. He tightened his arms. “I told you at the very beginning of our relationship, that you could always say no and everything would stop, no matter what we were doing. If it was sex or just having a picnic. And that remains true. You can always say no to me, ‘Las, and I will always listen.” Legolas was stiff beneath him, and Aragorn silently cursed himself.

“However, I have become a bit… concerned lately. You can always say no. And the thing is, you always do. ‘Las, if you don’t want to have sex, that is fine. We don’t have to have sex. Ever. I do not care. But this constant starting and stopping has me worried. You always look so upset when you pull away.” He tugged Legolas’ tense body up tighter against him. “Tell me what’s going on, Legolas. I’m worried about you my love. I don’t want you to be pushing yourself into something you don’t want to do.”

Legolas sighed. And for a while that was the only sound out of either of them. Aragorn held Legolas against him and pressed soft kisses into his hair as he waited for Legolas to gather his thoughts.

“It is not that I don’t want to have sex with you,” Legolas said. “Well, that is part of it. I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet.” He shifted, rolling over onto his back just enough to see Aragorn’s face. His eyes were wide and vulnerable, his features anxious. Aragorn smiled and gently kissed his forehead.

“That is more than fine, my love.”

“I- … You are aware, yes, that there are male elves who have the ability to, ah…” he trailed off, biting his lip and turning to tuck his face away, towards Aragorn’s shoulder.

“Bear children?” Aragorn guessed, heart pounding. Legolas nodds, pale hair rustling against the pillows.

“I am one of them.” Aragorn feels such relief through his body that he can’t help but sigh. For the second time that night, Legolas stiffens against him.

“I apologize for not telling you earlier, I understand should you no longer wish to-” Aragorn cuts him off with a gentle kiss.

“All night I have worried, and now my fears have been assuaged. I will be king one day, my love, and I will need an heir. I feared such a thing would be the end of our relationship.” Aragorn kisses Legolas again, who returns it with passion. “But you, melleth, are wonderful and I shall worry no more.” Legolas sighs against Aragorn’s chest, cuddling closer.

Aragorn had been planning this for a long time. It was many many years after that conversation that he proposed. Spontaneously, dropping to his knees in Thranduil’s office. Years and years of planning the perfect proposal thrown out in an instant, overcome with love and excitement.

The wedding takes three months to plan. They chose to hold the ceremony in Eryn Gaelen, in the same clearing Legolas’ parents were married. One of the few places left untouched by the sickness, the glade almost glows with the magic of the forest.

They decorate with dark reds and blues and golds to represent Aragorn’s family and soft greens and yellows and silver to represent Legolas’.

Lanterns decorate the space around them, strings strung across the trees. Many tables are set up for family and friends.

The night before the wedding, Legolas separates to spend the night with his father, going over their people’s traditions. Aragorn does the same, allowing his brothers and sister to give him teas and brush his hair with a special comb, vibrating with excitement.

The next morning he awakes, and dresses. Dark trousers and black boots. A deep blue undertunic with an embroidered red vest over top. Arwen does his hair, weaves a golden ribbon into a braid then pins it across the back of his head. The next two hours are breakfast and hurried last-minute preparations, and then it’s time to begin.

Guests take their seats. Gandalf had offered to be their officiant, he stood at the altar waiting for them. Aragorn took his place at the end of the aisle and waited for his groom to join him. And when he does, Aragorn’s breath is taken away.

Legolas is wearing a silver tunic and dark green trousers underneath a pale green robe. His hair is intricately braided, with silk green and silver ribbons woven through. His silver circlet, so rarely worn, rests on his head.

Legolas smiles, shy and full of love. Aragorn can’t help but grin back, reaching to take the elf’s hand in his. Together they walk down the aisle, past family and friends, reaching the altar before Gandalf.

The wizard speaks, but Aragorn tunes him out, unable to take his eyes and attention off Legolas before him. They go through the customs of both Rivendel and Green Wood. A sip of wine from the goblet, ribbons wrapped around their hands. Gandalf begins the chant and the elves around them join in. Aragorn can’t feel the rush of magic like Legolas can, but he still feels the difference in the air.

“And now, I pronounce you lawfully wedded in the eyes of men and elves. You may kiss your groom.”

Aragorn cradles Legolas’ cheek and pulls him into a searing kiss. Legolas wrapps both arms around Aragorn’s neck and kisses back fiercely. Happy tears are dripping down the elf’s cheeks, and Aragorn can feel the burn in his own eyes.

The hours that follow and filled with music and laughter and dancing. Aragorn doesn’t think he’s even been so happy. Legolas never leaves his side, laughing and smiling with delight. Late in the night they pull away from the part, to go back to their room.

Legolas leads the way, giggling and beaming. Their hands never part. He tugs Aragorn to the bed and the man follows willingly, kissing and shedding clothes as they go. He props himself up over Legolas, stroking a hand down his milky skin. The elf gasps beneath him, and pulls him into a kiss.

