#ALL QUEERS MUST BE IN ATTENDANCE ALL WILL BE WELL

[luckyblackcatxiii]

It being pride month and the Sun Festival rapidly approaching our group in game, two lines of thinking crossed over into deranged territory in my mind.

Somehow this doesn't seem too out of character that he'd jump at the opportunity though (Happy pride y'all 🏳️‍🌈💕)

[luckthebard]

I think a huge problem I’m seeing in some attempts at meta with C3 is that there is a subset of viewers who do not understand the place, value, and meaning of real world religion. It breeds takes like “well throw the gods out! Who needs them! They caused characters and the world pain! Free Vax from the Raven Queen!”

I throw that last one in there because it is the most ridiculous yet frequent and is really the crux of the issue. Vax’s story is very much about faith and the importance of faith and devotion. If you place no value on that you’ll end up grossly misunderstanding the character and the nature of his tragedy.

I’m going to out myself as an atheist, but I think the issue with a lot of these takes are that they come from internet atheists who are either resentful of and hostile toward religion because of personal experiences or do not know any devout people in their lives who they respect and can empathize with. And while I am not trying to downplay the very real phenomenon of religious trauma, when healing from it it is crucial to realize that all spiritual traditions are not synonymous with the one that harmed you. I would really implore more people to explore why many good people find spiritual traditions and religion to be a source of solace, community, and meaning before writing off the idea wholesale as something only functioning as a means of power and control that people can be educated out of believing. I encourage you to branch out and here are some examples of things I’ve done to challenge my own judgement over the last ten years: read the writings of gay Catholics exploring the queerness of Jesus. Read some beautiful poetry written by a trans man who specializes in Anglican theology. Explore religious observances different from the ones you experienced and attend a Seder. Go if a coworker invites you to a celebration of Ganesh. Learn the significance of solstice celebrations because your coworker is officiating one for a Wiccan event. Break fast at sundown during Ramadan with in solidarity with your roommate.

Deciding that all fictional religion must be an allegory for a specific kind of toxic nationalistic prosperity gospel Christian cult found in America will only limit how you engage with both fiction and the real world. It took me a long time to get to this place about it and I hope I’ve put the spark of curiosity and not judgment into at least one person reading this.

[alaiis]

So I want to talk about the Olympic games opening ceremony.

Apparently it's been watched by 1 billion people around the world, so this spectacle promoting queer relationships, women and revolutionary ideals must show quite a progressive picture of France. The fact that so many fascists are crying over it must make it good, right? Right?

We saw statues of important women in the ceremony, like Simone Veil, Louise Michèle and others. I'd like to remind people that today, many of these women would be on the file compiling terrorists and potential terrorists. You know, like so many people who happen to be leftist activists and learned they would not be able to work for the Olympic games or attend them when they tried. For past acts of activism that date years and never resulted in convictions most of the time.

All around the ceremony, LVMH, that luxury brand, was everywhere. Bernard Arnault (currently richest man on earth) surely grabbed the spot for these games. What a great ad for his brand.

The ceremony, which was presented as a "street ceremony for the people" actually only included a few privileged people able to spend 2,000€. The city was empty. The city is empty.

They locked up kilometres and kilometres of the city, where only few can go. Paris is barricaded. Some hospitals have become inaccessible.

They sacked so many homeless people so that the tourists wouldn't see them. Who knows where they are now. They sacked students from their homes too, before even the end of exams. And when the police came and took their rooms, they complained about the housing conditions. Well that's how our students live all year, but that's not a problem then.

And then I could talk about the surveillance conditions, Macron's friendship with the worst world leaders, that they tried (and failed) to make the Seine swimmable by spending billions on it meanwhile people in the colonies over-sea regions still don't have drinkable water. I could speak about the work conditions, that most of the work was made with undocumented workers and so. Much. More.

But that would be a very long post.

So after seeing this opening ceremony and all the great, progressive messages it carried, what you need to remember is this.

France is a police state.

France is a classist country.

France almost elected the far-right to power less than a month ago, and the far-right is still more powerful than ever.

France is a queerphobic country. And a very, very transphobic country.

France is a racist country, where Arabs get murdered while barely making regional news.

France is nothing like what we showed.

That was propaganda at its finest.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

Mary Philbin (Phantom of the Opera, The Man Who Laughs)— I must simply say I love Mary Loretta Philbin. She was known for her, in the words of Wikipedia, ethereal screen presence. In fact, Pat O' Malley says it best, "If I were superstitious I would think that the spirit of some great tragedienne of a forgotten past slipped into Mary's soul when she heard the camera begin to click." I first saw her in the Phantom of the Opera adaptation of 1925, where she plays a very interesting rendition of Christine Daae (I would argue a foundational performance, since this was the first mainstream portrayal of the character outside of Gaston Leroux's 1910 book) opposite Lon Chaney as the title character, and I Loved her performance, and ofc developed a bit of a crush on her. After her years in Hollywood, she stopped acting in 1930 and lived the rest of her life in relative peace. One fact that always stuck with me was the fact that later in her life, she very rarely made public appearances, but did in fact do so in order to attend the Los Angeles opening of Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera. And if all that isn't enough to convince you, look at a photo of her. She is really, stunningly beautiful.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Marlene Dietrich:

ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face

its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies…. most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you.

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

Mary Philbin:

She is hot?

Shes just so cute

Mary Philbin started acting after winning a beauty contest hosted by Universal Pictures and went on to star in a number of films, including one of the most iconic silent horror films of her era, "the Phantom of the Opera". She also gave a sweet, heart-wrenching performance in "The Man Who Laughs" alongside Conrad Veidt.

[eepyfaggoth]

Job Opportunity in Boston

Hello! I'm a multiply disabled medically complex wheelchair user in greater boston who relies on caregivers and i am hiring! No experience necessary, just be resourceful, patient, covid cautious, dependable, and an enthusiastic learner. Especially looking for other fat people! Hoping for someone who drives but I am accessible via the T.

Turning to tumblr as a bit of a hail mary because i am having a really hard time finding someone who can do the job, show up, and also be normal to me as a fat disabled queer through local channels, and i have one worker now who comes as often as they can, but ive been without adequate support for a while. i would appreciate anyone and everyone who reblogs, to possibly get this in the eyes of someone who might be a good fit! welcoming advice as well!

I have the sweetest esa cat

Pay is 19$ an hour funded by masshealth, i have 30-35 hours available and you can work as many or as few of those as you want

Im still very much trying to figure out life with my disability and how to function and organize and communicate my needs and navigating what I'm emotionally able to accept help with, but in general I need help with housework, cooking, managing my medical care, pushing me in my manual wheelchair, sometimes help using a slide board, and I'm still trying to figure out what things look like on a daily basis. going places with or for me. helping me get in the car, helping me pack a backpack if i need to go somewhere. getting mail, helping clean and pick things up off the floor, organizing medical appointments, making phone calls, unpacking medical equipment. emptying a pee jar. Helping me manage/charge medical equipment. I have a hard time lifting my arms a lot because of really bad neck issues, and i have really limited stamina. Putting drinks in smaller bottles, taking packaging off things. I also kind of need help with dressing and bathing sometimes but I have a really hard time coping with that and so like. That happens when it happens and is what it is. I have some systems for washing my hair without actually getting in the shower. I have variable conditions so things might not be the same all the time, on a good day I might be able to sit up for a while and do tasks, on a bad day it's very hard to bring a drink to my lips.

There's no physically lifting my entire body, but I do need someone who can lift the 50lb largest piece of one my wheelchairs and standard everyday heavy stuff like groceries or boxes of protein shakes. And sometimes my limbs. There's also likely things like reaching and stooping, alas, I drop a lot of things on the floor. I have a lot of allergies and some tasks are more complicated than they otherwise might be, and Im really hoping to find someone who can pay attention to detail and is comfortable working through things slowly.

i have a lot of allergies so memory and attention to detail are important, as is a willingness to wash hands frequently. i have a disorder called mast cell activation syndrome and frankly the precautions i need to take feel absurd

covid precautions:

Masks required! I'm hoping to find someone who also takes other precautions.I also need someone to be careful about monitoring yourself and not coming in if you are sick with *anything* because I *will* get it and it *will* be a multiple week ordeal where I likely experience dangerous symptoms. must be able to test weekly and mask with a k/n95 while around me. ideally be someone who lives low risk (masks everywhere, doesnt attend crowded events / spaces, etc). cannot be someone with a high risk lifestyle (has kids in primary school, unmasked in food service areas regularly, etc) we can talk about my precautions too, right now i havent left my house in weeks, i have two way masking with my current pca, and occasionally an unmasked delivery person will come into my apartment though id like to work on solutions to this. i need to like. revamp my precautions. but i dont go anywhere without a mask, i only have unmasked contact with another person if someone comes into my apartment and i cant get to my mask, i am eating while my pca is here and they are masked, or when my also homebound and careful partner is visiting. if someone was working for me more than 25 hours a week and lived a very low risk life i might be open to having a bubble with them during non surge times with precautions like air filters?

i really try to create a calm and positive work environment, though i have complex and real needs and i've been struggling to survive for a long time and i am very overwhelmed. i care deeply about a humanizing workplace, and i am looking for someone who will care enough about my needs as a human being to take the job seriously even though i am as flexible as possible.

About me, in case that helps?

Fat genderfluid dyke. I'm on my third medical leave from college (like a champ!) but I study medical anthropology, disability studies, and linguistics. I don't get out much or do a lot right now because of my illness but i like fiber arts, music, I don't do tons because I spend most of my time in bed but im really passionate about mutual aid, it's been a a minute but I've been wanting to get back into d&d, I think the magicians is the greatest work of television ever written, and I've been trained as a clown and want to try stand up (well, sit down) comedy at some point. I'm a bit neurotic but very self aware. trying to sort out anticonsumerism in the context of my disability. i value creativity, resourcefulness, autonomy, and consent.

(if this went like really well, i am also potentially looking to apply for housing assistance with accommodation for a room for a live in aid, but probably in western mass. idk)

Gwen :) he/they

Message for details

[lamoobsessions]

Fortune for the Fools

Hazel Callahan x FemReader

Synopsis: After an underwhelming proverb from an underwhelming fortune teller at the county fair, you have an unexpected run-in with Hazel. When time passes and feelings prosper, you finally begin to believe that maybe that fortune was right after all.

