#Fic: I choose you as my man

[dragonydreams]

Fic: I choose you as my man - BuckTommy

Title: I choose you as my man Fandom: 9-1-1 Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairings/Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinnard Summary: Buck wants another date with Tommy before the wedding. Timeline: post 7x05 Word Count: 1,382 Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over these characters. I am merely borrowing them from Reamworks, Brad Falchuk Teley-Vision, Ryan Murphy Television, and 20th Century Fox Television. Betas: Thank you to @medieshanachie for looking this over for me. Author's Note: Title from "Take Me As I Am" by Wyclef Jean from Love, Actually soundtrack

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Buck couldn't believe he had as many butterflies in his stomach as he did as he adjusted the placement of the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. He glanced up at the television to where the movie was waiting to be started. 

He grabbed a couple of coasters and set one on either side of the popcorn bowl because he was an adult and didn't want rings on his table from when the beers that were still in the fridge inevitably began to sweat.

He didn't know why he was so nervous. It wasn't like this was the first time that Tommy had been to his loft. Then again, this was the first time he was coming over for a date. 

He felt the smile begin to grow as he thought back to the last time Tommy had been here. To when he'd turned Buck's world upside down with that kiss. The kiss he hasn't been able to stop thinking about since it happened.

He really hoped that they would kiss again tonight. And boy, did he feel fourteen years old again, just hoping for a kiss. 

Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, there was a knock at the door. Buck smoothed down his polo shirt and hurried to the door.

"You're here," Buck said, holding the door open for Tommy. A thrill raced down his spine as Tommy gave him an appreciative once over. One he couldn't stop himself from returning.

"I'm not too early, am I?" Tommy asked, stepping inside. 

"N-No, you're right on time," Buck answered, closing the door. "Go ahead and sit on the couch and I'll grab a couple of beers."

Tommy's rich laughter boomed when he saw the TV. Buck grinned to himself as he hurriedly opened the beers and joined him.

"You've been talking to Howie about me?" Tommy guessed as he accepted the beer Buck held out for him.

Buck dipped his head and looked up at Tommy through his lashes. He heard Tommy's quick intake of breath at the gesture but ignored it. "Well, he has known you the longest."

Tommy's bright eyes dimmed a bit. "Yeah, I was a different man back then," he said.

"Don't worry, he told me that, too," Buck assured him, reaching out to squeeze his - very muscular - arm.

"How'd that conversation go?" Tommy asked, somewhat nervously. 

Buck gestured towards the couch and they sat, both turned to face the other.

"I pulled him aside during a slow period at work and told him that I was bringing you as my date for the wedding," Buck said. 

"I wish I could have seen his expression to that announcement," Tommy said. "I wasn't out to anyone when I was with the 118."

"This was also how he found out that I'm bi, since I'd never been on a date with anyone who wasn't a woman before you," Buck admitted.

"And you chose a fire station as the place to come out to him?" Tommy asked, eyebrows raised. "Howie can't keep a secret to save his life."

"Which is why he was the last one on my team that I told," Buck said. "Not on purpose, but it just kinda ended up happening that way. I was kinda almost hoping that Maddie would let it slip, but unlike her fiance, she can keep a secret." Buck paused, then rushed to say, "Not that I'm keeping  us a secret. I'm not ashamed that I'm bi, or to be going out with you. After all, I'm bringing you to my sister's wedding. To Chimney!"

Tommy reached out and rested a hand on Buck's knee and squeezed. "Relax, I didn't think you were."

Buck took a deep breath. Not just because of how good it felt to have Tommy's hand on his leg, but also to release some of his nervous tension.

"Anyway, once that news sunk in he was so excited that we're going out and couldn't wait to share with me some of your favorite things," Buck said, glancing at the TV. "And I figured that since we missed the movie last time, that we should start with one of your favorites." 

"Have you seen it?" Tommy asked, resituating himself on the couch to better face the TV.

Buck grabbed the popcorn and remote and did the same, scooting closer to Tommy, but with a couple of inches still between them. 

"I used to watch it with Maddie," Buck said. "She loves it, too."

"But you don't? We can watch something else if you don't. I'll have lost some respect for you, though," Tommy teased.

"I do," Buck confirmed. "Who doesn't love a movie about people falling in love and the hope that being in love inspires?"

"Exactly," Tommy agreed, stretching an arm out behind Buck on the couch as he settled more comfortably. 

Buck eyed the arm behind him and just grinned to himself, having pulled that move himself way too often, pleased to be on the receiving end of it. He felt the heat rise on his cheeks. 

He raised the remote and pressed play before setting it on the coffee table.

As he sat back, he spread his legs just a bit so his knee was lightly pressing against Tommy's. The other man didn't say anything, but Buck felt him press his knee a little more into Buck's in acknowledgement. A pleasant shiver ran down Buck's spine as Tommy brushed a thumb against Buck's shoulder.

Buck glanced at Tommy from the corner of his eye and he was smiling. Whether that was because of Buck's reaction or the movie, Buck wasn't entirely sure.

He grabbed a small handful of popcorn and tossed it in his mouth. As he automatically began to lick the lingering butter and salt from the palm of his hand, he suddenly realized that he'd forgotten napkins. He leapt to his feet to find Tommy staring hungrily at him. 

"I-I forgot napkins. For the popcorn," Buck stuttered. 

Tommy looked from Buck's buttery lips to his fingers. "I think I can help with that," Tommy suggested, reaching out for Buck's right hand; the left still holding the popcorn bowl. 

Buck blindly set the popcorn on the table as Tommy pulled Buck back down next to him, much closer than before. 

Keeping his eyes on Buck's, Tommy sucked one of Buck's fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around each one until it was cleaned of butter and salt. 

Buck could barely catch his breath as he watched Tommy suck each of his fingers clean. His dick took an interest as well, suddenly wishing for Tommy to suck that appendage as well. It took all of Buck's effort to not glance down to see if Tommy was enjoying this as much as Buck was.

"That was so hot," Buck breathed when Tommy finished. 

"Oh, I'm not done yet," Tommy promised. 

He reached out with the same two fingers as last time and pulled Buck into a kiss.

Buck whined with relief to be kissing Tommy again, letting himself rest the hand that had just been in Tommy's mouth in his shoulder, his fingers digging in as Tommy's tongue flicked against his lips. He parted his lips and they both moaned as Tommy's tongue brushed against Buck's.

When they pulled apart a few minutes later, Buck panted, "This isn't why I invited you over tonight."

"You sure about that?" Tommy teased.

"Well, not the only reason," Buck admitted. "I hoped. I really hoped. But I also just want to spend more time with you."

"You don't hear me complaining, do you?" Tommy asked, running his fingertips along Buck's shoulders and upper back.

"N-n-noo," Buck said with a shuddering breath. "How do you do that to me?" he muttered quietly.

Tommy chuckled. "I remember what it was like when I first admitted that I was attracted to men."

