#but seriously were there any men at this thing?

[puckinghischier]

okay so…not that anyone asked but i have some…thoughts about this discourse surrounding jack’s signing last night

and honestly….i’m sad. i’m so insanely sad that so many people who claim to love this team are so quick to assume jack is a lost cause asshole. i think so much of it is entitlement. and yeah, as people, everyone deserve kindness and overall base level social behaviors. but where is that for jack right now?

where’s the grace and understanding that he’s tired. they likely had a day full of practice and drills and workouts before this signing. i mean, did he even get to go home before he was expected to sit and sign autographs for hours? why was he alone? why didn’t they put him with someone else? i know the answer is likely because he was the most sought after signature there and they didn’t want to make his line even longer, but still. i feel like jack has been very open and intentional with the fact he doesn’t like to do media. he wants to play hockey and go home.

and yeah, he also knew it came with the territory, but it doesn’t matter. if you sign up to be a teacher, you know there’s going to be early mornings, but that doesn’t mean you have to like getting up early. if you agree to work in healthcare, you know there’s going to aspects of the job that are gross and unfortunate, but it doesn’t mean you have to like cleaning up bodily fluids. the same can be said for these guys. they signed up to be professional hockey players, they knew media and signings and events were going to be expected of them, but it doesn’t mean they have to like it.

but back to entitlement thing. i think it has become so normalized to create personas for real people in our heads that people are quite literally unable to separate the fantasy from reality. and i mean, i’ll even say i contribute to the problem. all fanfic writers do. we create these idealized and fictional versions of these men, but the ability to differentiate between the two cannot be lost in the process. but i think it has been. i think there’s this unrealistic expectation thrust upon all of them, but especially jack.

he’s popular, he’s cutie, and he’s good at hockey. of course he’s going to have a mass following. but…he’s just a guy, y’all. he’s a guy that has bad days, good days, who gets tired, who has a social battery. and last night, i think that social battery had just run out. do you know how long he’s been watched and in the media? do you know how long he’s been the most watched hughes, the expectations he’s carried on him for years?

i just think there needs to be some compassion and grace here. going back to the whole “people pay to watch me play” incident is a little excessive, imo. i mean, are we going to hold every single player to everything they’ve ever said in the box? does it define who they are and their character? i have not once seen anyone berate and question quinn’s character when he told someone they were “fucking nothing”. which, if you really want to get down to it, is worse than what jack said.

but no, jack is expected to be this guy with rainbows coming out of his ass all the time, apparently. i think the concept of social cues and situational awareness has been so lost because of the screen culture right now. people do so much communication through screens and phones that they forget, people aren’t always enthusiastic and bright, even if they add an exclamation point to their text. last night was not something jack chose to do of his own accord. he was told to do it, and he did it. he made sure the kids had a good time and felt cared for. he signed everything that came across his table. could he have been a little more chatty? yeah. could he have maybe smiled a bit more? yeah.

but seriously, he knew he was going to have to sign a million different items and see a million different people. the whole point of a signing is just that. if he was even remotely going to get out of there on time, there’s no way he could have had any meaningful conversation with every single person. and i feel like he’s said before he prioritizes/likes kids? i could be wrong, so don’t hold me to that.

but the point is, this whole situation is so sad and such a good example of how gossip blogs only care about getting likes and reblogs and attention. they don’t care about these players, no matter how much they claim to. and people are so quick to take everything they read for fact. personally, i think jack is just…antisocial.

i think he has a persona on the ice because he’s in his element, he’s comfortable, and he’s excited to be there. when he’s with his family and around his friends, he seems to be an overall happy guy. but around strangers? strangers that want to talk about his stats, how he played in this game or that game, that are shoving their items in his face to sign, people that he’ll likely never see again? he doesn’t give too much away.

and before people mention the being snippy and short with the workers, i wasn’t there so i didn’t see what happened. if he was, i’m not defending that behavior, but i don’t think it’s because he thinks he’s above them or thinks he’s “god’s gift to hockey” like i’ve seen thrown around so much today. we have all been snappy with people we shouldn’t have before. it doesn’t mean someone is this terrible person with a high horse attitude. i think it’s a combination of fatigue, stress, and maybe even some anxious energy that had been built up and made its way out.

anyways, i’ve said enough i think, and this will be the first and only time i talk about this, but i had too many thoughts swirling in my brain to just keep them there. be nice. show grace. you’re allowed to be disappointed if you attended last night and felt like he was maybe dry and dismissive, but please step back and put yourself in his shoes. not every person has a social and yappy personality. some people don’t speak unless they have something to say. and that’s okay!!!

and for the love of god, quit giving gossip blogs what they so desperately crave

[citrusraindrops]

Male abusers often call themselves victims; The spread of the myth of (equally prevalent) female abusers directly harms female victims, because it means their partners' lies are believed by police and other authorities. And the myth of anti-male bias in courts stymies female victims as they try to escape their abusers.

I'm going to recommend once again Why Does he do That? by Lundy Bancroft. In chapter two, Bancroft writes:

Even if abused men didn't want to come forward, they would have been discovered by now. Neighbors don’t turn a deaf ear to abuse the way they might have ten or twenty years ago. Now, when people hear screaming, objects smashing against walls, loud slaps landing on skin, they call the police. Among my physically abusive clients, nearly one-third have been arrested as a result of a call to the police that came from someone other than the abused woman. If there were millions of cowed, trembling men out there, the police would be finding them. Abusive men commonly like to play the role of victim, and most men who claim to be “battered men” are actually the perpetrators of violence, not the victims.

From chapter 12:

A remarkable number of judges grant restraining orders to abusers to use against their victims or grant mutual orders, which validate the abuser’s claim that his partner shares responsibility for causing his scary behavior ... I have also worked with many [probation officers] who buddy up to the abuser with a wink and a nod, who bond with him in the belief that there exists an anti-male bias in the court system and who signal him that he needn’t take the abuser program seriously by saying things such as: “Just show up to your required number of group meetings and we’ll get you right off probation.”

From Chapter 3:

The abuser’s highly entitled perceptual system causes him to mentally reverse aggression and self-defense. When Tanya attempted to defend herself against Emile’s life-threatening attack, he defined her actions as violence toward him. When he then injured her further, he claimed he was defending himself against her abuse. The lens of entitlement the abuser holds over his eye stands everything on its head.

One of my areas of specialization is court-related work involving abusers who are physically violent or who abuse their children. I frequently encounter court personnel who say: “Well, she accuses him of abusing her, but he denies it.” They then drop the matter, as if the man’s denial closes the case. They also tell me: “He says she does the same things to him, so I guess they abuse each other.” This kind of denial and cross-accusation tells us nothing about whether the woman is telling the truth. If the man is abusive, of course he is going to deny it, partly to protect himself and partly because his perceptions are distorted. If he were ready to accept responsibility for his actions in relationships, he wouldn’t be abusive. Breaking through denial and minimization is one of the main tasks facing an abuse counselor. Most of the men in my groups admit to some abusive behavior —although they don’t see it as abusive, of course— but they acknowledge only a small portion of what they have actually done, as I learn when I interview the abused partners.

Abusive men push and push against a woman's boundaries in a relationship, breaking her down, and when she tries to defend herself against abuse or speaks out in any way he uses it as evidence that she is irrational and that she is the abuser. We unfortunately saw this happen to Gabby Petito and Amber Heard. In both cases when the victim was pushed past her limits and showed emotion at being abused, it was used as evidence that they were abusive.

Domestic violence is more common in lesbian relationships than it is in heterosexual relationships.

the point is that in heterosexual relationships men and women are equally likely to initiate DV. When examining female only relationships they are more likely to suffer violence than male only relationships.

Researchers theorise women initiate violence more often because society tends to ignore female violence and punish male violence harshly. They see no downside. This effect is magnified in female only relationships.

This info is not intended to put anyone down.

To add to this, heterosexual DV is still going to be more common than lesbian DV based purely upon the number of heterosexual couples when compared to lesbian couples. This isn’t to put down lesbians, it’s a statistic that I’m not too sure if it’s still liable or not.

