#I ain’t tagging all those ships

[evelynismahnameboi]

He’s sick and tired of people not knowing!

Now you know

Also:

I count Eduardo as part of the Harem

[imogenkol]

— WIP WHENEVER

tagged by @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @kyber-infinitygems @inafieldofdaisies @jillvalentinesday @marivenah thank you lovelies 💕💕💕

no pressure tags as always: @sstewyhosseini @jinfromyarikawa @voidika @shegetsburned @jackiesarch @corvosattano @florbelles @aceghosts @shallow-gravy @shellibisshe @roofgeese @theelderhazelnut @shadowglens + anyone else who might want to share!

Got blessed with a short burst of writing for the morning after these two finally give in and decide to become official

Everything felt so… calm and peaceful. In the same way the sky looks before a storm. Imogen should be fleeing for her life or at the very least preparing herself for the inevitable destruction. But she didn’t – she couldn’t. All she managed was to lie in bed beside the woman she fought so hard not to love. The warmth of her body half draped over Imogen’s after a passionate night. It was such a simple thing, to have her beloved’s head rest against her chest and feel their breaths as one, yet she could not recall ever experiencing such contentment.

Destruction might just be worth it.

Bix trailed her fingertips along her bare collarbone which caused Imogen to smile. Her own caress lightly traveled up and down the mechanic’s spine in aimless patterns. It even felt extraordinary to touch her just for the sake of it. 

“I’m starting to believe you actually like waking up next to me,” Bix said in a lighthearted tone.

“I have always desired this,” Imogen admitted softly, tilting her head enough to nuzzle against hers. 

“Meaning you’ve always been afraid of this.”

Imogen tensed. The hard-wired urge to pull away and fiercely deny such an accusation threatened to overcome her, but there was no sense in refuting the truth any longer. Not from Bix. Gradually, the bounty hunter willed her muscles to ease. She wondered how long it would take to train these instincts out of her. “If we… truly commit to one another –”

Bix’s fingers twitched into a fist against Imogen’s skin. “If?”

“No,” Imogen quickly corrected herself. “No more ifs. What I mean to say is… Well, I have a lot to learn.”

“So do I. So does everyone,” Bix stated matter-of-factly. She leaned up on her elbow and met the other woman’s apprehensive expression. “You’re here. You’re trying. That’s all that really matters to me.” 

A strand of dark hair dangled over the mechanic’s cheek. Imogen reached out and delicately tucked it behind her ear. She took in the unobscured beauty of her beloved for a few prolonged beats, her thumb tracing some of those features that left her in awe. 

“I am quite certain there is one thing in this galaxy that I would not be able to bear,” Imogen muttered under her breath – almost to herself. 

Bix moistened her lips as she inched closer. “And what’s that?”

A rhythmic knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Along with a gruff voice that called, “Bix? It’s me.”

Imogen hoped her glare would burn right through the durasteel to strike Cassian down.

“Hang on!” Bix called back. With an exasperated sigh, she slumped down and hid her face in the crook of Imogen’s neck for a beat before she forced herself up. At the sight of the bounty hunter’s less than pleased expression, Bix said “Don’t start anything.”

“He still draws breath, does he not? That is the extent of my manners,” Imogen replied curtly as Bix hastily dressed herself. She, too, summoned a great effort to follow her out of bed and do the same. “Unless he wishes to apologize for aiming a blaster at my heart.”

“You held your lightsaber at his throat.” 

“He drew on me first.”

Bix rolled her eyes, though Imogen caught the upturn at the corner of her mouth before she turned towards the door.  “Come in.” 

The both of them hadn’t quite finished dressing. Cassian entered as Bix fastened the waistband of her pants and Imogen pulled a shirt over her head. He halted mid-step, his gaze shifting between the two women as if a complicated equation did not add up. Though, the scene before him must have been fairly obvious.

“What is it, Cass?” Bix urged. 

“I just… wanted to talk to you.” Cassian’s answer came out distracted. His eyes lingered on the bounty hunter. 

Imogen looked to Bix expectantly and received a nod. A part of her had hoped that she would have been allowed to remain in the room, but she understood why Bix dismissed her. Without another word, Imogen collected her coat in one hand and intended to make her exit when an impulse emerged. She would not have Cassian misinterpret the signs, not if she had any say in it. 

In a few strides, Imogen went to Bix and pulled her in by the back of her neck. While their lips met with intention, it was no less soft or passionate than the kisses they shared in private. Imogen indulged in a few strokes and had to fight not to get lost in the sensations, nearly forgetting the witness she intended to show for. 

Once Imogen pulled away, she gave Bix a parting caress and said “I will come find you later.” 

The mechanic had a knowing glint in her eye, but she nodded again. “Alright.” 

Cassian had not moved and the nature of his continued gaze turned from dumbfounded to outright suspicion. Imogen glared right back at him as she made her way towards the door. He stood far enough into the room that she could have easily maneuvered around him, but she instead shoved her shoulder into his as she walked past. Just to make sure her point came across clearly.

[mifeng-xiaojie]

This is the last I’ll say about the “canon Jiang Cheng” wankery.

It has been a spoken and agreed upon rule of Tumblr fandom before there was a Jiang Cheng to love or hate that you DO NOT put your hate in the character and ship tags and that you do tag it with “anti-character name”. The reason is because fans utilize those tags to find and share art, fiction, and discussions about their favorite characters. The tags have always been meant to be a space to bring people together positively.

It’s long been understood that anyone who puts hate in the tag either doesn’t know any better or they just want to start shit. I’m late to the fandom, but my impression of the JC antis and this whole tag mess is that you all just want to start shit and be miserable because honestly, the majority of you all contribute more hate and negativity to fandom than you do anything else. You talk about JC fans being delusional. Ok, and? Even if they are, they’re having fun! They’re making friends with each other and bonding over their love for this character, which is how fandom is supposed to be. You’re worried about this so called delusion because why again?

Ya’ll knew that naming the tag “canon” would be contentious. Different people have different interpretations of canon, but rather than accept that in good faith, you’d rather accuse people of lying, making things up, and being delusional. Do you feel better doing that?

It’s a fictional story we’re all supposed to be having fun with. Yall make shit not fun. I hesitated for a long time to even engage with this fandom because of the amount of hate and vitriol I see antis spewing on a day to day basis. I just recently watched as antis on that confession blog appeared to have gotten their face chewed off enough by JC stans so then they tried it with the JGY stans and proceeded to get steamed rolled again. Yall do this shit to yourselves and cry victim. Stop it. Get some help. Get jobs. Mow the lawn. Do something productive. This ain’t it.

[milliesfishes]

𝓔𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 (𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓣𝔀𝓸)𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

[fem reader] contains: nudity, talk of male anatomy pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: pirate billy x mermaid reader author’s note: based on my love @francixoxoxo 's pirate billy au- leaving the tag below. Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Billy was no pursuer of the ocean’s secrets.

He had long accepted that it was impossible to ever truly know of the water, and foolish to try. All one could do was take what it chose to reveal. 

For some reason it had chosen to give him you. He, o unworthy mortal, was the chosen object of your curiosity and attentions that night. Whatever he had done right, whatever good deed was floating back around to him…he was grateful. 

You occupied his every thought long after the ship left port, tethered to that single memory. All day onboard as the sun beat at his back, he could only picture you. Your long, luscious hair that’d been so silky between his fingers. He looked down at his weathered hands. Unworthy. He’d scrub them raw for another chance to touch you. 

At night when he slunk belowdecks to close his eyes, you were there too. Swimming around every corner of his mind, where dreadful thoughts of the future had previously occupied. This was a welcome respite from them, but they were accompanied by a similar misery. Heaven knows if he’d ever be able to see you again. Would he spend the rest of his life pining after you? Sucking the last dredges of joy from that one memory until it was as dry as a bunch of grapes left in the sun?

It weighed heavily on him even a week later at sea. Leaning over the edge of the boat and watching the horizon, Billy felt melancholy settle over him like a gray cloud. He wished with all his might for even one more glimpse of you, at least so he’d know he hadn’t made it up.

A hand clapped his back as Jesse sidled up beside him with a good-natured grin. “Long face?”

Billy managed a half smile, staring into the watery depths as if you might suddenly pop up. “Just thinkin’.”

“Aye, we gotta get ya t’ shore if you’re thinkin’.” His captain elbowed him. “Rum ‘n a girl under each arm’ll getcha outta yer head.” When Billy said nothing, Jesse fell silent. Then he leaned his elbows on the railing, mirroring his position. “Wha’s on yer mind?”

Rubbing his thumb over the smooth wood, Billy tried to imagine it was your cheek. “D’ya ever hear the boys talk ‘bout mermaids?”

Brow furrowing, the other man nodded. “Few times.”

“‘S it true, ya think?” As he asked, Billy lifted his eyes to his friend’s.

Jesse tilted his hat up, and Billy could see that his face had gone dead serious. He leaned forward a little. “I know ‘s true.”

Intrigued and a little surprised by his serious nature, Billy nodded, encouraging him to continue. Jesse had a long history sailing, and there were a great number of things he’d come across in that time, things Billy couldn’t even dream of.

“Merfolk’r ‘s real ‘s my nose,” Jesse nodded, his face hardening. “Had a few run-ins way back when. Ain’t good folk t’ mess with.”

“They dangerous?” Billy was picturing you, seemingly innocent and pure. The way you’d looked at him with bright eyes.

“Maybe not all of ‘em, but it ain’t a risk I’m willin’ t’ take,” Jesse shifted where he stood. “Their men ‘r viscous and the women’re worse.” Something in his eyes darkened. “Got some kinda magic in ‘em that makes those like you ‘n me melt.”

Billy frowned a little, remembering how quickly he’d been enraptured by your presence alone. Had it all been a farce? Some sort of spell to take advantage of him? “What’d you do if ya saw one?”

Jesse whipped out his pistol and fired a single shot at the water, smoke wafting out of the tip from the severity, making Billy jolt. Turning his head back to him slowly, Jesse said, “No chances.”

There were ripples from the bullet’s impact, and Billy watched the circles expand until the waves swallowed them up, trying not to let the horror show on his face. 

Jesse noted Billy’s look. “Ya ain’t come across one, didja?”

“No.” His answer was immediate. Whatever you’d been trying to do with him, he didn’t want to leave you at Jesse’s mercy. “Just curious. Heard whispers.”

“Ah.” His friend didn’t question it, patting him on the shoulder again. “Well, we’ll be t’ port soon ‘nough ‘n we can get some drink for those poor thoughts ‘f yours.”

“Dunno if I’ll be much for pubs tonight, Jesse,” Billy glumly traced the grain of the wood again. No amount of rum, cheap or not, could erase the echoes of your musical voice.

Half smiling, the other man nodded, following Billy’s eyes to the water, silent for a moment. Then he lightened. “Why don’tcha keep watch over the ship tonight? It’ll be quiet, ‘n ya won’t hafta hear the crew snorin’ in the boardin’ house.”

Billy cracked a slight grin at that. “Doesn’t Dick usually stay on?”

“Ah, Dick can piss off forra night,” Jesse laughed a bit. “He’s sweet on a gal in town, he’ll go see ‘er ‘n forget he’s gotta sleep witha buncha pirates.” Clapping Billy’s shoulder again, he said, “Enjoy the quiet.”

After Jesse left, Billy’s eyes magnetically fell back to the water. The offer was mighty generous. It surely wasn’t offered to just anyone. He’d take it, he decided. Maybe being on the ship would stop him from going back to a certain rocky spot on the beach.

Another of the crew called him, and he turned away, casting one last glance at the sea, as if you might finally be waiting there and smiling up at him.

The night was long and it’d hardly been two hours since the crew had departed for land. 

Billy was semi-regretting his decision as he sat on the starboard steps leading to the helm, able to hear the rowdy sounds of the port nightlife even from here. He pictured the hot, crowded, sticky-floored bar and knew he didn’t want to be there. But he didn’t want to be here either, lonely and empty with nothing but the sea for company. 