A/N: Enjoy this prologue to a fic i'm working on, while I slowly hoist myself out of this writing slump. Each chapter will have a lyric from a song by a queer artist, so I hope you enjoy :)

Prologue: "My heart's out. My guard's down." - Body and Mind, Girl in Red

────────────

To you, everything about the ‘End of Summer Carnival’ was enchanting. The pop-up canopies glowing in the night like lamps. The game booths sounding obnoxious buzzers as the kids played them for cheap toys. The tall, flashing lights welcoming onlookers to their sketchy rides, which, to your dislike, capriciously shook as they sat in the dirt -They weren’t safe, anyone with half of a mind knew that, but anyone with a sliver of fun would ride them anyway. Even the smell of the event was kind of charming. Sure, there’s the frequent whiffs of vomit and B.O., but usually those smells drown in the overwhelming scent of funnel cake and sugar. All in all, there was a lot to love about the carnival. 

Like every year, you attend with Sylvie, whom you’ve known since… forever you think. You and her clicked. Maybe it was your reserved demeanor and her gregarious attitude that made things so easy. Many people found it shocking when they found out how close the two of you are, simply because you’re polar opposites. Either way, the two of you made quite the pair. 

However, at the moment you stand alone among the carnival’s rapture.

All is well though, you have a routine for this sort of thing. You start out with the games, then the rides, then get food, and finish the night off with a ride on the Ferris wheel. It’s a perfect system you discovered a couple of years ago, and it hasn’t failed you yet. The only downfall of this plan is that Sylvie isn’t big on the carnival games, so you’re often left on your own for the first half. Which, you don’t mind, it’s less competition for the prizes anyway. 

That’s how you’ve found yourself here, standing in front of an old vintage fortune-teller named ‘ZOLTAR.’

To your understanding, this is the first year the local carnival has had a fortune teller machine. The thing doesn’t even ask for one of your tickets, it only asks for a dollar. So, thinking it must be fate, you decide to try out your luck.

Inserting the money into the slot, a suspiciously long moment passes, a moment long enough for you to begin to think the thing must be broken, and you dollar just went to a waste. Yet, just as you were about to shake some life into the machine, a whimsical harp plays from the speaker, “Cheer up my friend, and listen to the proverb from Zoltar.”

The sudden, and unreasonably loud, audio makes you flinch.

“From small beginnings come great things.” The machine suggests. “Ah yes, and lucky for you the great Zoltar sees much happiness for you in the future. Go out and find it, but don’t run off too quickly, Zoltar has more to say for you.” 

A shuttering emanates from the ticket dispenser, as it pushes out a small yellow ticket. Pulling it from the slot you read the back of the card. 

It's all the same mumbo jumbo you'd expect from a fortune. 'Things are going to change soon… blah, blah, blah… Be brave in your choices… yadda, yadda, yadda.'

You huff a laugh looking down at the card. “great…” you mutter.

It’s truly is the same fortune-teller crap most people get, but you can’t help but to hope it’s true. What’s the harm in hoping, right?

However, after a few carnival games, this hope started to feel like bullshit. Firstly, your favorite game that’s here every year is gone, then you lose half your tickets gambling them away on some guessing game, then, at the time your supposed to meet Sylvie by the Ferris wheel, she’s a no show.  

‘Great happiness in your future, my ass’ you thought. 

At least you had enough cash left in your pocket to buy back the tickets you lost. But first, there was a fried Oreo stand practically calling your name with it's infectiously sweet aroma. 

Deciding to ditch Sylvie's meeting spot, you make your way to the concession stand and join the endless line.

Minutes pass and you’re finally close to the front, with the delicious smells of chocolate and sugar getting stronger and stronger with each step. Although, another minute passes, then another, then another, and the line has yet to move. Peering to the front, you see a girl fumbling in her wallet, a look of panic evident of her face. 

Even from a short distance, you’re sure you know who it is. Though, curious to see what’s going on, you listen in closer. 

“Ma’am you can’t pay with tickets, we only accept cash.” The woman behind the counter argues. 

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. It’s just that I promised some friends-”

“If you don’t have any cash, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the line.”

Looking into your wallet for extra cash, you notice you only have cash for your own fried Oreo and some more tickets. If you were to buy more from the concession stand, you'd have to give up on the possibility of buying extra tickets later.

But, being that it's the last night of the summer and your 'lucky fortune' can't seem to come true, you at least have the chance to bring happiness to someone else's future.

“Excuse me!” 

Both the woman behind the counter and Hazel turn to you. 

“I have extra cash if you…” you suggest. 

“Oh no, it’s…” Hazel dismisses, “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem, really. What were you going to get?” You ask, taking the money from your wallet, while making your way to the counter. 

Hazel stares at you, dumbfounded, seemingly unsure if she should accept the offer.

“She was getting two churros and a stick of cotton candy.” The cashier speaks up.

You nod and count the cash before handing it to her. “Can you add a fried Oreo to that order?”

The woman bobs her head while counting the cash and shoves it into the register. “We’ll have that right out for you.”

“Thanks,” You smile and make your way to the pick-up bar for the food. Hazel follows you hesitantly, presumably taken back by the interaction. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she comments.

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

As embarrassing as it may be to admit, there was always this fondness with her, an insatiable desire to be her friend. But, making friends wasn’t always your strong suit. You mostly kept to yourself, sat in the back of the class with your nose in a book. Sylvie’s told you countless times how unapproachable you look, but you never got around to fixing that detail. 

Hazel wears a confused expression, as if she couldn't quite piece together something in her head. 

“I’m y/n, by the way.” You begin, figuring she's probably trying to pin a name to your face. “Hazel, right?”

“Um- yeah. You know my name?”

“Yeah I mean, we’ve been going to the same school since like freshman year. Of course I know who you are.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t normal to know random people’s names in your school. It’s a big school, filled with a lot of people. Many students graduate not knowing half of their class. But, you knew Hazel’s name because, like anyone you find interesting, you learned it.

“Oh yeah, right.” She laughs awkwardly. “I knew your name too, by the way.”

You smile, letting out an amused huff at her insistence before looking to the Ferris wheel, where Sylvie has yet to show up. You'd be worried if it weren't Sylvie being her usual self. She either got caught in some atrociously long line, or is currently talking some poor souls head off somewhere. 

“I-um,” Hazel begins. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for the food, so… thanks.”

“Yeah, of course. Don't mention it." You chirp. 

“No really, I owe you one. Usually they accept tickets at these things, but I guess they don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, they stopped doing that last year after some kid, like, figured out how to forge the concession tickets or something.”

Suddenly, her expression turns into one of clarity. “I was wondering why they didn’t offer concession tickets this year.” She pauses, then lowering her voice to a near whisper. “How did they find out about the fakes though?”

“Wait- was that you?” 

Suddenly, she lights up, as if she'd been waiting her whole life for someone to ask. “Yeah, I just bought some customizable raffle tickets online and printed all the same stuff on them. It was pretty easy, considering most tickets, like the one for the rides, have special codes on them so they can’t be replicated, but not the concession ones. There wasn’t anything fancy like that on them.” 

After seconds of staring in complete bafflement, you can’t help but to laugh. She was the last person you’d expect to pull such thing off, but maybe that’s because you didn’t know her as much as you wish you did.  “That’s honestly genius. I mean,  it’s a shame you got caught.”

“I don’t even know how they found out! I was super inconspicuous about it.”

At this, you only laugh harder. It wasn’t even that funny of a situation but for some reason, maybe because it was her, you felt lighter. 

“Two churros, a cotton candy, and a fried Oreo!” The woman calls from the counter. 

The two of you turn your attention towards the tray of food under the pick-up window. Hazel grabs her share of food, though not before handing you your portion. 

“Well,” you begin, while unwrapping the treat in your hands. “Maybe next time you can learn to forge actual money.”

“That would be so cool,” She beams, evidently not catching your sarcasm. 

“Cool, but also a federal crime.”

“It’s only a crime if you get caught.”

“Thats a terrible philosophy.” you remark. Glancing at the ferris wheel, Sylvie had finally showed. She waited patiently under beaming lights. “Oh, I gotta go. I’ll see you at school, I guess?”

Something flashes in hazel’s demeanor, something you couldn't quite identify before it was gone and replaced by a smile “Yeah -uh, I’ll see you then.” She waves. “Thanks again.”

“no problem,” you wave off, before taking off towards Sylvie, who quickly spots you walking over, and begins to wave frantically, as if you couldn’t already see her under the blinding light. 

“Y/n!” She calls, “You’ll never guess what I saw!” 

You smile, rolling your eyes playfully. “It better be the reason you were a whole thirty minutes late to meeting me.”

“Uh-huh,” She answers quickly. “I saw someone get hit by a car.”

A pit of shock and concern fills you. “Oh my god are they okay? Are- Are you okay? How the hell did-”

“No it’s fine, it was just Jeff.”

Immediately that pit of shock dissolves, and your mind begins to wonder how the whole town hasn’t already erupted into a riot simply because it was Jeff.  “Okay, so…is he okay?”

“Well, you know, of course he’s taking it way too far and acting like the car hit him at ninety miles per hour, when in reality it was probably one, but yeah, he’s fine.” 

That part was believable. For football players who are the size of grown men, they were about as fragile as a china doll. But, the fact that you hadn’t heard about it the moment it happened… that part was a little hard to grasp. “So, you’re telling me, the Jeff -Jeff the star player of the Rockbridge football team, got hit by a car and the town hasn’t turned to pitchforks and torches yet?”

“Yes!” She exclaims excitingly. “I mean, the whole team is devastated, but the people are handling it pretty good if you ask me.”

You huff, taking a bite into your food. “Well, I guess that’s a good enough excuse for you being late.”

“I’m sorry,” She exaggerates, dragging out the apology. “To make it up to you, I’ll let you choose the first ride we go on together.”

“Oh, how generous,” You tease. “But I blew all my tickets on the carnie games.”

“You serious? Why don’t you just buy more?”

“All the cash I brought was spent on food.”

She gives you a curious look, likely surprised that you, for once, came to something unprepared. For some reason you have yet to uncover, a part of you didn’t feel like telling Sylvie about the run-in with Hazel. 

“Well, lucky for you, I stole some of my stepdad’s money for tonight. So we can just buy more.”

you laugh, “I don’t think I feel comfortable using stolen step-dad money."

“Then don’t think of it like that. Think of it like I’m your super rich sugar momma, and I’m treating you to a night out.” She shoves a wad of tickets into your hands forcefully. 

“Right,” you deadpan, accepting the tickets. ”Step-dad’s money it is.”

“Great,” She cheers, playfully putting an arm around your shoulder.  