So, apparently I need a frequently asked questions page ... or something.

You are wrong anon; these statements are factually incorrect.

Domestic violence is NOT more common in lesbian relationships. (And the larger post for context.)

Men and women do NOT have similar rates of domestic violence. (See, also, this post.)

People support/fail to support male/female victims and condemn/fail to condemn male/female perpetrators at similar rates. (Also see this post and this post.)

There is also no evidence of a criminal sentencing disparity caused by sex.

"This info is not intended to put anyone down." -> Yes, I am sure you came to this blog where I discuss the pandemic of male violence against women to claim that, against all substantial, overwhelming, evidence to the contrary women are actually more violent than men to be ... friendly.

Male violence in heterosexual relationships is higher in both absolute and relative terms (see above).

"it’s a statistic that I’m not too sure if it’s still liable or not" -> I'm guessing you meant either "reliable" or "viable", in either case, it was never reliable, or viable, or true. It's a homophobic, misogynistic myth perpetuated by malice and poor understanding of statistics.

[girlwithwolftatoo]

What is chained -Chapter 1

Summary: There was a dream named Rome, and saving it doesn't always mean to chop heads off.

Words: 1677

Characters: Marcus Acacius, emperor Geta, emperor Caracalla and others.

Chapter 1: Taraxia -Disturbance

Any man who has been to sea knows that, when a storm approaches, it is preceded by a shivering calm where silence and stillness are only the desperate cry of an inevitable terror. The air becomes salty, suffocating, the sails hang lifeless, the oars are stowed. And so Acacius thought of his own ship as the slaves loaded their belongings into a wide cart, pulled by a beautiful Gaul steed with its shaggy ankles and curly mane. Lucilla watched, paralyzed with anger from the porch, her hands wringing a sprig of lavender as she struggled not to cry. Her father said that what a free man earns should not be taken from him without cause, but her brother would have sadly agreed with his successors, those two little red-haired devils. Acacius turned away, once he had signaled to the servants that they could retire, and approached the woman with what he considered a reassuring face, which he well knew was not going to do much good. It broke his heart to provoke her to so much distress, but he knew, for that is only learned through years of iron and blood, that refusal would have been worse. “I'll be fine,” he told her, reaching out a hand to stroke her face. Lucilla closed her eyes, bowing her head over the powerful hand that tried to comfort her “Listen, give me a week, two maybe, I'll send messages in the meantime and then… I'll negotiate with the senate. They'll be reasonable, once they see results.”

Lucilla sighed, looking at him defeated. “I never wished this for you, and look at you…you're being sent into the jaws of wolves.” “I'll be able to handle them, you trust, don't you trust me?” he said it lightly, smiling, but his wife didn't play along. “When you raise your sword I do not fear for you, but these… enemies… how will you defend yourself if…?” “With the senate. One word from me and they will regret it. Please…” he added in desperation, giving her a kiss on the cheek, "trust, I know what I'm doing, or at least Gracchus does.’ It was all part of a defensive plan, Acacius said to himself after saying goodbye to Lucilla, riding with his things in the wagon that was taking him to his destiny, was that destiny? he wondered as he left his villa back to the scandal of the city. No celebrations, no making the matter public, that was the decision of the good Gracchus, a great and loyal friend of his wife and her father, so as to avoid angering the demons. It was true that in any case, the demons were already angry. Thraex was still trying in vain to reassure them when the cart stopped at the palace stables, so that Acacius barely set foot when he had clear duties to perform.

“General, I thank the gods you made it” whined the man, exiting through a double door from which could be heard shouts of two men fighting loudly. Acacius looked with exasperation at the door.

“They didn't take kindly to the news, I'm afraid.”

“No way, they're a wild beast, when I told them I thought they were going to kill me.”

Acacius was already used to Thraex hypersensitivity, so he didn't take it so seriously either, and walked through the double doors as if he had just entered an enemy barracks.

On one side, there was Geta, using one of those platters for exotic meats as a shield, and at the other end, his face so reddened that it showed under the heavy makeup, Caracalla, whose raging voice had become so high-pitched that Acacius thought he was going to summon bats.

“You can't tell me what to do!” he shrieked, waving a narrow-mouthed vase varnished in gold.

“I know, I know, I just want you to listen to me, if you keep going on like that...!”

“Do you think I care, I've never been insulted... like that...!”

Geta turned his head and met Acacius, his expression soured but he did nothing but clench his jaw, Caracalla instead dropped the vase - which shattered - and went running towards him, his brother unable to stop him; the older one clenched his muscles in case he rammed him, but the little twin was reduced to stopping a good few feet away, pointing a finger at him as he groaned:

“Et tu, Justus?”

“Calm down, you're embarrassing yourself,” Geta warned him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Acacius relaxed, he detested them both in equal parts, but ruefully admitted that the older twin was a bit more reasonable. “Your Majesties… I see the patrician Thraex has already informed you of the news in the senate.” “News? You call that news?” shrieked Caracalla, wincing ”They have mocked us, that's what they did, and you participated!” “If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else, my lord, and perhaps someone less sympathetic and more… interested in the privileges to be obtained than in the good of you and Rome” continued the general. “I don't know if you haven't noticed but we are no longer children, general” Geta rebuked him, still holding his brother ”We have ruled this empire for years, since we were very young, back then no one cared about our decisions and suddenly…” “You must understand, your majesties, that the people of Rome are no longer as they were in the time of Marcus Aurelius” at the old emperor's mention, Caracalla grimaced and Geta rolled her eyes, ”when the common people were… easily satisfied because they had all they could ask for. The empire is larger, yes, but not stronger or more prosperous.” "How are they not satisfied? We give them parties, shows, military victories, what more do they want?” hinted Geta, supported by his twin who nodded vigorously. Acacius made an effort not to change his expression, that was worse than talking to an infant.

“Yes, but none of it brings food to their tables or fire to their homes. Not all of them are nobles, or wealthy dynastic providers. That's why... that's why the senate has decided...”

“Yes, yes, we know! A curator...” The tone of contempt was not lost on the general.

“See this better as a... advisor in the face of the people” he tried. Acacius regretted not knowing how to speak with the astute finesse of politicians, just now a little lip service would do him good. “If I am always at their majesties' side and... advise them on matters of the people, nothing more, then the people will perceive you as... more... approachable.”

His brain was struggling to find the right words, and he wished he had Lucilla with him, she would surely know how to explain them better. Meanwhile, on the twins' faces there was an identical internal struggle. It was Caracalla who spoke first:

“Who was the idiot who suggested this plan? It couldn't have been you” He said it as if the very idea mortified him.

“No, I certainly don't know, the senate communicated to me only the decision... and that they voted for me as your... advisor.”

“And well, will you be glued to us at all hours? Will you follow us everywhere to tell us how to do our work, general?” asked Geta.

“Their majesties know that I don't know about politics. Of war, on the other hand...”

Yes, he thought suddenly, now that he could explain.

“Come, please, I want to show their majesties something” he requested as politely as he was able, approaching one of the exquisitely narrow windows. The twins followed him, wary. “See out there? Beyond those marble statues and those white steps…that's Rome, your subjects. Tell me, if you were down there, like them, arguing in the marketplace over the prices of a bit of garum and taking your boots to be darned for the third time in the year, how would you feel?” None answered, it seemed too existential a question for their brains. “The enemy can become an ally, if conquered…and it must not always be through violence. You want those people at your feet? You will have to win them back. That's what I'm here for.” The thought brought a strange smile to the twins' faces. Geta, the sharpest, nodded. “Ah, I understand… you'll make them love us, won't you? They adore you, how they get when they see you marching in your chariot! They almost deafen us, don't they?” he asked, turning to Caracalla. “Oh yes, good General Justus, they would make you emperor if they could…” he added with venom.