At sundown he’d resolved not to think of you. But that was like trying to stop breathing. After years upon years of identical months that bled and overlapped into one mass of time, you had been the sun breaking through the clouds. He’d heard others on the crew talk of what it was to be enamored by a woman, and, young and naive, he hadn’t understood. But now he issued a silent apology for every judgment he’d ever made. Billy knew more than ever now that he was only a man, helpless to the charms of the fairer sex.

Hopelessly, he thought that maybe a few years and the ocean’s sway would erase his agony. Perhaps this would become some distant memory that he, as a time-tossed, hopefully former, pirate, would reminisce on as a mere pleasure, and nothing more.

Just as he was coming to terms with it, he heard a loud splash to his right. Billy stood up and leaned over the railing to investigate. When he saw you there, lifting a hand out of the water to wave sweetly, all thoughts of abandonment were lost. How could he dwell on them when you were actually here, radiant even under the darkness, looking so happy to see him.

“Hello!” you called joyfully, and his smile was uncontrollable, nearly splitting his face in two.

“Evenin’!” he said back, and you somehow brightened more. In a surprising feat of strength, you found the slat of wood ingrained in the ship that the crew used to board from smaller boats or the water, lifting yourself slightly up. 

“Is it alright if I come aboard?” you asked shyly, and his knees nearly went weak. 

“‘F course, pretty,” he reached down for you, hooking his hands under your arms and hoisting you up to sit on the railing, your tail fluttering excitedly as he did.

The second he was in reach, you pulled him in for a deep kiss, your lips moving against his mesmerizingly. He was caught off guard by the passionate nature of it, but quickly recovering, he slid his hands to your waist and pulled you in close.

When you broke off, you smiled eagerly. “I’ve been wanting to do that again forever.”

Billy laughed in delight, his eyes wandering over you. He’d only seen you half in water, so now, under the moonlight’s vantage, he felt as if he’d accidentally opened a door to heaven. Your tail was long and slender and shiny, and it looked blue, but he couldn’t tell if it was the sky’s reflection or the natural color.

He stroked the side of your waist tentatively, just looking at you in awe. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see ya ‘gain.”

“I’m here,” you smiled, pulling his head down for another kiss. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Didn’t get your name ‘r anythin’,” he said between kisses. “Didn’t know if ya were just there for the night…mmph-” you were kissing him so intently, and he chuckled, pulling back. “Woah, there.”

You smiled, your tail flapping a little. “This-” you kissed him again, once. “-is how you show people you like them, right?”

Billy grinned as you echoed his words. “Sure is.” He grasped your waist, trying not to look at your breasts. Your wet hair was sticking to them, and it outlined their shape. It was the most erotic modest thing he’d ever seen. “Ya don’t just do it with anyone though.”

“Hmm?” you tilted your head adorably.

“Only with people ya really like,” he emphasized. “Lovers do it, most often.”

That seemed to intrigue you, and you shifted on the railing, opening your mouth to say something. But the combined smoothness of the surface and your damp tail sent you suddenly collapsing right on top of him, his body cushioning yours from the planks of the ship. 

You giggled, and he was distracted by the sensation of your breasts pressing against him, through his thin shirt. But your laugh was contagious, and he couldn’t help but join in, sitting up slightly so your body was nestled between his legs. The end of your tail fluttered lazily as you looked up at him, your vivid smile sending his heart jumping like a fish on a sunny day.

“Does that make us lovers?” you tilted your head up, sending the waves of your hair cascading around your back. The innocent question had him weak. 

“Depends what you’re wantin’,” he said slightly nervously, and you hummed, sitting up fully, and folding your tail underneath you, remaining between his legs. 

Looking over him, you got that curious look on your face he’d remembered so many times since that first night. “You look different with clothes on.”

“Ah.” he remembered your fascination with his…nude body. “Disappointing?”

“Mm mm,” you shook your head, still looking. “Just different.” Reaching out, you tugged on the collar of his half-unbuttoned shirt. “Why do you wear these anyways?”

“I…” he realized he didn’t know, exactly. “I s’pose to protect us. From the elements ‘n all. And so we’re not showin’ our full parts all the time.”

“Would that be bad?” you tilted your head the other way.

“Huh…” he was stumped. “Well…humans get a lil’ shy ‘bout that kinda stuff. Only special people getta see us without clothes.”

“I saw you without clothes,” you pointed out, and he breathed a laugh.

“Well, I wasn’t plannin’ on you seein’ me,” he grinned. “‘Sides, it’s different with you, pretty.”

“Different how?” Billy could have sworn his heart swelled every time you asked a question. Your inquisitive nature was endearing. He knew right then he’d answer anything you asked and never get tired of it. 

“I said it earlier, I like ya,” he smoothed his hands over your sides. “Like ya in a different way, y’know?”

Your smile grew as you nodded. “I think I understand perfectly.”

The sea’s ways were arcane, unpredictable. It gave and took what it pleased, the secrets within as foreign as the stars. Billy had both known and heard tales of men who spent their lives seeking out these unknowns aggressively, only becoming more frustrated when the waters were closed to them. He himself had never had such a desire, knowing the ocean would reveal what she wanted him to know, in her own time. It appeared to have paid off, gifting him one of her daughters to have in this way.

For hours you sat with him on the deck, asking question after question, much to his delight. He found your fascination with the world on land winning, your unsatisfied thirst for answers beguiling.

Lying there side by side on the wood, your hair slowly drying into the loveliest, soft looking waves, your stormy eyes connected with his, he felt like he’d been thrust into one of the fantasies men lost at sea spoke of. They described washing up on the sands of faraway lands and being told after they regained consciousness that they’d been raving about beautiful women and endless feasts, palaces of pearl and gold. But here you were in front of him, angelic and, as far as he could tell, very real.

“I was always told humans are dangerous because they aren’t the same as us,” you said softly. The sun was rising, the soft golden rays making you glow. Billy was struck dumb by the sight of it, you flush up against him and playing with the collar of his shirt, his arm securing you to him and tracing the border of your skin and your tail on your waist. “But…” there was a light in your eyes. “...you’re not so different after all.”

Billy tilted your chin up with a single finger, his lips ghosting yours. “Well…” he started, a light smile gracing his lips. “I hope I’m a little different.”

Luminescent, shining, sparkling. Your smile was all of those things, and probably a few other words his sailor’s mind didn’t know of. You nodded, searching his eyes like a lookout after a storm. “You’re different from anybody I’ve known. Above the water or not.” 

He closed the distance, kissing you gently and sliding his hand into your hair. You were the air in his lungs, the water surrounding him. You were the sea captured in a single woman, simple and true.

Billy held you until he heard the telltale sounds of the crew moseying over, regretfully slipping you back into the water until the next time.

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[double-vandammage]

Title: Stripped

Word count: 2,192

Rating: 18+

Ship: Bret Hart x Shawn Michaels

Tags/Warnings: Shawn POV, Jealous!Bret, Strip tease, Pet names, Biting, Anal sex, hand jobs, play fighting

Also posted to my a03: aa_beatrix

Oh my this took a lot out of me. 🫣 I spent many nights wrestling with my thoughts on how to write a sexy strip tease and this was the result. I listened to Cherry Pie by Warrant more times than I care to admit to help move this thing along. It turned out WAY smuttier than my first Hartbreak fic I was originally embarrassed to write. 🥴

I got inspiration from the In Your House: HBK vs. Goldust Dark Match for the WWF Title (10/20/1996). That gave me a mixed bag of emotions and I am still thinking about it. 😵‍💫

Shawn waited for Bret leaning against the side of the ring. The stadium seats were vacant and shrouded in darkness save the overhead lights illuminating the empty ring. The match he had with Goldust was sure to have ruffled a few feathers, including one Hitman. The two had been messing around for months on and off. They would meet in private before, after, and in between various matches or promos. Nothing got Shawn going faster than when Bret would berate him in front of a live audience. Surprisingly enough Bret had made the first move. What began as a fistfight ended with a kiss. Shawn found himself backed into a wall, preparing for a punch. Instead he was met with Bret’s lips on his. It was lust at first fight. 

“Quite the show you put on with Goldie.” came Bret’s low voice from out of the shadows. Shawn smiled, eyeing Bret’s delicious frame striding down the entrance aisle. “Aw, you know Goldie ain’t mean nothin’ by it.” he grinned. Bret placed his hands on either side of Shawn, bracing himself with the edge of the ring. “You kissed him.” Bret said, those dark eyes searching him. “All part of the act, sugar.” Shawn drawled, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of Bret’s jeans, and tugging him closer. He moved in for a kiss, but Bret was quick to grab a handful of hair to stop him. Shawn let out a sharp hiss in response. “Not so fast boytoy.” Bret commanded, swiftly twisting Shawn around to face the ring. “Someone needs to teach you a lesson…get in the ring.” he growled into Shawn’s ear, nipping at the skin.

Shawn hurriedly jumped up and rolled under the ropes, standing to lock eyes with the Hitman. Bret began to leisurely make his way around the ring, never breaking his focus with Shawn. “Take off your clothes.” he demanded cooly. Bret was never usually this forward and never asked him to strip. May have had something to do with his entrance. Maybe. “Really?” Shawn asked, eyebrows raised. Bret stopped, “Now.” he ordered. “Well okay darlin’.” Shawn beamed, moving center stage. He wasn’t used to a party of one and no music, but who was he to argue with Bret The Hitman Hart?

He watched as Bret pulled a chair from under the ring, setting it up in the aisle. He had strategically placed the chair just before the overhead lights, obscuring the older man from Shawn’s view. Shawn shrugged out of his jacket first, swinging it a few times before letting it fly. Slowly he undid his belt buckle, gliding the strap from his waist. He paraded around as he usually did, untucking his t-shirt and giving Bret just a peak of his chest and stomach before covering back up. He removed his hair tie, giving his head a few good shakes to show off his soft blonde hair. Shawn knew how much Bret secretly salivated over how his lengthy hair would cascade past his shoulders and down his back. 

He fell to his knees, bringing his t-shirt back up to expose his stomach and chest again, placing the hem of the t-shirt in his mouth. Unfastening the button and zipper of his jeans, he leaned back to then kick off his boots. Bret remained reserved, continuing to hide in the black. “You can join me anytime Bret baby.” he cooed, shedding his t-shirt and flinging it to the side. He lied down, stretching out on the mat, and began to sluggishly peel off his jeans. He slid his boxers down just enough for Bret to admire the cut of his hips. “Leave 'em on.” Bret said sharply, voice echoing. “Ya wanna take ‘em off cowboy?” Shawn teased, biting his lower lip. The chair Bret was sitting in, scraped across the floor as he stood up. Shawn’s heart began to race with anticipation as Bret approached him, his dick already hard.

Bret entered the ring in between the ropes, kneeling to crawl towards Shawn, and moving among his legs. He kissed his knee, beginning a careful ascent with his lips to his thigh and hip. Bret’s fingers dug into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them only to expose the heart tattoo above his ass. Shawn was well aware of Bret’s stance on his tattoos, he heard it regularly during the show but now he only seemed too pleased to see it. Bret licked at the tattoo, tenderly sucking at the skin. He shifted back to kiss his inner thighs, taunting Shawn’s erection. His breath caught as Bret bit down on his flesh. “Holy Jesus, don’t keep me waiting.” Shawn begged, his hands finding Bret’s mess of hair, trying to guide him towards his dick. Instead Bret rose to a standing position, holding Shawn’s legs in the air. “Oh shi-, oh come on!” he managed to squeak out before he was forced and curled into a sharpshooter. 