The rest of the night was spent using all of Sylvie's remaining tickets for eating overtly sweet foods, riding unnecessarily fast rides, and throwing up in grotesque smelling trash cans. Or in other words, the night was spent perfectly. You and Sylvie stuck around til closing and ended the night sleeping over at your place, which is always the go-to spot for the both of you since Sylvie absolutely despises her stepdad. Come to think of it, you’ve probably only been to her house once, way back when her parents were still together. These days, it’s your house and your house only. You never minded the company.

But, as the early morning came and the first day of school had arrived, you began to regret this decision.

Body aching, stomach wrenching, and head sagging like a block of cement, all the decisions of last night finally caught up to you. You felt like shit, and you weren’t the only one. Next to you, Sylvie groaned, dragging her hands down her face as she sat up from the air mattress on the floor. 

“I think I’m dying,” She complains.

You hum in agreement, pulling yourself from under the covers and throwing your legs off the bedside. “Do we have to go? It’s our last year, it doesn't really matter if we skip anymore, right?"

“I mean… I’d be down to skip if you are. We can rot in bed and watch movies all day and pretend it’s still summer and that school never started.” 

Staring at her with a stoic expression, you hop off the bed and begin to make your way towards the closet. “You’re supposed to convince me to go, not enable me.”

She shrugs, putting her hands up in surrender. “I never said I was a good influence. You decided that on your own.”

You huff, pulling off random pieces of clothing from the drawers and off the hook. “Yeah, well,” You sigh, throwing the clothes on the bed. “I’m going to need all the influence I can get to leave this house before eight. And by influence, I mean caffeine and ibuprofen.”

“Oh!” She exclaims shooting up from the bed. “I’ll get the ibuprofen.”

“Please don’t grab the wrong thing like you did last time.”

A wide grin plasters on her face. “You mean the laxative incident? That was hilarious.”

“No, no it wasn’t.” The last time Sylvie was in charge of grabbing ibuprofen was the night of the Junior and Senior prom. You developed a monster headache from all the cologne clouding the gymnasium air, and when Sylvie somehow came back with laxatives instead of a pain reliever, you were too absorbed in the pain to notice any difference. “I had to leave prom early because all the fucking bathrooms were full with orgies and stoners.” 

“Yeah, that was awesome,” She giggles. 

“Just please grab the right stuff this time.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I can handle it.” And with that, she walks out the room and towards the kitchen where the pharmaceuticals are stored. This time, hopefully, she will come back with the right medicine. You dind't want this sudden luck of yours to continue any longer.  

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

So you want to write about a Jewish Ed Teach - a quick guide to writing a Jewish man of color, by a Jewish moc

Given Taika Waititi is Jewish, I am always so happy when I see fanfic authors writing about Ed being Jewish! We need more Jewish poc rep and I'm always happy to see it. That being said, I've also seen a lot of misunderstandings, so I wanted to to write up a few quick guidelines.

Disclaimer: I'm just one Jew with an opinion, and this is based on my own experiences! I'd love if other Jews, especially other Jews of color, in the fandom would like to chime in with their thoughts as well!

It is possible to be a Jewish athiest! Judaism is membership in a people, and belief in g-d is not required (and, in my community, it's even considered a very personal question!). Some of the most observant Jews I know are athiests; belief in g-d and level of Jewish observance are not directly correlated. Cannot overstate how common it is for Jews to not believe in g-d or go back and forth on the question.

On that note, there are different levels of Jewish observance. Every individual is different, but in general there's Orthodox (very strict), and then, way on the other side, there's Reform and Conservative (Conservative does not equal politically Conservative). Conservative and Reform are very similar, except the Conservative movement tends to be more observant of traditional Jewish law and uses a lot more Hebrew. If you live in an area without a lot of Jews (like where I live!), it's very common for Reform and Conservative movements to have a lot of overlap and collaborate on a lot of stuff together.

Not every Jew keeps Kosher, or keeps Kosher to the same level of strictness.

Synagogue services are not like Christian services, especially outside of holiday services. Ordinary Saturday morning services are often more like a group conversation as we try to work new meaning out of the Torah. The B'Nei Mitzvah, the big ceremony that marks a kid being old enough to participate fully in Jewish life, is more like "baby's first thesis defense" than anything else! There have literally been pauses in services I've attended before as someone ran to the temple library to check their sources.

Not all Jews speak Hebrew. Some Jews might not know any, some might be able to stumble through the more important prayers, some might be able to sight-read okay, some might only know religious words but not modern words, some might be fluent! Just about any level of proficiency is believable.

Ed's got a lot of tattoos! Tattoos are a big traditional Jewish no-no, but (again!) different movements and different Jews have their own opinions. I know a Conservative tattoo artist! It's not something that other Jews would comment on (unless they're just assholes) and it wouldn't make anyone kick him out of synagogue services (no joke, I read that in a fic once).

Hannukah is not the only (or even the most important) Jewish holiday; it's just the one most non-Jews know about. The two biggest holidays are Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. I think Ed's favorite holidays would be Purim (you get to wear costumes and put on plays!) and Passover (retelling of a story along with a big meal!).

Depending on the area and the Jewish demographic, Jews of color can sometimes feel uncomfortable in our own community, especially when other Jews automatically assume we must be converts. While this is a real issue, it is not something I want to read authors who aren't themselves Jews of color write about because it is a deeply inter-Jewish issue.

Depending on the community you grow up in, religious trauma isn't as common with queer Jews as it is with queer Christians. The Reform movement has been advocating for queer Jews since the 1960s (you read that right, yes). I'm not saying there are no queer Jews who have religious trauma, I'm just saing it's a lot less common, and I have always felt immediately accepted as queer in Jewish spaces.

The inverse is not true. Queer spaces are not always accepting of Jews (or of people of color, a double whammy!).

A few stereotypes to avoid: Jews are often stereotyped as being greedy and corrupt. Jewish kids are bullied by Christian kids because "we killed Jesus," when I was ten I had another kid ask to "see my horns." Always avoid comparing Ed directly to animals, especially rodents.

If you're a non-Jew looking to write about a Jewish Ed, I recommend doing some research. MyJewishLearning is a great website that's very accessible.

Every Jew interacts with our Judaism differently, so if you're writing a Jewish Ed, please take a moment to think about what it means for him! Membership in a community? Calming traditions that remind him of home, family, and community? A point of pride - we're a resilient lot! Even just a note in his background that he's not as connected to as he might like to be?

[medusapelagia]

The fourth member of the band

written for @corrodedcoffinfest (Prompt 17: Freak) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Freak & Eddie TW: none Words: 994

Fame isn't everything, Freak knows it, but still, he can't avoid being pissed every time the Corroded Coffin are interviewed or he reads a new article about them. 

Half of the space is reserved for Eddie: he's the frontman, he plays the lead guitar and he's the singer, it's obvious that everyone's eyes are pointed at him.Furthermore, he's really theatrical, has a lovely relationship with another man and he's not ashamed of who he's, always ready to join the fight for queer rights on every occasion. 

Jeff is the second guitarist, Eddie and he usually challenge themselves during the concerts and they have a sort of music fight, guitar's solo against guitar's solo. 

Gareth is the youngest, they all treat him like their younger brother and now that he got into a relationship with a famous model he's always on the magazines’ cover.

Freak is the middle child none really cares about, the one that's so quiet and good that it looks like he doesn't need any attention, but the truth is that he does.

He's not exactly jealous of the other members of the band, they are his friends after all, but he feels that he will never be part of the band like they are.

Ok, Freak wasn't part of the original band, he joined when Andrew decided that attending MIT was more important than playing in seedy bars, and there's nothing wrong with that, but even after years and he's still "the fourth member of the band".

He's waiting in their manager's office, not knowing what to expect but determined to point out that he's tired of being ignored when he sees a check on Robert's table. The name on the check is Eddie Munson.

Freak shouldn't snoop, he should ignore the check half hidden under some paperwork, but Eddie is always spending his money so freely that Freak wonders if their shares are really equal as they should be.

With a finger, he slowly pulls the check toward himself and looks at the amount. He freezes. It's way higher than his.

Does he earn more because he's the frontman?

And what about Jeff? And Gar? Do they know that Eddie earns more than them?

Wait a moment… Does Eddie earn more than them? They are always wearing designer clothes and Gareth is talking about buying a house in Malibu…

"Hey, Freak, right?" Robert, their manager says, even if they meet each other more than once.

Expandable. Replaceable.

"Here... let me find your check. Here it is. Don't spend it all in one go!" Robert winks at him. 

Freak snatches his check from Robert’s hand and leaves the office, slamming the door behind him. 

At the reception, Eddie is talking with a fan, signing an autograph.

"Hey! Why don't you ask Freak to sign it too? Freak, would you mind signing an autograph for Angela?"

"You're the fucking frontman, right? Sign your stupid autographs!" He snarls, and Eddie's smile dies.

"Everything ok?" Eddie asks, frowning.

"No."

"Why don't we find a quiet place to talk?" Eddie proposes, looking at Angela for help, and the young woman shows them an empty meeting room.

"So, what's the problem?" Eddie asks.

"What's the problem, huh? As if you didn't know it. I just got my check."

"Yeah, I'm here for my check too. Are the royalties too low? I thought our last album was selling well."

"It is. For you. And probably for Jeff and Gar. Not for me."

"What do you mean? We all have the same share."

"Don't lie to me, Eddie! I saw your check!"

"Ok. There must have been a mistake but it can be easily fixed, why don't you come to Robert's office with me and-"

"So you can make up some other excuses? Fuck you, Eddie!" Freak says, his hand already on the handle when Eddie grabs his shoulder.

"I'm not lying. Come with me and we'll fix this in no time. I promise."

Freak nods, begrudgingly, he doesn't want to lose his place in the band but he's tired of being treated like that.

When Eddie opens the door of Robert's office, with Freak at his side, Robert flinches, but he quickly puts back on his plastic smile.

"Freak. Hey. I thought you left already."

Eddie sits on one of the chairs in front of Robert's desk and puts his combat boots on the desk, "You know what, Rob? Freak here just told me that our checks are different."

Robert sneers, "Did he try to contact the bank? Because they are under strict directions-"

"I don't care how he knows it, but I told him that's impossible. Because we have the same share, right? Twenty-five percent of royalties to each one of us. Am I wrong?"

"Maybe there was a mistake. I'll call my secretary."

"No. Show me my last three checks. And Freak's."

"That is sensitive information."

"I have nothing to hide. Do you, Freak?"

"No," he replies plopping on the chair next to Eddie's, who lifts an eyebrow and gestures to Robert to show them the checks.

"I have to search for them."

