#And not to hate on men but IT'S ALWAYS A MAN WHO SAYS IT

[bravo666]

mdni • price x f!reader

captain price has a ritual and his men know better than to disturb. every time 141 gets back from an op and rumbles back to hereford, they unload, debrief, file the necessary reports and then some, all that dreary bureaucracy that needs to be done within the first couple hours of touching back onto english soil. and then, at the first opportunity, he fucks off. captain’s privilege, he says.

the others do too—on the town or to the bunks or to their own flats or wherever—but price never joins them. he has his own destination in mind and it’s a solo journey, so quit nosing about trying to find out, sergeant. he’s only ever gone for a few hours, six at the most, before he rolls on back to base, squares his shoulders, and throws himself back into work. at least he always seems a bit lighter when he comes back.

said destination is a pub not one, not two, but three villages over. the further from base, the less likely it is for him to run into one of his men, and he’d just hate it if that happened, would feel like a dog dragging mud in through the garden door, crossing his wires. he might not like it about himself, but john price is a greedy and selfish man, and the pretty little thing that’s been tending bar for the past few years is a morsel that he wants to keep all to himself, cradled in his jaw and savored.

the dingy pub is nondescript and uncreative, a local establishment that’s been around since anyone can remember and hadn’t changed a whit. price found the place back when he was first made captain and started looking for further out watering holes, looking for some peace and quiet away from the places where the recruits drank. he almost wrote the place off his lists of spots before he saw the flustered young bartender duck in for her shift.

since then, he’s been a regular—for a given value of ‘regular’, as much as a military man can be—ever since. started swapping conversation after the third or fourth visit. polite conversation turned friendly, then raucous with laughter, then warm and teasing.

that’s as far as he let’s it go, naturally. with a job like his, he’s married to his work; there’s no room, no time in his life for a sweet little wife, no matter what he dreams at night with his cock fisted in his grip or whose face he happens to see play the role. he tried the whole wife thing once, chased after it, even, and all price has to show for it is an alimony payment set to automatically go out every month.

(his ex-wife couldn’t handle him in the end. she was the type of woman who needed him at every hour to keep her love alive and couldn’t stomach the weeks alone while he was deployed, and even when price was home, she didn’t have an appetite to match his when he slipped himself off his leash. they both jumped into it without looking ahead. such is life.)

so he ignored the hungry need for a woman beside him, and even if he ever did go down that route again, it couldn’t be her. she’s young and bright and untouched by blood. playful flirting and occasional brushes of fingers hovered somewhere plausibly deniable as a service worker buttering up a favorite patron, or—and price only lets this thought loose for a moment before snatching it and shoving it down with a growl—a friend. he’s gone half the year anyway, or something like it. every time he comes, he carries the irrational, ugly fear that in she’s moved on, moved out, got a new job, left the country, got married—

when he shoulders through the door now, sawdust sticking to his boots, his girl’s—because that’s what she is, even if it’s only the sight of her that he lets himself claim and hoard—wiping down glasses behind the sill, the pub just about empty as all the old timers went home. his first thought is that she’s still there, thank god. his second’s that she’s changed up her hair. it looks good. price pointedly ignores the way the sight of her with her new hair and those pretty lips makes him chub up a little.

his girl’s eyes crinkle a little when she looks up toward the door. “john,” she says warmly, and before he’s even seated at his usual spot on the bar, she’s filling him up his favorite pint. “how are you doing, handsome? just got back from saving the world?”

a snarling, hungry, traitorous part of his brain tells him that his wife is being so good, keeping him fed and watered, and the only thing next on her wifely duties is to keep his balls drained. he tells it to go stuff itself.

“still working on it, sweetheart,” price says with a sip. maybe it was worth it, when she asked a while ago why he showed up so irregularly, to tell her that he was SAS, if only for the way she called it after. saving the world. that’d be nice.

this time, though, he notices something else that’s new besides the hairstyle, and it makes his beer taste like dust in his mouth. a glint in the light, on his girl’s left hand.

not really his girl anymore, is she?

price swallows down his mouthful and tries to quell the sudden heat that rises in his veins, a raging anger that feels, inexplicably, like he’s been stolen from. his molars clench together for dear life as he rearranges, tames, quiets himself. it was fine. it was fine! she’s just his bartender, is all. his friend. modern country and whatever, she could go meet whoever, get engaged to whoever, fuck whoever, and if she was happy, then—then price would have to be happy for her.

(she better be happy, he thinks. if whatever little boy she’s found isn’t making her feel like a bloody princess every god damn day then he doesn’t deserve the fingers he touches her with or the cock between his legs—)

this was good, even. with a ring on her finger, price’d always have a reminder that pretty girls didn’t owe him anything, don’t belong to him like a dog with a bone. kill the fantasy, keep his head on the missions. a better soldier. it’s that tightening thought that lets him calm himself enough to say “congratulations are in order, i assume?”

his gi—the—she furrows her brow in confusion, but she follows price’s gaze—how could she not, with him practically burning a hole in her finger with his stare—and laughs. “oh, that,” she says, easy as ever. “no, nothing’s happened.” she wiggles the ring off her finger and sliding it across the counter to price for his inspection.

under his touch, the tell is obvious: it’s plastic, cheap, almost gummy plastic. the faux diamond is cheap acrylic, only close to sparkling because she’s gone through and polished it up. it takes him a moment before he puts it together, but before he does, he briefly becomes so angry that he thinks he might actually kill a civilian for treating her this way.

“bought that online for five quid,” she keeps going. “just to stop some of the patrons from asking questions, or flirting, or, you know, trying to introduce me to their nephews and that kind of thing.”

a decoy ring. a dummy, a shield, something with no actual suitor attached to the other end. price is so relieved that he can feel every muscle in his aching body untense, and it pisses him off because he knows he shouldn’t care this much about his friend’s love life. “smart,” he says, his voice a bit thick before he clears it. “smart. though, you know, sweetheart, you could always try telling them you’re not interested.”

“please, john, you think i haven’t tried?” she shrugs. “no, most of them don’t listen without seeing a little proof that that seat is taken. always thought they could convince me otherwise. the ring shuts up most of them, and the few that still don’t get the hint, i end up having to tell them stories about ‘my husband’ before they piss off.”

the word husband coming from her mouth makes something rumble in price’s chest that’s becoming dangerously difficult to ignore. he tries a chuckle, tries to focus on the feeling of his beard bristling his own cheeks and not the way they would feel against hers, and tries to lighten the mood. “so, what, you just make up stories about this husband of yours? grand tales of romance?”

but she looks away, and—is his girl flustered? she picks up a rag in her hands and starts wiping idly at the counter, like she’s trying to avoid his eyes. “oh, you know,” she says. “i keep it simple. just enough to, er, get them to stop, and consistent, so they can’t pick holes. he’s—he’s in the military. leads a team.”

then, quietly, “he’s out there saving the world.”

the dog slips his leash.

when price finally leaves to make the long drive back to base, his shirt rumpled and his chin wet with slick, he keeps the plastic ring in his back pocket, not bothering to give it back. why would he? she doesn’t need it anymore, because he’s going to buy his girl the real diamonds that she deserves.

[slytherinshua]

◍　FALLING DREAMS　( 이석민 )

genre fluff , period comfort , established relationship , seokmin x fem!reader   cw cramps/nausea/headaches/other period stuff mentioned but no blood , not proofread   wc 804   request for @seokminfilm lyr my love this will cure ur cramps 100% (i hope)   note slytherinshua svt fic era WE ARE SO BACK (i'm not actually in an era only for my pookie lyr) ++ listen to falling dreams while reading   net @kstrucknet

You’d been cursed with painful cramps on your periods since you were a teenager. Coupled with nausea, headaches, and soreness, it was safe to say you loathed whenever that week of torture came around. Most people thought you were being dramatic about how much it hurt, even when sometimes it was too hard to even stand up because of the pain. 

The worst was whenever you had to bring up the topic to men. Calling in sick for work became more trouble than it was worth due to your prying boss who was stricter than reason. And God forbid you mentioned your time of the month as a reason for your absence. You’d been laughed at, threatened, and humiliated multiple times to the point that you avoided it at all costs. It was easier to suffer through the pain all day at the office than try to fight your way for a reasonable excused sick day.

But you were lucky that there was at least one reasonable man in your life. Your boyfriend Seokmin took your time of the month more seriously than you sometimes. He was always more than willing to get you anything you needed, and was extra affectionate and loving. Although he didn’t know how it felt to go through the painful cramps, he could imagine just how painful it must be. Seeing you grimace your way through every long day saddened him. He tried his utmost best to make it even a little easier for you.

Which was why now, after a long day at work and several breakdowns throughout the day due to the hormonal rollercoaster your body was riding, you were now lying in bed listening to the soft sound of Seokmin’s singing from the kitchen. He was making your favourite brownies as was tradition. 

It started years ago when you first started dating. You were a bit too shy to ask your boyfriend of only a week to help you with anything relating to the pain. Meanwhile, Seokmin was both confused and concerned on why you kept wincing every few minutes while trying to watch a movie. When he finally coaxed the answer out of you, he was unexpectedly sweet about it all. 