Shawn felt his back scream as Bret contorted his body and held fast with his most notorious move. “Fuckin’ ow.” he wheezed, scrabbling against the mat. Bret gritted his teeth, adamant in keeping Shawn stuck. “How you doin’ boytoy?” he asked, mocking. Shawn smiled, “Jokes on you mark man, I’m only getting more turned on.” Bret squeezed, tightening his hold. “Is that so?” he freed Shawn, allowing his legs to flop to the floor. Not wasting any time, Bret flipped him; his back smacking harshly into the mat. Bret pried off Shawn’s boxers, nearly tearing them to reveal his slick and pulsing member. “He sure is happy to see ya.” Shawn said, highly amused. Hastily in an effort to avoid another opening for Bret, he knocked Bret’s feet out from under him, and caught him in a headlock.

“Fuck.” Bret snarled. “Not much fun being on the receiving end huh?” he jabbed. Shawn knew he would much prefer for Bret to be inside him right about now, but holding him in a naked headlock was too good. He could practically feel Bret’s seething annoyance. “Are you ready to play nice?” he asked, continuing his solid grip on Bret’s neck. “Not quite.” he grunted, slithering out of his grasp to firmly wrench Shawn’s arm up and behind his back. Again he found himself face first into the mat, Bret letting his full weight rest on top of him. “Ah– god damn.” he panted into the ground. Bret leaned down, kissing the length of his shoulder and running his tongue up the side of his throat. He sank his teeth into his skin, biting him again. Shawn winced, a mix of pain and delight flooding his body. 

Bret fumbled around for his jacket pocket, withdrawing a condom and small tube of lubricant. “Such a boy scout.” Shawn groaned, as Bret began to work him open, inserting his fingers leisurely one by one. He could sense Bret’s impatience, wanting badly to punish him. He closed his eyes, listening to the shuffle of Bret undoing his pants and pushing them down. He inhaled sharply as he felt Bret enter him. Bret let his head fall onto Shawn’s back, his breath hot against his flesh. He kept one hand attached to Shawn’s hip while the other continued to contain his arm behind his back. Bret sank into him slowly at first with each thrust becoming more and more vigorous. “Bret baby…” he whined, reaching to touch his own leaking cock.

“I don’t think so.” Bret said, bending Shawn’s arm to join the other; preventing any further movement. “Oh fuck you.” Shawn moaned with agony. He squirmed under the weight of the Hitman driving his dick deeper, keeping his rhythm unrelenting. The side of his cheek rubbed into the mat as he turned to whip away his long hair clinging from his face. His body was already drenched with sweat. After what felt like an eternity of depriving the desperate ache between his legs, Bret began a rapid stroke to match the pace of his hips. Shawn’s body turned weak, unable to sustain the arch in his back. He had no more snarky remarks left, he was reduced to whimpering nonsense.

“Jesus, you feel so good.” Bret gasped. Shawn was in a haze, Bret’s motions becoming more erratic as he pounded into him. He felt Bret’s teeth rake at his shoulder, biting down harshly and grunting a string of obscenities as he came. Shawn yelped over the sudden sting at his shoulder, it was definitely going to leave a mark. The sensation would only fuel his pleasure, threatening to throw him off the edge. Bret licked at the fresh wound he inflicted, causing Shawn’s heart to stutter. “Motherfucker-…” he choked, his face still rigid against the mat. Bret remained inside of him, dick pulsing. Shawn’s arms were released, sore from being restrained. He steeled himself as Bret kept him propped on his knees. Bret continued to pump his cock, his cadence turning torturously slow.

Shawn thrashed around in a frenzy, his hips bucking into Bret’s fist. He knew as another form of punishment, Bret was only going to let Shawn cum on his terms. Bret lowered their bodies to relax onto the mat so he could nuzzle his face into the back of Shawn’s head. “You gonna behave?” Bret muttered, his words muffled through Shawn’s damp hair. “God no.” Shawn exhaled, ready to blow through his fervent euphoria. His answer to his amazement was well received as Bret quickened his strokes. He believed Bret inwardly relished his constant disobeyment, otherwise they wouldn’t be fucking around like they were.       

Bret held Shawn in place as he came, white strands coating his palm and dripping onto the ring. Shawn was instantly flipped over to face him, as if Bret wanted to admire his work. He knew his face was flushed, hair wet and wild. His body trembling as he tried to adjust from the convulsions of his orgasm. Shawn met Bret’s stare, his eyes conveying possibly something more than just lust. Bret ran his fingertips along the bite mark he had indented on his neck, “Shit…” he said concerned. They typically hid their bites and bruises well, but they weren’t always careful. Occasionally and usually Shawn had to be creative with his wardrobe to conceal their enthusiasm. “Don’t worry about it.” Shawn said, bringing his hand up to caress the skin of Bret’s forearm.

Bret rolled off of Shawn to lie flat on his back. They never spent much time together afterwards, it was always just sex and nothing more. Shawn moved to his side, propping a hand behind his head to rest on his elbow. He reached out to wipe the sticky hair from Bret’s forehead. He knew he was lingering too long as he began to trace the outline of his face, his fingers languidly smoothing Bret’s bottom lip. Bret shied away from his touch, “Stop Shawn…” he said, his voice horse. “Okay.” Shawn said as he watched Bret hoist his pants back up. He selfishly wondered if Bret was sleeping with anybody else backstage. Shawn reached for his discarded boxers and slipped them back on. Bret was usually the one to bounce as soon as his appetite was satisfied. Shawn found he was longing for some semblance of affection from the older man.

“I gotta go.” Bret stated, straightening his clothes. Shawn in a bleak attempt to keep Bret just minutes more, grabbed the lapels of Bret’s jacket to drag him forward. Shawn’s lips were starving for a kiss he was denied. To his surprise Bret returned the kiss, his hands on Shawn’s waist pulling him closer. They kissed until both of their lips were red and swollen. Bret broke away first, their breathing shallow. Shawn held fast to Bret’s jacket, urging him to stay. “Bret…I-” he stammered. Bret gently pushed his hands away, his mouth forming a hint of a smile. “Gotta go.” he repeated. Shawn sighed, his hands fidgeting. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He watched as Bret departed through the ropes, jumping to the floor. Shawn followed, but stopped short in front of the ropes. He leaned over, watching Bret’s shape disappear into the darkness of the arena. He foolishly hoped Bret would reconsider and choose to spend the rest of the night in his hotel room. 

He never expected their relationship to become more than just casual. If anything, he thought Bret would form an attachment first. The Heartbreak Kid with a broken heart. Total bullshit. He collected the rest of his clothing and got redressed outside the squared circle. The overhead lights were suddenly too bright and too hot. Time to go. He gave the ring one last glance, the remnants of their affair still drying on the mat. Shawn snickered quietly, shaking his head. It wasn’t the first time he had a sexual encounter in the ring and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He was also never sure he and whomever he was with was completely alone either, but he didn’t care.

Shawn made his own way out of the arena, already scheming on how best to infuriate his Hitman in a match once again.               

[its-a-me-mango]

SMG4 Q&A

How long have you been watching SMG4?

I’ve been watching SMG4 on and off since about 2014, I’m pretty sure my first ever SMG4 video was R64: A Dose of Dr. Mario lol. I’ve tried my best to catch up on everything but I still haven’t watched much betweem 2016 and 2022, one day I’ll catch up on it. I do watch each episode that comes out every Saturday and I aim to watch them as soon as they’re posted, I do tag any episode spoilers for the Saturday just to give people a chance to watch it.

Who are your favourite SMG4 characters?

My favourite SMG4 characters are SMG3, Karen, Mr. Puzzles and Tari! Mario is my favourite Mario character overall so he doesn't count as a fav SMG4 character, I always love Mario! I also love every other character too I think they’re all so fun and silly! :3

What are your favourite ships?

I don't ship a lot of characters but I think SMG34 is my favourite, I’m the only person ever who truly understands their dynamic /J. I don't take shipping too seriously, not in a negative way, just in a silly goofy way, so any posts I make towards any ships are entirely light hearted and for fun, I’m always happy to take suggestions on pretty much any ship, gotta provide food for any hungry shipper out there lmao.

Do you dislike any characters/ships?

Yes, but that's for me to know and to keep to myself, I'm not someone who easily blocks anyone over fictional characters/ships, if I dislike or disagree with someone's choice of characters/ships I just move on, it's never that serious at the end of the day.

Do you have a favourite SMG4 AU/headcannon?

No! I cannot pick favourites, it's impossible for me, especially with so many amazing and talented creators in this fandom! It would feel really unfair to me if I started picking favourites, obviously I have my preferences, but those stay with me and me alone. If you are actively posting in the tags about your AU/headcannon, I have seen it and I think it’s awesome, keep doing what you’re doing!

Do you like/dislike any SMG4 fans/creators?

Why would I answer that? Same reason as before, I cannot pick favourites as that feels unfair to me, and any dislikes I have towards people stays with me and me alone. I am not one to go out after people at all, I prefer to get along well with everyone

What do you think of current events happening in the fandom?

I think it’s great! Unless it’s bad, in which case I think it sucks.

Anyway to be serious, I like to keep away from too many interpersonal happening within the fandom as much as possible, it’s just not my thing, so I usually have no fucking clue what’s going on at any one time, I don’t like to get involved too much. I have the mentality of an old lady throwing bird seeds at pigeons when it comes to my “contributions” to this fandom, I throw my stuff in and leave, what happens around and after that ain’t none of my business.

I do, however, love to bitch about things, so uhh if that happens it's never targeted or vaguing anyone in particular so don't feel like I'm trying to call anyone out, I just like to make jokes outta things.

[aerodaltonimperial]

so those hilarious SDCC photos went up and i made tags and then pasha told me to write something about it so i did and i just need you to all know that this is in no way funny so i am warning you ahead of time LOL but whatever here you go

Britt and Adam are the first ones to the yacht. This is because Britt is always on time and organized (this is why they put her in charge of the family Christmas gift exchange). When they arrive, the dockhands are loading boxes of fireworks into the hold. When she asks her father if he has a permit for those, he waves her off and says, “No one cares what you do on international waters.”

“We’re only going a mile off the shore,” Britt tries to argue, but as usual, he ignores her.

++

Toni and Mariah show up next. Mariah is wearing a pin-up style bathing suit. She also has a full set-up for her iPhone, including a light box and a five-foot tall tripod. She sets everything up at the front of the ship and proceeds to take photos of herself for the next thirty minutes.

“She’s an influencer,” Toni says.

“That’s not a real job,” Britt tells her, and as usual, Toni ignores her.

++

Swerve and Hangman eventually arrive fifteen minutes after they were told to. That’s something of a surprise, considering that Swerve didn’t tell anyone that Hangman was coming with. Hangman immediately goes to the bar their father has set up, and staffed, on the deck. He sits across from Adam and neither of them speak. They just stare at each other over the rims of their beer glasses.

“What the hell,” Toni hisses, after they’ve cornered Swerve down in the hallway. “I thought you broke up last year!”

“We did,” Swerve says. “Then we got back together.”

“Last Christmas,” Britt says, “you told us not to get him a gift because you said, and I quote, ‘I never want to see that little bitch again.’”

Swerve shrugs. “Things changed.”

“You mean, rent is really expensive in Hollywood,” Toni says.

“Well, we sure ain’t getting anything from him,” Swerve says, which feels like agreement, and nods towards their father.

The three of them look at the man, who is currently gesturing out towards the water next to wife #5, who just celebrated her twenty-first birthday. None of them can actually remember her name.

“Brayden?” Britt tries.

“No, no, I think it started with an M,” Toni says.

“Whatever,” Swerve sighs.

++

Darby finally shows up right before Britt is readying to tell the staff just to pull the anchor and go, because he assumes everyone will just do everything on his schedule.

“Dude, are those fireworks?” he asks, after spying the boxes.

“Thanks for finally showing up,” Britt snips. She stares at the guy next to him, hands shoved down in his pockets. “You didn’t say you were bringing anyone. Who is this?”

“Oh, this is, uh…” Darby trails off, turning to his guest. “What’s your name?”

The guy shrugs. “Jack.”

Darby turns back to Britt. “This is Jack.”