Buck's wide eyes met Tommy's smiling ones, his fingers running down Tommy's arm. "Is it like this for everyone?"

"I can only speak for myself," Tommy said. "But in my experience, when you click with the right person, yes."

As if to prove his point, Tommy leaned back in and captured Buck's mouth again. 

It was a good thing that they'd both seen the movie before.

The End

[ibahibut]

💀: Fewer wounds, more kisses from me.

🐦‍⬛: Contract's accepted, mi amor.

Music inspiration: A Little Death by The Neighbourhood

[transsexual-necromutilomaniac]

yeah yeah swap spit with that freaky nerd with the substance abuse metaphor

[lauraneedstochill]

The object of my desires

summary: You overhear Aemond making a snarky remark about the way you dress. You decide to teach him a lesson. warnings: friends to lovers (both are idiots), a dash of angst, a lot of teasing, things get very heated (NSFW), with a sprinkle of softness. words: ~6500 (it was supposed to be shorter but they started making out...) author’s note: the idea first popped into my head months ago when I saw this post. also, for the longest time I’ve been thinking that “you are the bane of my existence” monologue is a perfect fit for Aemond — and yet I haven’t seen a single fic* using that quote?! so I finally decided to give it a try.

If anyone asked you to describe your relationship with Aemond, you would’ve said that the two of you were almost friendly. The almost part was the trickiest one to explain because, even though both of you acted very content with the way of things, you still couldn’t help but think that you wanted something more, no matter how much you’ve tried to deny it.

You got to know him through Helaena who you befriended when you were ten and six. A year older than you, she was the weird girl no one wanted to talk to and you approached her out of curiosity but soon learned that she had a cheerful nature and quite a nimble mind. She loved your sharp sense of humor and energetic wit and the two of you became close, your contrasting personalities complimenting each other very well.

Your introduction to her brothers was brief and for a couple of months, you didn’t interact with either of them. She’s been married to Aegon for four years back then and even though he immediately didn’t strike you as a faithful husband — always a cup away from being wasted and shamelessly gazing at every maid’s legs — he mostly looked harmless. Aemond, however, was the exact opposite — guarded and collected, he kept his distance from everyone, making it clear that it was his choice. You could only get a good look at the prince when you were passing the training yard, and a couple of times you found your gaze lingering on him — on the lean body and tense muscles, on the way he moved the sword with ease. In those moments you felt the danger radiating off him, yet it never scared you away. But you knew better than to fawn over the prince who seemingly paid you no mind.

A significant change came on the evening of Aegon’s ten and ninth birthday which Helaena begged you to come to — you weren’t fond of big events but couldn’t say no to her. For the most part, the feast was tolerable as you’ve spent it by her side, making glib remarks about the guests, much to your friend’s amusement. But when the celebration died down and all the nobles began to disperse, Aegon, drunk out of his mind, decided to make advances toward his wife whom he ignored for the duration of the evening. His approach was harsh and unexpected, and the look on Helaena’s face shuttered your heart. 

“Your grace, your manners escape you,” you tried warning him, shielding your friend but Aegon was too wasted to notice your fiery gaze. In his inebriated state, he probably mistook you for a maid as he grabbed your arm in an effort to shove you aside. Next thing you know, your fist connected with his nose — and then Aegon was lying on the floor, eyes wide and blood gushing down his face as you stood next to him, fuming. Before he could think of an answer, Aemond appeared out of nowhere — just in time to drag his brother away, while the drunkard was hurling insults at you in a frenzy. Only when they left, it dawned on you what you just did. 

You expected for the king’s guard to come for your head in the morrow, but instead, a few surprising things happened. First, you learned that the boys didn’t rat you out, making it look like they were the ones who got into a fight. Aegon did apologize to Helaena and from that day, his temper softened as he never dared to repeat his mistake. But, most importantly, Aemond took a sudden interest in you.

Overall, his behavior stayed the same, but you regularly caught him looking in your direction, and every time you saw each other, he made sure to acknowledge your presence. He never initiated the conversation first, only sometimes curtly voicing his opinion, yet you noticed him paying attention to your chattering with Helaena — and you could swear that a few times he suppressed a laugh at your jokes.

The mystery veil that the prince was surrounded with sparked your curiosity, and you wanted to crack down his guard, to get a chance to know him. The opportunity presented itself one day when Helaena and you came to watch Aemond train. You saw him and Criston arguing as the prince was late to his studies but Cole refused to let Aemond leave until he wins the last bout. Whether he wasn’t in the right mood or had something distracting him, Aemond kept losing, and his teacher only pushed him further, relentless in his attempts.

“Ser Criston, you’re putting yourself in harm’s way,” you chimed in, making the man turn to you with a chuckle, while Aemond gave you a tired look.

“May it be that the finest swordsman of the realm is simply avoiding his responsibilities?” you suggested with a light grin.

“Mayhaps he is in need of some encouragement,” Cole teased. 

“Well, I would’ve volunteered to share the burden of learning with him,” you remark. “If only he could win this one bout,” you added, keeping eye contact with the prince.

It took Aemond about two minutes to knock his opponent to the ground which made Helaena gasp in surprise while you were trying to hide a smile. Without a word, Aemond came to you, and the two of you went to the library. On your way there, he kept silent, but you were not intimidated at all. When you walked into the room, Aemond hesitated as if giving you a chance to change your mind. But you boldly turned to him:

“If you mean to scare me with the prospect of studying, I should warn you that I’ve read more books than you can count,” you informed the prince.

It was the first time when you saw him smiling — widely and shamelessly, looking very smug.

“You are full of surprises, my lady,” he grinned. “Do you mean to challenge me?”

It turned out that Aemond liked challenges, and you enjoyed being one. Since that day, you got into the habit of joining him in the library and the prince would accompany you in his free time more often than not. You would dare him to read faster, to fight harder, to engage in conversations — or sometimes to simply have fun. Whenever you had a reason to disagree with him, he was always respectful and found himself entertained by your way of thinking, which made your discussions and even arguments span for hours.

As years went by, you kept playfully bantering back and forth, and Helaena told you that you were the only one allowed to act like that around her brother. You couldn’t understand what his motives were but it was hard to deny that his company was pleasant. Aemond grew up into quite an eligible bachelor and his attention did flatter you, even though he never crossed the line. Sometimes you even dared to entertain the thought that maybe — just maybe — Aemond had a soft spot for you.

Until one day things took a turn. Helaena’s twentieth birthday was meant to be just another celebration that you would’ve skipped if it wasn’t for her. The only way for you to pass the time was dancing which you’ve actually come to love in recent years, enjoying the rhythm of the music that helped to lighten your mood. Your dear friend mostly preferred to sit back so you were often compelled to find yourself a company that would be bearable, at the very least. That evening, you got acquainted with Jacaerys Velaryon, the boy being younger than you but almost a foot taller. He approached you with a small smile on the pretext of knowing Helaena, and you soon learned that he was a good dancer. But the best thing about Jace was that he spend most of his time talking about his betrothed, Baela, who he was absolutely smitten with. The girl sadly couldn’t be present as she had to stay with her dad, who recently sailed home, and the dark-haired boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. All the time while dancing he was either gushing about her or asking your advice, which you found adorable and gladly chatted with him.