"Well then, if your majesties would offer your help, I could… well, I would take this matter very seriously. My duty…” he felt a shudder as he said it, "is for Rome to love you once more." That seemed to be enough for Geta, at least he was calmer. Caracalla however continued to insist. “What's in it for you, general? You already have a beautiful house, a noble wife, a superb horse… what more could you want?” Acacius thought it was amusing that the boy spoke to him as if he could bargain. “I do it for Rome, the people I swore to protect and glorify. Nothing more.” “Well… they certainly haven't announced the matter with fanfare” Geta commented, thoughtfully ”We would have expected you to arrive with full honors, a little party for your appointment…”

“No way, I'm not doing it for my own benefit and besides, it would be improper for me to have a party for such a thing. Too many parties would anger the people.”

“Especially since they are not invited” reasoned Caracalla with a silly chuckle ”Yes, yes, that's all very well, I think we can survive this. Don't overdo it, General, and I don't see why we shouldn't get along.”

“Excellent.”

Acacius took his leave, in order to go to his assigned quarters. Part of being curatormeant that he had to live in the palace, the one thing he abhorred most about that job; if Lucilla wasn't so friendly with Gracchus he would punch him in the face for getting him into that mess, but he would have time to ruminate on his frustration, perhaps later in the bath when he could relax as well. For now he had to go back to being the general, and come up with a strategy for this unequal war.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

i’m obsessed with your paul fic!! i loved the subtle lines from the song weaved into the story, you’re a wonderful writer 💓 part 2?? :)

alright, twist my arm 😂

pairing: Paul Lahote x human!reader

cw: smut, biting, trauma dumping, semi-public sex/ voyeurism (the werewolves can hear you)

Part One

Paul spun the two of you around, pressing you up against the wall as he claimed your mouth again. Every pass of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it felt like he was putting you back together again.

He kissed along your jaw, nudging your head up with his nose to start spoiling your neck. You dug your nails into his shoulders, clinging to him, and he made a low growling sound in his throat.

He turned his head suddenly and you felt his blunt teeth sink into your skin. Bright pain lanced up your shoulder. You yelped, but his tongue glided over the aching spot, soothing the bite mark he'd just made.

Heat pooled between your legs. He just bit you, and you fucking loved it.

He chuckled against the skin of your neck, an warm, melodic sound. “Liked that, hm?” He mumbled, trailing soft pecks back up to your lips.

You nodded, showing him just how much with a filthy kiss. He smiled against you before wrestling your tongue into submission.

You were light-headed from all the sensations. Pain, joy, fear, bone-melting desire, him.

Footsteps plodded up your front porch. “Hey, y/n, need any help with—oh shit. What happened to your door?”

Paul turned his head to glare at the intruder, but didn't make any move to lower you to the ground.

“I, uh—” Jacob stuttered, standing like a deer in headlights in the smashed doorway.

You kicked your feet, hoping Paul would get the message to put you down, but he only tightened his grip on your thighs.

The men stared at each other, and it took you a second to realize they were having an internal conversation.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“Really, you going to fuck her right in front of me?”

“I'd kill you right in front of her if she asked me to. Fuck off.”

“You can't just treat her like crap for six months and then decide you want her when she finally gets sick of your shit—”

A growl ripped from Paul’s chest. He could feel the shift coming, his wolf pressing beneath his skin with urgency. You squirmed in his arms, his grip too tight, and he set you on your feet.

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, and make you trust him even less.

“Paul.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, your skin blissfully cool against his, and to his shock, his wolf backed off a bit.

“Damn, she's got you trained already?” Jacob was taunting him now, being petty out of pathetic jealousy.

“I won't tell you again. Get out,” Paul snarled in his head.

“Y/n, seriously if you need help—”

“I think you should go, Jake,” y/n said, crossing your arms over your chest. Seeing Jacob’s arrogant smirk crumble was like Christmas fucking morning. “I won't be needing your help anymore.”

Delight curled along Paul’s spine, heightened further by the darkening bite mark he left at the curve of your shoulder, clear as day for Jacob, and the pack, to see.

You were his. And it was about time he started screaming it from the rooftops.

“Bye, Jake.” Paul grinned, walking across the room to show him the door. That he broke. Shit, I gotta fix that.

Jacob flipped him off and trudged down the stairs, climbing onto his little motorcycle and driving off. He'd be sour for a few days, but they always worked it out.

“I'm sorry about your door,” Paul said, picking it up and inspecting the hinge. He'd ripped the door clean off of it, tearing up the wood and bending the metal.

“It's okay,” you replied, shuffling your feet, a nervous energy wafting from you.

Now that the heat of the moment had waned, the reality of situation came crashing down around him. How could he have been so awful to you?

“Y/n, I—”

“You don't have to apologize.” You cut him off. “I know the imprint is challenging, and for you to bond with someone you hated so much…” you trailed off, eyes welling with tears.

Paul rushed over, pulling you into his chest. “I never hated you, I was—” he buried his head in your hair, shame burning under his skin, “—I was afraid.”

“Of me?” you sniffled against his chest, tears wet on his skin.

He shook his head, then nodded. “Yes and no. I was scared of what you knew, what a danger that posed to my family. And then I saw you and…and the imprint gave you so much power over me.”

Your hands curled into his sides, your head burrowing closer, like you were trying to crawl into his skin.

“Not only were you in the position to destroy my family, but I would have done it for you if you asked me to. Ripped myself to pieces if that's what you wanted.”

You lifted your tear-streaked face to look at him. “I would never do that—”

“I know, I know.” He shushed you, dropping a kiss to your red nose. “I know that now.”

“I even burned the notes—”

“What?” He held you out at arms length, dark brows drawn together. “When?”

“Months ago,” you said, and his jaw dropped.

“Months ago? Why?”

“You imprinted on me, and I didn't—I wanted—”

Affection overwhelmed him, making his eyes sting and nose tingle. He cupped your face and drew you back towards him, brushing his lips against yours. “You wanted to protect me,” he said, bumping your noses together.

You nodded, reaching up to wipe something from his cheek. Not a tear, fuck no.

“But your research? You didn't burn all of it, did you?”

“No, no. Just the things about the pack, and anything that would lead someone down the same path I took.”

Paul just stared down at you, awestruck. He couldn't believe that he was holding you, kissing you, sharing secrets with you. It was the sweetest agony he’d ever experienced, next to imprinting on you.

“Paul, I—to be clear, I do want to fuck you.”

He snorted a laugh at the subject change, warmth spreading from his chest to the tips of his ears. “But?” He raised an eyebrow.

“But could we just…hang out for awhile? I know you, but I don't feel like I know you. Like what's your favorite color?” Your fingers traced absent shapes on his chest, eyes flitting nervously around his face.

He brushed his thumb beneath your right eye. “This one, your eyes.”

“You better stop it or I'm going to climb your wolfy ass like a tree.” You swatted his hand away and took a step back, leaving him laughing.

God, when was the last time he laughed like this?

“How about we start with unpacking your things?” He offered. “And I'll fix your door.”

You gave him a relieved smile. “Sounds perfect.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You and Paul spent the rest of the day righting your home. While you unpacked, he not only fixed the door, but about ten other small, broken things you didn't have the tools, the height, or the wherewithal to repair yourself.

When the sun began to set, Paul left you bundled up on the couch to pick up take out from your favorite place in Forks. He stationed Seth outside your door for protection, and Seth gave you a thumbs up through the window.

Paul returned half-an-hour later, and you ate at the coffee table so you could watch a movie, legs curled up beneath you, Paul's hand resting heavily on your thigh. Between every bite, he leaned in for kiss.

After you finished, you climbed up onto the couch and stretched out across his chest, soaking up his radiant heat like cat. You knew you still had a long way to go before you'd be able to fully commit to him, although in a lot of ways you already had.

He'd been amazing today, thoughtful, attentive, almost goofy. But Rome wasn't built in a day, and for this relationship to work, it needed to stand on a sturdy foundation of trust and respect.

Not magic, lupine bonding instincts.

But you were confident that in time, you and Paul would get there.