“Estel, melleth-nin,” Legolas pants. “I’m ready.” Aragorn grins, and moves his hands beneath the elf’s trousers.

He’s been planning this for a long time. And tonight is finally the most perfect night of their life.

#i finished this beast #that was supposed to be done a year ago #oops #but it's done #so that's great #for anyone who doesn't know i got my start in lotr lol #even tho i mostly post atla now #legolas #aragorn #legolas x aragorn #weddings

[concerningwolves]

I finished The Irregulars earlier this week and i was going to do a scattered, flippant bullet point “review” as i often do, but after stewing in my feelings about it for a few days i want to talk about this properly, actually.

Something I absolutely adored was the way people’s powers manifested / the way their monstrosity was directly connected to the monstrous things that had happened to them. The concept is that a rip has opened in the universe, which allows something to extend its power into our world. This power grants people supernatural abilities when they seek help by praying/asking spirit boards for guidance/seances etc. The in-world explanation for this is that the rip takes the darkest parts of people and brings those parts to the fore, thus making them do monstrous things. 

(I did feel like the show sometimes contradicted itself, one minute saying that when someone is made into a monster by the cruelty of the world they ought to be met with compassion, the next minute killing off these sympathetic monsters or subjecting them to cruel fates. The fact that Arthur Hilton, a man whose grief and trauma over the deaths of his wife and child drove him to abduct babies, was locked up in Bedlam in a windowless cell left a nasty taste in my mouth. I understand that they needed to have him there for Narrative Purposes, but after using the episode’s climax moment to reveal that this man is suffering – basically to tell us that he isn’t a monster, but someone who needs help – it felt very cheap to use him as a pawn for the plot instead of further exploring that sentiment.)

I’m a HUGE fan of the way the powers reflected the wielder, i.e., Clara (Ep. 4) was sexually abused and given syphilis, which took away her ability to have children. We learn as the episode unfolds that she’s obsessed with the idea of a family because she never had one of her own, and makes little taxidermy family scenes with dead animals. The syphilis made her hate herself and her own skin, so the rip granted her the ability to literally steal people’s faces and become them – an ability she then used to kill the men who abused her with the final goal of assuming the last man’s identity because he had a family. It was a really haunting exploration of monstrosity / what makes us monsters, and it made me go a bit feral with appreciation.

But when the credits of the last episode rolled, I just felt... dissatisfied. I was bitter at how although the casting was supposedly colour-blind, the main villain was a black man and the one “sympathetic monster” who gets killed off (Jean Gates / the Tooth Fairy) was a black woman, both with very dark skin. John Watson, meanwhile, is portrayed by a lighter-skinned POC and although he’s written as cruel, aggressive and threatening, he’s given the chance for a redemption while the Linen Man and Jean Gates get killed off. I’m not entirely comfortable talking about this aspect because i’m white and still very much learning about racist and colourist tropes, but I just kept thinking about the colourism and implicit bias in Bridgerton, and couldn’t help but feel that The Irregulars had fallen into the same or a similar trap? (If anyone has any more thoughts on this I’m happy to listen!)

I didn’t like the fact that the writers decided to acknowledge the homoerotic subtext in ACD’s Holmes canon by making John Watson manipulative and controlling, then justifying that as an act of his (unrequited) love for Sherlock. Like, it wouldn’t be so bad if there were other examples of queer love in the series (save for the one f/f couple at a fancy rich party), but when your only explicitly mlm named character is miserable, alone and pining for an oblivious/uninterested love interest – a love interest who is killed off, may I add – it’s Not Fun. Queer rep doesn’t have to be good and pure or whatever (NBC’s Hannibal, anyone?), but sure would be nice to have some positive representation first! It also seemed to me that John’s redemption was directly tied to him giving up his love for Sherlock, which I was in two minds about. On the one hand, it could be seen as him realising his love had become something deeply toxic and so he had to let Sherlock go (and that really excites me! Complex and angsty relationships are most delicious), but on the other hand it got very close to a Bury Your Gays moment so my feelings the entire time were just :/

Lastly I was super excited about Leopold because disabled character! But it seemed as if his disability just got put to one side unless it was relevant to character arcs and/or plot moments. His leg is absolutely fucked up from the first episode, but he abandons his cane? I did really appreciate the whole “you’re not broken” angle they took, though. I think it was a genuinely good-faith representation, it just didn’t quite hit the mark (which is how I felt about a lot of things in the show tbh, so... :shrugs:) 

To conclude this wall of text: monsters and the takes on monsters were very tasty, and the supernatural elements and worldbuilding filled me with glee; other bits like representation and narrative choices were dissatisfying. i am now tired and out of spoons, will probably come back and clarify this tomorrow.

#the irregulars #i uhhh idk what tag to sort this into #the hyperfixations tag #monsters & monstrosities