Throughout the feast, you felt Aemond looking at you, probably more than usual. You knew that he wasn’t fond of dancing and even though his gaze on you felt rather good, deep down you wished that he was the one you were spending time with. After a couple of hours, however, you saw his usual spot empty, and the prince was nowhere to be found. For some reason, you got a very bad feeling and, after leaving Jace to take a break, you went to Helaena. She informed you that Aemond left not so long ago, adding that it looked like her brother was upset about something.

That’s how you ended up roaming through the castle halls, giving in to the unsettling feeling churning in your stomach. Passing by one of the chambers, you suddenly hear voices and realize that it's Aemond talking to his brother. You don’t mean to eavesdrop and were about to turn around — but then Aegon mentions your name.

“You are foolish to wait for so long. You could’ve at least asked Y/N for a dance,” his remark is followed by gulping sounds. Is he ever without a cup? You hold back a giggle — which quickly disappears when you hear Aemond’s answer.

“I prefer not to waste my time on such futile activities,” and his voice is unexpectedly grim.

“You may want to reconsider when the lady has every man’s attention. Even the Strong boy was pretty much drooling,” he chuckles, and his words make your brows furrow as you are certain he has no ground to suggest that. You’re a moment away from drowning in doubts, but the younger prince brings you back to reality.

“I suppose it’s hard not to, with the way she’s been dressing lately,” Aemond deadpans.

He says it with a flat tone — yet it feels like a punch that knocks all of the air out of your lungs. There’s a brief pause — and Aegon sounds almost sober when he asks, with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“And what about her dresses?”

“I found them to be... rather bawdy. Although I’m not impressed in the slightest,” Aemond forces out.

Your heart sinks at his words, cheeks heating up. You wait for him to say anything else, to give an explanation, at least one reason for his accusations but there is none. Aegon laughs — and you feel sick to your stomach, realizing that you cannot bear listening to their conversation any longer.

You walk away as quietly as possible, with cotton feet and your hands shaking. You rush past the hall and out of the castle, tears pricking in your eyes. Only once you are all alone, embraced by the silence of the night, you take a deep breath of air. Aemond’s words are ringing in your ears, loud and clear. You look down at your dress in disbelief: the neckline is basically non-existent, your arms are fully covered, and it barely shows any skin at all. And yet he thinks this is inappropriate? 

Your cheeks are wet and burning yet you feel anger bubbling in your chest. You never thought Aemond could be cruel — and yet it’s him, out of all people, who let those vile words slip out of his mouth like they meant nothing. Like you meant nothing to him. For years, you heard people calling him cold-hearted and arrogant but you were naive to believe that the prince made an exception for you. Out of all the mistakes you’ve made so far, this one might’ve been the most painful one.

Your outrage spreads like a wildfire as you think back to every interaction you’ve had with Aemond, his every glance and every word that fooled you into thinking that he cared. Was he secretly criticizing you the whole time? How many other jokes did he make behind your back? Who even gave him the right to judge whether your dresses are acceptable or not? As if he is any different from all the other men whose brains turn into mush when they get a glimpse of a female body.

You stop dead in your tracks when an idea suddenly forms in your head. It’s very uncharacteristic of you — at first, you hesitantly brush it off, thinking that it’s not wise to make any emotional decisions. And yet the idea keeps nagging at you for the remainder of the night and for a few hours you ponder if you should take such a brazen approach. But then his unkind remark pops back in your memory — over and over and over.

By the time the morning comes, you make up your mind.

He says he isn’t impressed in the slightest? There is only one way to find out for sure. On the very next day, you take Helaena for a walk in the garden, well aware that her brothers will accompany you as Aegon doesn’t have anything else to do and Aemond prefers to take a stroll after his training. Your dress is close-fitted yet modest, not an inch shorter than necessary. It is not about the dress but what’s underneath it — and the object in question clinks lightly with your every step. You show it to Helaena right away and she finds it delightful, the jingling only making her smile. Then her siblings come to join you, you curtsy but barely spare Aemond a glance. You don’t ask a single question about his day, instead taking interest in Aegon. The older prince gives you a suspicious side-eye but welcomes the chatting. It doesn’t take long before he notices the sound, too.

“Am I the only one who can hear the clinking? I am almost certain that it’s not just in my head,” he debates.

“Oh, it’s Y/N’s doing,” Helaena beams unsuspectingly.

“Apologies, my prince, it’s my aunt’s gift that caught your ear,” you slow down and take a few seconds to make sure you’ve got everyone’s attention.

And then, with one gentle motion, you pull up your dress — ever so slightly, just enough to show your ankle and the thin bracelet wrapped around it. The jewelry is made out of gold and it instantly catches the sunlight, casting warm sparkles on your skin. It’s decorated with tiny coins which make a jingling sound as you slowly turn your leg from side to side.

“I thought it was rather pretty. Don’t you think?” you only look at Aegon.

“Umm yes,” he gulps. “Rather pretty it is,” the prince mumbles, and then his gaze shifts to someone else. You don’t need to turn your head to know who he’s looking at. Instead, you continue with your walk without a care in the world.

“I should ask my aunt to bring you a similar one, my dear,” you suggest to Helaena and she eagerly agrees.

You have a few other gifts for Aemond, too. Next time you opt for a different bracelet — with no coins and no jingling, a simple golden chain. But your dress is a tad bit shorter and the jewelry catches everyone’s eye with ease as it looks like a ray of light curled around your ankle. You deliberately walk through the training yard, arm-in-arm with Helaena. You give Ser Christon the brightest smile, and he politely nods in your direction.

“Good morrow, ladies.”

“How’s your training coming along, Ser Criston?” you ask, and it feels strange to talk to him instead of Aemond. You bitterly remind yourself that you apparently overstated the value of those conversations.

“I’m afraid, we are hardly progressing. Mayhaps you will keep us company? I fear, we are in need of some cheerful words,” Cole shoots a glance at the prince who stands by, his eye fixed on you.

“Aren’t we all, Ser Criston,” you tilt your head at him. “But it seems like my pursuit of lessening your burden did nothing good,” and before he can ask anything else, you walk away, ignoring Aemond completely.

Helaena senses that something is off, giving you a worried look.

“Is there anything troubling you?”

“Not when I’m with you, my friend,” you reassure her and force your smile to look as believable as possible.