***smut ahead!*** 🚨

You pressed a few kisses along the muscular expanse of his chest, marveling at the specimen of a man beneath you. His pecs just looked so…

“Watch yourself, bookworm,” he warned, fisting your hair and pulling your head back, revealing the bite mark you'd left over his heart.

You were about to ask why, when you felt something hard surge against your hip. A devilish smile curled your lips.

You rolled your hips against him, the lightest grind, and his eyes fluttered closed, head falling back onto the arm of the couch. His hands gripped your waist freezing you in place.

“Baby, don't play with me,” he groaned, his cock already straining against his flannel sweatpants.

“But it's fuuun,” you teased, fastening your lips to the already fading bite mark and sucking hard.

“I won't be gentle.”

“If I wanted gentle, I'd find Jacob.”

Paul flipped you beneath him, quicker than you could blink, his enormous weight pressing you into the couch. “Say his name while I'm around again, and he won't have a dick to fuck with,” he growled, grinding his cock over your clothed pussy.

Already, you were so sensitive, your body lighting up with pleasure from the friction, the rumble of his voice in your ear. You rocked back against him, chasing that feeling.

“You smell fucking divine, babygirl,” he groaned, burying his head into your neck as you ground against him, meeting you thrust for thrust like a couple of horny teenagers. “Drove me wild, smelling you all the damn time. Felt like you were turning yourself on just to get a rise out of me.” He lapped at your neck, dragging his tongue along your thundering pulse.

“I was,” you admitted, breathless, your peak just out of reach.

He pulled his head back, his hips lifting off of you. “You were?” You expected to see anger in his eyes, but they were molten with desire, a predator eyeing his prey.

You bit your lip, nodding.

“You know I wasn't the only one that could smell you, right?” He cocked his head, eyes skating down your torso pinned beneath him before flicking back up to your face.

“I knew it made you jealous. And I wanted them to see what was yours.”

A growl echoed from the barrel of his chest. “You're going to be the fucking death of me.” He smashed his mouth to yours in a brutal, claiming kiss, his canines dragging across your lips before parting them with his tongue.

His hands found the buttons of your pj top, ripping it open like it was made of tissue paper, sending buttons scattering across the room.

“Hey!” You protested.

“I'll buy you a hundred more,” he said, diving into your bare tits, popping one pert nipple into his hot mouth, then the other, lashing them mercilessly with his tongue.

You cried out, arching into his mouth.

“Be as loud as you want, baby. Let them hear what's mine.” He tugged down your shorts, two thick fingers gliding over your soaked panties. You moaned again, lifting your hips to chase his touch. “That's it, y/n. Already so wet for me.”

He caught your mouth once more, swallowing your next sound as he slipped his fingers under your panties, making direct contact with your weeping pussy. He dipped the tip of his middle finger inside before swirling it around your clit, sending you into fucking orbit.

You bucked against him, throwing your head back against the couch cushions as your body tightened, your walls clenching around nothing. “Please,” you whined against his cheek. “Need you.”

“Aw, no more snarky ass comments?” He teased, lightly slapping your sensitive clit, just enough to make you writhe beneath him.

“Paul,” you begged, trying and failing to reach for his cock. He was too damned tall. “I've waited so long.” You knew you sounded pitiful, and if he hadn't rendered your brain to needy, slutty mush, you'd be mortified.

“I know, you’ve been such a patient girl for me.” He reached between you, freeing his cock so it slapped against your inner thigh. “I'm sorry it took me so long to take care of this sweet pussy.” He shifted himself down until his mouth was level with your slit. “Just a taste, baby? Then I promise to fuck you stupid.”

You nodded vigorously, carding your fingers through his black hair. You never thought Paul would be so chatty during sex, not that you were complaining. The filthy words in his growly voice was like music to your ears.

He flattened his tongue against your slit, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, and you nearly came right then and there.

“Fuck, Paul,” you moaned, tightening your grip on his hair. His rumble of satisfaction vibrated your sensitive skin and you shivered. “I'm so fucking close.”

You didn't have to tell him twice. He started feasting on your pussy with abandon, slurping and sucking like you were his favorite meal on earth. Stars danced behind your eyes, broken moans and gibberish falling from your lips. You were certain the entire pack, and probably the next pack over, could hear you crying out for him, but you didn't give a single fuck.

He eased a finger inside of you, curling it against your spongy walls, and you shattered, an orgasm ripping through you at dizzying speed.

You screamed so loud he flinched, glancing up at you to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he purred, gently lapping at your clit as you twitched and jerked away, oversensitive. “Damn near broke my finger.” He rose up to hover over you, pressing light kisses along your cheeks and eyelids, coaxing you back to him.

You threw your arms around his neck and brought your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. You felt him chuckle, his hands sliding under your back to press your hips against him.

“Something funny?” You nipped at his lower lip.

“They're begging me to keep it down,” he snickered.

“We'll get them some ear plugs.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his cock. The skin was so hot you nearly pulled away, the head slick with precum and pulsing against your wrist.

He grunted, his hips thrusting into your hand. “Now who’s playing.” He batted your hand away, and leaned back to line himself up with your entrance. “Ready for me?”

“God, yes.” You threw your head back as he started to slide in, your walls clenching hard around him.

“Let me in, babygirl,” he cooed, rubbing your thigh slung over his hip.

You forced your muscles to relax, breathing hard, and he slowly stretched you open, pain and pleasure stirring together until you couldn't differentiate the two, lost in the exquisite torture of him.

“I won't last five minutes with you squeezing me like that—fuck,” his voice cracked into a low moan, his hips stuttering forward almost involuntarily. “You know what? C’mere.” He guided your arms to wrap around his neck and braced his forearm against your lower back. In a quick movement, he stood up, bringing you with him.

Your bodies didn't separate an inch, your tits squished against his chest, his cock still buried inside you. Gravity pulled you down a little father onto him, in fact, and you both groaned at the new angle.

He carried you across the house and into your bedroom, tossing you onto the pillows by your headboard. You hadn't even stopped bouncing before he pounced, sliding back into your heat with a little more ease than before.

“There we go,” he murmured into your neck, drawing his hips back before rolling them forwards.

You clawed at his back, moaning against his ear as he thrust into you again and again, filling you near to splitting, before retreating again. Soon, you were stupid with pleasure, mumbling incoherently and lifting your hips in time with his.

“Look at you, so fucking pretty taking my cock. Feel good, baby?”

You nodded, tears squeezing from the corners of your eyes as he picked up the pace, pounding into you.

“Want to feel you come around me. Can you do that for me ‘fore I fill you up?” The pad of his middle finger circled your clit, making your eyes roll back into your head, your muscles turning to goo.

His was fighting to keep a stable pace, his muscles rippling across his abdomen, veins bulging along his thick arms. You could tell he was close, his eyes locked on where your bodies met.

“Fuck, Paul. I'm gonna come,” you whined, gripping his thighs as your body wound itself up, spiraling endlessly tighter.

“I'm with ‘ya, babygirl. C’mon,” he panted, making tighter circles on your clit, his whole body trembling with the effort to control himself.

The coil in your stomach snapped, hurtling you over your peak at the same moment he came undone, both of you crying out as the tsunami of pleasure dragged you down together.

You felt his cock buck inside of you, filling you with his boiling hot release. The temperature soothed your overworked muscles, and you sagged into the bed with a contented sigh. Your whole body was shivering in aftershocks, small waves of pleasure making you clench around his softening length.

He eased himself down onto your left side, gathering you into his chest. His heart hammered beneath his shining skin, sweat collecting along the grooves of muscle and his hairline.

“You're incredible,” he murmured, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your bruised lips. “Never thought I'd see you beg for me.”

You couldn't even think of a rebuttal, all of the attitude wrung out of your body like a sponge. You just swatted at his chest, though it took a concerted effort to even lift your arm.

“In all fairness, I’d beg like a dog for you,” he whispered, smiling.

“How the mighty fall,” you teased, kissing underneath his jaw.