You laugh at the memory now. Of course Seokmin was the sweetest ever when he heard about the pain you were experiencing. It was perfectly in character for him. You soon learned that the attractive man who always made you laugh was also one with the kindest soul you had ever met. You knew from that day that you had chosen right. Seokmin was a dream. 

“Baby, I just put them in the oven, okay? Thirty minutes and they’ll be ready,” Seokmin called as he made his way back to your shared bedroom. A pretty smile graced his face as he caught sight of you wrapped up in the blankets. “How are you feeling now?” 

His soft question made your heart melt a little, and with a gentle hand reaching to brush back your hair, you felt overwhelmed all at once. What did you do to deserve a man as perfect as him?

“Still feels like someone’s stabbing my insides repeatedly, but you’re making it better,” you told him, raking your hand up to meet his, interlacing your fingers together. He frowned slightly at your response, hating to see you in such pain, even if it was a normal thing. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Seokmin’s voice was gentle, soothing to your ears. Whenever you were around him, all the pain you felt seemed to subside, even just a little. His touch was delicate as he pulled you up from the pillows for a hug, squeezing extra tightly when he heard the muffled whimper of pain escape your lips. He knew after years that this is all you needed. A warm hug, comforting words, and delicious fudgy brownies to distract from the pain.

Tender kisses were what came next, the first few pressed to your cheek before he travelled lower to your lips. You giggled with every exaggerated ‘mwah!’ that Seokmin added after every peck, attempting to lift your mood in any way. And it always worked wonders. 

It worked too well, in fact, judging by the whine of protest that left your lips as soon as he stopped kissing you. But he remedied it as quickly as he could, lips falling back onto yours, hands holding your waist gently, cautiously, as if you were in danger of breaking at any additional pressure. To Seokmin, you were the most precious part of his life. He made it quite known with his selflessness and caring towards you. And if you were to ever doubt it, all it took was one bite of brownie to be reminded again.

Seokmin was a dream. And he was all yours.

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[n1ght0f-nyx]

It would be sooo cool if you wrote about a sailor making offerings to the sea, and the sea helping him back during a privateer attack. The sea being a sea monster (properly monstrous, properly grotesque) who has been waiting to return the sailors kindness.

(I suggested a privateer attack, not pirates, since I feel like a sea monster would have plenty of reason to hate the empires who poisoned their waters)

Your choice if you make the monster more human-minded and create a monster fuck scenario, or if you wish to keep it platonic and protecting only. Or a secret third option of course.

love this so much. water deity x reader. warnings/tags- god worship, monster fucking

word count- 961 words.

The sea is a cruel thing, or so your shipmates always say. The sea takes more than it gives, steals men from their homes, swallows ships whole. But you have never believed that.

You’ve sailed these waters for years, and you know the sea watches. It listens. And sometimes, in ways small and strange, it answers.

he first time you made an offering to the sea, it was nothing but a simple ritual. A bit of salted bread, a silver trinket, and a whispered prayer cast into the waves. A habit picked up from your grandmother, who swore by the old ways, though no one else on your crew paid the ocean much mind beyond cursing it. But you had seen the way the waters turned calm after a gift, how the storms held their breath when you spoke softly to the waves.

You had no way of knowing he was listening.

He—if such a thing could be called a man—was old. Older than the charts, older than the empires that had carved their borders across the seas. His body was the deep, vast and unknowable, his limbs were long things of shifting shadow and sinew, slick with brine and lined with ridges like the belly of a great fish. When he swam beneath your ship, the waters grew dark, as though the sky itself had plunged into the sea. His eyes were like pits, the color of the abyss, but within them burned something unmistakably alive.

And he had watched you.

Watched you kneel at the ship’s edge, murmuring your prayers, your offerings set adrift on the current. Watched you work, tireless and steady, the only one aboard who did not spit into the sea or demand from it. You were different. You were kind. And in all the years he had endured—watching men slaughter whales, pour filth into his waters, carve their wars into his depths—you were the first to show him reverence without fear.

So when the privateers came, he rose.

The attack came swift and merciless. Your ship, a modest merchant vessel, was never meant to withstand the wrath of empire-sanctioned cutthroats. Cannon fire split the hull, sending shouts and splinters into the air. You fought, though you were no soldier. You were thrown to the deck, the scent of salt and blood thick in your nose, your hands bound as you watched your crewmates slaughtered. The privateers laughed as they kicked you onto your knees. You had nothing left but a prayer.

And this time, the sea answered.

A shadow unfurled beneath the waves, vast and slow, the water itself recoiling. The first to notice it was a privateer standing too close to the edge—he barely had time to scream before something yanked him under. The others turned just in time to see the waves boil over with darkness, tentacles slick with salt and spined like the deep-sea beasts of nightmare, a body rising from the depths, twisting, shifting, too large to be real. A maw opened in the water, lined with jagged, bioluminescent teeth, its throat glowing like the lantern-lit caves beneath the tides.

The sea had come to claim its due.

The privateers fell into chaos, some leaping overboard only to be dragged under, others frozen in terror as the creature moved through them with deliberate, inevitable force. He did not fight like a beast—he fought like a god, ancient and wrathful. A tentacle curled around you, slick but gentle, lifting you from the deck as the ship beneath you was torn apart. He cradled you in the crook of an armored limb, his touch lingering, careful. You did not struggle. You knew, somehow, that you would not be harmed.

And when the wreckage sank, when the last screams faded into the quiet hush of the waves, he finally spoke.

“Mine.”

His voice was the grind of shifting tides, the hum of the current against the hull of a ship, the rasp of sand against stone. You shuddered, not in fear, but in the weight of knowing. You had always known the sea could be cruel. You had not known it could be devoted.

He carried you to a place far beyond the reach of men—a cavern where the walls gleamed with mother-of-pearl, where the tide pooled in bioluminescent blue, where the air was thick with salt and the echoes of something ancient. He placed you upon the smooth, sea-worn rock and did not let go, curling around you like the tide itself.

“You gave to me,” he murmured, voice like the whisper of waves against a forgotten shore. His great, abyssal eyes peered down at you, hunger and adoration twining together. “No man has ever given to me.”

You swallowed hard. Your pulse thundered, but not in terror. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you—it was possessive, but not unkind. It was as if you had called to him all those years, and he had finally come to answer.

“…And now you return the favor,” you said, your voice quiet, testing.

His mouth curled, something like a smile but far too sharp. “Yes.”

You reached out, hesitant, your fingers brushing the slick, scaled ridge of his arm. He trembled beneath you. Something deep in his chest thrummed, like the rolling echo of waves against a cliffside. He leaned in, impossibly vast and terrifyingly gentle.

“Mine,” he rumbled again, but this time, it was a plea.

You could have denied him. You could have fought, could have feared, could have rejected the devotion of something so monstrous, so inhuman. But you had spent your whole life at sea, and you knew better than to deny the tide.

“…Yours,” you whispered.

The cavern filled with the sound of the ocean’s joy.

[ameliathornromance]

With the Prophecy drawing near, you sighed as you watched a bunch of the Usurpare Knights clank their tankards together.

They all jeered and as the rest of the Tavern drank in resolute silence. You always hated serving the Usurparian forces.

Since their take over, forty years ago, they’d been nothing but trouble. You’d seen them mistreat your father – a half Fae man – for over twenty years and now with the Princess of Lemuria’s prophecy drawing near… You didn’t even want to think about the consequences of what would happen if they were victorious in their battle.

Half of the patrons in this Tavern were Creatures, and while the Tavern sat on the Usurpare and Lemurian border – leaning more to the Lemurian side – if the Usurpare forces won, that would spell the end of your families business. Being mostly run by Creatures, the Tavern would probably be forced to shut down.

Which would also mean that the Creatures who came to the Tavern for comfort, would have no where else to go and then, would be forced into unsavoury work.

The other patrons, all shot the Usurparian men dirty looks as they laughed loudly and drunkenly.

You sighed, cleaning a glass in your hand with a dish rag.

Other Side above, what you would give for them to be quiet.

The Creature Patrons all gave you sympathetic looks as one of the Knights approached you. “Darling, would you give me-” but before the Knight could finish, he had fallen face first onto the wooden floor, earning a roar of laughter from his fellows.

You didn’t bother to look over the counter as the Knight clambered back up to his feet, the red feathers pluming out of his golden armour helmet, matching the glow of his cheeks.

He could hardly suppress his drunken giggle as he asked, “c-could you… ahaha! Could you please- please get me and my- my friends some more of that delicious nectar you- you have?”

With one glance over at the other soldiers, who were all still chortling and barely keeping themselves together, you replied, “no. I think I’m going to cut you guys off, as a matter of fact.”

Partly, you were bitter about who they worked for. The King of Usurpare – or the Usurper King as the Lemurians called him – was well known as quite a cruel and unforgiving man.

You’d heard stories about how he’d treated his mother when she was still alive. He routinely used her as target practice for archery and demanded that she always be the one to help him collect his arrows, before he’d order her to stick an apple on the top of her head and resume her ‘rightful position’ as the King would say.