“How the fuck did you not know his name?” she asks.

“‘Cause I met him right over there,” Darby jabs his thumb back towards the shore. “Anyway. Hi, sis.”

Britt sighs heavily. “Get on here so we can go, please.”

++

Wife #5, who might be named Maddie, seems to think that she’s a singer. She turns on a karaoke machine and starts her way through Taylor Swift’s entire discography. She’s two songs in before both Hangman and Adam head to the bar and ask for the liquor bottles themselves. They have yet to speak to each other. Mariah is still taking photos of herself at the bow.

“Does she have something else to wear?” Swerve asks. “This ain’t a pool party.”

“Darling!” Toni calls, waving her hand in the air. “Put your lovely pool cover on!”

The pool cover ends up being a completely sheer robe. Mariah ties it around her waist and grins, waggling her fingers back at Toni. It covers nothing.

Wife #5 is warbling out a terrible cover of ‘I Knew You Were Trouble.’

“You know,” Britt says, “I actually think her name might start with a J.”

“Hey, you introduced yourself,” Darby says, kicking at the bottom of Jack’s seat. “What was her name?”

“See, the propellers started up right when she was saying it, and I didn’t actually hear,” Jack replies.

Swerve sighs. “Useless.”

++

Toni and Darby corner Britt down in the kitchen, as she’s trying to figure out which dishes their father intended to go out first. He never pays attention once things get underway.

“Adam hasn’t said a thing to us all night,” Toni says, bent over the island. “He just keeps staring at everyone.”

“Murder vibes for sure,” Darby agrees. “Are you dating a serial killer?”

Britt’s pretty annoyed by this, but only because they never like her dates. It’s been something of a trend. “You can’t get murder vibes just from someone looking at you.”

“Until they look at you and then kill you,” Darby says.

++

“So, wait,” Jack says. He’s moved over to the table with Hangman and Adam. “You’re both named Adam?”

They hadn’t actually figured that out. Hangman and Adam eye each other, distrustful. There’s really probably only room for one Adam on this yacht.

“Well, what if her name is Adam, too?” Jack asks, pointing to Wife #5. She’s moved onto ‘Blank Space.’ The staff is all wearing earplugs.

“Her name isn’t Adam,” Hangman scoffs.

“Then what is it?” Jack asks.

They all go silent, because none of them know. It really could be Adam.

++

Mariah moves down into the cabin for her photography session. Swerve overhears her on the phone in the short time that she isn’t filming, calling someone ‘baby.’ He goes back up to the deck to find Toni.

“Mariah’s cheating on you,” he says, without preamble.

“She is not!” Toni squawks. “How dare you insinuate that. You’re just jealous.”

++

Later, Hangman also goes down to the cabin. When he comes back up, he gets another drink before turning to Toni. “Are you in an open relationship?”

“What? No!” Toni says.

Hangman takes a swig. “Okay, yeah, she’s cheating on you.”

Toni crosses her arms over her chest in a huff. “Jealous, all of you. Of the beautiful woman I came here with.”

“What do you mean?” Britt asks. “She's been doing things without you the whole time.”

“She’s an influencer,” Toni sighs dramatically.

“That’s not a real job,” Darby says.

++

Their father finally cuts off Wife #5’s karaoke halfway through the third Taylor Swift album. Everybody exhales in relief, but the staff doesn’t take out their earplugs.

++

“Well,” Britt starts, “we’re glad you could come with Swerve tonight.”

“Are you?” Hangman asks. “Because you didn’t get me a Christmas gift.”

“What the fuck,” Darby sighs. He turns to Swerve, hands in the air. “You told us not to buy him anything!”

Swerve shrugs. “Yeah, at Christmas. You could have gotten one two weeks later. No one was stopping you.”

“You told them not to get me a Christmas gift?” Hangman frowns.

“We were broken up,” Swerve says.

“Oh my god,” Britt groans, and buries her head in her hands.

++

Their father brings Wife #5 around to each of them. Each of them gets a fact about her; their father asks no questions about how they are doing. Afterwards, they sit at a table and compare notes.

“She’s a Pure Barre teacher,” Jack says.

“Her life dream is to be on America’s Next Top Model,” Toni adds.

Hangman makes a face. “How do you guys not know anything about her? They’re already married.”

“Yeah, but they got married in Greece, and none of us were invited,” Britt says. “That was… what, January? February?”

“Last November,” Adam offers. It’s the first thing he’s said all night. When every single one of them turns to stare at him, he doesn’t give any further information, and he doesn’t even blink. He just trails his finger around the condensation on his glass.

“Stalker,” Darby grumbles.

“Yeah, stalker,” Jack agrees, and slides his eyes out to the waves.

++

The fireworks come out after the sky goes dark. Absolutely none of the staff is trained to handle them. Britt ends up fixing it when the tubes are set up way too close to each other. Wife #5 insists on standing at the side so all the fireworks go off behind her, for photos. She and Mariah get into an argument over who deserves to be there while the biggest ones are exploding and end up missing all of them.

Mariah stomps off, phone up to her ear.

“She’s totally cheating on you,” Britt says to Toni.

Toni covers her ears with her hands and starts humming the national anthem.

++

“I told you,” Britt tells her siblings as they sit around one of the tables, “that you need to get IRAs!”

“I don’t like paperwork,” Toni replies. “It’s confusing.”

“This is the worst party talk ever,” Hangman says. Somehow, his drink keeps refilling, and no one can quite tell how he does it.

++

Jack disappears down after Mariah, so eventually, Darby goes looking for him. He finds him in the kitchen. He looks slightly shifty, hands behind his back.

“What are you doing down here?” Darby asks.

“I think Mariah is cheating on your sister,” Jack says.

“Oh, definitely.” Darby leans against the wall. “I really don’t wanna go back up there and hear about retirement accounts. Or the importance of getting regular dental cleanings. You wanna stay down here and make out?”

Jack sets something down on the counter. There’s a clink. “Sure.”

“Sweet,” Darby says.

++

“Let’s play twenty questions,” Toni says. “So we can get to know you. Let’s start with… favorite movie.”

“American Psycho,” Adam tells her.

The table goes quiet.

“Maybe just one question,” Toni decides.

“I’m still kind of mad about the Christmas gift thing,” Hangman says.

Swerve groans. “I’ll buy you a damn sparkly ornament later. With horses on it.”

“Do you ride?” Toni asks, brightening.

“Oh, he rides all right,” Swerve mutters.

“Please,” Britt pleads. “Please stop talking.”

++

Pressed up against the cabinets, Darby pauses, hands up Jack’s shirt. “Hold on. Why were you holding a steak knife?”

“No reason,” Jack says. He’s breathing hard, one leg looped around the back of Darby’s legs. “Just… cleaning.”

“Feel like this is gonna come back to bite me,” Darby comments.

Jack grins. “You want me to bite you?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

++

The staff finds another tube of fireworks. Britt is caught up with explaining the differences in mortgages, so they try to set it up on their own and don’t aim it right. The fireworks end up going into the front sails, which lights all the canvas on fire. There’s pandemonium on the deck. In the chaos, everyone comes up from downstairs, including Mariah, who is still on the phone. As the fire licks across the deck, she drops it and screams, dashing to the other side.

Wife #5 picks up the phone. “Hello?” Her face does something strange. “I’m sorry, you’re looking forward to touching my what? How dare you speak to me that way! I’m a married woman!”

“See?” Swerve says. “Totally cheating on you.”

Toni bursts into tears: huge, wailing, Hollywood-esque sobs. Wife #5 tosses the phone over the side of the boat. Mariah screams. The staff pull out the hoses and start spraying everyone, even the people trying to pat down the flames. One of the champagne bottles explodes, sending glass shards everywhere. And that’s when Jack rushes towards their father in a football style tackle and starts pummeling him.

“Holy shit!” Hangman shouts.

“Someone do something!” Britt exclaims, even though as usual, no one listens to her.

The staff gets the fire put out. Hangman picks up the pieces of shattered champagne bottle. Swerve pats Toni on the shoulder as she wails into her palms. Darby pulls Jack off his father, though Jack is still flailing around trying to get punches in.

“Well, now I’m glad you didn’t have the steak knife,” Darby says. “What the fuck?”

“He got me fired!” Jack cries, kicking at the deck. “He stole a whole bunch of money and planted the evidence on me at the bank, and got me fired!”

“Is that why you were standing out there staring at the yacht?” Darby asks.

Britt stares at him. “What did you think he was doing?”

Darby shrugs. “I just thought he really wanted to ride on one of them or something.”

“Jesus Christ,” Britt sighs.

“Wait,” Hangman says. “Where’s Mariah?”

She’s nowhere on the deck, but Adam is standing by the side, one arm propped up on the railing. He’s still holding his drink, unbothered.

“Did…” Britt begins. “Did you push her overboard?”

“She was cheating on your sister,” Adam says, like it’s terribly obvious. “Besides, no one cares what you do in international waters.”

“Okay, for the last time,” Britt says, “we are half a mile out from the shore.”

Toni perks up. “You pushed her over for me?”

“I told you he had serial killer vibes,” Darby says, as though he is not still holding onto a man who attacked his father.

Wife #5 is fanning their father’s face as he groans against the deck. He’ll probably have a black eye. Their attention has largely moved on from him. He’ll get patched up to a Taylor Swift album later, so they figure he’s fine.

Toni runs to Adam’s side. Dramatically, she reaches for his hand, and then Britt’s, and joins them together. Her mascara is running in black lines down her cheeks. “You have done so much for me. You have saved me.”

“All he did was push her off the railing,” Swerve grumbles.

Toni ignores him. “I support you and my sister, for you have done me a great service.”

Hangman throws back another drink.

++

They get the yacht back to shore. Britt has to pay the staff extra so that no one runs to the police, but at this point, they have far more loyalty to her than her father.

“Maybe we should buy Hangman a late Christmas gift,” Toni suggests.

“Don’t bother,” Swerve says. “We just broke up again.”

“How?” Britt asks. “It’s been five minutes.”

Hangman swaggers off the boat first and onto the deck. Swerve watches him walk away, biting down on his lip. Then he says, “Changed my mind. We’re back together. Get him a new leather belt.”

He follows Hangman down. Britt sighs.

“Just from watching his ass?” Toni says.

Darby takes off next. He’s pulling Jack along with him, their hands clasped, and Britt stops him by grabbing a hold of his fluffy coat. “Darby! What the hell? He tried to kill Dad!”

“Yeah, it was kinda hot,” Darby replies. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought about doing it, too. Anyway, we’re gonna go back to my place.”

Jack waves with his free hand at them. “Nice to meet you all.”

++

Britt, Adam, and Toni sit on the shore with their feet in the waves. Toni heaves out another weary exhale as they look at the smoke still curving up from the yacht towards the night sky. “I suppose I’m single again.”

“Okay, you can absolutely find someone better,” Britt says. “No more influencers.”

“That’s not a real job,” Adam agrees.

They watch Mariah stumble out of the foam and onto the beach a few yards away. She collapses dramatically on the sand.

“Maybe someone who works in finance?” Toni says. “After all, I need to get that retirement account set up.”

Britt lights up. “You were listening when I told you about the IRAs!”

++

On the yacht, Taylor Swift is playing on Spotify. Wife #5 puts a cool compress against their father’s face.

“Thank you, Adama,” their father sighs.

[starblightbindery]

Binder's Note for Forms by Trebia

How Forms fits in the long tradition of Star Wars fanfic.

My hope is that this project captures a snapshot in time from Star Wars fandom het shippers between December 2015 and December 2017, before the franchise confirmed any emotional intimacy—if you can call it that— between Rey and Kylo Ren in Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017).

Trebia, then aged 24, wrote and published the first chapter of Forms on Archive of Our Own on December 18th, 2015—the exact release date of Star Wars: The Force Awakens. When posting this first chapter, Trebia noted, “I’m just working off of memory from the one viewing I saw last night.” The entirety of the fanfic was completed and posted an exact month later, making this fic historically significant in Star Wars fandom as one of the earliest published “Reylo” stories.