You both were quiet for a few moments, breathing in time with one another, your heart beats synchronizing. Peace like you hadn't felt in years settled over you, an overwhelming *rightness* that welded your fractured heart together again.

This was the reason you came to Forks, even if you didn't know it at the time. Your soul was searching for his.

“So…” he shifted to look down at you. “Ready to go to dinner at Sam’s?”

You groaned, burying your head into his neck as he burst out laughing.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

aggggghhh, I love him.

Hope you enjoyed! 🫶

[kil9]

also this is random but so many kpop blogs are unbearable for this because so many of them are "kill all men !! except ur ok bcos ur trans youre not a real man 🥰 and my kpop boys are ok because i emasculate asians 😊"

[leandra-kinard]

Okay, to play 'devil's advocate' here a little and add some nuance (while definitely not condoning any of the tone-deaf, entitled behavior!).

There IS some merit in stories where people who previously thought they were straight figure out they're not. We had that with Buck; we previously had that with Michael. I personally know a man whose story was very similar to Michael's. So that part is not necessarily NOT gay culture, because it does happen often. People 'see the light' at 30, 40, even 50 and finally find out who they are.

I've often read people say (especially in regards to Eddie) "this, the comphet behavior, is what I did before I dared to admit to myself I'm bi/gay/a lesbian." So there's a natural and non-harmful projection of these kinds of valid queer experiences onto these characters.

Then there's also the slow burn aspect of it, the "will they, won't they" and "there's something there that could very well be more than platonic, these two idiots just haven't figured it out yet."

When it comes to stories and storytelling, there's an appeal to that. It's a very common trope in straight couples too, to have them only realize their romantic feelings a long, long time into their platonic/professional relationship. So why should that not happen with two people of the same gender?

Now this is where it gets a bit complicated, because it presumes a concept that is not necessarily wrong, but can be a little naive and unrealistic, namely the "gender doesn't matter, sexual orientation doesn't matter, this is about two souls falling in love". This isn't something that never happens in reality either, but its framing as a "one in a million exception" is the unrealistic part. There's no "straight with one exception"; discovering and experiencing actual attraction to someone of the same gender does make you no longer straight, and it means you never were straight.

I guess especially younger people cannot always fully grasp these nuances between what does happen in reality and what is a naive fairytale concept that essentially erases bisexuality.

I think it's unfair to say or imply that shipping Buddie is inherently or frequently (seriously) homophobic, or that it comes from a place of not liking gay men. Many of us who ship Bucktommy now used to ship Buddie because we did see the appeal and did see a potential (to a point; for me, in hindsight, that point was probably somewhere in s6 where it became no longer realistic for Eddie to have a gay awakening. A bi one maybe, but I am 99.9% convinced that ship has now definitely sailed. Then again, with some of the inconsistent writing, who the hell even knows what Tim decides? lol)

So, when people say, they don't want another story where someone already knows they're not straight that's also not per se wrong, imho. The phrasing in the above screenshot is definitely insensitive and tone-deaf and requires much more added context to make clear you don't mean it against established gay characters, you just mean it as a plea for coming out/figuring out one's sexuality arcs. Which is something I and many other queer people I know have said before. We want to see the epiphany, the struggle, the process of acceptance because that is something many of us did go through. To experience that with two characters we love could have felt very rewarding and validating.

To say this generally comes from a place of homophobia (while certainly some things that have been said and posted by the most toxic BoBs over the past half year WERE going in that direction!) also erases those queer experiences and feelings.

TL;DR: There are many queer experiences and view points that are all equally valid, and they could be expressed in various types of queer stories in fiction. Buddie as a slow burn and realizing one's sexuality later in life story would have been one valid version of the queer experience. Wanting Buddie is not per se the problem. The problem lies in invalidating the Bucktommy type of queer experience, especially Tommy's side. And the problem lies in entitled, rude and tone deaf behavior online. In my opinion.

I just think we, the Bucktommy shippers, should not fall into the trap of doing as was done to us by framing the other ship as inherently problematic (though calling out individual instances of problematic behavior and wording is valid! And the above are definitely examples of that). We can be better than that and recognize that many queer experiences and views are valid and can co-exist. The BoBs are the ones who cannot do that.

the more and more time i spend on tumblr and come across insane Buddie takes and behavior, the more and more i am convinced that the small, vocal, toxic subsection of shippers who don't know how to behave are, how shall i say it?

homophobic

they don't seem to actually like gay men. the situation with richard siken is an example of that. what they appear to like is their made-up version of what gay men are like and what they do. there's no concept of nuance or an actual understanding of queerness that informs their ship.

and i don't think you do need to understand it. sometimes you can just enjoy something without looking into it differently. but if you're going to be out on main talking about Buddie this and Buddie that, then you absolutely need to do the bare minimum and inform yourself on gay culture and gay issues so you don't, you know, go after a gay poet because you didn't like his tone.

sorry, there's a reason gay men of his demographic don't take shit. it's because they took so much shit that a large percentage of them died. the ones that survived don't owe you a tone when you act like an idiot.

the internet is free. wikipedia is free.

use a search engine and educate yourself, just a tiny little bit, and stop fetishizing while holding onto homophobic attitudes

[unproduciblesmackdown]

the most recognized as comedic song being the best part of the movie musical because the conventions that serve as a mode of communicating ideas, for example "people just bursting into song" or "choreography" or "'noticeably stylized' cinematography" that accentuates nonliteral nonrealism-invoking choices, are regarded as Silly or Frivolous. and the effort to shove everything else that's more "serious" into what is expected to be read as dramatic cinema that's not stylized in any ways that seem too "Genre" which only makes [but someone's singing?] underwhelming and out of place because no other elements are supporting it

[medicinemane]

I once was talking with my pharmacy manager about... democracy, about how while there's plenty of stupid people in the world we'd all probably prefer didn't vote, that it was very very hard to actually make a line that makes sure only wise people vote while keeping all the idiots out

And I basically said to him "think of all the doctors and pharmacists you know who are smart, well educated people, who you 100% don't think make good choices"

From the look and his face, I'd say that spoke to him (it's incredible how many smart idiots there are in the world, isn't it?)

Anyway, I make that point because it much more addresses the whole concept of... lets call it democracy of the fit

Like it sounds great till you actually take even one second to think about it. It's almost like trying to draw any line in the sand for who it's ok to disenfranchise is not only dumb and ineffective, but also super dangerous. Ah man, I'm sorry, you scored too low on this test which happens behind closed doors and is graded by my political ally... it's not like you disagreeing with me had anything to do with that

(I'd hope we don't even need to touch on why the idea that testosterone levels are a really stupid useless way to decide who gets to vote, cause if that's true then we don't even have to disenfranchise anyone, we can just give out steroids and have the best country in the world... or is it only naturally produced T that makes you a free thinker?)

oh hey just in case anyone who left twitter is wondering how things are going over there

last night elon tweeted a 4chan screenshot (with bonus antisemitic text in the OP image) advocating for only “high status males” in government and the implied repeal of women’s suffrage. Cool cool cool

[inkskinned]

the tradwife movement is the same as it has always been - back in the kitchen, back to breeding - it just has better branding.

when i was younger, i hated pink. i was not like other girls. this is now something i'm embarrassed of - this was not me being a "girl's girl."

but it was expressing something many of us felt at the time: i literally wasn't what girlhood was supposed to be. this is a hard thing to explain, but you know when you're not performing girlhood correctly. it isn't as easy as "i liked x when girls liked y" - because there were other girls that liked x, too - but i never figured out exactly the correct way to like x, or to be interested in y.

now there is the divine feminine. this is the same rhetoric it has always been: women are biologically driven to like pink and ribbons and submitting to our husbands.

the problem is that the patriarchy found a better PR team. because yes, actually, i want every woman to have the choice to be a homemaker. i also want her taken seriously for her legitimate home-making labor. i want her to be recognized as also having a job, just unpaid. i want men to have this opportunity, too.

but it is no longer "i made this choice and I love it." instead it is a sixteen-paragraph rant about how selfish it is that my generation isn't having kids. instead it's long videos about how if you feed your children processed foods, you're going to kill them. instead it is "this is what womanhood is supposed to be. i feel bad for any other choices you're making."

the shame spiral is just prettier. it is large houses devoid of personality. it is the implication: if you don't have this, you aren't happy. the solid, everlasting assurance: women are actually supposed to be submitting. this is the default. this is the natural state of things. all other attempts inflict suffering.

but you can no longer say i'm not like other girls. you can no longer reject this image completely. you cannot find it revolting, even if you know that the underbelly is toxic and festering. sure, it is the same repackaged patriarchy. but the internet does not have shades of grey. you should support and reward other women! your disgust is actually internalized misogyny. not because you are seeing a vision of yourself the way they're trying to train you to be. not because you feel her ghost pass within an inch of your earlobe. not because your father will eventually ask you - why can't you be like her?

because they figured out how to make it beautiful: women will sell other women on this idea, and we will find the singular loophole in feminism. sure, she's shaming you in most of her videos. sure, she implies that a different life is obscene. but she just wants you to be happy! you'd be happier if you were listening!

and the whole time you're sitting there thinking: i'd actually just be happier if i had that kind of money.