It was only a matter of time before he missed the apple on his mothers head. And one day, he did.

Who would willingly pledge their sword to a man like that? Who slaughtered his own mother for the sake of becoming a better aim?

If you were going to be cruel, at least put someone in the position who deserved it. Like a murderer or thief who stole from charities. Even a servant would have been better than his own mother.

The other part of you despised the Knights on the basis of what they did to your parents. Your father was beaten more times than you could count, just because of his Fae heritage and your mother was forced to watch.

Some of the Knights, at least seemed to be apprehensive to their behaviours… but more often than not, it was the malicious kind of person, who just wanted to beat up Creatures because of their own prejudices, who joined the Usurper King’s forces.

You had served these Knights on the basis that they would have one drink and then would have gone back to their camp, which was based a few miles out from the Tavern.

But nope. They had decided to outstay their welcome.

At your refusal, the drunken Knight’s face fell. He no longer chuckled like an idiot, and instead, slammed his fist down on the counter. “Look, darling,” he slurred. “I’m not playing games! No games!” He flung his arm out like he was swatting at an invisible fly. “So, stop with the joke and gimme more drinks!”

“You still haven’t paid for your first half,” you said, coldly. “And look at the lot of you, I don’t even think you’ve even got a Jule to share between the lot of you.”

The Knight’s face contorted. “Thatss not true!” He snapped. Turning on his heel, he called out to his fellows, “oi! Do you guys have any more Jules?”

“Tell her she can get fucked if she thinks we’re paying!” One of the Knights shouted. “His Majesty will be running this land soon enough, and then we won’t have to pay for drinks!”

You rolled your eyes, “sorry. Guess that means no more drinks for any of you.”

“Now listen here, bitch.” The Knight snarled. “You are gonna get me and my friends-” he hiccuped. “More drinks, so help you Prophet Lilybeth, and we won’t pay for them…”

“She said no.”

Both you and the Knight’s heads whipped around to face the other end of the bar. Shrouded in darkness, but still visible thanks to the candle light on the table, a cloaked figure turned to face you.

“Look, while you’re here, this is the bar keeps land.” The figure said. He rose his own tankard and gestured to you. “Not Lemurian, not Usurparian; Hers. Now why don’t you back off, and leave her be? She’s trying to save your Usurper assess from getting liver failure.”

You search your mind for the figures appearance. He’d been in the Tavern since it’d opened that morning, one of the first Patrons to walk in… of course, you met a lot of people while working this job, but why couldn’t you remember his appearance?

From the place you stood behind the bar, you could tell he was descended from Orcs, no thanks to the green skin and tusks sticking out the bottom of his jaw. But there was something else that made him recognisable, apart from his Creature appearance.

“What did you just say?” The Knight at the bar asked. “’Cos I could’ve sworn you were telling me to fuck off? Did I hear that correctly lads?”

The other Knights stood, and joined their companion at the bar.

“Well,” the Orc paused, looking up to the roof of the Tavern as if in deep thought. “Sure, that’s one way to put it.”

Before things would get too out of hand, you spoke up, “look, I don’t want any issues here. You guys can just leave and no one has to get into fights or anything like that.”

But the Knight’s ignored you and headed for the Orc on the opposite side of the room.

Sighing, you reached under the table for your own dagger, kept exclusively for this kind of situation. It was by no means a weapon meant for long fights, but it could do some damage if it had to.

While you hated the Usurpare forces, you weren’t just about to question their abilities as soldiers. If you were going to strike, it would have to be hard and fast.

But it turns out, you didn’t have to worry about that.

Before you could even wrap your fingers around the handle of the dagger, the Orc had stood. His arm shot out like a hunting snake and gripped the first Knight’s throat.

As the man choked, the Orc lifted the man into the air, his feet dangling off the ground. “Look, I’m just trying to enjoy my drink before I set off into the Lemurian bollocks freezing snow,” the Orc sighed. “And the lady behind the bar is just doing her job, so as kindly as possible,” the Orc swung the man and knocked all the other Knights to the ground with one swing.

Their armour clanged as they fell on top of each other. The Orc dropped the man in his hand and bent over the group of cowering soldiers, “fuck off back to your King. I hear he’s in for it regarding trying to take the Fortress Imbolc. He’s going to need all the support he can get. And if you want free drinks,” the Orc glowered, “I suggest you get going.”

As if commanded, the Knights all scrambled over one another and darted out of the Tavern without a word. “This isn’t over, Orc!” The first Knight who spoke to you shouted. “We’ll have ya head!”

And with that, they vanished off into the snowy wasteland outside.

The Orc huffed, dusting off his arms. He grabbed his tankard and came over to the bar, where he sat in front of you. “I’m sorry about that lot,” he grumbled. “Usurparian soldiers are just such bastards.”

You pursed your lips as you took the tankard from him and refilled it. “I know. Thank you for that.” Placing the tankard back on the bar, the Orc took it and gulped it down in one go.

After that, he sighed, and wiped the foam off his top lip. “You alright miss?” He asked you.

“I’m fine. Takes a lot more than that to scare me.” You assured. “Believe me, they’ve done worse before.”

He looked down at the tankard, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He mumbled.

You shook your head. “It’s just how it is, isn’t it?” You sighed, returning to your glass polishing. “They come in, push us all around and then expect to get everything handed to them on a silver platter for it.”

The Orc chuckled. “That is true.”

He looked up at you again, pulling down his hood. “I’m Kaus.”

When you looked back at him, his hair shocked you. It was clipped short at the sides, leaving only a healthy mop of it on the top of his head. It looked like it hadn’t been washed in days, weeks maybe.

“(Y/N).” You returned. “… What happened then?”

Kaus sniffed and pushed his hair back. “Got asked to come up North by the Dux. Invite from the Undying Lord.” He clarified at your confused expression. “’Cos the Princess is about to make her great venture into the East to kill the Usurper King, the Lord said that we could stay with him until the fights over.”

“And then something happened?” You asked.

“And then something happened.” Kaus confirmed. “So, I did what you do when that happens, I cut all my hair off and now just wander.”

You didn’t want to pry into what had exactly happened. It probably wasn’t pretty and he didn’t seem like he was open to talk about it any more than you already had.

So, you took his tankard, refilled it and placed it back in front of him. “Don’t worry about paying. Seems as though you could use a break.”

Kaus took the drink and looked at the foamy liquid. “Great, more alcohol to drown my sorrows in.” Despite his sarcastic remark, he still chugged it down.

“You didn’t have to drink it if you didn’t want to.” You told him. “No ones forcing you to.”

“That wasn’t me saying no to alcohol, barkeep.” Kaus gave you a lopsided smile, leaning on his hand. “But right now, this is all I got.”

You pursed your lips, uncertain if it was your place to say what you were about to.

But this Orc seemed to be in a really bad headspace. And you didn’t want to contribute to making it any worse.

“Look,” you said, leaning forward. “I don’t know what happened that made you come here, but… please don’t drown your sorrows in alcohol. It’s not like that will solve anything. It won’t bring anyone back, it won’t undo whatever’s been done and it won’t make you feel any better if you’re already spiralling.”

The Orc’s smile faded. He stared at you for a moment, contemplating his own thoughts. “Alright,” he said. Sitting up right, he dug into his cloak pocket and threw a few gold Jules on the table. “I’ll stop but only because it’s you asking,” He gave you a smirk. “And you seem very kind, (Y/N).”

He finished his tankard and stood.

“I said that you didn’t have to pay-”

“It’s a tip.” Kaus said. “Do you mind if I come back tomorrow? Just to keep an eye out for those guys again. I won’t be drinking this time.”

You nodded at him, “I’d like that.”

And the next few days, he kept coming back. He sat at the bar and chatted to you when you weren’t seeing other customers, gave narrowed glares to any Usurpare soldiers who walked in and also helped see out drunkards who just didn’t know when to stop drinking.

You felt bad that he was doing all this to help you out and receiving no payment for it.

During his time spent in the Tavern, you learned that he was an only child, was an expert at using a battle axe and had once out-drunk an Fae at their own game.

He also got along well with regulars, and would often entertain them once they were drinking, cracking jokes and playing cards.

The whole place just seemed more lively when he was around and people regularly came to the Tavern looking for him if they needed cheering up.

When the Tavern was closing one night, he went to bid you farewell, but you stopped him. “Wait, hold on.” You’d grabbed his wrist as he had one foot out the door. “I wanted to offer you something.”

Kaus raised an eyebrow. “Offer me what?” A smirk crossed his lips, “a place in your bed?”

Grown used to his teasing now, you swatted him on the arm, to which he laughed and you rolled your eyes. You let go of his wrist and turned your back on him. “Well, I was going to offer you a job here, but if you’re going to be making jokes like that-”

“No, no, no!” Kaus pleaded.

When you looked back around at him, his hands were pressed together. He lowered his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” He looked up at you. “Do you really want to give me a job?”