A serialized novella that was churned out in an astonishingly short time frame, Forms is notable for predicting many elements of The Last Jedi (2017) and The Rise of Skywalker (2019), including the Reylo Force bond, Rey walking away from her training with Luke Skywalker, Kylo Ren pleading with Rey to join him, and Kylo Ren pushing his Force energy into Rey to save her life.

Throughout the story, Trebia mashed new and old Star Wars elements together—characters like the Mandalorians and Admiral Daala, settings like Illum and Kuat⁠—evincing her fondness for the Galaxy Far, Far Away. Forms has classic tropes from this franchise, like stealing a uniform to go undercover in an enemy base and the forced proximity of a “Slow Boat to Bespin.” Present in Forms are scads of fan theories from between the release of The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi. These included the theory that—echoing a Legends plot line from Dark Empire (1991) where somehow Palpatine returns and Luke Skywalker joins the dark side to try and take him down from the inside—Kylo Ren had strategic reasons for his apprenticeship to Snoke. Like many Reylo fan-works set in-universe, Trebia lends justification to his many antisocial acts, part of shipper efforts to make the character more self-relevant and sympathetic.

Forms weaves in tantalizing threads that were tossed around by fans and concept artists but ultimately not pursued, including Dark Rey, Stormpilot (Finn/Poe Dameron), and Rey's saberstaff. Trebia even predicted the Kuat Drive Yards plot line started in The Last Jedi (Rose Tico’s contempt for weapon's manufacturers on Canto Bight) and continued in the abandoned Episode IX: Duel of Fates script by Colin Trevorrow. Forms also addresses loose ends that probably should have been covered for a more cohesive nine film saga, like the Chosen One prophecy and direct interaction between Anakin Skywalker and Kylo Ren.

No discussion of Forms can be complete without also placing it in the context of Star Wars fandom in 2016. Reylo was a fringe pairing that made intuitive sense to many Star Wars fans, particularly women; however, prior to The Last Jedi, the ship was dwarfed by the popularity of slash ships like Finn/Poe and Kylo Ren/Hux. At the time, many fans theorized that Rey was Luke Skywalker’s long-lost daughter, making her Ben Solo’s first cousin, making Reylo an incest ship.

As noted on the Fanlore wiki, the tags on this fic changed over time. In addition to “Riding the bus to hell either way” Trebia joked with tags like “Possible incest?” and “Not incest until proven guilty in the court of law.” Following the release of Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Trebia celebrated by replacing those tags with a celebratory “IT AIN’T INCEST.”

The story's strong influence in early Reylo fandom reflected a hunger for more Star Wars romances about the pull between light and dark. After all, the sequel trilogy did not set up Kylo Ren as a horned, alien-appearing monster or a wrinkled geezer. Unblemished by the ravages of the dark side, Kylo Ren was depicted with pillow lips and a fabulous, voluminous coiffure unencumbered by his helm (which really should have flattened it to his scalp.) The groundwork for a lightsider/darksider romance was previously explored in other Expanded Universe stories. At the forefront of these were watered down lightsider/darkside romances like the tepidly written romance between Luke Skywalker and former Palpatine agent Mara Jade. Given Mara Jade was hardly a champion of the dark side, there was no risk of corrupting Skywalker. But the Expanded Universe also boasted stories that played with this dynamic, like the twisted connection between Fable Astin and Jaalib Brandl by Patricia A. Jackson for the Star Wars Adventure Journal (1994), the conflict between Jaina Solo and Zekk in Kevin J. Anderson's Young Jedi Knights (1996),or the passion between Darth Revan and Bastila Shan in Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic (2003). In this respect, Forms and the rest of the Reylo fan fiction oeuvre continues the grand fan tradition of Star Wars villain fucking.

“Darksider and lightsider conflict is one of the most fascinating points of Star Wars,” Trebia said in 2016, when interviewed by Spencer Kornhaber for The Atlantic. “Rey and Kylo represent the fight to find the balance.” Yet, at the time, the fledgling “Reylo” ship was abhorred by affirmational Star Wars fans who despised the emphasis on shipping with a female gaze, as well as scorned by media commentators who found the ship to be “problematic.” In male-dominated, established fan spaces like Reddit and Jedi Council Forums, discussion of Reylo was effectively banned by moderators through the freezing of threads. In other fandom spaces like Twitter and Tumblr, discourse about Reylo mirrored larger purity culture. The ship became a convenient target for alt-right misogynists, and also for anti‑shippers concerned that the ship “romanticized abuse.” Productive and unproductive debate arose around media consumption construed as agreement or approval, whether a sympathetic Kylo Ren lends people to give more latitude to real-life white right-wing men with anger management problems (or if it's the other way around), and if shippers can tell the difference between a fictional antihero and the same dangerous thing in real life. Critiques of Reylo fandom also included the implicit racism inherent in the sidelining of John Boyega’s heroic character Finn in favor of white whiny fascist Kylo Ren. (It did not help that 2016 also saw the election where white American women voters decided to displace a competent Black man with a white whiny fascist.)

In the September 2020 issue of the Journal of Fandom Studies, Andrea Marshall notes that Reylo “fan fiction acts as a locus of resistance to gendered oppression as feminist authors construct selves that critique the source material and the fandom for gendered oppression within tropes and attitudes.” By having Rey actually interact with and befriend a woman other than Leia, Forms already improves on the source material. It's a delight to see Forms depict older women over age fifty who are plot-significant and interact which one another, if only because Star Wars movies are fairly gender regressive. On the other hand, Rey's strategy to convert Kylo back to the light is to uh, suck the badness out of him. It's Padmé Amidala logic—sure, he arranged the wholesale slaughter of an entire village, but he can also deftly finger you to orgasm! Granted, Star Wars is infamously a franchise of excuse making, where really shitty dudes manage to turn it around and do the right thing at the last minute. Forms also doesn't push all that hard to actively resist the neo-fascist allegory in the sequel trilogy, particularly in Trebia's appendix, which dissatisfactorily explains that all of the First Order war criminals in the story ended up as instructors in military academies. (Who would even hire them, Albus Dumbledore?!)

Fics like Forms led to “ship wars” discourse, which led to the publication of ozhawkauthor's “The Three Laws of Fandom” meta essay on January 1st, 2016. “Laws” is a bit of a misnomer since there is no enforcement body; the essay is more of a request for courtesy in fandom spaces. The laws were also meant to apply specifically to shipping, not fandom or media criticism as a whole. “It’s not up to you to decide what other people are allowed to like or not like, to create or not to create,” wrote ozhawkauthor. “That’s censorship. Don’t do it.”

For fans conscious of fandom history and the impact of censorship in spaces like FanFiction.net and Livejournal, ozhawkauthor's guidelines—(1) Don't like; don't read, (2) Your ship is not my ship, (3)Ship and let ship—felt intuitive. This is reflected in spaces like my bookbinding guild, Renegade, which—similar to Archive of Our Own—takes a hands off approach to policing content. This did not prevent widespread handwringing about Reylo content. Star Wars fan ughwhyben reflected on the “gigantic fandom that is suddenly experiencing a renaissance, where an influx of mainstream folk are trickling into (or running into) the fic side for possibly the first time right now and don’t have this training. It’s like we’re flickering back and forth between the modern evolution of fic side fannish culture and what things were like in, for example, 2001 when I first stumbled in.”

Decades ago, in May 1981, Lucasfilm reacted to the publication of “Slow Boat to Bespin” by Anne Elizabeth Zeek & Barbara Wenk by declaring a ban on smut in fan fiction. I've included in the errata of this binding a letter from 1981 written by the Star Wars fanclub president to circulating fanzines threatening legal action. While slash was also caught in this net—disproportionately targeted given non-explicit gay romance was not okay even though Star Wars has non-explicit het romance—it was this fairly tame (by fic standards) heteronormative fic, featuring Han Solo and Princess Leia, that signaled to Lucasfilm that smutty fanfic was no longer on the fringes and now needed to be addressed to protect the “wholesomeness” of the franchise. Subsequently, fanfic writers had to make a conscious decision to flout Lucasfilm’s policy and go forth with propagating their smut.

And, in 2016, of all the ships in all of fandom, it was the Reylo Star Wars pairing, featuring this specific heteronormative female power fantasy (of being able to leash a villain by the dick to drag him back to the light) that led to a communal reaffirmation of these fandom norms. In her interviews with the The Atlantic, Trebia directly quotes from the Three Laws of Fandom, endorsing “ship and let ship” as a basis for creating Reylo fanworks. “I am fully involved in the garbage compactor that is this pairing, and I love it,” Trebia said. “No matter what way it goes, I will stick with it.”

After studying early romance novels from the late 1600s and early 1700s, Ros Ballaster observed a polarity between didactic love fiction and amatory fiction. Didactic love stories are sweet—aspirational, moral, and idealized—while amatory fiction is spicy—erotic, transgressive, untethered from social sanction. We do see representations of didactic love in Reylo fan fiction, particularly in contemporary romance “Modern AUs” like Ali Hazelwood's The Love Hypothesis (2021)where the Kylo's homicidal Sith rage is sanitized to a more socially-acceptable grumpy academic brooding. One can comfortably bring Adam Carlsen, Ph.D home to meet Mother. But certainly, the majority of Reylo fic written by fans gravitate towards and come with the self awareness of the amatory. For one, Trebia loudly proclaims in her Chapter Two author note: “MORE TRASH FOR THE TRASH GOD.”

Discourse over the “morality” of Reylo fan fiction tends to overlook the distinction between the didactic and the amatory. As compelling as the idea of a “Force dyad” is in fantasy, this relationship is not meant to be aspirational in a literal sense. Yet, readers of Reylo fiction were and continue to have to defend their interest in the archetype with disclaimers—yes, it's trash, yes, I know it's problematic—while men in fandom are not held to the same standards when it comes to “problematic” media they consume or enjoy, whether it's a Michael Bay blockbuster film or male-gaze pornography.

As Deborah Lutz notes, “The Dangerous Lover Romance” is a centuries old, conventional way to represent erotic desire and romantic love. The “sublimely tormented Byronic hero” is hardly groundbreaking, to the extent that Rian Johnson's depiction of Reylo in The Last Jedi subverts the trope—at the end of the film Rey isn't enchanted, she's repulsed. The same way Star Wars replicates Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey monomyth, Reylo stories like Forms reflect the broad appeal of the “how-the-turntables” Dangerous Lover romance—where the woman protagonist, initially subjugated by the debased, restless misanthrope, ends up subjugating him through her strength of will and the power of love. Trebia's Kylo even sports malevolent scars like so many Gothic male romantic leads before him—always on the face. In the Gothic romance, the heroine accesses socially undesirable aspects—power, rage, craving, desire—as expressed by her double, the Dangerous Lover. His presence in the story provides a basis for her disinhibition. The Reylo ship follows a well-trodden cultural script of transgressive female desire.

Forms the fan fiction novella is a notable cultural artefact reflecting a distinct period of time in Star Wars fandom. At the time, Reylo fanfic held all the promise of improved representation for women characters, crossed with the instinctual, regressive insistence that maintains a white male character in the forefront. Reylo fan fiction produced in early 2016 also led to the reification of anti-censorship values in fandom. Seven years later, a fandom that was once derided has gone fully mainstream, as fic writers like Ali Hazelwood, Ashley Poston, and Thea Guanzon top traditional publishing bestseller lists. What Trebia knocked out, hours after her introduction to the characters, is now it's own Star Wars literary tradition.

[fandomsoda]

I’ve come to make an announcement!

In honor of Valentine’s Day, I’m doing a prompt week, starting Monday(just to give y’all enough time to prepare)!

What’s the theme? Well, rarepairs! Around this time of year, the fanart space is often overrun with oversaturated fandom-favorite pairings and there’s rarely any room for the more underrated stuff! That’s why I’m hosting this week.