[woovalin]

i’m in such disbelief right now and beyond disgusted.

i really hope y’all are choosing your morals over kpop; because we do not know these men at all. i will never side with or defend a predator and a criminal, even with little to no proof. even if there is the smallest chance he may be innocent, i will always believe the victim first.

some of you, as fans of the boys for years and him in general, i know you must be feeling disappointed and betrayed. you’re not dumb for previously supporting him, as we couldn’t have possibly known. but now is the time for a reality check and it’s time to wake up and take a step back. this just goes to show that we know absolutely nothing about them.

for sm to just outright put out a statement on their own before any rumors even surfaced and immediately kick him out? this has to be insanely serious and i’m terrified of what he could’ve done. the crazy thing is with everything currently happening in korea with the telegram situation, and korean women constantly being in danger in general because of the men there, i’m not at all surprised that celebrities are being exposed. sm has protected criminals before, and held onto lucas when his scandal came out as well as other artists who have been exposed for similar crimes. i can’t even imagine the severity of the current situation. we’ve seen what happened with the burning sun, and these men are not immune to being misogynistic, vile human beings.

members have already unfollowed him and deleted posts with him in them; his best friend of 17yrs has unfollowed him. the company taking the initiative and him getting kicked out of the group in less than a second before anything even came out, no denying the claims or even trying to defend him. that should be enough to tell you and understand how serious this actually is. i am beyond disgusted with him and this whole situation.

i sincerely hope the victim is doing okay and praying for them to heal and get the justice they deserve. and remember that your love for these celebrities should always be conditional, because we do not know them. it’s their job to put on a show and show you their public persona, but behind closed doors? we don’t know what they’re actually like. we put them on a pedestal and yet we don’t know what they’re really capable of. they are still men after all. i hope the police are taking this seriously. there needs to be consequences and these women need to be protected.

let this be a lesson to all of us. they don’t know us, and we don’t know them, not really, not at all.

ALWAYS choose morals over these strangers you idolize. and as women, we should be standing with the victims.

maybe not all men, but enough of them. and maybe not all men, but somehow always a man. and going forward, i will continue to support nct as a whole with the remaining members. however, keeping the situation in mind, i will be supporting from afar for a little while. if the situation escalates and other members are investigated and new information comes to light about the rest of them either knowing or possibly being involved, it would be best to step away for good. i will do my best to stay updated. but i do hope the rest of the members are doing okay, and hopefully no other members were involved; but this, just shows that they can always surprise us. you never think it’ll be your fave, until it is.

let’s hope this causes a domino effect and more of these people are exposed and charged for the crimes they’re committing.

sending love to anyone who has ever experienced sexual violence or has been targeted and been in a similar situation. it is not your fault and it never was!

love you all and my dms are always open if you need to vent. <3

❗️EDIT: also i wanna add that we need to not praise the rest of the members or any other celebrity for simply unfollowing him on social media. that is the least of anyone’s worries.

we don’t know if they were aware, we don’t know if they knew and were protecting him or turning a blind eye. it could be them trying to save themselves and clear their guilty conscience. maybe they didn’t know and are just as shocked as we are, we don’t know that either.

we blindly trust these people and believe they have good intentions but look at where that can lead to. fans being upset is valid, yes; but remember people with money and power will do whatever it takes to sweep things under the rug and make it go away in order to save face and keep their image and reputation.

follow-up post here.

[lizardsfromspace]

I do have to impress on anyone who wasn't around for it how batshit the reality boom of the 2000s could be. Especially on Fox.

Here are some 100% real 2000s reality shows:

Who's Your Daddy? A woman has to guess which of eight men is her biological father. One of them really is, and if she guesses right she wins $100,000. If one of the seven fake dads convinces her to guess them, he wins $100,000.

Black. White. A white family learns about racism by living a month in blackface, while a black family spends a month in whiteface. The black family was a real family, but the white family was just some actors hired to put on blackface to prove racism exists

Without Prejudice? Five strangers decide which of five strangers gets a cash prize based off clips and their answers to political questions. Cancelled when one of the choosers openly said he'd eliminate all black contestants

Welcome to the Neighborhood. Three conservative white families in a Austin subdivision decide which diverse family gets to move in. Unaired due to being literal housing discrimination

Seriously, Dude, I'm Gay. Two straight men try to pass themselves off as gay and whoever seems more gay gets $50,000. Unaired due to. Due to. Due to

Playing It Straight. A woman tries to find love among fourteen men, half of whom are straight and half of whom are gay, and she must eliminate two men she believes are gay each week. If she ended up picking a straight man in the end, they'd split a million dollars; if she picked a gay man, he'd win a million dollars

Boy Meets Boy. This was Playing It Straight but starring a gay man and he had to eliminate straight people

Who Wants to Marry a Multimillionaire? He wasn't a multimillionaire. He didn't even have a million dollars in liquid assets. He had a battery conviction Fox claims they didn't see. Because it was the 2000s, somehow this ended up with the woman he won being widely vilified and turned into a national punchline. How dare she complain about a massive corporation tricking her into marrying a lying abuser, good thing Matt Lauer's there to take her down a peg

The Swan. A "ugly" woman is given plastic surgery and wins a prize if she's the hottest at the end of the season. If she's not hot enough by the show's standards she's eliminated and called ugly on national TV

The Biggest Loser. Overweight people engage in competitive crash weight loss that often led to awful health complications. Studies showed basically everyone on the show regained any weight they lost once it was over and they didn't have abusive trainers demanding they take huge health risks to win a competitive weight loss competition. Like the others, this one was cancel-oh, it was a massive hit that ran for 18 seasons? Yikes!

Wife Swap and Trading Spouses. These were the same show and had a wife from one family go to another family that was different politically, racially, culturally, religiously etc. Most famous for the God Warrior

At the time people focused on the likes of Fear Factor but looking back it's wild how many of the worst shows toyed with politics. So many of these shows have a premise that's like "what if we exposed these conservatives to these people they hate?" or hyping themselves up as Important Experiments. Then they'd freak out when they got the kind of viral bigoted freakout they were trying to construct the whole time.

There were also a bunch of horrible reality shows, thankfully this time mostly unpopular, in the 2010s that based themselves around economic themes as a response to the market crash, but that's a story for another time

[peachpitfics]

Guilty as Sin

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton asks you to accompany him to his private studio, to show you some of the art he's been working on. You find a little more than you were expecting.

Length: 3k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), Penetrative sex, Unprotected sex.

a/n: find pt 2 here!

Bridgerton master list

"Good evening, y/n," A proud voice echoed behind you, discovering your hiding spot in the darkest corner, admiring Lady Danbury's art to appear busy. You didn't bother to turn and greet him, he always seemed to find you at these social events, even if you weren't outwardly interested in him, he persisted. Benedict Bridgerton slid into the space next to you as if it were designed for him, cheekily scanning you face for a reaction.