You nodded. “As bouncer. But I doubt that you’ll have to do anything other than drink and play cards with the other patrons. People really seem to like you here.” You smiled. “And I like you being here too.”

Kaus’ face lit up at your words. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.”

And so, you started to give the Orc a pay check, week after week.

You noticed as well, that after being given this job, his whole outward appearance had changed. His hair was now washed, and styled to that it feathered upwards to the air.

He got rid of his cloak and exchanged it for a beige tunic and brown vest, which he matched with blue trousers.

Sometimes he made drinks – with your super vision of course – and made a whole show of it for guests.

It seemed as though he had really enjoyed working here for you.

And one night, after closing up the Tavern, he said to you, “do you know, I think I really feel happy here.”

You snorted and laughed as you closed the shutters. “Well I should hope so.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Kaus said, smiling. “I meant… before you allowed me to come in here and pester you, I really didn’t have any direction to go in. I was just drinking and hoping that it would drown out the awfulness of my existence… But with you,” He looked at you. “You drown out all that badness… I’ve actually started thinking about growing my hair back.”

You tried to imagine the Orc with long hair. He’d kept it short the whole time he’d been under your employment, but when you imagined him with it… He didn’t look half bad.

He gave you a smile. Not a smirk or smug grin, a real, genuine smile. “But… agh sorry, that was a really weird way to go into this. But I was wondering, if-”

A knock on the door interrupted him.

Kaus sighed and rolled his eyes as you called out, “we’re closed!” You grabbed the plank of wood you kept next to the door to lock it, but just as you were about to set it in place, a voice from the other side responded: “This is the Lemurian Guard! We need to speak to the Orc.”

Whipping around to look at Kaus, he gave you a shrug.

The Lemurian guards were always better customers than the Usurparian. And because they’d always been good to the Tavern and it’s other patrons, you opened the door to them.

Their silver armour glinted in the Taverns candle light as they stepped inside, tracking in snow from the cold darkness outside.

“Why do you need to see Kaus?” You asked, frowning. “He’s not done anything wrong. He’s a good Orc.”

The soldier shook his head, “he hasn’t done anything wrong, the King and Queen request an audience with him.”

“What?” Kaus peered his head around the door, “why?”

This baffled you as much as it did him, including the Lemurian soldier. “I’ve just been sent to come and get you. According to a report we’ve had filed, you share a distaste for the Usurper and his forces. And as far as I can gather, that’s why the King and Queen want to see you.”

You and Kaus looked at each other. “And I’m assuming I can’t refuse?” Kaus asked, finally.

“No. You can’t.” The soldier said. “Now please, don’t make this any more difficult than it already is, and come along quietly.”

Kaus gave you a furtive glance. “… Is it okay if I take some time off?” He asked you, smiling sheepishly.

“Looks like I don’t have a choice but to give you some,” you sighed. “Be safe, okay?”

He nodded and placed a hand on your shoulder. “I promise I will.” Kaus stepped outside the Tavern and into the darkness, following the soldier.

He was only a few steps ahead before he turned and called to you. “How about we share a drink when I get back?! Like a date!”

You were stunned by his question, but given that he was getting further and further away into the darkness, you called back, “yeah! That sounds great!”

You heard Kaus’ whooping from as he vanished deeper into the darkness.

Smiling, you continued closing up the whole Tavern. You couldn’t stop your grin as you blew out the candles and made sure all the windows and doors were locked, before proceeding upstairs to your room, where you fell into a deep sleep, smile still plastered on your face.

You only really began to worry about Kaus, when he wasn’t back the next morning.

Hi! Thank you so much for reading my story! If you like this kind of content, you should check out my Patreon! There, I post stories twice a week and earlier than I post on Tumblr. I also post exclusive stories there too where you won’t be able to find anywhere else.

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Taglist <3

@sunndust @greenie-c

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

I’d Burn The World

Cho SangWoo x reader

Masterlist <- comment here to be added to the Taglist

Tw: smoking, gun (no death, though murder is implied), brief moment where reader is groped by other men

You had known Sang Woo as your dad’s best bud. Completely ignoring how he didn’t bother to look at you or how he simply just didn’t acknowledge your presence. Quite frankly, you would think he hated you. But oh, if he saw the glint in your eye as you looked at him, or your wide smile. He’d see you were so good for him.

You began studying law in your first year of university. Always studying, your head was always in the books. You had grown since your little crush on Sang Woo a few years back. You now focused on sex with easy boys… you weren’t a slut, but you enjoy a good friend with benefits. You came home on a Soring break holiday. 2 weeks of sun and small town city boys for you to play with.

“Heya dad” you kiss his cheek as you enter the kitchen. He smiled at you. “I’m heading off to the store, need anything?”

“No. But say hello to Sang Woo, he’s sitting at the table” you stopped in your tracks.

“Why’s he here?” You ask abruptly. Your dad’s eyes meeting yours quickly.

“He’s staying for the next couple of days, his apartment is getting plumbing maintenance done on it” Gi-Hun said. “And actually bring me a pack of cigarettes”

“Mkay” you walk through the kitchen and into the dining room. You saw Sang Woo sitting at table, an unlit cigarette sitting between his teeth. “Mr. Cho” you spoke bowing.

“(Y/n), we’ve been over this, you can call me Sang Woo” he said coldly. He eyes you as you bowed, obviously looking at your cleavage. You mouth an ‘okay’ and leave. You walk happily into the store grabbing 2 packs of cigarettes and a lighter before leaving. You noticed two men standing outside, staring at you as you walked out.

“Hey cutie” he whistled. You ignored it, walking quickly past them. They began to follow you to your apartment, as you sped up in pace so did they. “Hey! Didn’t they ever teach you some manners?” You broke out into a full sprint, running now. You turned your street, somehow narrowly avoiding their out reached hands. High school track sure as hell paid off.

You looked for your apartment, hoping to see one of the men outside, you didn’t. You decided to run for the door hoping it was open. You reach the steps before they managed to grab you. Feeling you up on the street.

“Oh nice set of tits” one of them said, ripping your shirt.

“Let me go!” You shouted. Sang woo, who was inside heard your voice, immediately standing up and walking towards the commotion. Adjusting his glasses as he did so. “I said “fucking let me go”” you kicked back, hitting a guy in his knee.

“Fucking bitch” he grunted.

“Didn’t you hear her?” Sang Woos voice thundered from the top of the stairs. The movements stopped as you all looked at him. “She said let her go. Now do it”

“Mind your own, dickwad” one of the men spat.

“Yeah besides there’s two of us and one of you, what’re you gonna do about it?” He snarled as his hand continued moving around your body, looking for an easy entrance into your shorts as you squirmed. Sang woo rolled his eyes as he pulled a gun from his waist, cocking it back and pointing it at the man’s head.

“Seriously?” He sighed, as the man holding you froze. “I said let her go now, or I’ll paint the sidewalk with your brains.” The men slowly released their grips on you, letting you wiggle free so you could hide behind Sang woo, your small hand resting on his waist. The men turned and walked away, keeping their heads low.

“Thank you, Sang Woo” you said quietly as you turned and went into the apartment. He followed behind you, resetting his gun and clicking the safety back on as he did.

You sat in your bed until dinner, only coming out to eat and you returned to your room. Sang woos eyes not leaving you as you ate, hiding your feelings from your dad, who was happily chatting about the sports teams.

You sat in your room. Your torn shirt tossed in the corner of your room as you sat in just your bra and shorts. You had pulled off the other shirt that you had hastily put on for dinner off just to double check and make sure there were no wounds.

But now, your mind blank, your body in shock. Hearing a soft knock on your door, you quickly pulled an oversized shirt above your head.

“Come in” you said softly. Sang Woos slim figure shadowed the floor. “Oh, it’s you”

“Are you okay?” He asked, kneeling in front of you. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.” He placed a hand on your knee. His eyes piercing yours, you finally felt like he saw you.

“I’m not sure what I am” you say barely audible above a whisper. “I’m scared?”

“It’s okay to be scared, it’s okay to not know what you are.” He spoke gently, “you experienced something traumatic and I pulled a gun”

“Where was my dad?” Was all you asked.

“He was on a phone call, the bank called. He was in his room. I didn’t say anything to him yet.” Sang woo responded. “If you want me to I will”

“No. He doesn’t need to know his little girl just went through that” you say shakily.

“(Y/n), I will carry that burden” he said. A fire lighting in you. You moved to kiss him. The heat of the moment wrapped around you. He kissed you back, standing up and crawling to towering over you. His tie dangling low around his neck as his top shirt buttons were undone.

“I want you to carry me instead” you whisper between kisses. he pulled me into his arms, your lips crashing together in a fierce kiss. The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intensity of your shared passion. His hands roamed over your body, setting your skin ablaze with every touch.

As you broke apart for a moment to catch your breath, Sang Woo's eyes burned with an inner fire. "I want you," he whispered, his voice husky with need. "I want all of you." You smiled, your heart soaring at his words.