"Well give me my new one and we'll see if Freak's and mine are the same amount."

The man pushes his glasses on the bridge of his nose and grabs Eddie's check while Freak takes his. The amounts are different.

"How did that happen?"

"My secretary must have made a mistake but I'll fix it…"

"No. Don't touch anything. From now on you're not our manager anymore and wait to hear from our lawyer: Erica Sinclair is not forgiving."

"Wait, Eddie! It was an honest mistake."

But Eddie and Freak are already leaving.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was doing that. I'll talk to Jeff and Gar and I'll make sure that we are all earning the same amount." He tells him, patting his back, "Now, I was thinking. How do you like a bass solo in our next song?"

[aegoniiwifey]

Chubby Aeg Request: Heavy Targcest, Aegon and his daughter, Aegon love to make his sweet girl ride his thigh, then bury himself inside her, bringing her to pleasure over and over, before holding her to him, showering her with love in the aftermath, making sure his dominance didn't overwhelm her

Daddy’s Princess

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x daughter!Princess!Reader

WORDS: 3,014.

WARNINGS: incest, mentions of death/war/suicide, mentions of depression, dark!Aegon ii, thigh riding, mentions of p in v sexual intercourse, cream pie, breeding kink, Daddy kink, praise kink, dom!Aegon ii, swearing, possessive!Aegon ii. mentions of pregnancy/birth.

A/N - I’ve never done this trope before but something is making me feral & I— must admit, this was hot… I got very carried away, but still hope you enjoy xoxo

credit to the original images/art work 🤍

The Targaryens were undoubtedly known for their “queer” customs, this had been widely yet sceptically recognised. Your own grandmother, the Dowager Queen, even uttered the words herself, despite having played a major role in marrying your late, beloved mother, Helaena to her elder brother, your father and the rightful King, Aegon the Second.

The Dance of the Dragons had begun to churn, when you were still nothing more than a child, however it progressed well into a few solid years throughout your adolescence, only for your father to come out victorious against his treacherous half-sister and her family of “bastards and traitors”, as he spat. The Gods had answered your endless prayers, regardless, rejoicing in success.

Once the Dance had reached its end, you had transformed into a young, modest woman, of the age two-and-twenty. Your handsome father, fifteen years your elder, conceived you during his own youth, robbing him of freedom and instilling responsibility instead, likewise with your dear mother. You had always been plagued with the pestering thought of feeling like a burden unto the young couple, as their firstborn, however your father reassured you otherwise, that you were nothing more than a blessing to him, otherwise.

Regardless, the fearsome battles determinedly fought throughout the decades, came at an inconceivable cost: the cost of the innocent, defenceless lives of your younger siblings who tragically perished in horrendous manners. Your late mother, Queen Heleana, wrought with mad grief and depression for the witness and loss of her babes, she could not bear the reality of life itself, taking her own life as a means to end her suffering.

Excluding yourself, you had no one else other than your grandmother, the Dowager Queen, who kept much to her seldom self these toiling days, isolated in her lonesome chambers, and your father...

Throughout the entirety of the ceaseless quarrels, your dear father had always ensured keeping a close eye and ear on you. Warmly reassuring your frightful self, that he would burn the world before any harm could be done unto you. He kept you close by him at all times, if he had not attended the battle himself on dragonback, Sunfyre close by your chambers, despite having a broken wing, with your own hatchling, Morghul, constantly beside you. It tore him to pieces when he made the harsh decision of having to entrust you to Larys and his unsavoury men, to sneak you off to Dragonstone where he would meet you eventually.

The most skilled guards posted ceaselessly hours on end, day and night, outside your chambers, not a single action went by without Aegon knowing, for all matters regarding your whereabouts went directly through him. During this time, you had solely instilled a perpetual trust in your father's decisions, that laid foundations in your bond with one another, which lingered even post succession of the war. It would be an understatement, that you had become heavily reliant on him, most of the time having been denied the autonomy to think and decide for yourself at such a young age, you grew to much prefer your father taking action, trusting him and only him with decisions regarding your own life. He was highly protective of you, in a way no lord nor knight of the realm could pledge and devote their lives to. You were his kin, his blood, his possession: you became his sole purpose and will to survive during the Dance.

There was, however, only one decision, you had ever made purely yourself, that would change the dynamic of the realm itself...

"Come, my sweet angel. Come to Daddy, and let me ease your mind..."

Despite the realm returning to some ounce of normalcy and peace, the nights you still endured adversity with. Troubling nightmares engulfed your slumber mind of the haunting memories of the Dance. Stirring you awake in a state of distress and panic, sweat beads drenched your forehead and mottled hair, your exposed, plump breasts accentuated in your silk, white nightgown, heaving with every haste and dense breath. Despite the adoring, relentless company of your dotting father by your side in bed, he immediately awoke in tune to your disruptive motions, persisting to remain awake, until he was assured you were comforted and sound of mind, lulling you himself back to sleep.

"Baby, sit on my lap. That's it- Another nightmare, my love?"

"Y-Yes, father."

"I know the feeling all to well, precious... Do you wish to speak about it?" Aegon huskily uttered, as his rough hands gently whisked away the odd strands of hair out of place, his other hand caressing soft circles at your lower back.

Since his heroic return from battle, despite the brutal injuries sustained, and since recovering, your father found himself constantly at your side, even in the late hours of the night. He dared not to trust many despite promisingly pledging fealty to their King, Aegon could only open up to you without the reason of duty, intimidation, or responsibility binding him to you. He wanted you. Since losing Helaena, despite never having been openly romantic with her, he had lost a companion, and had always considered you more of one than a daughter, as you grew wise with age.

Your strong-willed father had always been a man with brawn, unlike your late Uncles, Aemond and Daeron. Aegon was portly and having been raised by him, you grew familiar with his shameless, gluttonous habits. These habits exacerbated during his recuperation, as the maesters including yourself had taken to encouraging your father to eat copiously, often hand feeding him yourself with generous amounts of delicacies, rationalising that it was to regain pure sustenance.

You took pride in his recovery, aiding the maesters to heal your father back to good health, he openly stated that it was your devoted presence and love that made him whole once more. Deep in slumber with milk of the poppy to ease the pain, only he could hear your sweet, angelic voice in the blissful distance, yearning for him. Your gentle touch, as you religiously applied naturopathic ointments to his fresh, raw burns, that eventually healed his scars. He soaked in your warm presence thoroughly, mirroring your reliance on him, he too, became deeply infatuated with you.

Since becoming a mature woman, having grown into your Valyrian-esque features and physique, Aegon saw you in a fairly different light now. You noticed by the manner in which his violet, stern eyes lingered over your body for far longer than what was used to, even if it was for a few, fleeting seconds. You became a distraction in council meetings, as he vowed to have you attend, even if you were merely a cupbearer, standing aside though in proximity of him, a mere shadow: his unfazed attention oogled over you, his mind pondering over lustful, sinful thoughts, only to be beckon called back to reality by the repetitive call of his title, your Grace.

You had always admired your father, and believed there was no man that could exceed the expectations he set in stone… You were made for him, as he had sought to it himself. Blood of his blood, the Gods kept you both alive for a reason, you had discreetly believed.

"I do not wish to speak of it right now... I just need you to hold me, just for a little while," You weakly whispered with a shaky breath. Aegon, with a new found strength, a fuller and sturdy frame, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap, as he laid himself back to rest against the wooden bedframe.

"That's okay, my sweet girl. It will get easier, I promise..."

Adjusting yourself atop of Aegon's wide, meaty thigh, as you gripped and rested your head against his broad, fleshy shoulder, the friction stirring as your bare cunt grinds against his clothed thigh, slowly igniting a familiar, throbbing ache between your inner thighs.

"Hmm, how will it get easier, Daddy? Will you make it easier?" You utter, your lips lightly grazing over his plump cheek, gently guiding his head to turn in your direction: eyes inevitably meeting, your lips passionately crash against his. Aegon does not resist in the slightest, relishing in the kiss, as he shoves his tongue deep into your mouth, swallowing your taste, before his teeth teasingly bite and pull at your lower lip.

"I can distract my baby. Give her a pleasure no other man in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms can. I'll give my princess the finest treatment she deserves... But only if she listens and obeys her Daddy, like the good girl I know she is."

"Mhmm, yes, Daddy-" A helpless plea closely mistaken for a moan escaping your mouth, Aegon's pudgy hands, steer your legs to spread apart: you find that you can only spread wide enough to saddle one thick thigh at a time. Without needing to spell it out for you, you begin to sway your meek frame, rhythmically bucking your hips backwards and forwards, as Aegon harshly yanks your gown up, enough for your bare cunt to be completely exposed more thoughtfully, and in contact with his thigh.

"Deeper baby, you know you need to push yourself deeper or else I can barely feel you on top."

With haste obedience, you try to plunge your weight deeper against him, your arms embracing Aegon’s stocky frame tighter. His swollen, bloated gut pressing flatly against your own chest, earning a sensual growl from your father.

“Good girl… My good, little princess. Going to listen to every word Daddy says, so I can make her feel so much better.”

Your whimpering moans, and slow nods in agreement, as your head instinctively rocked back, eyes closing with pure pleasure, you could feel Aegon’s rough hands exploring your waistline, before one snaked behind your spine, keeping you steady by a careful grip on your neck. The other began to tug and pull at the silk strands of your nightgown, loosening the knot, to expose more of your obvious, ample cleavage.

“Look at how beautiful you have become. My little princess is not so little anymore, such a divine grace, a woman. No other beauty roams the Earth, as you do.”

The outstanding appraisal oozing breathlessly from Aegon's plump, blush lips, echo in your thoughtless mind with intense gratification. Treasuring each word, he worshipped you dearly, often placing you on a pedestal as great as the Iron Throne itself.

"Yes Daddy, t-tell me more."

Your helpless moans begin to sob from your mouth, filling the void of the vast room, other than the faint crackling of the dying fireplace. Your eager pace quickening, feeling the burning sensation erupt from the friction against your tender skin. Your body leaned forwards with Aegon's generous shove, as he in turn plunged his handsome face between your sensitive breasts. Feeling his lips trailing across your soft skin, hungrily suckling and lapping down to your nipple, as his other hand playfully massaged and kneaded at your other tit.

"Does princess want Daddy to fuck her stupid? Make her so full of me, she'll be dripping, begging for more, for nothing to be spared? All the princess needs to do is ask Daddy, like the polite girl she is."

"A-Aeg-"

"Words, princess. My cock isn't even inside you yet, and you're already hopeless. Didn't I teach you to use your words?"