You met at Lady Danbury's ball 3 seasons previous. Your brother was holding out hope for a match this season, ignoring your contentedness for your own company. Benedict had never shown any interest in any young lady - he did, however, find amusement in torturing you this way.

"Bridgerton," You barely mumbled a response, hoping he would find another to bother this evening. Yet there he remained, exchanging his attention for the painting you were looking at.

"There are far better paintings in this ballroom" He remarked, a little scoff sounding off.

"Yes, I am sure there are. However, this one is positioned perfectly" Still, you avoided eye contact and angled your body away from him. He was definitely not the same as the other Bridgerton men. Benedict was frivolous and artistic, lost in his own hedonistic world of luxury and pleasure. Perhaps it was jealousy that ruled your opinion of Benedict.

"Ah, yes. I truly have never seen a damp, dark corner without you in it, you know?" He chuckled, "Why do you pretend to be interested in art, when you could be watching whatever is unfolding behind you? I'm sure the numerous scandals and embarrassing events you would witness would be far more interesting" He asked, there was even a hint of genuine curiosity in his words.

You paused for a moment, contemplating even continuing this conversation or leaving to find your brother or mother.

"Actually, I rather enjoy art. I am more interested in sculpture or ceramics, but I will endure whatever I have to to get through this evening and every other evening like it this season" You spilled. Benedict was stunned, his eyebrows raised and his blinks steady in shock.

"I didn't know you had a like for such things" Benedict said serenely.

"Of course not, I am certain you thought my only interests were embroidery or pianoforte, like every other simpering mess in this ballroom" You thought your snarky remark was under your breath, but Benedict did manage to hear. He breathed a heady laugh through his nose and took a sip of his lemonade.

"Would you be interested in viewing some of my works?" Benedict pondered aloud, finally dragging your eyes to meet his. It seemed sincere - which was not something you often saw from him. Whilst he was a shameless flirt, you never indulged him like some of the other young ladies. It was obvious that he viewed you as some sort of challenge, but you would never give in.

"Is that a serious invitation?" You asked, taken aback.

"Yes, absolutely. Art is potentially the only thing I do take seriously. I would love to show you, if you would like to see it" He almost bowed, as if the pursuit of his art was the most noble thing about him. This shift in his personality made him less repulsive, it intrigued you. Turning to face him, for the first time in so many months, throwing off his balance slightly, you held your hand out for him to take.

"You would like to see it now?" His brow furrowed, eyes asking permission to take your hand and lead you out to the carriages.

"Why not? We've been to this ball numerous times before, it will not be getting any more interesting" With the softest of smiles decorating your normally sour face, Benedict took your hand and began walking outside with you, watching nervously as people ignored your presence.

"Will this not be damning to your marriage prospects?" Benedict leaned over to whisper in your ear, an element of concern riding along his words.

You gave him a pitiful smile, "What prospects?". Not a single soul noticed the two of you leaving the ball. Benedict held the carriage door open for you and held your hand as you stepped up into it.

"I've never slipped out of an event quite like that" He remarked, closing the door, sitting opposite you.

"Well, in truth, I thought perhaps someone might have stopped us, just because of you… But, I suppose, my power of invisibility is shared with the person I am escaping with" Your eyebrows flicked up. Benedict could not discern whether you were happy or not to fly out of the view of the ton. While it was a blessing most days, you were afforded your privacy and peace. Perfect silence. There were many other days filled with loneliness, the madness of having to hear your own voice in your head just to fill the quiet.

The carriage ride was slightly uncomfortable, the two of you had never had to be alone like this. You were delivered to Benedict's college where he had been studying art and he led you towards his private studio. Benedict's hand reached out for the door handle, stopping short, and spinning to look at you, back pressed against the door.

"I presume you understand I don't bring people here," He paused, his demeanour was soft and vulnerable, "Be gentle with me". He waited for acknowledgment on what he was saying, and with a nod of promise from you, he opened the door. You both walked inside in sweet silence as you took in the most beautiful sight. The room was littered with parchment, sketches, canvases. Drabs of colour, charcoal and lead lit only by low candlelight as Benedict struck the match. This was the most personal gesture of friendship you had ever experienced, it was like peering through window into Benedict Bridgerton's mind - a place he only has the keys to. Several desks were patterned around the room, a small platform in the centre of the room, drying racks on the far left. You were surprised by this unapologetically intimate space, and even more impressed by the immense talent you were witnessing.

"What are you working on currently?" You did not mean for the excitement of the room to fill you up so keenly. Benedict had such a hard time trying to read your reaction, your manner and tone were thrilling to him.

"Oh, please" He gestured towards a far table, where an easel stood facing the window, "I am learning about portraiture this semester. This is something I am doing for my youngest brother, Gregory, for his birthday" His hand sailed past your lower back, shuffling you both around. A deliciously electric pulse passed over your body, goose bumps erupting in a rolling wave quickly trailing behind.

"Benedict, this is incredible" You gasped, your hands covering your mouth with astonishment.

Oddly, he stepped back from you and placed his hand on his heart.

"What did I say?" You smiled uncomfortably.

His face softened, his eyes fluttering peacefully, "My name. That is the first time, you have ever said my name" A flash of teeth in his grin made your heart jump its next beat. There was a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks, your eyes flicked between Benedict's and the floor.

"I apologise" Admittedly, you had never given him a chance to show how utterly human he was. When he had asked you to come to the studio, you wondered whether the room would be filled to the brim of paintings of naked women. How wrong you were - finding yourself surrounded by paintings and scrawling's of every member of his family. You dug around, flicking through sketchbooks, diaries.

"Have you found a favourite?" He meandered around the room after you, hands tucked behind his back like a gentleman, observing.

"This one, is my favourite" You held up a side profile of Violet Bridgerton, done entirely in variants and shades of their family colours.

"I am yet to show her that one, do you think I should?" He asked, and you sensed he truly valued your opinion here.

"Yes! If I had half your talent, I would have filled my family's home with my work" You chuckled, laying the canvas down on the current desk you were visiting.

You moved around the other side of the room, noticing a section of the room more damp, and darkly lit, compared to the rest of the studio. There stood an easel with a large drape thrown over it, and several canvases stacked betwixt it and the wall. This struck a chord of curiosity in you that could not be contained, you almost dashed forward to pull the drape down.

"No! Wait, not those!" Benedict rasped, darting forward to try and stop you. It was too late, the cream-coloured drape had coiled to the floor and revealed what Benedict did not want you to see.

Brow furrowing, you stood back, taking in what you were seeing for the first time. Here, on the easel, an unfinished portrait, of you.

"That's -- That's private" Benedict cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Is this… me?" You didn't know whether to be flattered, impressed, or worried. Had he done this from memory? That was when it occurred to you to look down. Picking up, and flicking through the canvases, they were all you. There were maybe six or seven of them, all in different poses, of differing angles. Had he taken such notice of you to be able to do this from memory? The detail in your face, your hair and even dresses you had worn in past seasons.

"This is…" You shook your head, placing the canvases back. Benedict stood behind you, leaving a distance so as not to make this more uncomfortable than it already was. His hands were pressed together at his lips as if he were praying, wearily hanging on for your next words.

"No one has ever seen me like this, or rather, at all" You sighed.

"I see you as you are" Benedict replied too quickly.

"And how is that?"

There was a long pause, an internal struggle between what he wanted to say and what he should.

"I see… the raw soulfulness of your gaze. The divine sway in your walk. The sensual ruthlessness of your words. The confidence of your acceptance. I have watched, and waited, and wallowed in avaricious longing" Benedict heaved in a deep breath, "Every line, every curve, every shade I fear is a figment of my imagination until I see you again, just so that I might commit a little more to memory".

Benedict's eye cast low, his discomposure becoming more and more apparent. You were not to know that the one person you had been avoiding for the past several seasons had been perceiving you exactly as you had always dreamed. Perhaps it was not Benedict's personality that made you keep him at arm’s length, but rather your own.