This week is primarily focused around the Undertale AU community, but plenty of other fandoms are welcome! Here are the prompts! (There are image descriptions in alt text)

But wait, there’s more!

Bonus prompts are entirely optional, and can either replace one of the main week prompts or be done afterwards! You decide!

now, let’s get to the important part, read these carefully;

THE RULES: -please @ me in art created for this project, I’m not gonna force you to but I’d appreciate it if you did -however, tag all posts with “#rarepair week 2024” in order to keep things organized! -Ok let’s get this out of the way, absolutely NO pro/ship or com/ship content. No incest, no pe/dophilia. If your ship ain’t legal, it ain’t allowed. -No ship-bashing. If someone’s pairing is legal and ethical, don’t dog on them for it. I also don’t want any discourse on whether or not a pairing is abusive, if someone isn’t adhering to canon and isn’t portraying it in an unhealthy way, they don’t need flack for it. -On that note, no romanticizing abuse either. None of that. -I can’t believe I have to say this, but rarepairs only! Of course what constitutes as a rarepair is subjective, but if it’s a pairing you see very often or is considered the standard for those given characters, it’s not allowed. No Errorink, no Nightkiller, no Cream, no Afterdeath. It’s not that these pairings are bad, they’re just not rarepairs.

All that said, have fun! I look forward to seeing what y’all come up with! Reblogs appreciated!

[blackbullet99]

Some ZKs are pretty upset with that recent post you made about them, namely sokkastyles and eponastory and some one guy called broadwaybalogna. They’re saying stuff like you’re encouraging bullying, you’re respect for them is dependent upon their opinions about fictional characters and one of them took offense that you said they downplay genocide, saying their ancestors experienced it and Bryke are white or something (along with Aang being a Gary-Stu McGuffin).

These are the posts, what do you think?

https://www.tumblr.com/broadwaybalogna/756326576927440896/is-it-bad-to-say-i-chuckled?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/eponastory/756307670306308096/well-i-guess-im-going-to-have-to-address-this?source=share

Honestly, not to be dismissive, I ain’t gonna bother reading those links.

Of course those losers are gonna be upset, I told it like is, calling them out on their stupid (and downright offensive in some cases) takes. They’re seething and coping, but the truth hurts. I don’t even know how they found these, one of these crybabies blocked me, so they’re obviously obsessed with me and can’t get by without stalking me anytime I dare to criticize their idiocy.

For the record, I never told anyone to bully these people. I don’t condone it, that’s on whoever reads this, but these people have a victim problem, seeing as ZKs constantly go into the wrong tags, call out anyone who disagrees with them (plenty do so by name) and spend of their time hating and whining about a show they claim to love. But suddenly I’m the big meanie-weenie because I hurt the feewings.

One final thing, I ain’t gonna go and act like Bryke are the best writers ever and should never be criticized, cuz they should, they made a great show, but said and did some pretty stupid stuff too. If anyone’s ancestors experienced genocide, I feel for you. But as a person of color myself, who’s ancestors I know where killed, enslaved, beaten and colonized among many other things, I called out these people because their opinions on serious subject matter such as genocidal trauma and how people (fictional or otherwise) was downright vile and insulting regardless of your own situation, A:TLA, may be fictional, but their issues towards such serious subject matter is callous, vile an reflects their crappy personality. I take issue with these idiots dismissing issues such as genocidal trauma, imperial propaganda, comparing a genocide survivor to a literal colonizer, invalidating the trauma and feelings of a colonist survivor (Katara) and adultifying her (in the Kataang tag no less).

Not to mention this rancid colonist take.

Need, I mention this, as a person of color, this makes me physically sick. They’re either unempathetic to a character who suffers from genocide, invalidate someone who experienced colonization and only care for the character who initially perpetuates imperialist antagonism, who did genuinely learn from his mistakes, but even those they always excuse.

In conclusion, screw these guys, it doesn’t matter what the vocal minority of toxic ZKs think, they can play the victim all they want, but their opinion means nothing, they downplay the effects of genocide and colonization trauma, because they don’t care, about the issues about the characters, it’s all to make a Wattpad middle school ship look better, because evidently they think it’s too weak to stand on its own and really clinging on to a fanon ship is all they amount to.

[theycallmequeenie]

Yondu X Reader Part 6

Master List

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6:

A\N: AS always I did not create the Gif I do not posses those skills I used the gif search bar. If you are the creator of any of the gifs I've used and would like to to Gove you proper credit please let me know and I will edit to tag you for the credit. I know I’ve been gone forever and I’m getting flakier and flakier and at this point I’m truly surprised if anyone still follows any of my stories. Again, I apologize the headspace has been utter garbage and I’m fighting as hard as I can to get content written and posted if only, I could get the headspace and the family to cooperate at the same time that would be wonderful. After all that rambling, here’s the story, enjoy and happy reading. 

Yondu began to talk to Y\N trying to calm her anxiety that seemed to spike out of nowhere in the middle of the night taking her hand from his thigh and bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the back of it before placing it over his heart.

“Darlin’ I don’t know what’s got you fretting all of a sudden, but I want you to listen to me. As long as that heart right there is beating you ain’t ever gotta worry ‘bout nothin’ getting you in the night. I promise you that.”

Yondu, as gently as he could, pulled Y/N to his chest and slowly rocking her back and forth trying to calm her as quickly as possible. He didn’t know what she may have been through, but he knew it had to have been something terrible to have her this out of sorts from simply being in a different bed than her own. Why hadn’t she realized yet that she and the boy were the two safest ones on that ship as long as he was around. Yondu would rather sacrifice his own life than to ever let either or those two get hurt in any way, shape, or form. 

If Y/N questions, her safety still after being on his crew for this long, could something have happened with them or was this something from her life back on Terra messing with her still? Yondu made a mental note to try and ease her into opening up as to why she had this reaction later when she was actually awake enough to delve into potential past traumas. 

Yondu managed to get her calmed and back to sleep within about an hour of her waking as she had, and it was a restful rest of the night. As the day started it came with the sounding of alarms to wake and get to work on the ship. More maintenance for the ship and caring for Peter he was still young and needed taught the basics or everyday life all be it not the everyday life that was expected by him and Y/N. 

Yondu carefully woke Y/N and handed off her daily Ravager attire of her denim coveralls with the Ravager emblem over the part that rests over her heart and the pants and plain white tee she wore under them. She offered a small smile as she took them and hurried off to the captain’s bathroom to ready herself for the day.

Once dressed she left the captain’s quarters, checked in on Peter, and started on her daily tasks. She did her best to avoid Yondu all day and for the most part she was successful until it came time for the nightly meal. 

Yondu basically cornered her asking her why she had been avoiding him all day to which she tried to get away without responding. She wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened the night before and was going well out of her way to avoid it. She just wasn’t ready for that particular conversation with Yondu. She thought if he knew what caused her to wake the way she did in his bed he would see her as ‘soft’ and that would be the end of their relationship. Something she wasn’t ready for, nor did she want. 

Yondu decided to let her avoid their conversation at that moment but was determined to at least find out what had happened last night that she had woken up so terrified. He left her eat and socialize like she normally would, but he watched her closely. Waiting for her to decide to call it a night and retire to her quarters for the night after making sure the boy was in for the night. Once she had tucked the boy in then Yondu would make his move and get her to talk to him. 

Yondu was waiting outside of Peter’s quarters for Y/N to finish up the boy’s nightly bedtime routine. A fact that Y/N was unaware of until she exited Peter’s room. Upon realizing Yondu was waiting for her startled her which caused her to let out a little yelp of surprise before greeting him.

“You surprised me Cap. Wasn’t expecting you to be lurking just outside the door, Sir.” She spoke barely loud enough to be heard by him and made no efforts to make eye contact. She wasn’t entirely up for the conversation she knew was about to be had but she knew Yondu was like a bulldog with a bone when he wanted answers.

“Well Darlin’, you’ve done an excellent job of avoiding me today and I needed to talk witcha ‘bout las night…” He stopped and gave her a knowing look he had a feeling this was going to be a hard conversation to have with Y/N, but he needed to confirm his theories about his love. Deep down he wanted to be worried over nothing more than a simple bad night but something in his gut told him there was more to it. He really hoped it wasn’t as bad as he feared.

With a sigh Y/N nodded and agreed to talk with him only in his private quarters as to not risk the rest of the crew overhearing the conversation. She motioned to Yondu to lead the way back to his room as she was clearly not in any hurry to have that conversation.

Her childhood was the one thing that she never talked about. It wasn’t a good experience and not something she enjoyed revisiting. It was a harsh reminder that she was damaged goods. A fact her father would remind her of almost daily. Y/N was starting to feel the anxiety build at the thought of telling Yondu what caused that nightmare the night prior. The fear of her father’s words ringing true was weighing heavily on her. What if they were true what if once Yondu finds out about how damaged she was and decided he wasn’t interested in her anymore because the trauma was too much to deal with on top of everything else on his shoulders. What if he agreed with Y/N’s father, that she was in fact completely unlovable…

To Be Continued…

@capitanostella

Part 7

[thestobingirlie]

i don't ship stancy, im mostly indifferent to it, but i really don't get the lengths some anti-stancies, nancy stans (especially the ones that are massively anti steve), or r*nance shippers go to to discredit the stuff that happened in s4

"theyve been broken up for years" theyve been broken up for less than 18 months. Early November 84- late march 86 is about 17 months. Less than a year and a half. That's not long enough to qualify for the plural of "years". Saying that they've been broken up for years makes it seem like steve's in his 20s or 30s and is still pining over 'the one that got away' from high school. not a teenager that still has feelings for someone he's been broken up with for less than two years. its implied that nancy was his first 'serious' relationship. and based on what we know of his dating history post s2, his only serious relationship. its not unusual for there to still be some feelings there.

"steve wants to force nancy to have six kids even though she doesn't want kids/ a family." first nancy never said she didn't want kids/ a family, shes said she doesn't want to turn into her parents. steve never said he wanted nancy to birth six kids for him. he said he had a dream of having five or six kids and that nancy was there beside him. the number of kids doesn't matter. its him saying that he wants kids and to be a present dad. he wants a family and also doesn't want to turn into his parents, as its heavily implied that he's an only child with not great parents. Nancy said his dream sounded nice other than the six kids part. a more manageable number like maybe three kids could be the balance that would work for them.

"steve tried to get nancy to cheat on Jonathan despite knowing she was happy in their relationship." steve confessed his feelings to her in a life or death situation, after shed been showing some signs of being interested. he never said he wanted her to leave jonathan or that he expected her to just jump into his arms. he said he still had feelings for her in a high stress situation. and much of jancy's relationship in s4 doesn't read as happy. they've been together for 16-17 months, and almost half of that they've been in an ldr and they've had communication issues since before jonathan moved away.

sorry for they longs ask this is just something that's bugging me because i keep seeing this in the steve tag

i truly think so many anti stancies just hate steve, and that’s why all of their “explanations” just try to make steve look bad.

like saying it’s been years since they broke up. it’s been about a year and a half! and like you said, it’s pretty much his only serious relationship. according to joe keery, she’s the first girl to really listen to him. and he hasn’t had someone (romantically) like that since. steve was nancy’s first love (again, according to natalia). it wasn’t just some short thing. it was a serious relationship at a very emotional time.

also, i personally doubt that steve’s spent that year just pining for nancy, but they’re in a life and death situation, and i think all those feelings they left behind just came rushing back. they never truly got closure. it’s natural that being together, and fighting side by side and depending on each other would make everything between them come to the surface.

ugh the six kid thing is the bane of my existence (again, people use it to try to make steve seem weird, and pushy, and demanding). it’s so clearly a reference to the party lmao. like you said, nancy never said she doesn’t want kids, she said she doesn’t want to be stuck in a miserable relationship because that’s what everyone expects (which sounds more like s4 jancy tbh). and the crucial part of steve’s confession is that nancy is the most important part. not the kids. not the travelling. but nancy by his side. what matters to steve is that there’s love. which is what’s important to nancy too.