Partially, it is true as her company always brings you joy and you don’t want to sour her mood by recalling Aemond’s words that wounded your pride. You refuse to admit that he also grazed your heart. In a week, you accept Helaena’s invitation to join them for breakfast and you decide to up your game. It’s the perfect time of year for sleeveless dresses but the one you pick also has a daring addition: two thin cuts under your armpits. They are barely visible but when you put your arms up, it’s easy to distinguish the contour of your ribcage and the softness of your skin peeking through. You sit by Helaena’s side, easily keeping up with the conversation and not glancing at Aemond once. After the food is taken away and everyone starts wandering around the room, you get up to fix your hair, standing not too far away from the dining table as you raise your hands and run your fingers into your hairdo.

“May I offer assistance?” Aegon leans on the wall next to you, his mouth curling into a smile.

You roll your eyes and are about to shush him when he quietly adds:

“I know what you are doing,” you turn your gaze to him, and he winks at you. “From the look on my brother’s face, I can tell you that it’s working.”

You fight the urge to look at Aemond.

“I’m afraid I can’t share your concerns,” you are fiddling with hairpins absentmindedly.

Aegon shoots a glance over your shoulder and then back at you.

“He seems pretty bothered to me. Also pissed, but that may be my doing.”

“Look at you, my little helper,” you ramble as the cool air sneaks into the cuts of your dress, and you slightly quaver.

“Well, if you are ever in need of a helping hand...”

“I will not hesitate to stick this pin into your eye,” you cut him off.

“No need!” Aegon throws up his hands, cackling. “I’d like to keep them both. So I can have a better look at my brother’s reaction when you do... whatever you plan on doing,” the shit-eating grin on his face tells you that he is enjoying this.

But when you turn around and suddenly make eye contact with Aemond, your own enjoyment fades. You notice his frown and the probability of you being the reason for it doesn’t bring any satisfaction. You let Helaena lead you away, feeling his gaze on your back as you walk out. You do not yield to your emotions, continuing with your plan, as days turn into weeks, and then a month goes by without you as much as sharing a word with Aemond. Truth be told, you want nothing more than to stay away from him at all costs but you will not give him the satisfaction. He said he didn’t like the way you dress — and you make sure he sees every single dress you are in. You stay within the bounds of decency as you definitely have no intention to disgrace yourself, and none of your dresses are borderline scandalous, contrary to what any prince may think. You deign to let him see the curve of your neck with your hair up high, the bending of your shoulders and the sunkissed skin of your arms, the arc of your knees and mere glimpses of the upper part of your legs. You leave the rest to his imagination — granted, he has a good one considering how much time he spends reading.

During the second month, his patience starts running out.

In the years you’ve known Helaena, you learned all the ins and outs of the castle, so you manage to avoid Aemond at first, vanishing from his sight when needed. But, as time passes, you notice that he is tempted to talk to you, and escaping that possibility becomes harder with each day. One morning, when you walk into the yard, Aemond abruptly stops his training upon seeing you, and the two of you just stare at each other for a second, both startled and holding your breath. You are saved by Ser Criston, who calls for the prince, distracting him, giving you a chance to leave, and you all but run away.

After that day, you temporarily cease your visits to the castle, deciding to take a break and make up weak excuses to Helaena. Only now that you were apart, you realize how much you miss Aemond’s physical presence. His sudden, fleeting touches — to help you out of a carriage or to steady you after a fit of laughter, your hands brushing when you share books, his fingers sometimes lightly grazing your waist for the reason you are yet to know. You haven't talked to him for days, let alone felt him in your close proximity, and yet he's constantly on your mind. Somewhere in the midst of it all, you wake up at night realizing you yearn for him terribly. You wish you could go back to that damn evening of the feast, to confront him right away, to maybe get some clarification. But now too much time has passed and you’re too wrapped up in... whatever you plan on doing, so your ego insists that giving up isn’t an option.

When you receive the invitation for Aegon’s name day, you are ready to decline, but then begrudgingly decide to give it one last chance. You practice the look of indifference, the nonchalant tone, the proud gait, and you pull out your best dress. It’s green and the color is so bright, it dazzles the eyes, the material light and flowing — and yet, when you put it on, it feels incomplete. As you look in the mirror, the vivid tone of the fabric suddenly reminds you of something else. It’s a secret you once heard, a hushed conversation between the maids, one of which walked in on the prince when he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You only ponder for a minute and then reach for the jewelry piece that definitely will be hard not to notice. The castle is crowded, and you are one of the last guests to arrive. Bracing yourself, you pause at the door for a second. Ser Harrold, who stands there, lets out a surprised hum. “Should I take that as a sign of your disapproval?” you jest, watching his reaction.

“I wouldn’t dare to judge,'” he gives you a polite smile. “But I’m afraid all the men present are at risk of losing reason.”

His comment makes you chuckle and you step a bit closer, letting him take a better look.

“I thought it would match the occasion. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ser Harrold, gods bless him, keeps his eyes on your face. “As always, it is, lady Y/N.”

It gives you enough confidence to walk in, appearing in all your glory.

The dress is a perfect fit, with a slit down your right side and an open back. The front neckline isn't deep but in the middle of it there’s a thin silver chain with a big, glittering sapphire — and the gem lays perfectly between your breasts. It’s only natural that everyone’s gaze is immediately drawn to the blue spark, all the men in the room gazing at it, voluntarily and not. But the effect their attention has is nothing compared to the wave of heat that warms your body when you feel a very particular gaze finally landing on you. You look right at him — and you catch him gawking, his lips slightly parted as he stares at the sapphire, too, almost in a trance. His hand is gripping a cup of wine with such force, you can see the whitening of his knuckles. When Aemond sharply glances up, your eyes lock for a second, and you look away first. So much for him not being impressed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Jace waving at you to come sit with him, and you do not hesitate, letting the one-eyed prince out of sight.

You feel like his eye doesn’t leave you for a second.

You are barely able to sit still while dining and let out a sigh of relief when it’s time for dancing. You rush away from the table, thinking it will provide you with a distraction, and you will be glad for any partner if only he can move his legs and keep his mouth shut. You go to the end of the line, lost in your thoughts, and when you finally come to a stop and look to the other side — you see Aemond standing in front of you.

The tall prince with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing all black, stares at you in a way that makes the crowd around you disappear.

When the dance starts, you step toward each other, and he speaks up first. 

“I couldn’t help but notice your absence. I find myself wondering what is the reason behind it,” his hand briefly touches yours, your bodies following the music.

“Your question is confusing, my prince. As I was merely doing you a favor,” you swap partners but Aemond only looks at you.

“Your leaving hardly favors me,” the prince says when you’re in his arms again. You feel a flicker of anger rising inside but keep your voice down.

“I was actually counting on you being relieved,” you snort, not looking at him. “Since, as it turned out, you were so displeased with my bawdy dresses,” with these words, you step away from him once more.

A minute later you come back to his side but don’t let him say a thing. 