"Hmm, Daddy, I-I need your cock, I-I need you inside of me, p-please."

Incoherent, you knew how weak and feeble you felt against your father, a formidable man, both inside and outside the confines of the bedroom.

"My beautiful baby, using her manners, makes her Daddy so, so proud. How did I get so lucky, being blessed by you?"

"D-Daddy blessed me."

Your hands clawed their way across his muscular shoulder blades, nails sharply dug into Aegon's bareback, as he often enjoyed sleeping shirtless, his natural body warmth radiating from his scarred body. Now one hand snaked its way into his short, unkempt hair, avidly tugging at his silver strands, begging for more.

"Easy baby, so needy for her Daddy, huh? Never change baby, Daddy's always going to take care of you okay? No one can take care of you, like I have..."

"N-No one. Daddy protects me from cruel monsters, a-and evil men. I-I could never leave, D-Daddy."

Groans and growls pooled from Aegon's lush mouth, as his tongue teasingly lapped and pulled at your perky nipple.

"My perfect princess. That's right, baby... Now, you ready to take Daddy's cock? I'm feeling pretty big, princess. You've been getting me as hard as Valyrian steel."

His hand found yours, firmly guiding it down to where his stiff, rigid cock throbbed densely with enthusiasm, beneath his pants, desperately aching to be taken.

"Y-Yes... Only I deserve Daddy's cock."

Rightfully earning a low, jovial chuckle from Aegon, scoring his mutual amusement and agreement, nodding to your proud notion.

"That's right baby... Only you."

Heaving himself and you atop with such vigour, you aided Aegon in pulling his pants down, as his cock sprung into full action. The sight made you shiver and whimper instantly, how its reddened tip flashed in the dim light, with pre cum already oozing generously from the raw tip. His length modest, its width had always been a wondrous vision. Regardless of the preparation or the amount of times you had taken Aegon before, you could never quite adjust to his glorious girth.

"Easy baby, that's my good girl. D-Don't be afraid, I got you. You can take it, I know you can. Making Daddy so, very proud."

Carefully positioning you atop, as you began to gently settle down, the sharp jolt of pain, as its tip etched between your silk folds, made it subtly easier for him to slip his full mass in.

"Wet for me already, my cock's practically drowning baby... So tight for me, my sweet princess. I can feel you swallowing up my fat cock."

Witlessly yet diligently, bobbing up and down on Aegon's lap, as your father vigorously thrusted his heavy mass upwards, craving to shove himself deeper into your slick folds.

"Good girl, Y/N. Daddy's going to fuck you so hard, fill you up to the fucking brim with my seed. Want to carry Daddy's babes, like a good princess? Make Daddy so proud, huh?"

"Y-Yes, I'll do w-whatever Daddy says, whatever D-Daddy wants. Anything to m-make you proud."

The rough texture of Aegon's battle-torn hands, cooed and caressed at your back, one hand gripping your neck once more, keeping you steadily mounted against his body. His other hand, continued to firmly squeeze at your tender breast, almost mimicking a wringing motion, as though anticipating for milk to ooze.

"Making me the proudest Daddy in the realm, princess. But you are far from being done with your royal duties... I'm going to fuck you day and night, till I see your belly swell greatly with child, with our child... Not till we fill this entire keep with the future leagues of the Targaryen dynasty. And if anyone dares to question our customs... They can play the fucking fool and answer to me."

Aegon, in a breathless, heated rut, finally reached his almighty gusto. His fresh, hot seed spilling up into you, as it oozed out of your tight crevices, clenched around his achingly, pulsating cock. In turn, your cum released in a liberating gesture, pouring over Aegon's rigid, thick cock.

"Hmm, Daddy spoils me s'good. Blessed I am th-that you want me to carry your heirs. Blessed I am to be carry on your legacy, Daddy."

Just as you were about to dismount from Aegon's sturdy lap, and tense cock, still stretching out inside of you, did you feel his strong embrace pulling you back down, keeping you situated over him as you were before.

"Daddy's not done yet, princess... I told you, I am fucking you endlessly till I see this belly-" His palm lightly grazing over your lower stomach in circles.

"-swell and these beautiful tits, leak with milk as I knead and suck. I will fuck you day and night, till you reek of my scent, exhausted of pleasure, and drenched in my cum and sweat. Princess belongs to Daddy and the whole realm shall know of it. I won the war, and I shall win the heart of the realm... That is you, my angel."

The remainder of the night, into the sleepless, bright dawn of the morrow, Aegon had kept his rigid cock buried deeply, and warmly planted inside of you. As the hours nudged on, you could feel yourself repeatedly peaking inside, as did your father, growing more and more numb to the cramping sensation. Your wincing and whimpers did not go ignorantly unnoticed, as Aegon would lull you, praising how proud he was of you for taking him so well. The only time he released was to clean up the god awful mess strewed across the sheets, and the minor bleeding pooling from your inner thighs.

In the morrow, he commanded the servants to fetch you a warm, floral scented bath, with the condition that he bathe you himself. Breakfast was brought to you directly, as you remained bed bound resting and recuperating.

"Now it's Daddy's turn to take care of his princess. Just as you took care of me during those dreadful months. My sweet, precious angel never left her Daddy's side, like an obedient, loyal girl. And Daddy will never leave you, okay."

Words had spread like wildfire, as your belly and tits had swollen healthily with a growing babe inside. The maesters to confirm and seal your fate, Aegon and yourself could not have been happier. Despite the relentless, whispering gossip alongside the timid side glances, no one dared to speak against Aegon's decision to marry you lawfully in tradition of your Valyrian customs, otherwise. Blessing the King a long-awaited, hearty male heir, the prophecy his late father often uttered about in his ill, deluded state: Aegon believed the Prince that was Promised, would emerge from his bloodline, thanks to you.

credit for dividers - @/saradika 🤍

[anincompletelist]

rwrb fic recs! :D

I wanted to take the time to compile a few fics that have massively helped me over the last tough few months and never fail to bring a smile to my face (after the angst, of course)! thank you to everyone who takes the time to write for this lovely fandom, please keep it up! your words are so important and often change lives even when you don't realize it. I hope you're all doing well, and enjoy! <3

(please message me if for any reason you would like to be un-tagged!)

in no particular order:

he looks up grinning like the devil | @coffeecatsme | E | 38k

Henry can’t help it—he lets out a laugh and shakes his head. Beta Sigma Chi being a safe space is about as likely as the Republicans championing queer rights. “Right, and who’s this new president that somehow managed to turn around an entire fraternity?”

Pez winces. She hesitates at first, but then she must decide on something because her chin juts out. “Well,” she says slowly. “It’s Alexander Claremont-Diaz.”

Henry laughs so hard he almost falls off his seat.

Or, Henry Fox learns to fall in love with everything that is Alexander Claremont-Diaz, even if he insists on calling Henry "dude".

--

A Sporting Chance | @clottedcreamfudge | E | 126k

"Marry Henry - destination wedding. Combine all of our names so paperwork is a fucking nightmare." Henry stares at him and Pez rolls the dice, and-

"Congratulations to Alex and Henry Claremont-Diaz-Fox-Mountchristen," he says with a bright grin, and Alex punches the air and makes a 'whooping' noise. "Your wedding is attended by the Beckhams, the President, and several key members of congress. Henry is very gentle on your wedding night." Henry is going to fucking kill Pez.   "Fucking sweet," Alex says, because Henry is apparently the only one here trying not to have a coronary about all of this.

***

It had just been a party game, except now Henry is in way over his head.

--

a degree of fate | (locked) | lockedinmybody | E | 34k

Against the wishes of the palace, Henry decides to go back to university for a graduate's degree in Literature. And when you want to lay low, what's a better place than Austin University? It's not Henry's fault that Alex Claremont-Diaz is also there. Something must be his fault though, because despite having never met before and Henry only knowing him as the son of the Former President of America, Alex Claremont-Diaz clearly hates him. It's going to be a long two years.

--

the poem you make of me | @omgcmere | E | 91k

After being discovered on Instagram as a teenager, Alex Diaz is thriving as a social media influencer and model who just landed a high profile, high fashion contract with Calvin Klein. Alex can get any girl he wants, and he’s loving it. Meanwhile, British poet Henry Fox has just arrived in L.A. to kick off a North American tour promoting his new, steamy book of gay erotic poetry, and he’s attracting a lot of attention.

Bad blood is immediately sparked between them when Henry blows Alex off at their first meeting. Several tabloid rumors and an Instagram tantrum later, Alex and Henry are reluctantly thrust together to make nice, resulting in a grudging friendship and a magnetism between them that Alex can't explain. Why is Henry's poetry making Alex feel like this? And just what is it about Henry Fox that gets to him so much?

--

Mr. BodyPillow | @inexplicablymine | T+ | 21k

Two boys cuddling on a couch right on top of each other because they are in fact very gay™.

Inviting over a complete stranger for cuddles because you are touch starved might be the worst idea Henry has ever had, or the best.

--

More Amour | surveycorpsjean | E | 45k

Alex discovers something in Henry's closet that changes everything.

--

we've been here forever (here's the frozen proof) | @onward--upward | T+ | 12k

Objectively, I am aware that you – a stranger – cannot tell me my own sexuality any better than I can, however... Can you, please? Tell me? It’s 4am and I have been thinking about this for hours, and I can’t sleep.

Warmest regards, ACD *** It’s four in the morning, and Alex Claremont-Diaz has managed to follow a research spiral straight down into a personal crisis. It isn’t the first time.

--

Oblivion | milowren | NR | 31k | please CHECK TAGS & NOTES prior to reading!

What if the moment in the hospital wasn’t a false alarm and the publicity surrounding the forced bromance between Alex and Henry had the adverse effect of them being kidnapped together?

--

But I love him, whether or no. | @leaves-of-laurelin | E | 77k

Henry moves to New York City to help Pez with the opening of his new bar in the East Village. The location—fortunately for business, but unfortunately for Henry’s sanity—is directly across the street from a fire station. The sound of sirens is bad, Alex the gorgeous firefighter is worse. But when Alex helps Henry avoid a near catastrophe the night of the bar’s opening, the two form a tentative friendship that starts to develop into something more.

--

we might just get away with it | (locked) | smc_27 | E | 21k

Alex is a model. Henry is a journalist, and a bit of an asshole. Alex wants him anyway, even when it doesn’t feel good.

--

Hashtag Soulmates | @everwitch-magiks | E | 44k

Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

--

the rubble or our sins | weather_stained | E | 14k

As the Emperor's grandson, Henry despises the gladiator games and resents being forced to attend them — that is, until he sees Alexander fight. 