"You have me," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled you back into his arms, your bodies entwining as you moved towards the bed. You rolled through your soft sheets together, your lips still locked in a passionate kiss. As you lay together on the bed, Sang Woo's body pressed against yours, his eyes locked onto your own with an intense gaze. His hands roamed over your soft skin, sending shivers down your spine as he touched every inch of you that he could. You felt his erection pressing against your thigh, hard and insistent.

Without a word, he reached down and grasped your hips, pulling you closer to him. You felt his cock press against your entrance, and then he was sliding inside you, filling you completely. You gasped at the sensation, your body arching up to meet his.

As he began to move, his hips thrusting back and forth, you felt yourself getting lost in the rhythm of your lovemaking. His cock stroked deep inside you, hitting every sensitive spot and sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Sang Woo's eyes never left yours as he fucked you, his gaze burning with intensity. You could see the desire and passion there, and it only added to your own arousal. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he pounded into you.

You felt yourself building towards a climax, your body tensing up as Sang Woo's cock stroked deeper and deeper inside you. He was fucking you with a fierce abandon, his movements wild and uncontrolled. You loved every minute of it.

As you came closer to the edge, Sang Woo's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming shorter and more intense. You could feel his own climax building, his cock swelling inside your pussy as he prepared to come.

Sang Woo's body stiffened as he came inside you, releasing a low groan that sent shivers down your spine His cock pulsed with each spasm filling you with warmth. As you lay there together your bodies still entwined, your breathing slowed.

"I may not say it, (y/n)" he whispered, his voice filled with conviction as he pulled you closer, "but I'd burn the world for you if you asked me to." His words sent shivers down your spine as he continued to gaze into your eyes. Attaching his lips to yours once more.

“I’d burn the world for you (y/n)” he repeated again between kisses. “Even if it meant burning my own body to make you happy.” You smiled, stroking his face gently. Your clothes lay abandoned and forgotten on the floor. You stood up, grabbing his shirt off the floor, his eyes watching as you did. A satisfied smile playing on his lips as his 3 sizes to big shirt danced around you.

“Kitchen and bathroom, want anything?” You ask standing at the threshold of your bedroom door. He smirked.

“You to get back in bed with me” he said slyly. You roll your eyes and make your trek as Sang woo laid in your bed. Staring up at your ceiling before smelling the familiar scent of a burning cigarette. Within a few moments you returned with soda and cigarettes.

“Back in bed” you grin.

“And it’s where you’re staying” he tickled you, your giggles softly echoing through the room.

Taglist:

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @player279achlys @galaxygurlll @whamzou @watasinekoru @angelofthorr @amandalol1414 @sensationallysangwoo @supersonika143

[melrosing]

sorry if this comes off as a shallow question but i wanted to know if you think arya is intended to be pretty. bc from my interpretation of the reading she’s absolutely not but she’s still one of my favourite characters in the series and i always get into arguments with other arya fans bc of this. i always read her story as sort of similar to brienne’s, who’s my absolute favourite character, and brienne fans will never (from my experience) accuse someone of hating her because they think she’s ugly. is this a phenomenon you also see? what’s your opinion?

not the prettycourse 😭 ok so I understand that some people might find more meaning in Arya’s story if she weren’t beautiful, bc I agree that ugliness is a powerful part, crucial even, of Brienne’s story. Brienne isn’t an ‘ugly duckling’, she never gets the catharsis of becoming a swan: she is truly society’s definition of ugly, and she is an incredible person too, worthy of respect and admiration. it’s rare that you get a story about an ugly woman that manages to be so much else besides, and doesn’t ultimately subvert that ugliness by reassuring readers that she was secretly attractive all along.

so I do understand the ambivalence towards Arya’s story as one that does just that; presents an ugly duckling narrative without subversion. there’s no powerful message in that. Arya doesn’t have to overcome anything to be attractive, she just is.

which is to say, Arya is canonically pretty. this is said several times over by multiple people, including Ned, Jon, Lady Smallwood, the Kindly Man, etc etc. it’s made very clear that Arya is the spit of Lyanna, who was considered a beauty. maybe not in such a conventional sense as Cersei, but still more or less conventionally so. it’s implicit that Arya’s beauty is merely hidden behind the messy hair and the dirty face etc etc like it’s whatever, she’s canonically pretty.

I think it’d be more interesting if Arya were just a normal looking kid lol, she doesn’t need Brienne’s story but we certainly have way more female POVs described as beauties than we do otherwise. Catelyn, Daenerys, Sansa, Arya, Asha, Cersei, Arianne, Melisandre - they’re literally all described as beauties in some sense. Brienne is the sole exception. Compare to the men, amongst whom only Jaime is described as a stunner lol, then Theon is considered fairly hot, and Jon…. might be?? and then that’s kind of it.

so I do think that it would be more interesting if a character who was once teased for her appearance didn’t have the author quickly assure us that actually she’s a beauty, because that’s not often how it works in life. some people can clean themselves up a bit and suddenly get compliments, but for the people who have really suffered appearance-based bullying, they don’t suddenly turn out to have been beautiful all along. they look how they look, and it’s up to society to celebrate them as they are, not for them to meet societal standards. this is what I think Brienne’s story does so effectively, but at the superlative end of the spectrum. unfortunately, there is no middle ground between Brienne and a host of beautiful female POVs and that’s on GRRM.

as for the Arya stans, to some extent I understand them getting annoyed at a broad insistence that Arya looks otherwise to how she is canonically described. there will be certain fans with an agenda in saying this. but given that you can’t really go a day without seeing some variation of this discourse in fandom, I’m going to say that this argument over the hotness of a ten year old girl has officially had way too much air time and can we please all just accept that yes she is canonically pretty and who the fuck cares

[tubbytarchia]

Ngl I kinda hate it when you talk about lizzie cause you always talk about this version of her and the fandom that's so utterly foreign to me as a lizzie fan, it always feels like a damned if you do damned if you don't scenario where she isn't allowed to interact with men and ignoring all the depth of her character in order to overanalyze specific events or headcanons in a vacuum and then saying it's ignoring her character and misogyny, as well as ignoring the irl misogyny that shapes the cc's choices for their c's. Big sister and protector is a title she bestowed upon herself and it should neither be dismissed as "just that one time " (because so much of everyone else's characterization is based on things that were "that one time" and it is also something both her and jimmy choose to quite fondly call back to) nor incongruent with her character at someone who loves a good "i meant to do that" and self-agrandizing herself. It feels more like you have to ignore several years worth of both hers and jimmy's story and characterization and also the more problematic realities of the situation (such as it being lizzies second season, while it had been jimmy's 5th season of an incredbly prominent ongoing plot point, and that lizzie's external interactions of note were, outside of our power and for various reasons, primarily with men, among other things) to boil the whole situation down to its most barest of bones of "people make lizzies death about jimmy". Which I find an untrue twisting of the actual concept most of the time but acknowledge it is sometimes simplified to, and there are aspects of misogyny in lizzie's portrayal, but you frame it in a way as if the concept itself is inherently misogynistic and purely a fandom issue. The fact is that no matter who it was, the first first death that wasnt jimmy was always going to be a bit about jimmy, there is no avoiding it and no seasonal plot that was going to overcome that fact, and lizzie is a good friend whos become his sister who explicitely had a plot about wanting and failing to protect him, who had a significant interaction with him not long prior where he killed her accidentally, and died while specifically targetting a man who was both jimmys tormenter and joels rival whom she randomly selected to be her target, and died due to a tripping failure which has already been previously interpretted in the past as being tied to fate, and the in game reactions being cpnfusion, happy/shocked jimmy managed to not be out first, and swearing to avenge her death. You'd be hard pressed to believe these things wouldn't be still true and play out the same if she was a different gender, and most of them would still happen even if she was an entirely different player. Nevermind the copious different interpretations that fall within the framing of it as a seablings moment, from wanting to give an accidental death more meaning and connecting dots (because thats most of what fandom does with an ad libbed story like the life series to begin with), to simply enjoying the poetic irony of both seablings being the first out, lizzie showing her true cringfail colours now that shes returned to the series, to tying it into the fact that yes she didn't do it onl purpose, but she absolutely would tell people and even herself that she did just to retain her dignity in the same way a cat who missed a toy stops chasing it and starts grooming themselves like they never meant to go after it in the first place.

And also, like, you ARE a Jimmy person also, so I'm not surprised you primarily interacted with stuff that involved Jimmy. As a Lizzie fan I saw plenty that was to do primarily with Lizzie, and yeah there was a significant amount that involved Jimmy. I didn't see any one of the people who complained about that fact actually go on to make works without Jimmy. I did see other Lizzie fans before and after making such works, and the works that did involve Jimmy being works with deapth and love for their specific relationship, stories, and personalities. I saw plenty of people who hadn't watched Lizzie at all suddenly become interested and retroactively watch her series, and of course the works the made before doing so weren't centred on her, because they were coming from different povs and didn't know as much, and their works after became more in-depth and come out the gate swinging during wild life where she stole the spotlight for much of the season.