“I’ve always thought bawdy was just another word for a whore. So I suppose I should be glad that you at least had some decency to not stoop so low,” when your eyes meet, you think you’ve never seen him so hurt.

Before he can come up with an answer, you are out of his reach. Then you circle back to Aemond again, and this time your tone comes out hasher.

“I also wonder if you would be so brave to say all that to my face. But it seems that your bravery falters when confronted with the need to speak plainly.”

The rhythm of the music works in your favor, because whenever Aemond tries opening his mouth, you’re swooped away from him, and it gives you time to tighten your self-control. You think you should resent him for his silly words, for his heavy gaze, for him knowing how to dance even though he never once did that with you in all these years.

But you have no resentment for him. All of a sudden you realize what you are actually feeling.

And then the dance comes to an end.

You only curtsy out of politeness, averting your gaze.

“I will not vex you anymore, my prince.”

“Wait, I should —,” he tries to take your hand but you swerve away from him.

“I already promised the next dance to someone else,” you lie. “You are finally free of my company.”

At that very second, when you glance at him before leaving, he looks absolutely heartbroken. Or maybe you just imagined it in an attempt to ease your own pain. Your feet carry you to the library on their own accord, and you’re too distraught to notice until you are already inside, in the dusty silence of the endless shelves. You take a hold of the nearest one, trying to catch your breath. You barely get a minute of solitude before you hear footsteps approaching. And it’s kind of pathetic how easy it is for you to guess who it is. “Your tendency to run away from me is quite unnerving,” Aemond walks in with rapid strides, his voice laced with emotion you can’t read. 

His words, however, trigger your reaction in no time. 

“Maybe it is because I do not want to be in the company of someone who hurt me,” you turn to him, and he’s already only a couple of feet away. The dim lighting illuminates his silver hair, the outline of his broad shoulders, his eye is boring into you. He looks so beautiful in his frustration, your chest tightens at the sight.

“I would’ve apologized right away if only you let me speak,” the prince retorts.

“Did something hold you back from apologizing sooner? Or were you too preoccupied with being outraged by my clothing choices?” your heart skips a bit at the intensity of his stare but you refuse to break the eye contact.

“I never said I was outraged.” 

“You weren’t thrilled, either, you made that very clear.”

“You know nothing of my motives because you refuse to listen to me!” he raises his voice and it startles you. But he doesn’t sound angry.

Aemond is standing at arm’s length — and you can clearly see that his face expresses no signs of annoyance or hatred. Instead, he looks at you with longing.

The air in the room feels heavy.

You run your tongue over your lips to moisten them, and Aemond’s eye darts to your mouth.

“We can agree on one thing,” he drawls, his eye locking with yours again as he moves closer. You take a step back — and feel pressed against one of the shelves.

He speaks with his tone low:

“...You vex me to no end.”

With another step, Aemond towers over you, and when you look up, your faces are only inches apart, and his flaming gaze envelops you.

“You are the bane of my existence,” Aemond breathes out. “And the object of all my desires,” his voice breaks, and you feel him inhaling sharply.

His words are akin to a match that lights up a fire deep in you, the muscles of your stomach tightening involuntarily. With one finger he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, your breathing shuddering.

“I’m haunted by your image everywhere I go,” he rasps, his nose brushing yours. “Night and day, I dream of you,” his index finger moves under your chin, close to the pulsating point on your neck. You feel the heat spilling into the pit of your belly, and you want nothing more than for Aemond to kiss you.

“I was raised to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread every minute I spend in your presence,” he whispers vehemently, his words hot against your mouth. 

You are dizzy, breathless — and craving him. Everything else is forgotten, erased, nonexistent. It’s just you two.

“You are all I can think about,” you confess with a strangled voice, looking at Aemond through your lashes — and it sets him off.

His lips capture yours in an instant, claiming and burning with need. He pulls you closer, his hands on your back, and yours go up his shoulders to lock behind his neck. Aemond kisses you deeply, hungrily, sweeping his tongue over your lower lip and then sliding it in, intertwining with yours. One of his palms moves lower, outlining the curve of your hip, glides over your leg — and into the slit of your dress. He grabs your thigh, his thumb landing on the inner side of it, and he starts slowly massaging small circles on it. Him touching your bare skin elicits a moan from you and in the heat of the moment, as your mind goes blank and you can only focus on the pleasuring sensation, you spread your legs, and his finger slips higher — to the place where you want him the most.

He breaks the kiss in surprise, and you wait for it to dawn on him. To realize that you are, in fact, completely naked under the dress. You can feel arousal pooling between your legs, your body prickling with anticipation.

“I was under the impression that you owe me an apology,” you unabashedly murmur, looking him straight in the eye. 

You don’t know if it’s a challenge or a plea — at this point, you do not care. Apparently, neither does Aemond, as he takes no time hoisting your leg up to his waist for better access, firmly holding it in place. Your respite barely lasts a few seconds before you feel his other hand cupping your sex, rubbing his fingers through your folds. You shut your eyes, gasping for air, as he unhurriedly smears your wetness — and then his finger dips into your core, the sensation making you shiver.

“Aemond,” you sign, your body trembling with desire.

Trying to inhale, you get a whiff of aroma, a mix of leather and salty ocean breeze — and all at once, you are surrounded by him. His scent, his warmth, his scorching touches, the taste that’s left on your lips. He leaks into your every cell.

Aemond nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses there, his finger picking up the pace.

“I’ve missed you,” he avows. “So fucking much,” he lightly nibbles the skin above your collarbone. “Missed hearing you say my name. Say it again.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice — and the interweaving of letters rolls off your tongue with each breath:

“Aemond”

“Aemond”

“Aemond.”

His name fills your mouth, leaving no space for air, your throat tight and breathing rapid. Aemond’s lips move down to your shoulder.

“Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he haltingly rambles, and the implication makes you clench around him, dragging a low groan from the prince.

He leaves a trail of kisses following the silver chain down to your breasts. The gem feels cold in contrast to your skin, and even though your head is clouded with lust, it triggers a memory. You move one of your shaking hands to his face, guiding it up to look at you again.

“I want to see the real thing,” you whisper, gazing at his eyepatch. “Let me. Please, let me.”

His hand between your legs doesn’t stop its movement but the one on your thigh trembles. You are too caught up in the moment to think straight, and before he can answer, your fingers roughly remove the leather patch.

The sapphire glows like a beacon, the cold blue of it is dazzling and piercing through your blurred vision. The tones and shadows are interlacing, cyan melting into azure and dark blue, and it’s mesmerizing. Seeing him like this, stripped of his restrain and his disguise, is the most intimate, precious thing in the world.

“Gods, you are divine,” you moan, panting.

You catch a flash of emotion in his eye — before you can take another breath, his lips are on yours again. This kiss is steady and fervent, and while his mouth melts into yours, Aemond adds a second finger. It slides in with ease, and he builds up the speed that makes you swallow air. He’s terrifyingly good with his fingers, with his every move, precise and fast. 