It's a romance doomed from the very beginning, as Henry's family is already pressuring him into joining the army and finding a wife, but he falls hard for Alex nonetheless. Will Henry find a way to be with him, or will he spend the rest of his life looking back on their time together?

--

that's all for now! I'd like to do this again very soon since there are so many new fics being posted that deserve love as well.

please let me know if there are any issues with the links, if you'd like to be un-tagged, or if you'd like to come and scream about these with me!

another good place for recs is @rwrbficrecs !

if you enjoy any of these (or any fic at all) please know - as someone who writes them as well - every single comment and kudos goes such a long way. it's not necessary, but it's always so much appreciated. <3

thank you for reading, and I hope everyone is having a lovely day/night! :D

-- anincompletelist / sarah

[the-cimmerians]

a storytime story. Not my story, it's my friend's, but she doesn't go here so I'm sharing for her. We'll call her Mara. Mara is a high-femme, lovely queer girl from a wealthy family in the southern US, but when I met her she'd been living in California for many years, chugging through her postgraduate education in Women's Studies. She rarely went home, because being at home was always a bit of a fraught experience: not unendurable (because to most heteronormative casual viewers the radiant queerness of a high-femme is pretty much indistinguishable from a quirky beauty queen waiting for the right football quarterback to sweep her off her feet), but still--not the most fun. Yet every once in a while, Mara would have a fit of 'dutiful daughter'-itis, and go home to mend some fences and keep some peace.

Mara's mother had often asked her to come with her to philanthropic events, but Mara had always said no. On this trip, however, Mara's mother had purchased a full table as an event sponsor, and she cajoled Mara into going with her. For those of you who haven't ever attended such an event, they are all different, and yet terrifyingly all the same (and I say this not as an attendee, but as an event-runner for various nonprofits; an event-runner who, fair warning, hates everything about these events, and this part of nonprofit work). There is some form of lower-calorie food (chicken or fish on greens with a very light citrus-fruit dressing is de rigeur, along with some sort of fruit-based airy parfait served in the smallest and most elegant glasses imaginable for dessert), usually an emcee (occasionally entertaining, but always inoffensive to the assembled guests), sometimes speakers (high-profile or famous women on a local or national level depending on the 'get' of the organization in question, or extremely well-spoken young people or teens for youth-serving organizations--with the youth in question being very carefully coached), and an 'ask'--the fundraising portion of the event, where the wealthy attendees compete with the rest of their friends and enemies in the social scene to be the most gracious and beneficent person in the room.

And there is gossip. So much gossip.

Poor Mara knew enough to expect some of this (mostly due to listening to me complain bitterly about how awful these events are), but there were aspects for which she was completely unprepared. Her mother had filled her sponsorship table with all of her closest friends, and the 'social hour' before the event started in earnest was a haze of white wine and a constant stream of excessively perfumed women dressed in full southern socialite chic, coming by the table to air-kiss cheeks and say how it's been ages since they've seen each other and what a darling ensemble, where on earth did you get it? and who does your hair now?--you must tell me, it's simply scrumptious--you look incredible, we really must do lunch some time soon--

...and the moment the woman or women in question moved on, the table, as a whole, in excited, urgent-whispered voices, would drag the everloving fuck out of every single lady they'd just been gushing over.

"Did you see how botched her last lift was? I hardly recognized her--I'm surprised she recognized me, with her eyes yanked back like that--" "so terrible, but she did go to the cheapest surgeon in town--husband has money troubles, you know--"

"Didn't expect to see her here, but I suppose you have to go somewhere to show off that large a collection of paste jewels--" "oh, stop, you wicked girl! But you're right, of course--and she gives herself such airs, like we don't all know--"

"Poor dear looks exhausted--apparently keeping up with her pool boy isn't easy at her age--" "Can't say that I blame her; that Carlos, have you seen him? Of course, she's hardly his only client. I've been dying for a pool, but my Henry just won't--"

"Quite a plucky little attitude for someone whose husband just left her for his twenty-two year old secretary--" "And after she put him through college and law school--I heard she's not even going to get to keep the house. She really should have sprung for a better lawyer--"

"I can't believe she still thinks she can fit into that dress, with all the weight she's packed on--" "Truly grotesque--just ghastly! Seems like last summer at the fat farm didn't do her as much good as one would have hoped--"

::giggle:: ::giggle:: ::giggle::

Mara was horrified, sitting there with a bland, polite smile frozen on her face, with her white gloves and vintage pillbox hat and charming little clutch bag, her seamed stockings and her kitten heels and her classic red lipstick and pin-curls (because in true unquenchable femme spirit, she had taken this occasion as an opportunity for dress-up, an opportunity for fun and play and sexy whimsy--a Gene-Tierney-does-pin-up-girl kind of vibe), utterly unable to see how to extricate herself from this terrible situation.

Another woman glided away from the table, coyly waving heavily-beringed fingers. "Yes, Darling," Mara's mother said, coyly waving back. "See you soon! Kiss-kiss! Love to Laurent!" She sat down and hissed to the cabal at the table: "Ha! Her husband just gave her an STD."

The woman to Mara's left leaned forward excitedly. "Really? Two-door or four-door?--wait, if it was the latest Aston Martin, I'm going to literally perish of envy--"

And that was the tipping point--Mara fled. Walked until she found a suitably divey coffee shop. Had a coffee and a slice of peach pie, and flirted with a soft Butch waitress until the world seemed less dire.

[nexility-sims]

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 / ❛ boy crazy ❜ part 1 (@armoricaroyalty)

❝ The Lover's Gala was the Armorican Queer Front's biggest annual event and 2044 was the 25th Anniversary. The organization's communications team had spent months putting out stories about the gala and the celebrities and members of the royals family expected to attend, trying without much success to turn the event into a major cultural major. Overnight, Princess Zofia (and her new boyfriend) blew them all out of the water. It was only his second time in Armorica, and the first time they'd appeared in public together since the funeral. It was only natural that they landed on the front page of every newspaper in the country, the gala (and the work done by the AQF) a vague footnote after paragraphs upon paragraphs breathlessly speculating about the intimate details of the lovebirds' long-distance relationship. "

♥ shoutout to gabe for pitching this very fun idea, as well as for the title card, the contextual prose, and, of course, my beloved daughter miss zofia augusta st. fleur !!!!!!! she's my favorite barbie doll & has been for a long time :^) i guess i love and adore my son as well, but nonetheless. this is special in part because it's the first time i've written them speaking outside of a parody piece that will never see the light of day. anyway, enjoy this super premature dialogue-inclusive, full-color sneak peak of Them™

PART 2

TRANSCRIPT:

{Light music, overlapping conversations}

[Z] It’s gotten so long since December!

[R] Anything for you.

[Z] Anything at all? Promise?

[R] On my life.

[Z] So ... Can we leave then?

[R] Well, that’s actually your call—

[Z] Okay, let’s leave right now!

[R] We’ve been here for only a short while, Fia.

[R] Even less if you count the “restroom break.”

[Z] That was worth it, and no one even noticed.

{Knocking}

[Z] Occupied!

[Z] Anyway, Hannah’s still here. Even Pidge. Et cetera. We can go.

[R] They walked out ten minutes ago—Hannah with Hugo, Margaret following Arthur. All through a servant’s door. Very conspicuous.

[Z] Did they? Huh. So they did.

{Rui laughs}

[Z] Look, if we leave now, it’ll be perfect. It’s barely nine o’clock. We can go back to the city, change clothes, go dancing—!

{Imaginary club music thudding} [Z&R V.O.] Party all night—bet you don’t believe me, but we actually do have good clubs [Rui snickers] or, like, one I like a lot—then I get a cheeseburger—[no pickles]—right! Oh, remember that poor cashier in Nakawe? You sure told him. [“Plain” means plain.] My hero! Anyway, then you carry me and my sore feet to bed. Ideal night.

[Z] You can keep this on, actually. Maybe ditch the jacket.

[R] Undo another button or two?

[Z] Of course. [Soft sigh] You get me.

[Z] The rose is also a must.

[R] It’s for you—a keepsake.

[Z] Aw. Our first appearance and our first Valentine’s Day ...

[R] A sign, probably. Meant to be.

[Z] Romance novel worthy. I’d read it.

[R] The boxes are checked: excitement, fate, many graphic—

[Z] No! Erotic. {Repeats in Armorican} Memorize that one.

{Murmuring}

[R] Do you think I should’ve worn a tie this evening?

[Z] What?

[R] If we were home, obviously not. But, Armorica is ... People here seem to care a lot about unnecessary things. So, was that a misstep?

[Z] {Laughs}

[Z]  Pfft. Hugo didn’t even have his jacket on.

[R] {Scoff} I am not Hugo.

[R] I want to make a good impression—on your family, really. This visit is different. They’re all, for better or worse, paying attention to me.

[Z] Are you kidding? Mission accomplished. [Z] Trust me, they love you! Now, come on, let’s go already—!

[icannotgetoverbirds]

buckle up, this one's a doozy

Idk if it's actually a doozy, but this is the story of how I deconverted from a cult and got my egg cracked at approximately the same time, all thanks to... weed.

Let's set the scene, shall we?

It is December 22nd, 2021. The pandemic has been raging for nearly two years at this point. I am, at this point, still a believing mormon. That said, my attendance to church meetings has been incredibly spotty, with the most reliable method to get me to worship being choir practice.

I am laying in my bed in the evening, and of all possible things, I am thinking about weed. Namely, the church's policy about weed, and the absolute failure that is the war on drugs, and my personal belief system (and also about whether or not I should try weed for my anxiety disorder).

What's mormonism's policy on weed, you ask? Well, it's surprisingly liberal for a whole-ass cult, but still has enough nonsense for the events of this story to play out. To put it simply, you can absolutely use weed for medicinal purposes, but recreational purposes is a big no-no.

This, of course, presents a dilemma: where do you draw the line between recreational and medicinal use, especially in the case of, say, using it to medicate an anxiety disorder? I'm sure that the Church-Approved™ conclusion is "That's between you and The Lord, figure it out yourself, good luck!" I don't remember if I came to that conclusion or not, but I know for a fact that my "prove beyond a shadow of a doubt before you make an important decision based off of Feelings Supposedly From God Or The Holy Spirit" ass would not have been satisfied with that answer.

So I think about it in terms of politics, and logic, and science. After all, science is just our frail and minuscule way of comprehending all that Our Father Who Art In Heaven has created, right? So if Our Father Who Art In Heaven can't give me a straight answer, science surely can.