I don't know as much about Pearl and Gem's fandoms. But I do know that Pearl is frequently treated as a wet cat and a little crazy, but also she loves playing particular characters like postwoman and cleaning lady that specifically utilize their responsibility to enact chaos through malicious compliance. And Gem takes open pride at being smarter and less ridiculous than everyone else even while actively doing the same things as them, she loves going "youre crazy!... I'm in." And she's pulled a "stupid boys" move several times. Which is to say, whether you consider it a product of misogyny or not, it is an aspect of their characters, they don't live in a cultural vacuum and by the nature of the series where they are only partly roleplaying and each character exists within the framework of their cc's biases, you cannot just analyze their actions like its a typical narrative with a single author you can point to and say they poorly write women. And you cannot blame fandom when these aspects of their character are represented, and while some do do so to the exclusion of the rest, 5am Pearl is the only life series plushie for a reason. Nevermind the difficulties of analyzing what people an fandom think of characters based off of the popularity of certain art and umbrella narrative concepts from fanwork posted excitedly in the moment without going to each individual and asking them what their full thoughts are on a character assuming they have the ability to articulate their opinions and thoughts properly. I'm sure those people who complained about Lizzie's death being tied to Jimmy had a LOT of thoughts about Lizzie, but as I said none of them actually bore fruit in the form of fanworks. Most people do not have time or ability to convey complex ideas, what you see at any given time when searching through fanart and short text posts in particular are the most resonant, dramatic, small thoughts and moments that touched something in someone enpugh to inspire.

That is to say, as a Lizzie fan, one of the reasons I love her is the exact trits that lead to her choosing to become Jimmy's big sister in empires 1 in the way that she does. Her paper thin often facade of respectability and dignity, her failures despite it, her talent for mixing drama and comedy, her ability make up stories that often agrandize herself, her instant chemistry with most anyone, her ditziness and distractedness, her ability confidently declare facts even when theyre completely false, her ability to tie coincidences together into a coherent story. And absolutely all these things are also relevant to why I and others find framing her secret life death in a seablings light to be compelling. Personally, for me, I love that her death connects her to others when her time in secret life was so lonely. It can be bother angsty and, because these games don't end at the persons death, comforting and sweet. And I don't know anyone who was compelled by the potential character connection who wasn't also compelled and even directly spurred on by her as an individual. To boil it down to "she died for a man's story" is both untrue and removing it from its context, the especially when half the context is 2 narratives Lizzie herself crafted for herself and the result was something she herself enjoed enough to play into to craft a 3rd narrative in the next series.

Anyways... I know this won't change your mind. I don't expect it to. I'm just so tired of shallow takes and people who aren't even Lizzie fans talking about Lizzie's narrative through the context of the small snippet of what they see from other non-Lizzie fans based off immediate gut reactions that often stifle the way people talk about the women in this series to ironically complain about how people talk about women in this series. The feminist analysis in this fandom feels so... shallow. Like it begins and ends with the bechdel test as applied to more conventional works of fiction. Big sister bad, women interact primarily with men bad, people see women as responsible because misogyny. No further depth or context despite the endless paragraphs dedicated to these ideas, especially once theyre disseminated out to use against other fans to tell them theyre creating fanworks wrong.

Because of how politely this is written, it took me a few rereads and external evaluation, but I recognize that you're criticizing me for the things I criticize. All your ask really boils down to, is defending fandom practises that I criticize because I disagree with them. Like that of making Lizzie out to be a one-note character. You make good points, you speak the truth. The fandom IS like this. And that's why I criticize it. Because I don't like it. You're absolutely right that you haven't changed my mind

People are allowed to have their fun, I do not police people. I do not maintag my opinions 90% of the time. I'm allowed to voice my disagreements. You pointed out that a lot of fandom goers just don't care to dwell deeper into characters, that's fine. But I do

I think it says something when you have to make Lizzie's character about a relationship that was canon in ESMP1 and bears little to no actual presence elsewhere like the Life series. I don't care whether people headcanon her and Jimmy as siblings even in traffic, the issue is that she gets little to no characterization outside of that in SL, a series in which their only notable interaction was Jimmy killing her. Lizzie deserves an identity outside of "choosing to be Jimmy's sister". (She'd also gone out of her way to try and kill Scott because of Joel, it wasn't random.) And this type of treatment is detrimental to Jimmy too. Just as the misogyny in the fandom is always detrimental to the men also. Quoting one of my evaluation friends: "They aren't inherently wrong, you cant detach the men from the story and have it be the same but also to take an already interesting moment and story beat and just start piling unnecessary 'sibling' stuff onto it kind of ruins the drama and tragedy of the death itself"

Of course women can have meaningful connections with the men. It's not bad or misogynistic. I talk about Pearl and Scott's dynamic constantly and have never seen nor received a complaint about Pearl's character being made to be all about a man. Think about the relevance between those two vs Jimmy and Lizzie in the Life series

I talk about Lizzie frequently because I like and care about her character. I'm not saying that the people I disagree with don't. Clearly you care a lot too. The sentiment that people are just creating based on something that left a big enough impact on them to inspire, eg Lizzie's SL death, is very fair, but I can still disagree with it. I mourn that more people don't take that newfound interest to indulge in Lizzie's POV more, and that because of people's tendency to absorb characterization from the fandom to feed back into itself, that's all a lot of them know and care to learn about ("Lizzie taking a bullet for Jimmy" and all) and how so many characters (not just the women) in my opinion end up being absurdly one-note in their analysis and opinion pieces for being players in a death game (+ the practise of often shunning people who dare touch upon anything less desirable or popular in their analysis like abuse)

If it were a guy in Lizzie's shoes, characterized the same way that I disagree with - I would still disagree with it

I've explained it before but no, it's not misogynistic to credit the women for their successes, to point out when they're smart or protective. I see it as misogynistic when women exclusively are being accredited to successes that are not exclusive to them constantly to label them as the leaders of their groups, labelling them motherly or big sisterly solely because they're thought to be better than their male counterparts, viewing all the women as the best players specifically, etc

Lizzie's death was always going to be tied to Jimmy, yes, by the fandom, and I just don't like that personally. I don't want to resign myself to something because it "was going to happen anyway". I don't want to resign myself to approving of what little Lizzie gets in the way of the fandom because it's better than getting nothing. I shouldn't have to settle for more canary analogies than actual Lizzie centric content that barely exists. And I mean actual Lizzie centric content, I haven't seen any uptick of it that you speak of. That's all any of this really comes down to. You and I might both be avid fans of Lizzie's character but we're gonna have to disagree

[thatbitchery]

little acts of feminism you do daily?

acts of feminism lmao.

I'm a misandrist before I'm a feminist actually. Largely I just hate men I don't exactly love women but

When a gay man uses bitch or slut or whore etc I just use fag. Two can play this game. We can both use terms of degradation here buddy. Yours based on my sex mine based on your sex too. FAGGGGGGGGGOT. You don't get a pass you're a man that loves men you're worse than straight men to me.

I address women, married women, with their title and maiden name (and if I don't know them I'll use ma'am ). Dr Laney wtf is Mrs MacAdams who is he I'm talking to you I'll use YOUR name

Its not exactly an act but it's physically impossible for me to consume pop music. I tried watching the Grammys (CONGRATS TO MOM MISS BEY MWAH FOR THE CULTUREE) and almost threw up Sabrina Carpenter why. Men just dancing minimal in comfortable clothes full covered and one later of camera ready make up as women do entire routines 3/4 naked and in heels plus enough make up to season an Indian festival I'll throw up. I'll actually throw up. Get out. Why is Charlie XCX pouring wine on her boobs in that MV it does not even match the story? Why are women in pop like this? What are you doing ? Anyway shout out my girls Sia , Alessia Cara and Billie Eilish mwah

I don't interact with men unless I have to and when I do I make sure they know I didn't want to be there I just mhm and nod all night contribute nothing and stupidly drink. Because why do you even exist bud. In spaces where I can't avoid them I just limit interactions and when they happen I make sure they know I did not consent to it. Like at work when I have to share spaces with them I just say nothing and use one word responses and it's obviously not shyness it's just my guy get the fuck out. Which makes them want to serve me so win win .or destroy me, which is okay. Two can always play that game and one of us is naturally irrational and emotional ask walls .

I always give women the benefit of the doubt 10000× and do not hold women to holiness. Amber Heard my love I hope you actually did great his ass,for my female ancestors that use to get beat mwah. Blake Lively babygirl I hope you actually did coerce him like MILLIONS of women have to go through everyday. The world will only defend women if they're saints not me I defend women because the sun exists idk. Yes 100% have an abortion because it's a son for the girls that are murdered and neglected for being daughters. Mwah. Queen do you need funds? I'll hook you uppppp.

When a man accuses me of doing something that I didn't do I go and do it. You can't accuse me for free brah. This guy accused me of stealing from him so I went and stole? After I was proven innocent obviously so now he can't accuse me again without being racist. When women accuse me of something I let it go. When men do I just go actually do it. If I don't wanna I accuse them of worse and you will nottttt get out of it unscathed babes I'm African. Think thrice.