“Aemond,” you whimper in his mouth, but his lips keep chasing yours, and you can only follow, letting him take your breath away again and again. You lose track of time, lose yourself in his arms. His face is always close to yours, he breathes in every moan you make and keeps his gaze on you, watching you squirm, your cheeks flushed and lips quivering.

You helplessly whisper his name, and it comes out as a prayer, the coil in your stomach ready to snap. Aemond gives you a breathless smile.

“You do not need to beg me, ever,” he says in a husky voice. “I will give you anything you want,” with these words, he presses a thumb on your pearl, resuming the well-known circling motion, making you choke on air.

It takes merely a few seconds for you to come undone, the wave of pleasure blinding and crushing over you. His lips are at the corner of your mouth, ready to cover it should you make any loud sound, but you drop your head back, mouth falling slack in a silent cry.

His fingers slow the pace until you let out a quiet whine, and he removes them, carefully lowering your leg. You feel fuzzy-headed, trying to catch your breath, a few beads of sweat rolling along your hairline. One of his hands gently falls on your back, rubbing soothing patterns on your skin.

“I truly am sorry,” Aemond admits.

You chuckle lightly. “I think you already made it up to me.”

Despite the hint of humor, there’s an anxious feeling stirring in your abdomen, and you are afraid to open your eyes to meet his. You don’t know what’s to come and you dread the emptiness that will follow if he leaves.

Aemond tenderly cups your face with his hand:

“Mayhaps my intentions were not clear enough. I do plan to properly court you,” your eyes snap open at his words.

There’s a brief pause before he adds. “But I still need to apologize for my behavior because you deserved none of it. I was unfair with my judgment as I let jealousy get the best of me,” he sounds genuinely remorseful.

You glance at him in confusion, the gears turning in your head for a moment, and then you realize.

"You were jealous of Jace?!"

Aemond looks down at the floor, and there’s something endearing in his evident embarrassment. With your thumb and index finger you caress the jut of his jaw and make him look at you again.

“Aemond, I can barely consider him a friend. And the boy can only think about Baela, he speaks of her as if she is the light of his life.”

“I know that feeling," Aemond doesn’t hide his smile anymore when he’s with you. He brings your hand to his lips, and the sincerity of his words tugs at your heart. He leaves kisses on your knuckles, and you’re overwhelmed with happiness spreading in your chest.

“Do you get that feeling every time we argue? Or when I challenge you?” you inquire with a giggle.

His laugh vibrates against your skin. When Aemond meets your gaze, there are no doubts and reservations left, no room for denial.

“My biggest challenge was not to fall in love with you. I failed miserably,” he puts both of his hands on your waist, drawing you closer. “But I will humble myself before you because I cannot stand the thought of us being apart ever again,” Aemond presses his forehead against yours.

“I don’t plan on it,” you trace his scar with your finger, giving him goosebumps. “But you do know there still will be days when we vex each other to no end?” your voice is barely audible.

He moves his mouth to yours and, before bringing your lips together, he whispers:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And neither would you.

the author doesn’t know how to shut up: — the dress is from “Atonement” (although I imagined her neckline a bit differently); — I haven’t written smut in a very long time so... I hope it was okay? any thoughts and comments will be very appreciated because I’m nervous about this 🥺 (not gonna lie, this was kinda self-indulgent so I hope that at least some of you will enjoy it, too!)

* I know there is an amazing fic called “bane of my existence, object of my desire” by @ jasonsmirrorball — I love it to pieces and highly recommend it! 💕 💚 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

[fountainpenguin]

Things that happened in Martyn & Cleo Double Life canon:

Cleo hoping to find her soulmate and start a life with them

Cleo dumping Martyn without giving him a chance to explain his side of the story, but hearing him out when he comes to her later

Martyn watching Cleo through his spyglass and telling the audience she seems safe and happy even though he thinks it's weird she's outside at night

Martyn, after he's had time to consider how he wants to play this, spinning a story about trying to be a provider for her and Cleo explaining that she wanted him, not things

Cleo not being remotely impressed by the "I was providing" sob story, lol

Martyn calling Cleo selfish for choosing to be with Scott because she's supposed to be HIS soulmate and he wants a partner

Cleo willing to forgive Martyn if he meets them halfway

Martyn refusing to meet them halfway because he doesn't think he did anything wrong

Martyn screaming about how Cleo's building bridges with Scott but "When will she think about mending our bridges???"

Martyn explaining to Cleo that he doesn't understand why his Session 1 actions bothered them

Martyn centering his character arc and roleplay on trying to win Cleo back without actually apologizing

Cleo giving Martyn a flower and stating that if he loses it, she'll be real cross with him

Cleo chasing Martyn out of her yard because he tried to put an HOA sign on her base and she wanted to make it clear that she wasn't associated with them and their hate for his base (even though she does think his heart base is strange)

Martyn attacking Cleo after she said attacking is a form of affection to her

Cleo setting boundaries with Martyn and explaining what he can do to get her back

Cleo sighing when Scar set her up on a date with Martyn, but taking the chance to talk to him instead of walking out

Cleo genuinely wanting Martyn in her alliance

Martyn and Cleo giggling constantly when they chat

Scar asking if Martyn wanted him to play a romantic music disc for him and Cleo (and Martyn getting excited and saying yes)

Martyn offering to take Cleo's armor and weapons to the deep dark so he can enchant them and bring them back while she stays safe

Cleo gifting Martyn diamonds, expecting nothing in return but not wanting him to die from lack of a good sword

Martyn and Cleo forming a secret alliance that allows Cleo to live with Scott while being on good terms with Martyn

Martyn expressing frustration that Cleo wants to keep this alliance secret because he wants them to be public allies; Cleo softly shushes him when people approach and might overhear

Martyn telling Cleo that she's putting out a lot of mixed signals because she keeps reeling him in and then pushing him away, claiming he is very confused about where he stands with her

Martyn teasing Cleo by punching her off a cliff and accidentally killing her and feeling so bad about it that he apologizes profusely despite roleplaying as someone who refused to apologize for Session 1

Martyn and Cleo immediately threatening Bdubs together when he said hi to them while they were hanging out, sdkfj

Martyn genuinely apologizing to Pearl for dumping her after Session 1

Martyn hiding under Cleo's bed while she defends him from an enderman attack

Cleo offering to let Martyn move into her house after Etho and Joel grief his base; Martyn saying he might take her up on that

Cleo and Martyn agreeing to move out and base together at Box

Cleo trusting Martyn with the location and resources of her red life base

Martyn rushing to Cleo's aid in the deep dark and trying to turn everyone against him instead

Cleo responding to Martyn's panicked shouts for her to eat by opening her inventory to get food (and drowning because she forgot she was in water)

Cleo hanging back and letting Martyn attack Scott while she does nothing to stop him from doing so, implying as much as she likes Scott, she won't kill Martyn (and herself) for him (and/or she trusted Scott to handle himself even though he ran away while Martyn was shooting at him)