(and yeah. they ain’t having six kids LMAO)

yes!!! can people not confess feelings anymore without being accused of homewrecking two teenagers lol? he never said he wants them broken up. he thinks he may die!!! he wants it off his chest!!! nancy was, imo, the first to start the flirting, and steve figured… why not!

honestly couldn’t have said this all better myself.

[sableraven]

some issues I have with the proshipping community as someone sorta align with it.

This ain’t for antishippers so go away.

To preface this, I do align myself with the dead dove do not eat community and write what you want. I know technically it would make me a proshipper, but I do have a lot of issues with how proshippers handle race related stuff in fandoms and how some ignorance make spaces unwelcoming for people of color.

While I don’t think proshippers are anywhere near comparable to antishippers and their behaviors, I do think proshippers have the potential of creating their own echo chambers and being extreme in an “Us vs Them” they critique antishippers of doing.

One example is anyone have a discomfort to certain ships, tropes, or trigger warnings, which is FINE. Not everyone is comfortable with dead dove and I understand that. I understand that my works aren’t for everyone and I do my best to tag triggers and warn people before reading my works. I also have my own squicks when it comes to fiction, but I don’t harass anyone over it. For the extreme proshippers, some act if you have any discomfort and simply voice is (not everyone attacking anyone and looking down on others who enjoy it) you are labeled an anti. Or if you state not liking it, all of sudden, you should keep your opinions to yourself despite wanting people to have the freedom of how they can enjoy media.

This also goes into seeing anyone who have those discomforts as “sensitive” and not practicing basic decency of tagging your works as dead dove. A lot of proshippers equate any criticism of fiction as anti rhetoric even though criticism of fiction will always exist. If you put out art, you will be criticized. Sure, some criticism are hated disguised in it, but in terms of general discussion of published media and problematic issues in it, that has ALWAYS existed. Media studies, feminism media studies, etc. have existed longer than the stupid antiship vs proship discourse in fandoms. Someone pointing out problematic things in a media isn’t immediately anti rhetoric because published media hold a different responsibility to their audience than fanfic writers. Fanfiction is no where near as far reaching as published media that has the potential of reaching millions of people. That’s why when antis bring up “fictional can affect reality,” I don’t believe fanfiction can do that because its a very niche thing that most people interacting with it knows better. Published media has a different responsibility, thats why ratings exists, and the FTC is a thing in the US.  

And criticism isn’t bad! I get a lot of proshippers are hyper vigilant due to harassment in the past, but some of you go extreme on this opinion that any criticism is bad and that it doesn’t belong in fandoms. You’re not oppressed or being censored if your fanworks are being criticized. It’s still posted on AO3 and it will only be taken down if you wish it too. It’s like celebrities crying about cancel culture when it’s just online backlash that has no effect on the real world whatsoever. Some of y’all sound like anti woke cancel culture right winger when you complain about supposed “internet warriors” taking your right to create away. They’re not! Let’s not act like antishippers have any power to ever bring censorship laws, only politicians who don’t even know fanfiction exists.

Now this moves on the topic of racism in fandoms. This is where the problematic term of “fandom policing” comes up when half of the time its people of color, queer people, or women discussing how bigotry is rampant in fanbases. Look at the Star Wars fandom, any time a white character is race bent, video games, that exists. Which makes it frustrating that some proshippers treat these discussion as fandom policing or anti rhetoric. It’s not. I have had instances of proshippers trying to excuse racism that happens in fanbases as if I am misinterpreting it or its not racist because the fans have other reasons why they’re ranting about this media. I was also told by one proshipper because they, who is white, that they never encountered racism in the Star Wars fandom even though that shit had started with the first teaser trailer of the Force Awakens. Or they try to make it seems that the angry Star Wars fans who are mad about a black stormtropper existing is NOT racism, but because of established lore not being held up by Disney. (Which, none of the movies have explicitly said stormtroopers are white and ugh).

It’s also ridiculous how white proshipers are allowed the space to vent about being accused of racism by fandom members. I can agree that some accusations are ridiculous, especially ones made by antishippers, but half of it is because white proshippers insert themselves in discussion of racism started by fans of colors and whitesplain to them that it’s not racism and do the same excusal shit that I was met with. I get trying to defend your favorite media, but let people vent. Fans of colors aren’t given the luxury. For some reason, if you complain about racism perpetrated by fans or how the media they like have issues with bigotry, all of sudden its “you bringing politics in fandom spaces” and white proshippers are only using fandoms to “escape reality.” So are fans of color? I would love to use fiction to escape reality, but its hard when racism is rampant in your fandom circles or seeing characters of color being treated poorly in canon. Like cmon. Stop with the double standards. 

It’s annoying how much care that both proshippers and antishippers have when it comes to fiction and fictional characters, but not towards people in real life. Or that racial experiences committed by either side are ignored. Both sides act like they’re oppressed over the most chronically online shit ever. Or that anyone with a differing opinion is immediately label the other side. While proshippers don’t do harassment campaigns or force themselves into anti spaces for the purpose of doxxing, it doesn’t make them automatically safe for everyone, especially for people of color.

And please stop with the ageism towards younger people. Not every anti are “puriteens,” I seen a lot of antishippers within the 20-30 age range.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Dear sir, I must use your inbox as a confession booth once again, because you're the only person I've seen express negative feelings about that stupid ass firefighter show, and I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings but… I am so tired of those bland white boys in that stupid firefighter show… I'm happy for the fans that got that character confirmed gay, but it's… it's like the blandness/lack of anything compelling of d/estiel, but somehow more bland, because they're not even in a monster hunting show. I don't even see the love interest(s) to the confirmed gay character, just that guy getting the "2013 pure cinnamon roll" treatment that castiel got. I've tried blacklisting several combinations, but half the posts I see aren't tagged at all 💀

Okay I think that's all, thank you for letting me complain in your inbox <3

IM SO TIRED OF SEEING THOSE BORING FIREFIGHTERS GET THEM OFF MY DASH I DONT CARE ABOUT THEM. good for gay people or whatever but i dont CARE. GET THEM AWAY FROM ME. just because gay representation in boring procedural tv shows is a good sign for the overall climate of queer acceptance doesn’t mean im obligated to like the fuckers. GO AWAY. I ONLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT GAY PEOPLE WHO WANT TO EAT EACH OTHER. ARE THE FIREFIGHTERS HAVING GAY CANNIBALISTIC FANTASIES ABOUT EACH OTHER? NO? THEN I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT!!!!!! EVERY GAY COUPLE ON TV THAT DOESN’T TRY TO MURDER EACH OTHER IS ANOTHER SETBACK FOR GAY RIGHTS.

alsjfkgjskdj but yeah god it is impossible to blacklist that freaking show, ain’t it. annoying as hell. i’ve mostly gotten it off my dash, and i only have like one mutual i think who likes it? and she’s allowed. i forgive her because i know she has good taste in other things. this insanity will pass for her <3

(also the destiel comparison is apt because. you know how people used to talk about the “roaming yaoi fandom” that just latches onto whatever two men are most popular at the time, forces them into the cookie cutter mold of a romantic relationship, and ships them to death? now, i don’t know about the validity of that theory on a wider scale, but it sure does feel like a lot of people who wanted destiel to be that cookie-cutter romantic relationship are happily jumping to the gay firefighters because they’re easier to fit to the mold. and presumably carry less baggage than all the stuff that supernatural does. which is hilariously honest to me about why some people cared about destiel in the first place.)

[one-winged-dreams]

Hpnotiq

ship: every dog has his day (cygnus x gallagher) source: honkai star rail word count: 1449 cw: inebriation

i don't even know, call this a pseudo vent fic ig i really wanted to write about him ;_;

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @kylilah @dorothys-wife @the-sleeping-city

@goldenworldsabound @dear-gambler @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitosoulmate @faerie-circle-ships

Visits to the bar were always low-key. It wouldn't do for someone of Cygnus's status to be seen getting publically plastered, Maria would raise hell if she had to deal with the media repercussions that would inevitably come from such a thing.

Much like everything else in Penacony, drinking was a gamble. The appropriate term would be ‘lightweight’. 

Misery begets escapism, and libations were the dream within the dream. 

“Think you’ve had a bit much, doll.”

Gallagher’s forearms rested against the bar, a blatant disregard for how the damn thing had just been wiped down. Concerned was a description for his expression, but he wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t just a little bit amused. 

“Nooo. No no no, I’m… It’s fine. Can I have a shot this time? Want a Hpnotiq Breeze, pleeease?” Cygnus’s eyes were already hazy. His words were already rubbing elbows with each other, but Aeons, he was so fucking loose right now it wasn’t NOT funny. 

Gallagher’s head dipped down with a fond sigh before fixing Cygnus with a squint. 

“Don’t think you need any more Hpnotiq tonight, sweetheart. Gonna be seein’ blue if I give you any more. Why don’t you call it quits for the night, yeah?” 

“Nooo! I’m good, I’m- HCC, ‘scuse me, I’m okay, just one more shot?” Cygnus whined, lashes fluttering like wings trying to keep his eyes open all the way.

Shaking his head was the IMMEDIATE response, but Gallagher’s lips pulled into a smirk. Damn damn damn, what a cutie. 

“Not gonna happen, doll.”

“Take one fr’me, then. Come on, come on. Wanna seeya…” Cygnus slurred, his refined, usually sheepish demeanor smashed in the most literal sense. 

“That right?” Gallagher chuckled. “Alright then, just for you.” 

Swift and efficient, prep was nothing. If it sated his pretty little bird, he was gonna do it right.

“That it?” Gallagher held the glass with his thumb and forefinger, tauntingly close, but Cygnus was a sweet little thing, if not a bit captivated by the scenario his addled brain had conceptualized.

“Yeah yeah! Wannasee… All for me?” Cygnus rambled, his words making less and less sense. 

Fuck’s sake, that was a whole different type of ‘celebrity charm’ for Gallagher to handle.

“Yeah, doll. All for you,” he replied, that low tone on par with the way all those prior drinks had made Cygnus all warm and fuzzy. 

Hazy silver eyes went wide as the glass touched Gallagher’s lips, the blue concoction making a warm, pleasant journey down the bartender’s esophagus. Gallagher couldn’t tell which was hotter, the heat of the alcohol, or that gaze burning a hole in his throat.

“Yaaaay!” Cygnus was clapping and giggling like a schoolgirl, swinging his legs on that barstool that could be considered a second home.

Not that he was prone to this level of indulgence.

It wouldn't do for someone of Cygnus's status to be seen getting publically plastered.

“Alright doll, you’ve had your fun. Gonna call your driver and get you home.” Gallagher procured his phone, just a few taps away from his frequent contacts list. He was a gentleman, after all.

“Noooo!” came the immediate protest, cute pink lips pouting and all.

“Noooo?” Gallagher questioned. “Told you, doll, I ain’t giving you any more.”

“YOU take me home.” Cygnus’s reply was a whine that was outright insistent. 

“Me?” Gallagher chuckled with curious amusement. “Why me?”

“B… Big sexy Bloodhoundsecurityofficerrr- Security officer… You can take me home, right? Please take me home, I wanna be with you more,” Cygnus whimpered.

Well, even more than a whimper, it was a plea. Something about the tone didn’t sit right with Gallagher and goddamn, what kind of heartless bastard would keep a cutie like that all sad and lonely?

“Alright, alright. Can you walk okay?”

The way home was a blur to Cygnus, all he could fathom was the warmth of Gallagher’s arm around his shoulder and the occasional interaction directed his way.

“Aren’t you that one actor?” “Ease off, buddy.”

What a damn good guard dog Gallagher was. 

Without much more fanfare, Cygnus was lowered to the couch with the same finesse as how Gallagher would pour a drink. Gotta be careful with the merchandise, valuable as this one was. 