I always believe the woman. Even when I know for a fact she's lying. You know what queen matter of fact I was there I saw it with my eyes. More than women's rights I support women's wrongs. By default women right men wrong. Men have to go through hoops to even get me to consider them. If a woman says it it's true. By default. Go play video games or serve in the army .

I don't believe in God or religion because ew.

If a man wants me to believe something he has to prove it to me or hes lying. I learned this when I realized women have to prove things to men bc men are just considered right by default and women will pull out Harvard level data and men will be like lol lies. So I take one for the team I made my boss pull out data that the company is doing WELL in a meeting. Like are you sure?. Idk I feel it's wrong so maybe its wrong. If IDs right prove it.

I have no soft spot for men (or women) go hunt. Please. Go bring me a boar sir. I don't speak to men that are beneath me in any category men are better than women you are alphas leaders kings gods RAAAAAAH so as a man why am I smarter than you. And yes grades matter shut up. What was your GPA. SHUT UP. What's your net worth? Get out. As a superior being why are you ugly. Am I ugly? And I'm a lesser being!! A woman? Ew. Get out. As a man youre supposed to be better than me it's nature. And I'm really really really good, so good luck. I'm hypergamous like that. And mot just one front, buddy. Alll of them. You are a MAN. a natural born LEADER. and ALPHA. rrrraaaaaah or whatever.

I just don't take men seriously. Like okay buddy whatever you say.

If you ever put me in leadership of anything just know the men will wilt the girls will thrive and if a man does thrive then he is, in fact, an alpha male.

Like I said, it's not as much feminism as it is misandry. I don't exactly like women or put effort into empowering us I just really hate men.

[ravennaortiz]

2/6: If we were dating with Chibs requested by @savetherealartists

“Another one bites the dust?” inquired Chibs as he opened his door to greet you.

“Funny” you replied with an eye roll as you made your way into his house. Kicking your heels off before collapsing dramatically back onto his couch. “I just do not get what is so difficult for the male brain in regards to dating and romance” you continued as Chibs shut and locked the door before resuming his seat in his armchair as he chuckled.

“I’m all ears Lassie” he stated as he picked his glass up and sipped his whiskey. Instinctively you reached out to his coffee table and grabbed the glass you knew would be there filled with your favorite wine. Your best friend always knowing what you needed even before you did sometimes.

“Like I don’t think I’m a difficult woman” you started before pausing and shooting a glare at Chibs as he snorted.

“Sorry” replied Chibs as he held his hands up in front of him with a grin.

“Like I was saying” you began again as you flipped him off. “I don’t feel I am a difficult woman to please. I don’t ask for much. Be on time or if you are going to be late let me know. Basic hygiene. If I wanted to think I was licking a dumpster I’d just go do that. Be respectful. Just to name a few things” you continued before turning over to face Chibs as you sighed.

“Then the dates. All I want is for some thought to be put in. They don’t have to be elaborate and expensive. A simple fun picnic after doing one of my favorite hiking trails. Take me to a fair and win me a giant teddy bear. Movie and pizza night where we play a drinking game or something. It doesn’t have to be exotic or anything off one of those best places to travel or go to lists. “ you stated sighing as you took a sip of your wine. “Ya know?” you questioned as you looked over to Chibs who simply nodded as he sipped his whiskey.

“I hear ya. I hate to say it but you may have to high of expectations for the simple small minded men you find in small towns like Charming.” Chuckled Chibs making you laugh and shake your head. “But If we were dating though I’d take you to all the best places plus the simple ones”

“What’s stopping you?” you asked as you tilted your head.

“Excuse me?” questioned Chibs trying to pretend he hadn’t said something that had the ability to change what the two of you had.

“You heard me old man. Or did you forget to put your hearing aids in?” you quipped back with a smirk as you sat up straight.

“Careful Lassie. Mouth gonna get ye in trouble one” chuckled Chibs as he shook his head.

“Maybe that’s what I want” you replied as you set your wine down and stood up eyes full of mischief. “Maybe you need to show me what happens when I get mouthy Old Man”.

[beatricethebaeddelwitch]

"I make mistakes, too, just like anyone else."

Is that what we call going on an explicitly transmisogynistic rant about how trans women are functionally indistinguishable from cis men because they're both AMAB now?

Is that what we call saying that trans women need to "unlearn toxic masculinity" now?

Is that what we call you always referring to yourself as a trans man unless it's time to be a slimy grifter, get donations and worm your way out of being called out for transmisogyny by only then referring to yourself as a trans woman now?

Is that what we call saying trans women hate anyone who has a vagina (playing into the TERF myth about trans women having pussy envy) now?

Is that what we call using your transfem ex whom you abused and FUCKING RAPED as an example of the "evil male-socialized tranny" now?

You're nothing but a disgusting fucking TERF. You're a genuinely pathetic excuse of a role model to anyone in the trans community, doing nothing but spreading reactionary and downright HATEFUL ideas in regards to trans women while thinking you're some progressive transfeminist. I not only hope you end up in the ER again but also whoever's in charge of taking care of you mangles your care so atrociously that you wind up having a slow, painful death so you can know just how the other trans women you've mistreated so badly felt.

if there's one thing i've observed from running this blog it's that you gotta let each other make mistakes and learn from them without trying to hurt or abandon each other immediately. it's not constructive to completely lose friends before ever having a conversation about it. like genuinely speaking you have to stop condemning people for a singular mistake. this website has gotten to the point where people are over analyzing things down to the punctuation and it's old. one ask or one comment or one post or one statement or whatever isn't a good reason to start making assumptions about a person

i make mistakes, too, just like anyone else. i don't think it's right to send other people tirades about how they've messed up or harassed people. i don't like how ive received messages and asks encouraging me to harass strangers a post or ask. i don't know if that's the way to go about any of this. the reason we can't have conversations its because we literally start yelling the second says something we don't like. correct the mistake, give them a chance to learn. stop jumping to conclusions about people. and furthermore please don't send me messages asking me to bother someone because of something like that. it's not healthy. our conversations are so reactive right now. you gotta calm down a bit.

[thatuselesshuman]

Me when someone says some dumb shit about my medical issues

[minimujina]

while i completely understand the violent thirst over lighter i just hope we all don’t let it overshadow his character. this happened to wriothesley with his ass, and now we’ve got lighter and his ass. like yes i understand it’s big, and i too wanna kiss him all over. but also we should also recognize that he’s not a sex symbol and should not be reduced to a sex symbol. i have a hard time even with the official arts from his time in the ring, seeing people sexualize them so much. those seem to me like depictions of his worst, depictions of him when he was considered nothing but muscle and all he did was fight; he was just a body being used for entertainment and profit. he literally described himself as a zombie. idk like does this make sense that i find it uncomfortable to sexualize him sm or am i crazy? i know it’s probably not that serious and it’s ok to be absolutely down bad for him, i just sometimes get uncomfortable with the lengths people go to, especially considering his past. don’t get me wrong i like injured bloody men as much as the next girl but i can’t find it in me to see the art of his past as hot or sexy because that was the worst time of his life and im not sure he even saw himself as human then

[tabellae-rex-in-sui]

I'm new to Sade so sorry if this is a stupid question, but was Sade gay? I'm currently reading Justine and noticed the passionate, semi-romantic descriptions of m/m sex, which contrast with the crude descriptions of f/m sex. I've not read all of Sade's books, but the ones I have read also feature characters who're mostly disinterested in women, who give off self-insert vibes (e.g. Dolmancé). Am I reading too much into it? IDK but I was wondering if you could shed some light.

Happy deathday to Sade!! lol

Really all that can be said with certainty is that he definitely wasn't straight lol. Like anyone who died before modern queer theory, Sade's sexuality can be difficult to label with today's terminology. He was certainly attracted to both men and women, so for simplicity's sake I just say he was bisexual. But really, who knows...

Characters that he uses as self-inserts like Dolmancé in PitB or Bressac in Justine are pretty exclusively attracted to men. Like you said, there's multiple times in his writing where characters will praise m/m sex and show blatant disgust towards sex with women. But if you look at Sade's life, there's only one known* male sex partner and many women. There's also several women Sade was in love with throughout his life, but there exists no letters of him professing love to any man. Could this be because male victims were less likely to go to the police, therefore less known to us? because women were easier to pursue in public? because even he felt the pressure of societal norms? because he kept relations with men better hidden? because any such letters or records were selectively destroyed by a relative? Who knows! It could be some, all, or none of these things. It's really up to the interpretation of the reader. The misogyny, philosophical extremism, and very culturally different ideas about sex add so many different variables to Sade's sexuality.

To add further confusion: gender and sexuality were much more correlated in Sade's writing (and seemingly in the time period in general, I mean look at the bisexual Lord Hervey being referred to as "the third sex"), male characters who get sodimized call it them "becoming women", women who put on strap-ons "become men", even women who get sodimized are masculinized: Saint-Ange says she wants to be a "Ganymede" to Dolmancé. So sodomy seemed inherently gay to Sade, regardless of the sexes involved or what roles they played. Whereas today, that's definitely not the case. Beauvoir follows along with the sexuality-gender correlation and suggests that Sade felt more feminine than masculine and his written contempt for female genitalia was a product of his own gender frustrations. From what I've read, most modern historians tend to avoid labeling Sade with anything other than "sodomite" and "libertine" only using "bisexual" and "homosexual" to label certain actions he performed like "homosexual sex" "bisexual orgy" etc. This is when the word queer is godsent.