Things that did not happen:

Cleo unwilling to forgive Martyn or consider being his friend and partner

Martyn and Cleo hating each other

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

choosing violence 10 + 16 + 22 !!!! >:333

ok u didnt specify a fandom but im just gonna do this for pd because its front and center in my mind !!!!!! oh boy i cant wait to be crucified for my opinions

10. worst part of fanon

this is a problem with every jrwi campaign and also like. most . other fandoms to be real. but it seems like my favorite characters are always the ones that get the worst of the mischaracterization beam -_- i cant tell you HOW MANY fics ive opened bc the premise sounds cool only to IMMEDIATELY close it due to "he would not fucking say that" this isnt pd but if i have to read one more fic that infantilizes gillion for not understanding Land Things im going to blow up. hes stupid sometimes yeah! but hes not ignorant and hes not a baby hes like. literally the oldest one on the crew even if its only by a year or two. head in hands

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

ok im gonna get burnt at the stake for this one but i personally dont really see the appeal of tfem ashe... like i see the appeal yeah of course i do i just dont get why people are so like... weirdly forceful and passive aggressive about it? also this is totally a personal thing no hate to anyone that does this but its kind of a peeve of mine when ppl write analysis posts ans use their headcanon pronouns like.... if u are going to talk about and analyze canon then talk about canon !!!! i cant tell u how many good ashe posts ive skipped over bc im like. we are talking about different characters here .. respect to ashe tfemers and everything but its not for me

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

THERE IS A DISTURBING LACK OF CLARENCE ALBERT FAN CONTENT. WHY ARE PEOPLE NOT MORE INSNAE ABOUT CLARENCE ALBERT. HELLO???? am i the only person that feels this way . can anyone hear me its so fucking dark in here. every day i just want to read a fic about clarence albert and i am met with this

and neither of them are . interesting to me. hell on earth. bizly PLEASE give me more clarence lore in season 3 im fucking starving.

[futuristichedge]

Fic so good u start imagining more fic for it

[fantastic-nonsense]

I've decided that writing Wylan is very fun and relatively easy for me, but it's also very soul-revealing becasue he has a deep desire to be perceived as competent and useful by the people he cares about the rest of the Crows and I unfortunately feel very seen about it :/

[spitedemon]

and ofc people on the dragon age subreddit are getting very angry about leaked footage of inquisition choices that carry into veilguard. i’m not even gonna say that their anger is misplaced or isn’t justified, i just can’t fathom having the energy anymore to be mad like that about anything

[zishu-arts]

a quick thing because i thought this was funny

(at this point you guys are writing half of my fics)

[ren-144p]

Hi! Silent admirer of your RE stuff (it's been so long since I've played these games, but you've been re-inspiring me!) - so I'm curious about "Madrid, 1996" for the WIP asks? 👀

ohh god— going for the only one legitimately named and simultaneously the one most unpolished bdhdjsjkl

as of right now, “Madrid, 1996” is a series of snippets intertwined with meta about itself and records of my convos with @bennidraws (which is what started it all!!), written somewhat as a branch of my luis study project. set entirely pre-games, it follows the story of Luis and Carlos who meet, by chance, at an Umbrella conference, and in two weeks develop a particularly deep relationship. Carlos falls in love with an older man freshly out of a personality crisis, Luis falls for a repressed boy who's just discovering himself for the first time, and both of them turn each other's world upside down. contains dog imagery, yearning, cigarettes, and—on many occasions—Carlos' dog tags clinking against Luis' cross

it's rough and unpolished and not even fully planned out, branching within itself into multiple endings. but i've been chipping away at it when i'm not working on anything else and i feel like eventually something will come out of it. too much love has been put into those conversations for the fic to amount to nothing ❤️

*

“They ever give you a break, soldier boy?”

Carlos turned towards the voice, surprised to see anyone out of the building at this hour, especially in such a downpour. It belonged to the same man he had seen earlier, except the well-cut suit was nowhere to be found, now replaced by an intricately decorated leather jacket and a pair of well-worn jeans. He held a single cigarette between his teeth and a lighter in one hand, looking at him with curiosity through the hair falling into his eyes; and chuckled, clearly having noticed Carlos' persistent gaze on him.

“You look like a rabbit in headlights,” he teased, weaving the lighter between skilled fingers. It lit up with a quiet click a moment later, and Carlos took a while to admire the way the flame illuminated the man's face when he leaned into the light.

"No breaks.” He watched how his thin lips curled around a puff of smoke. “The shifts are short though.”

The stranger hummed, as if amused by the answer, and leaned back comfortably against the wall before extending a pack of cigarettes towards Carlos.

“Care for a smoke?”

*

“You should come find me later, soldier boy. When your shift is done,” the man said, throwing the butt of his cigarette on the ground. “Room 102. On the fourth floor,” he added with a wink, turning back, but Carlos' hand wrapped around his wrist before he could go.

“Who am I asking for?”

The stranger smirked, leaning in so close their noses almost touched.

“Name's Luis,” he said, a teasing note in his voice. “And who am I waiting for?”

“Carlos.”

*

and, as a bonus, a bit of the relevant note i made for this part (and for what's supposed to follow)

something about the terrifying act of inviting a stranger to your room, something about that stranger being a soldier; something about being invited to a hotel room by a man older than you, and something about the confidence with which he does it.

the way every night spent with a stranger might've been your last; the way he didn't know if he was gonna wake up the next morning, and then he did—and then they both did.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

It's feeling nostalgic for gmg nalu hours

[waffle-time-god]

Fuck you db super I’ll never forgive you for what you did to my boy Krillin

[nny11writes]

Nunny! I'm sending you asks for your game.

I'm tempted to send you the entire post and just see the Nunny Rant. You might not even do She-ra. I'm thinking of She-ra sending these but go off about star wars or something else if you think it applies better to the question :D

the character everyone gets wrong (ahahhahahaaaaaaaaa)

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about (im sure there is a long list)

9 and 10 - Worst part of fanon and worst part of canon (imo there is some overlap)

13. worst blorboficiation

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

lakhglkajfas, I think my rant would mostly just be keyboard smashes and crying emojis so this is the better way to go lol!

the character everyone gets wrong God, like, fucking- ALL of them. :) Buuuuuut the one that's bugging me the most recently is Mermista.

I am SO sick of post canon Mermista in c/a fics specifically. Mermista would not hold a grudge that hard that long and that violently!!! Stop having her hate Catra and actively be out to do harm to her. Mermista's response to losing her kingdom was like a bad breakup where she just cried in a tub eating ice cream. Her response to seeing HORDAK at the end of the series was just a, "So are we good with him now?" implying that she's chill to be chill.