“Alright doll, you all settled? Not gonna have to toss you in bed, am I?” 

“Nuh-uh… ‘m oookay,” Cygnus feebly reassured, circling his thumb and index finger.

“You sure? Don’t wanna leave you here if you’re just gonna pass out, if you wanna sleep I’ll carry you to bed.” Gallagher crossed his arms over his chest, arching an eyebrow with a good amount of skepticism. He knew plastered when he saw it, and he was certainly seeing it.

“Then don’t go…” Cygnus spoke in a voice that was softer, less belligerent than he’d been all night. Drastic as a turn it was, Gallagher didn’t need to be told twice that something was up.

He took a seat next to the pitiful form lying on the couch, hair splayed out like he could have been Halovian. “Something the matter, doll?”

His concern afforded him only silence as a reply, a bit unfair but when did anyone in Penacony ever play fair?

“Gotta talk to me if you want something, sweetheart, need to use your words,” Gallagher gave Cygnus’s shoulder a little shake. “Can’t fall asleep on me after droppin’ something like that.”

He felt the tremors under his hand then, the feeling of jackassery descending upon him instantly.

Fuck.

“You cryin’, doll?” He gave another small shake, biting his inner cheek as an inappropriately placed curse rose in his throat like bile. He wasn’t good at this shit, not at all. It was unfair to both of them how unattuned to genuine sympathy he was, really. Couldn’t really fault himself, but damn did it sting when he saw his little vice cry.

“I don’t think I’m real,” the little crystal bell of a voice whimpered from the cushions.

Aw fuck.

“Whatdya mean, doll? Talk to me,” Gallagher coaxed, settling in for the long haul as he transferred that pretty little head to his lap. And oh how willingly Cygnus came, how willingly people were to be comforted by the ones that they loved so dearly. 

And oh how dearly he… felt the same.

“Feel like I’m some shallow projection of someone else’s dreams and desires,” Cygnus sniffled, and Gallagher felt hot wet pinpricks of moisture blossom on the fabric of his pants. “’m scared I’m part of some dream that’ll just dissipate when someone wakes up.”

A pause.

“Well hell, doll, do you think I’m real?” Gallagher managed to regurgitate his signature lie.

More bile.

Another pause.

Gallagher sighed.

“You’re you, Cygnus. I promise. You trust me, don’t you?” That Hpnotiq Breeze felt like it was going to make a comeback. Something burned in his gut, in his chest, and then spilled out from his lips; “I wouldn’t lie to you, you know that.”

“I know… I know. Don’t actually believe myself when I think these things, just… Feels like that. Don’t know if I’m happy living like this. ‘r if I e-ever was…” Cygnus mumbled, curling in on himself like he could tuck himself under wings that weren’t there, clipped by circumstance.

Gallagher’s hand hovered over a shoulder that vibrated with silent tremors, sighing to himself.

His little bird was feeling the ache of a cage he was beginning to outgrow. And even though Cygnus couldn’t see those bars, for Gallagher, they were clear as day.

“‘fraid I can’t answer that one for you, doll.”

No amount of gentleness could keep the walls from crumbling, or maybe it was ONLY that delicate touch that could break them down. As soon as his hand settled, the contact sent a shockwave of pain that no harsh strike could ever recreate. 

Gallagher had seen Cygnus cry on stage, he sometimes marveled over how a person could crank out tears as hard as a script could even demand. But no one was demanding anything now. Ugly sobbing, and not in the beautiful theatric way that was tailored to play at people’s emotions. Those were to get the audience invested in the story, these were for no one to see. 

Well no, maybe that wasn’t right. Maybe this was all part of some bigger stage play. Unpracticed, no auditions, no dress rehearsals. Cygnus was the lead, and Gallagher was simultaneously the plot and the audience, the co-star and the extras, the props, and maybe one day he’d be the curtain too, but there was currently no script to tell him what would happen. And he was fine with that.

He liked to think he was pretty good at improv.

[moosemonstrous]

btw I have now put links to both the tag here and on AO3 in my bio bc I got sick of scrolling through tumblr 😌 Full disclosure - I have met lab people who act like small animals caught in the middle of a road whenever someone dares to enter their domain.

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - sticks and stones

“Can’t promise the spot will stay open,” Kwok tells him apologetically. “But this is good, no? All the young’uns want to go to the academy!”

Robbie would bet his working eyeball that none of the young'uns would be so keen on it after ten minutes alone with Major Brooks. “So I keep hearing,” he mutters. “Sorry for the trouble. I appreciate you taking me on in the first place.”

“Navos is good people,” Kwok shrugs. The Shatterdome functions on a rather opaque network of favours and IOUs. ‘Good people’ seems to be a fairly high praise. Not quite on 'one of ours' level, but high. “You remember me when you are a ranger up in the dome and we’re even.”

And just like that, the transport maintenance chapter of Robbie’s career closes with little fanfare. Technically, he didn’t have to come speak to Kwok in person – his assignment has already gone through and the man would’ve been notified either way. He doesn’t want to leave a bad impression, though. For all he knows, the battery of tests he’d been fast-tracked through the day before will spit out some convoluted reason for why the drift activated on its own and he will be back on the job market before the end of the week. At least there are plenty of positions open – it’s easier to hire someone inside the base and train them up than wait for the paperwork to clear for an experienced worker from the outside.

He remembers the last time he let himself think things were finally turning around, though. He’s not going to make that mistake again.

At least his head is clearer after half an hour in a giant magnet and a full night’s sleep. He’s still unable to hold a conversation with Ivanov without some truly strange thoughts popping up like bubbles on the surface of a pot – the more tired or angry he gets, the harder it is to ignore them. He knew he was going to pay for running on fumes for weeks, and being sedated for nearly three days must have knocked something loose, but. Nothing proper sleep hygiene and some semblance of a routine won’t fix.

Or maybe you’re just noticing stuff, because you ain’t an idiot. Huh? Could it be that?

Or maybe this whole business with The Charger is extremely weird and Robbie should be packing up and running for the hills. Unfortunately, his and Gabe’s permits only work in Hong Kong and when he last checked how much it would be to fly back to US, he had to sit down for a long moment. Even if he was willing to risk taking a ship, where would that leave them? Back on a decimated coast, hoping the wind doesn’t blow over nuclear fallout, and struggling to find enough food for both of them? Queuing at state borders for days or weeks, hoping they’ll be lucky enough to get through on the increasingly stringent rules? Nevada already stopped letting in anyone without immediate family members or sponsors in-state.

Looks like the only way forward is through.

His wristband scans through to the R&D wing now. The soldiers standing guard give Robbie odd looks, but don’t make a move to stop him, so he forces his shoulders down and walks through the armoured door like he knows what he’s doing.

He has no idea what he’s doing. Cho said, ‘come find me in R&D before noon’. There are at least fifteen labs just in this one corridor and none of the doors have anything approaching a comprehensible naming convention. Some signs are just a piece of printer paper with a name scrawled over it, some have the original writing taped over with a KEEP OUT sticker, some seem to list the people working inside. None of those list an Amadeus Cho. It’s half past eleven.

Eventually, Robbie sticks his head in a room labelled ‘HMT DES’. Inside, there are three circular podiums with a mannequin each, showcasing variations of the PPDC hazmat suits. There are three people inside; two hide behind the middle suit as soon as they notice him, leaving the third to fend for herself.

“Can–can I help you?” she asks nervously. She has blue hair and wears fishnet sleeves over a tank top. Not exactly the nerd attire Robbie was expecting.

“I’m looking for Amadeus Cho,” he explains, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. It’s the opposite of what he usually tries to achieve, and she looks like she might be having an anxiety attack. “Any idea where I could find him?”

The girl listens to some frantic whispering from behind the suit. “In the bone lab,” she squeaks. Then blushes so hard Robbie worries she might actually pass out. “Up one floor, two doors down on the left, thankyouseeyoulater.”

What the hell.

He closes the door.

At least with the directions he finds the right room in less than five minutes. The label indeed reads ‘bone lab’. He’s pretty sure the music blasting from the inside is Dead Kennedys. When nobody answers his knocking, he prays he isn’t about to embarrass himself further and pushes the door open.

Cho is standing with his back to him at a table completely covered in… either huge chunks of dirty plaster or – more likely and vastly more disturbingly – massive bone fragments. He’s holding a metal training staff. Before Robbie can call out, he brings it over his head and smashes one of the chunks. When it doesn’t break, he adjusts his grip and tries again. And again. And again, until the greenish-grey surface cracks, at which point he gives out a little whoop.

“Cho?” Robbie risks. The music is too loud, coming from a small bluetooth speaker at the edge of the table. It’s shaped like a cat head. “Hey, Cho!”

Cho whirls around with the staff ready to smack the intruder. He’s wearing thick safety goggles. When he sees Robbie, he drops his weapon to the table with a clatter. “Good news!” he shouts over the music, like it’s normal both for people to just show up in his lab and to start a conversation from the middle. “You don’t have brain cancer!”

Well. That’s definitely good news.

“Was that a–?” He waits for Cho to lower the speaker’s volume through his phone. “Was that a risk?”

Cho is busy checking his messages, frowning. “Did you break my outfitters?”

“What?”

“Hazmat lab?” The frown becomes a grin as he scrolls through a bunch of texts. Robbie feels like that’s worse. “Good job getting on their good side, they might be designing your drivesuit soon.”

“I just–“ Can we get to the point? This kid is missing a screw. “You said to come find you?”

“Yes! Come on, take a–“ he picks up a hammer from an office chair before sliding it towards Robbie. “There you go. I was hoping we could talk without the grown-ups hovering around.”

The grown-ups. Robbie can already feel a headache coming. He takes a seat while Cho leans on the table, untroubled by a pile of skeletal remains inches from his back. “Talk about what?”

Cho scrambles around for a remote and points it at one of the screens at a wall behind Robbie. He flicks through several output sources – one is most definitely a cartoon show Gabe used to love back in L.A. – until he finds what looks like the Hell Charger’s blueprints.

“That,” he says, suddenly serious. “What do you actually know about this jaeger?”

“I already–“

“Yeah, but that can’t be all,” Cho cuts him off impatiently. “I found your records from before your mom took you and your brother off-base. You were eight. Your dad never took you to the hangar?”

Not really. Mama didn’t want you losing fingers in the machinery.

“Wasn’t a place for a kid,” he mumbles. There are records? “I don’t really remember much from that time. Weren’t all the records sealed?”

I told you Ivanov is full of shit.

“Oh, they were,” Cho smirks. “But the last guy in my role had access to some of the classified stuff, and nobody ever revoked it. You know how it is.”

Robbie has no idea how it is. “What do they say?”

“Nothing!” Cho groans. “Just that you and your brother existed. That’s why I’m asking.”

It’s both crushingly disappointing and a perfectly good reason for Ivanov to just say there was no information available. Keep deluding yourself. You’ll see I’m right sooner or later. Still, Robbie doesn’t really have much he can – or wants to – tell Cho.

“Sorry, I can’t help,” he shrugs. “I’m told we left before it was decommissioned. Mom never talked about it.”

Cho lifts up his goggles to his forehead to rub his eyes. He seems frustrated. “No weird work anecdotes? No drama about close calls?” He huffs when Robbie shakes his head. “Great. Another dead end. What did Ivanov tell you?”

“Just that my dad used to be a pilot. That he died killing Daggerblight.”

There is a long moment where Cho watches him like he’s waiting for Robbie to crack and admit to some vast conspiracy. When nothing happens, he blows the air out of his cheeks. “Bummer. Oh well, let’s go find Montesi before she starts wondering where we are.”

Robbie feels the bottom of his stomach freeze over. “We were supposed to be meeting her, too?”

Cho is already walking over to the door. He holds it open with a stupid little bow. “Yep. We better hurry.”

Robbie kind of wants to punch him. He’s beginning to suspect this will be a common occurrence.