I come to a few conclusions. First of all, there are very few people, if any, who are qualified to draw that line. I am not included in that group of people. Secondly, nobody in their right goddamned mind would so much as try to draw that line unless they have some serious qualifications in the variety of fields that it applies to. Third of all, and this is where shit starts to unravel very fucking quickly: who in the goddamned fuck are a bunch of old white men who've probably never seen a gram of weed in their entire lives to think themselves qualified to draw that line?

The shelf cracks. The prophets are fallible, even in this day and age. Not only are they fallible, but whoever made this decision is a FUCKING DUMBASS. God must be looking down at them and shaking his head disapprovingly, huh?

So I think to myself, yknow what, this is a stupid fucking rule. And my autistic-disregard-for-stupid-fucking-rules-having-ass was not about to tolerate it. So what do I do? Metaphorically speaking, I chuck it out the window. Who cares? I'm gonna do weed for my anxiety, and if anybody tells me that I'm disobeying god, I can tell them that god doesn't fucking give a shit about weed if he's as kind and loving as the prophets say he is.

A moment passes.

Now wait just a goddamned second! If I'm chucking this rule out the window, isn't there something else I should re-examine? If I'm disregarding what the prophets have said for my own pleasure and recreation, isn't there something regarding the lives, livelihoods, and joie de vivre of countless other people, myself included, that I should be looking at?

Suddenly, the years of (pent-up and suppressed) sheer fucking indignation of the way queer people have been othered by the church hits me all at once, full fucking force. I am angry, angrier than I have ever been. Abso-fucking-lutely not. No. If the prophets are wrong about weed, then they're DEFINITELY wrong about queer people.

And in this moment, I make a decision. "Until the mormon leaders get their shit together, I'm out! I'm fucking done! I'm gonna go live it up and get blazed out of my gourd for shits and giggles, and maybe I'll try a tiny sip of beer, and by god I am going to transition-"

"HEY WAIT JUST A GODDAMNED SECOND"

[Plain text ID: Text in a large, bold, italicized red font that reads "HEY WAIT JUST A GODDAMNED SECOND"]

Shelf shattered, omelette made of my egg, life ruined for the better.

The next morning, I come out to my mom and sister. I still believe in god and mormonism and yadda yadda, I just think the leadership needs to get their heads out of their asses.

Not long after, I decide to finally check out exmormon spaces. Yknow, get the full experience.

I am bombarded with "HOLY FUCK IT'S A CULT. IT RUINED MY LIFE. IT RUINED YOUR LIFE. IT TORE MY FAMILY APART. IT'S NOT EVEN REAL. READ THE CES LETTER, CHECK MORMONISM AGAINST THE BITE MODEL. THINK FOR YOUR GODDAMNED SELF FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE."

I check the sources provided. Well, I'll be damned. They weren't kidding, that mormonism sure can cult started by a con man. At this point, I am now beyond the point of no return. There's no going back. I have seen the light. I want out forever, I want my records removed, mom pick me up I'm scared.

My family never looks at me the same way again :>

[plum-pitt]

Holy shit. I just realized i’ve never even yapped about my headcanons for the rise guys. This is a criminal offense on my part! Must be rectified immediately!!

Disclaimer: Don’t think there’s a lot of hot takes here, but feel free to disagree and talk about your own interpretations if you’d like!! Headcanon is fun and i love discussing it. it’s all fictional and since the text doesn’t give us much concrete shit on these topics we’re all free to make our own, equally valid readings of it. :3

Leo- Transmasc He/Him, gay as fuck who here could’ve guessed, ADHD haver, definitely smokes weed. Fluent in spanish from watching telenovellas as a child. Wants to be a flirty whore/aff so fucking bad but whenever he sees someone he’s legitimately attracted to any charisma he might’ve had gets thrown out the window and into a woodchipper in favor of helpless stuttering. His portalling mishaps early in the series have led him to silly sidequests all over the world that he just,,,, doesn’t really talk about. This won’t come up until they’ll end up in some random ass place and find out just how well travelled and connected he actually is. He’s also got a job at Hueso’s for fun and extra cash to fund his addiction to pot and ordering stupid shit he doesn’t need online. He’s a server, wears rollerskates to “move faster” on the job, just ends up running into shit more often than not. Great with the kids tho, performs little sleight of hand magic tricks and tells jokes to make them happy, never had a fussy kid he couldn’t calm down in a snap. Calls himself Hueso’s nephew and nepotism hire, ignoring the fact that he’s actually a decently competent and well liked employee outside of the several skating related accidents. Shell was cracked badly in the invasion, when they sealed it up, he asked Mikey to paint the healed cracks gold, mimicking the japanese practice of Kintsugi.

Mikey- Definitely queer but not into labels ;3 He/Him is what he defaults to, but any pronouns work for them. Semi fluent in italian, don’t ask me why, just feels right, let chef boy speak italian dammit. One of those mfs on instagram who insists on posting pictures of the food he makes, except his actually looks good and not painfully mediocre so they get a pass. Has been tagging walls in hard to reach spots all over the city for years at this point, after Raph confronted her abt it, fearing that he’d get caught someday, he told him that he’d stop. Yeah, that was a lie he kept doing it, just sneakier now. Makes money off of art commissions, still broke as hell tho cuz he spends it all on bougie ass ingredients and art supplies. Post canon definitely delved more into mystics and spirituality, trains with draxum but also took up meditation in his free time. Fucks with weed and the occasional psychedelic when working on art, says it helps get the creative juices flowing. Considering asking donnie to forge some documents for him so he can attend college online and earn a psych degree. His speech patterns flip on a dime between vague, wise fortune cookie therapist man and typical gen-z slang so abruptly it gives anyone not already familiar with him total whiplash.

Donnie- NonBinary They/He Bisexual but i can’t decide if they’re the kind that can’t stop pulling or can’t pull to save his life. Fluent in several languages, ASL, French, Russian, Japanese. Actually one of their few acedemic endeavors that he doesn’t typically show off and gloat about, makes it all the scarier when his siblings hear him muttering vaguely threatening sounding shit in russian when shit doesn’t go their way. Has tried most substances for “research purposes”, ultimately decided he doesn’t like the feeling of their big ol brain being hindered under the influence, this has a few exceptions tho, mainly when it’s with Leo. Has John Bishops IP address and threatens to drop it on 4chan to “see what happens” every time he tries messing with their family or stopping him from “borrowing” material resources from the US government. Almost considered bs-ing his way into college before they used a cloaking broach to shadow april at school for like 2 days. It was there they learned that the education system fucking sucks and he probably knows more than most professors about his topics of interest anyway. Does freelance work for cash, as far as their brothers know they’re not building and selling anything dangerous (which is code for probably arming both sides in a far away military conflict with deathrays). Spends his free time cyber bullying children on roblox and twitter, and caring for their greenhouse of plants that all have names. (yes he grows weed. his GeniusGrown™️ zaza is known far and wide for its consistently excellent quality. and no, Leo does not get a family discount. Mikey does tho.)

Raph- Someone please send the big man some help😭 he/him(?) Definitely queer in some way shape or form but refuses to confront any identity crisis because he’s just so busy keeping his dumb ass siblings outta shit. Tried weed once and will never touch a substance again, makes his anxiety spike real bad when he doesn’t feel in full control of himself. Runs around with Cassandra and sometimes Jr to do vigilante justice on the side of he and his siblings’ usual patrols. Living garbage disposal and i mean that quite literally. He has and will eat anything, rocks, toys, silverware, sometimes on accident, sometimes on a dare, and sometimes just because he wants to. He grew up gnawing on the legs of furniture, rusty sewer pipes, really any nonliving thing that he could fit his choppers around (unlike donnie who just bit any living creature within a 5 mile radius of his location). Since the invasion made Leo step up as leader Raph has been able to step back a little bit and not have everything in a chokehold, he has a mini crisis about his place in the family and his sense of identity without being a leader. Tries to hide how much it’s affecting him but ofc, living with mikey, this does not last and his ass FINALLY gets chucked (very lovingly) into therapy. Loves to knit, definitely in some kind of old lady facebook group centered around it (he has so much nursing home gossip floating around in his brain hehe)

Alright that’s all for the teetlez. lmk if yall wanna hear about my thoughts on the rest of the main cast, or some of the side cast! Can’t promise i’ll have this much to say on all of em but i’ve definitely got thoughts lol. I might even make a post diving into different character dynamics. idk tho, my fingies are tired typing all that shit😭

Anyway i hope u enjoyed my ramblings, have a lovely day :3

[saintmachina]

This is more....confession than ask but I've been having a rough go of it. I was raised catholic and what little I saw of it in catholic school at a super young age was so full of art, mysticism, defiance AND peace, /kindness/, and encouragement to talk to God as /Father/, as family.....I felt so at home in it. I was pulled out of it bc my parents couldn't afford tuition by the time I was 9, so I went to public school. I saw the Church from the outside and I've had random bursts of OCD style attendance to mass vs not going. I feel more at peace with life with not going but I know I should. I know I disagree with the doctrines but I walk into a cathedral and I'm home. I'm moved to tears by stone stations of the cross and stained glass martyrs but I'm a queer adult who fucked with witchcraft and no longer aspire to be a nun or a saint. I feel like I don't belong but also feel bad telling my fellow queers I ID as Catholic knowing the atrocities committed by it and the trauma most of them have. Do you know anyone else with this experience?

I resonate so much with this ask on so many levels, anon, thank you for your earnestness and your honesty. I know a LOT of people with this experience, myself included, so you came to the right place. I'm no priest, but confessions are always welcome here <3

It sounds like you were formed (in the classical sense of spiritual formation, shaped like clay on a wheel or contoured like a rock worn by waves) by the sacredness you experienced in Catholic school. That was your entry point to God, your foundational understanding of the divine, and on one hand, what a blessing to be equipped at a young age with prayers and tools and stories and rituals to help you draw near to the source of all life! But of course, in another sense, how painful to come to the realization that this tradition you love has perpetuated brutal doctrines and painful teachings for centuries, that it has harmed those you cherish (and undoubtedly you as well).

However, I want to ask you some questions. Why do you need to be a nun, or any kind of saint? Why can't you just be a creature in a body that is soul-stirred by the stained glass and the stations of the cross and the tales of the heroic dead? Why should God take any less notice of you because you question, because your love and desire takes the queer shape that God has rooted within you, because you recoil at injustice and cruelty and corruption? Because you sought communion with something supernatural through a method not formally endorsed by the Church, yet practiced historically by many of its priests, scholars, and adherents? Because you grasp for goodness and sometimes prevail and sometimes fail, just like every human that's come before you?