Tldr; He's too 18th century libertine for modern labels. Colloquially, I default to calling him bi, but we'll never really know. Maybe he would have preferred gay due to his preferences/philosophies. Who knows. Safest bet is to just call him queer.

*Should go without saying but, there were obviously more. Latour is just the only named one with recorded proof.

[actual-changeling]

Very good analysis, OP! We really do not talk about the gender aspect enough.

Another episode that I feel really fits into this is Excelsis Dei. Mulder doesn't understand how personal this case is for Scully, how horrible the experience that the nurse went through is—that it doesn't matter who or what it was, they need to solve it.

A "logical" leap for him. Mulder always trusts the victims, he always trusts their insane theories and stories, he always goes with the most out-there option. EXCEPT when it comes to rape apparently.

MULDER: Given the emotional and psychological violence of rape, the face or identity of the attacker is often blurred or erased from memory. That he could be perceived as invisible is a logical leap for me.

Then there's the interaction in the bathroom with Hal where Scully is exposed (quite literally) to sexual harassment and he a) doesn't even attempt to protect her and b) makes fun of it right after.

SCULLY: What do you think, Mulder? MULDER: (grinning at her) About the guy's plumbing? SCULLY: About his story.

Someone shoving their genitals into your face and then further harassing you is far from funny, Mulder—and you FAILED to protect her. She looks to you for help because unfortunately men only take other men seriously. She looked to him so he would get them out of this situation but he just kept going.

Later, he's not doing much better.

MULDER: Between the rape case and the Alzheimer's? When they're not drawing childlike pictures they're brutal sex offenders?

He simply does not understand the weight of the women's experiences but Scully does, most likely because she's been in at the very least one situation like that. Being a woman or queer automatically makes you a target for sexual harassment from the day you're born.

Scully cannot just walk away from this and he can—that's the defining difference.

MULDER: I-I think you're looking too hard, Scully, for something that's not there. I think Michelle Charters concocted this story to get out of a job she hates. SCULLY: Her lip required 13 stitches. The blow to her head resulted in a subdural hematoma. That's quite a concoction. Look, I just want to talk to a few more patients there. We can catch the same flight out tomorrow night.

For some reason, Mulder is a sexist asshole throughout the episode right up until the end. He undervalues Scully's theories and explanations, he applies the presumption of innocence to the offender but not to the victim. He didn't do anything but she is lying, with her obvious physical and psychic wounds; great guy.

All the sexist bullshit he does throughout this episode is, in my opinion, a big part of why Scully says she cannot talik to him about this in Irresistible.

Mulder wants Scully to be vulnerable with him but he refuses to create a safe, trusted space in which she can do so without fear of judgement or betrayal. Him being a man means he has to work harder and he knows that, he just doesn't want to because this man is allergic to self-reflection.

Scully, Mulder, Gender, and Irresistible

Upon rewatch, what really struck me about 2x13 Irresistible is the way it prods and pries open the unspoken presence of gender within Mulder and Scully's working relationship.

Within the safety of their private little two-person world, you won't find many echoes of the misogyny that exists outside in society, or in their tremendously male-dominated profession. The implicit trust, respect, and mutual devotion that Mulder and Scully have built their friendship on is, in an of itself, a subversion of traditional gender norms. In their little world, they are equal to each other, have always been, and always will be.

But on the outside, if you pay attention, Scully is very very often the only woman in the room throughout this series. In police stations, meetings, at crime scenes, she carries that invisible burden. Suspects make passes at her on the job. Random people mistake her for Mulder's wife. But in Irresistible, the dial is turned up, and she is physically endangered because of her gender, and confronted with the existence of a vile hatred of women. She not only has to grapple with the terror of this fact, but the terror of being suddenly so much more vulnerable than her partner.

"I don't want him to feel like he has to protect me."

She wants to be by his side, not behind him, trotting at his heels, shielded from the world by him. Scully fears that if Mulder felt the need to protect her, in a way, that would tarnish the dynamic of their partnership. It would be admitting a weakness: and she's probably spent her entire career building walls around any possible weakness.

"I can't talk to him about this."

... Because he is a man. Mulder can be as understanding and supportive as he usually is, but deep down, he will never truly understand what it is like to be in her shoes in Irresistible. She is alone in this way, and that is horrifying.

So to me, (while the hug is truly life-changing), this little exchange is such a perfect moment of trust and affirmation within the episode.

At this point, Mulder knows that she's scared. Scully knows that she's scared. But they both recognize that being afraid doesn't make her weak, or any less capable, any less of a true partner than she always has been. Always.

Being a woman in a dangerous, male-dominated profession often means putting up high emotional walls for one's own safety. To be emotional, sensitive, or vulnerable can be seen as a sign of weakness. But at the end of Irresistible, Scully's emotional break is catharsis. It's not weak or humiliating ... it's very human.

[ableedingpromise]

Whenever I go to someone else's house I'm reminded of how peacful it is to have silence.... idk when this road suddenly became super busy it was quiet before :( I wish this was still mainly a residential area and not a spot for shops and etc

[butch-bakugo]

Its not a shock to me that most "transandrophobia doesn't exist" people are trans women, mostly white trans women. They have a very specific image of what a trans man looks like and it's only two categories: the hyper fem, tits out, make up, twink trans man who doesn't pass nor try to and the hyper masculine, bearded, t'd up, all the surgeries, big buff trans man who you could never clock. They genuinely think every "transandrophobia truther" is lieing about not getting privileges they don't fucking have.

They genuinely believe every trans man passes and therefore we get male privilege and they get backed up by trans men who do pass and think a cis man making rape jokes with them and asking about their lift set is male privilege. Lemme shatter the illusion because as much as you like to scream about some wide spread privilege that doesn't exist, most trans people, in general, do not pass. This is especially true for trans men due to the hyperfocus society puts on feminine features. I have never met a fully passing trans man and I've met over a hundred personally irl. never. I know they exist but the fact y'all think we, en masse, get male privilege is factually just fucking wrong.

Trans men are not more acceptable or palatable to transphobes. Trans men are not more likely to pass. Trans men in mass do not get male privilege by virtue of our lack of passing and our medical history. Most trans men are still affected by the gender pay gap and thus can not afford surgeries.

You do not acknowledge the existence of non-passing trans men, only uphold the voices of trans men who pass and have the money for surgeries (a small percentage) then wonder why trans men laugh in your face when you make claims about male privilege we do not experience.

We are more likely to be conversionally raped than you. We are more like to be forcibly detransioned than you. We are more likely to experience domestic violence than you. We are more likely to experience hate crimes than you.

Trans men's hyper visibility in online spaces dose not transfer to real life visibility. You are more likely to see white cis gay men and white trans women in any media or ever mentioned than even white cis lesbians or white trans men. Your rhetoric is the origin of the "theyfab" myth. Our issues are invisible to you cause you do not care about other trans people besides yourself and other transfems. Everyone and their trans mother knows about transmysogny and the issues you personally face yet you expect trans men to be silent about their issues and feel like they should be silent because they are men. Trans men are more likely to experience litterally all forms of violence over trans women in every single avenue of violence that exists; religious, sexual, domestic, familial, etc. We are more likely to be stopped and abused before we socially transtion than anyone else due to hyper vigilance of society over afabs. You can scream all you'd like about how we only bring up our sex/the gender we are often raised as when it's convenient but you always ignore those often traumatizing experiences when it's convenient for you.

Many Transmascs and trans men had a traumatizing upbringing because society views us as "bad women" and " bad women" get treated so much worse and by many more angles than "bad men" specifically because we were forcibly assigned as women. You take advantage of a lack of nuance in the community by trying to group us with cis men specifically because you group yourself with cis women. News flash, neither of us and our experiences should be grouped with ANY cis group because we do not have cisgendered experiences.

I seriously think you think you are the most oppressed group in the trans community and you are not, not by a long shot. You are not the most oppressed group in the transgender community and that's a statistical fact. The most oppressed group, by far, are two spirits and cultural genders by virtue of them being inherently indigenous and indigenous people being the most oppressed race of people in the community regardless of the location they are indigenous to.

You are literally taking advantage of the things that were drilled into transmascs at a young age to be seen and not heard and to be quiet and let others talk, that they are lesser than everyone. Everyday there's a new story in the community of a cis man or a trans woman getting a trans man/masc pregnant to hurt them or force them off t or to detransion, this is not a fucking accident. You are not men, no one ever said you were, but you sure love to silence them like they do.

I'm not quiet, you do not intimately know our issues the same way we do not intimately know yours, You don't get to tell us what we do and don't experience and the fact you'd rather cry wolf and suspiciously call us "bitches" than hear us out, tells me everything i need to know. That alt right to trans woman pipeline you said you escaped? Yeah, you didn't. Ur just an alt right trans woman, Try Again.