Mermista and Catra 100% would sit at a table calling one another a bitch (begrudgingly fond and pretend to not be) back and forth. Mermista would not be out to skin Catra alive! Mermista wants to talk to Catra about her murder novels because Perfuma reads too slowly and doesn't like spoilers but she NEEDS to talk to someone about the butler who has a brain cell because Sea Hawk seemed to miss the whole first half of the book AND FURTHER MORE-

9. and 10. - Worst part of fanon and worst part of canon

Worst part of fanon is the fucking shippers. This went from one of the more open and accepting fandoms for all ships that I'd ever been in to one of the worst.

Like, straight up, one of the fics that lives rent free in my head is an explicit fic where Catra and Hordak enthusiastically consent to having sex. Like Hordak is trying to be kinda standoffish but can't stop looking at boob window tits, he was Entrapta trained I'm afraid. The number of times I think of his awkward proposing they do it more frequently followed shortly by Catra dressing and winking saying, "Seriously, great cock!" is a lot lol. It's such a porn movie style fic and there is something fantastic to be said about it.

But you even hint that Catra could be headcanonned as anything besides a lesbian and your body will be found in a few months time in several different bags. Suggesting Catra and Hordak having any romantic or sexual relationship probably gets you reported to the fucking government or something. So there's a reason it's never made a rec list from me but fuck it I'm mentioning it now.

They aren't real. If I want to occasionally have a giggle about them and make my little dolls bump uglies everyone else should politely not look while my fellow weirdly sane people who get that this is all make believe but sure we're the freaks here come poke and enjoy!

Fucking shipping wars and discourse man. I'm sick of it.

Worst part of canon for me is the censorship and uncertainty that caused various issues with the plot and prevented the show from being even stronger. You can see it in real time while watching, but man it was wild in December 2018 to see how professional media talked about the show and Catra and Adora being adoptive sisters, to AJ (I think?) getting dumped on for repeating that idea and having to apologize, to the open gayness at the end. I love SPOP, but the rocky terrain the crew-ra had to navigate really did impact the quality and created weird gaps that asshole fans hunkered down into. Like, we cannot pry some of those fuckers out.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

I need you to understand that my immediate response when I started writing this answer out was a very strained and painful sigh through my nose as my brain returned a static white noise sound.

I am really tired of forcing this jock!Adora and slacker!Catra thing. Like, it started in modern AUs but it's gone and infected people's idea of canon as well. It falls into a bit of the "dumb adora" trope, which people just don't seem to actually understand what that means or is about. It also falls into Shadow Weaver's narrative of who Catra is which is wild. Like. Really wild.

You are telling me Catra, a cat person who grew up in a military, is actively against exercise? Yes, she would 100% sleep in a sunbeam for a nap, and then she wakes up and craves some low key chaos and violence.

You are telling me Adora, forced into a golden child and leadership position, is bad at reading and math and science because all she cares about is training? Adora 100% enjoys physical fitness and using her body, but she's got a sharp mind on her and there's no way in hell she doesn't like to work it too.

I am just exhausted with it in modern AUs, and now it has gone to infect canon interpretations. It flattens their characters out, ignores/denies parts of their abuse, and nukes their abilities from orbit. I hate it so so much.

Also if I have to see one more fic or art piece where Catra is willingly and happily wearing dresses, skirts, and heels I swear to fucking god I will KILL. :)

13. worst blorboficiation

Again, this is all of them. Everyone suffers from being blorbo'd to an insane degree, but it just shifts depending on which character is the favorite of that part of the fandom. You have talked several times about the insanity of Catra fans vs. Hordak fans, the blorboification is insane there. Same with Catra fans vs. Glimmer fans.

Like. God damn. I'm so glad the Adora vs. Catra fan fights died out real quick because this fandom is exhausting enough.

With Catra being my favorite it's extra exhausting because there is CONSTANTLY people attacking her and then total asshats trying to defend her who I do not want to be associated with. I love her. She's a fucking idiot and a bastard and a baby. Somehow, every take on her is both the worst and factually correct and then the fandom fights.

Tipsy, I. Am. Tired.

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

OKAY

Let's fucking talk about how GLIMMER IS NOT AN EVIL BITCH. Can we talk about that? STOP TRYING TO LEAVE THIS POST AND SIT YOUR ASS DOWN WE'RE TALKING ABOUT THIS AGAIN because someone needs to hear it louder in the back.

Glimmer is the character who is probably be done the dirtiest by the fandom but for wildly different reasons throughout the whole show. Hands down.

After S1 fandom took Glimmer and made her into an entitled dumbass whiner who threw money and her titles at her problems. They made her act like a child without any complexity. And it 100% took me from not really liking her character much to detesting her which is outrageous every time I remember that I kinda hated her at that point.

This did not improve post S2. :)

Post S3 probably was the most sympathetic and understanding the fandom was to Glimmer but it came at the cost of trying to bulldoze Catra for the Portal and people making callout posts like these characters were real people. I feel like the rise of some of the G/A shippers that I really can't stand was around this time. It was catra vs. glimmer fans going bat shit and drawing lines for ships.

If they couldn't assassinate Glimmer's character, by god the fandom would assassinate both Catra and Adora's in wildly different ways instead!

Do I need to talk about post S4? The idea of dark Glimmer and Glimmer going off the rails should have been a fun thing to play with in the sandbox and instead just writing it down made me cringe. Now Glimmer has to be an evil bitch because she had a trauma response and made bad decisions, now she is irredeemable because I made up a situation where she did something she didn't in canon for reasons so OOC someone probably slapped Donut Steel on it somewhere.

There was a little lift post series, but man people are holding onto Glimmer being a spoiled brat to play off of for Catra or a cruel bitch for Catra and, again, as a Catra fan, I want to bite bite kill kill bite kill kill kill!!!

Glimmer is allowed to grow up from being a spoiled kid who had good intentions and was naive. She is allowed to be over eager, bratty, petty, silly, funny, caring, and smart too. She's allowed to make bad choices and struggle with how to recover from it.

STOP MAKING ME THE LEAVE BRITTNEY ALONE MEME FOR GLIMMER

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

Shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs, shut up about redemption arcs-

[lead-acetate]

Darksider!(ish) Fox, Jango woke up and chose farming AU update

y'all, chapter 3 of young man came from hunting is up! in this chapter we get Jango's cooking, Jangobi squabbling and we finally meet Fox! or do we?

(hint: this cheap line is suppose to Intrigue you and lead to you Checking Out the fic)

[writeouswriter]

Things I have not written: The original story idea I've been claiming to be my current WIP

Things I have written: Three (3) half finished fanfics for the most unhinged fandom imaginable that I won't even share the name of, I don't even know how I got here, when did this become my life, why are there 3, when did they become 3, I was normal up to a few days/weeks ago but today I was literally rotating between all of them at once adding like one sentence or changing like a couple words at a time for the past several hours. Girl, help. I mean, I'm happy I'm writing something, but why brain, why.