If God is real, than God and all God's symbols and signs, all the rituals and tales and talismans, must be for God's people. And I'll tell you something I believe with all of myself: we are all God's people.

If your heart is most at peace not attending church, that's okay for a season, or maybe forever! But perhaps there are other ways your heart can rest in God, in nature or conversation with friends or personal devotion or private mysticism or communal prayer? You are heir to an inheritance of a long line of queer Catholics, as difficult as that badge is sometimes to bear, but your (our) queer siblings have reshaped history, theology, art, liturgy, music, and more with our talent and perspectives. We are members of the family, beloved children of an attentive and patient Father. No one gets to tell you to leave: this is your house, should you choose to reside here one day out of the year or many.

Sorry, I feel like I'm rambling, but this ask really touched me. Basically, there are not rules, anon. We're all going to die and we're all going to experience so much pain and joy in our glimmering, fragile lives, and God wants to be present in that pain and joy with us, in whatever form God takes, in whatever language we can understand.

I know it can be painful to tell someone you love who has been hurt by the church that religion still holds meaning for you, I wrestle with that every day, but I think the wrestling is worth it, if you proceed with honesty and compassion. No one can tell you what path to take, but I hope I can encourage you in that you aren't walking alone.

Be blessed in your seeking anon, and fortified by the saints, and guided by the light of the archangels and the gentle touch of Mary, and brooded over by the protective wings of God.

[romanoffsbish]

Mom, Dad, I���m…

Wanda Maximoff x R

Blackhill ; Bishova ; Stony ; BuckySam

Happy Pride Angels, 🌈❤️

Warnings: Attempts at Humor. Heteros.

"Detka, can you go get some tomatoes from the garden? Steve already ate all of the freaking salsa," Wanda grumbled dramatically, falling into your arms as you were mid conversation with Natasha and Maria about their work.

"He probably intended to bottom tonight," Natasha remarks with a shit stirring grin, you cackled in solidarity, but the both of you stopped when your wives stood shoulder to shoulder with a menacing tilt to their heads.

——

"Welp, those tomatoes aren't gonna pick themselves," you noted before running off, you avoided looking back, afraid to see Natasha's stony glare as you abandoned her with them.

Every man for themselves a mantra you live by, well, only when it comes to angry spouses. As an Avenger you were as selfless as the rest, but now you got to be more selfish in retirement.

Natasha, unfortunately, was your victim.

When you entered the massive greenhouse you took a second to admire your wives handiwork. The brunette had a knack for gardening, a green thumb if you will. The greenhouse was her go to place to find her zen after a day of dealing with you, Billy, Tommy, and Ella.

The witch loved you all, her beautiful family, but some days the lot of you made her feel a tad bit homicidal. On those days she gardened.

It wasn't hard to find the tomatoes, they were ripe and ready on a set of entangled vines. But before you could bring it to her, you were too enamored by the conversation your kids were having in their little cove behind the garden.

"I can't do it," Tommy groaned. "Yeah they just won't understand," Morgan Stark agreed with him, and you leaned in to hopefully garner more context for their troubled minds.

"At least Uncle Tony is bi," Raina Belova countered, "He'll be more understanding."

"Have you met our dad?" Anthony, the only Jr present, said in an incredulous manner. "He even claims Fido is gay, he's totally unhinged."

You had to put a hand over your mouth, the amusement you were experiencing was unreal.

"Couldn't be us," Elena teased, "I'm gay as hell, and Bryce here is both queer and nonbinary."

Oh goodness... Never in your days did you expect your kids to keep secrets from you, but for it to be such a silly one it honestly made you want to interrupt the conversation at hand.

To remind them that no matter what, you'd all continue to love them, but it was too funny.

"Mama is going to be mad," Celeste Belova added, "She always said being gay is the way."

"I thought she was ace?" Billy inquired. "She is, but that doesn't make her any less gay."

After the conversation moved on to who they were crushing on you snuck back to the party. The overall consensus being that every last one of your collective brood, besides your youngest, Ella, who was only five, and Natasha and Maria's powerful duo, said they're straight.

"Where have you been?" You ignored your wife, handing her the basket of ingredients while calling all of your friends to the dining room. Tony whined, "What is so important?"

"You guys will not believe what I just heard..."

Wanda rolled her eyes as you spun your tale, she chopped up the tomatoes, jalapeños and onions as you enamored the group of friends.

"Thank God we're safe," Maria teased, turning to her wife with a genuinely relieved smile. "Right? Can you imagine having to attend two straight weddings? And pretend to like it?"

"Oh jeez," you gasped, "I didn't think of that."

Wanda tossed the ingredients into a bowl as the lot of you bantered back and forth, her patience already running thin with you all.

"Y/N, this joke isn't funny." Yelena shook her head in defiance when you reminded her that this wasn't a joke. "You don't know what you are talking about. Must be hearing loss..."

Kate put a hand on her wife's shoulder, "It's true Lena, they've both told me already."

"You traitor!" Yelena ripped her arm away as if the raven haired woman had burned her skin.

You now worried that you'd inspired divorces.

"No," Tony gasped, shaking his head in fear as the unexpected reality set in. "You're lying, you have to be. No son of mine is straight!"

"Honey," Steve called out for him, "It'll be okay, we always knew it would be a possibility."

"It most certainly is not okay," he grimaced, then in a flash he was outside, calling for your children to gather around the hibachi station.

"Where's the fire pops?" Morgan jests, but quickly zips her lips as she sees her dad looking as if he was on the verge of a breakdown.

"Tell me Y/N's lying," he pleads, "That you're not straight, my fragile ticker can't take this."

"Tony!" Steve shrieked, "Don't use an old ailment to guilt the kids into being gay..."

"Stay out of this babe!" He growled, "As far as I am concerned they're gay. Y/N's a liar."

"Am not!" You gasped, "They're all heteros."

"Not us!" Bryce interjected. "We're queer."

"That's our precious babies," Natasha coo'd, arms opened wide for her kids to run into, and the both of their teens instantly ran at her.

Bucky and Sam had entered your backyard just as the revelation took place. You all watched as they took three steps back, baby carrier in hand as they looked to your kids as if they were all diseased. "We're just being cautious."

You snorted softly, "We understand fellas."

Wanda glared at you, but you remained unfazed for now. Too busy finding the dramatics entertaining to see the horror. Wanda saw it though, she looked out to see all of the kids wearing terrified expressions. She was about to console them, but then a fight broke out beside you, and you had to laugh.

"This is all your fault Kate Belova!" Yelena shrieked, "It was all of that organic mac and cheese you fed them when I was on missions!"

"Mac and cheese being healthy doesn't make a child straight," Kate shrieked back, hands running down her face as she realized her plans for a peaceful barbecue ended with this.

"If it had been orange they might have been more connected to the rainbow Kate!" Yelena went on, "It's like our gay power source."

"Well, with Wanda's garden the kids eat the entire rainbow and look at them, straight."

Yelena found your assistance unwelcome, "Keep out of this Y/N Maximoff. Your kids aren't all old enough to say yet, you still have a chance! Mine are all done... Stupid preteens"

"Well, that's not exactly true," you reasoned, "None of you have been to college yet, that's when you'll really know if you're gay or not."

Natasha, Yelena and Tony all nodded, they found your reasoning the most logical. It was a lot easier than accepting they're all straight.

"Okay, that's enough!" Wanda interjected, her tone terrifying, "Look at what you're doing to them. They can't help it if they're straight."

"I wanna be gay like mama," Ella murmured, clearly she just wanted to fit in with the crowd, and therefore you praised her, "Smart girl."

Wanda entered your mind with a warning, she smirked as you lifted Ella onto your hip, then you fell into unexpected silence by her side.

"Haha, you're like so whipped, "Yelena cackled.

Wanda glared at her. "You don't scare me wiggly woo, my kids being straight is enough."

"Yelena," Kate sighed, "Knock it off, and try telling the girls that you love them."

"Of course I love them," she rushed out angrily, "That's not even a question, they're moy deti."

(My babies)

Celeste and Raina ran into the blondes side, their tears of relief soaked into her shirt, and made her see they were genuinely scared this would lose them her love. "Shh, mama loves you always, even if you make dumb choices."

Tony and Steve were in a standoff of sorts, the billionaire sipped on his margarita slowly as they appeared to be having a conversation with only their eyes. Tony rolled his, but after a moment of incoherent grumbling he nodded. Morgan and Tony Jr. approached their dads after being called forward, Steve embraced them first, and wholly. Tony gave them both side hugs, and whispered that he just needed time to cope, but he loved them regardless.

Then you heard him brush by with his son, begging him to take it back, only to find out his son was in a long term relationship with a girl. That study buddy of his was so much more...

Like father, like son you suppose.

You looked out to see your boys stood side by side, Billy gripped Tommy's hand for dear life. Wanda was about to call them over, but you beat her to it as guilt overwhelmed your heart. The boys scurried over, and Wanda sent you an adoring smile as you kissed the both of their heads, and hugged them tight. "I love you," falling from all of your lips in succession.

After everyone had time to process the news, the vibe returned to one of relaxation. Wanda set up the grill for Sam, and the master chef himself began to put on a show for everyone.

Once the plates were served you all moved to the fire pit, where you talked about all you'd missed in each other's life while the younger kids sat in front of the projector playing Up.

Then, as the sun officially fell, everyone began to clear out. Saying their goodbyes at the front door, where you hugged each kid, an apology of sorts on your lip for the drama you stirred. Each one forgave you, some even thanked you for finally getting the conversation over with.

When everyone was officially gone you moved back outside to clean up. Tommy helped you, while Billy helped clean the kitchen so that Wanda could focus on Ella's bath, and bedtime.

It was an entire hours worth of work, you were beyond exhausted as you fell into the mattress. You nearly passed out without your wife, but soon enough Wanda slipped into the bed. She wore a thoughtful expression, weighing out whether to disturb you or not, but she soon reasoned you'd appreciate her words, "Detka..."

"Yes baby?" You rolled onto your side, using your elbow to prop yourself up so you could look down at her. She looked to you with a warm smile, then she was yawning, "Don't worry." She paused to pull you into her arms before whispering in your ear: "Billy was not being honest. We do indeed have a gay son."

You laughed so hard tears streamed down your face and pooled in the crook of your equally as amused wife's neck. That was the last thing you expected to hear from her, if anything you had anticipated a continuation of her scolding.

"I'll scold you more tomorrow," she teased, "But for now, we should get some sleep."

——

1,844 Words