You bound forward, slightly tripping on your gown, throwing yourself in the second Bridgerton brother's arms. In the instant he caught you, you planted the shyest of kisses on his unsuspecting lips. Benedict chuckled sweetly, lifting you to stand on your own two feet again, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into to a longer, more fervent kiss. His lips were much softer than you were anticipating, gentle and cool against your own. Benedict's tongue dipped into yours, his kiss still passionately intoxicating. You parted for a moment, both of you breathing a little heavier now. Benedict took a step back, straightening his dress clothes and composing himself.

"I apologise, miss y/n"

"Why do you apologise? I am the one who owes you" You stammered.

"I am just glad that no one saw us, I will not have you ruined. I will not be the one that ruins you" Benedict stumbled over his words, words filled with such consideration and respect for you and your standing in society.

Panting still, bosom heaving over the corset, you thought about what he was saying. You thought about your "prospects".

Taking one large step forward, pressing your body against his, you leaned up as if to kiss Mr Bridgerton's cheek goodbye.

"Ruin me" You breathed, begged, into his ear, hands wrapping around his neck, your breath hitching in your throat as Benedict swooped you into his arms, carrying you to the nearest desk. He placed your behind on the edge of the desk, moving to sweep every piece of art clattering to the floor before turning his attention back to you. Your legs wrapped around his thighs, his lips crashing into you, his tongue fiercely caressing yours. Much to Benedict's surprise, you slipped your arms out of your dress, pushing the fabric down around your hips.

Stunned and dramatic shock shot across his face as he looked upon your upper body in your corset. Benedict blinked furiously, as if trying to regain control of his sense.

"May I?" He took hold of the fabric around your waist, pulling it out from under you as you lifted yourself slightly, signalling a loud yes. Sitting in your undergarments, Benedict wrapped his arms around your body, expertly fiddling with the laces as you nodded fervently into his delectable kisses. You grinned into his mouth, feeling the corset loosen quickly – he had done this before. Your fingers fumbled along the seam of his pants, unfurling the tucked fabric of his dress shirt, fiddling with the buttons of his overcoat.

Benedict stopped, throwing his coat across the room and removing his dress shirt as frantically as possible. It took only seconds for his eyes to widen at your naked body, sitting on the desk before him.

"Holy God" He exhaled, lunging forward, thrusting his hand into your hair, pulling you into a devilish kiss. His hands curved under your behind, lifting you forward to the very edge of the table before falling to his knees before you as if you were divine, and he, a devout worshipper at the altar. Littering kisses down your inner thigh, his nose nestling into the soft nest of hair at your mound, he breathed heavily, groaning with pleasure. Benedict's tongue slipped between your folds, circling the most sensitive spot on your body, your hands sliding into his hair, pulling gently as his pace quickened and steadied in a repetitive manner. Never had you felt so safe and yet so powerful, holding Benedict's head in place between your thighs. Letting out soft, melodic moans, tangling your fingers amongst his hair, finding your hips having a mind of their own as they ground against him. The sheer coarseness of Benedict's dawning facial hair and the soft, warmth of his darting tongue were plenty enough to push your mind to the edge of the human experience. Your head turned dreamy, light, whilst your body convulsed and squeezed Benedict's head between your thighs.

Panting softly, Benedict remained, placing delicate kisses where his tongue had just performed. As your body relaxed into him again, Benedict appeared from the floor, kissing you again, to lay you backward on the table, your own sweetness on your tongue now. He stood before you, bare torso, undoing his dress pants. Excitement pulsed through you, propping yourself onto your elbows to watch. You had heard other ladies discuss this in the depths of their personal conversations but had never really learned anything from them. It was a topic of great interest.

Freeing himself before you, your enlarging eyes took in his length as he held himself in his hand. "Allow me?" Benedict looked down at you, sordid passion aflame in his eyes. You gave a clear, concise nod. Benedict moved closer between your thighs, adjusting your legs, and placing himself at your entrance. With both hands sprawled over the space between your belly and your hips, Benedict slowly pushed forward, eliciting guttural moans from your lips. But he never looked away from you, he never closed his eyes for more than a half-second. His desire burned out of him, his eyes searing down on you and in helplessness, you exuded wanton need in return.

You wished this act were eternal, completely unending. Every thrust an indiscreet attempt at conveying his affections for you. His hand found its way to caressing your cheek, his teeth nipping at your neck as you moaned his name.

“Benedict” You sighed without inhibition. The sound of your voice sent Benedict into a frenzy, his thrusts harder now and full-fledged. His sinful grunts, echoing across the studio, came to a hot, explicit apex as he buried himself as deeply as possible inside of you.

He looked down at you dreamily, his eyes heavy with pleasure, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Benedict stepped away, reaching for his dress pants, and sitting on to the ground in front of you – you moved to sit next to him, surrounded by the tables previous contents.

“You are wonderful. I could never capture such an essence, in any art form. You are transcendent” Benedict’s words were slow, the ruse of his silly exterior worn away.

“I much prefer this version of you” You gave a smug smile, both of you avoiding eye contact.

“As I do you” He retorted, chortling alongside you. The long, comfortable tired silence between you was broken only when Benedict cleared his throat.

“Y/n,” Benedict spoke up, “I think—No, I am quite certain, I love you” He admitted, holding his hand out, bridging the space between your mostly naked bodies, waiting for you to take it.

“I do believe I too am guilty of loving you” You responded, laying your hand gently in his. Leaning to meet in the middle, sharing a sentimental, sweet kiss and smiling into each other. Benedict jumped up, pants still undone around his waist, he pulled you to your feet.

“Come, I should like to draw you” He posed you naturally on the platform in the centre of the room. You watched him scramble about the room, looking for his implements.

“Like this!?” You gestured to yourself, completely nude on the dais.

“Yes, precisely like this” Benedict growled ardently, putting his pencil to his parchment.

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

If you would like to be tagged in any upcoming Bridgerton fanfictions written by me, please let me know and I will add you to a taglist!

[valwrote]

PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius… 

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,”  He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking.  It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish.  On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!? 

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles. 

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[usuallydyinginside]

TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

[shanieveh]

to all the boys i've loved before !

— genshin men receive your confession letter that you accidentally sent

he doesn't care (HE WON AT LIFE) - albedo, cyno, diluc, neuvillette, tighnari, xiao, scaramouche

His face, although one with his usual stoic expression was now screaming how God had blessed him and when you finally left, apologizing for the inconvenience and asking if he felt the same way. OF COURSE HE DID?! HE LOVES YOU MORE THAN ANY—

"Yeah sure you're okay I guess."

Nailed it. And as your flustered face starts to run away from him, he was now thinking what place will you guys settle in? When will he buy the engagement ring. You know, the expected. After all, there was no way he would give back the heart you gave him.

teases you to oblivion - childe, itto, kaeya, kazuha, lyney, pantalone, heizou, venti, xingqiu,

"Ho ho.... so you like LIKE me?"

He was hiding his red face underneath the words of teasing and fun. Yeah, he liked you back, but where's the thrill? A letter is just... well, a letter. He wanted to hear it from you, he wanted you to say it so many times for it felt like the blood to his heart. He needed this.

And although it may look like he was not taking your confession seriously, he does. Every word you said embedded in his head, and it's a crime for him to let you forget it. He plans to make you remember that silly letter you wrote at 1:43 AM for the rest of your life.

becomes a blushing mess - bennett, chongyun, freminet, gorou, thoma, capitano

When he read the whole thing, the happiness he felt turned to nervous immediately. What do you mean you liked him? Did the manifestations worked or something? Was he finally blessed with this beautiful angel after beng miserable for so long? YOU ACTUALLY LIKE HIM?

He wanted to party! No, but what if you decided to not like him anymore? After all he had many bad qualities. He was panting, frantically, the whole area heard it. YOU heard it. Will that make you like him less? Oh god... oh god... he was sure to admiring you from afar. But this?

"U...uhm I-I also feel the same way..." And with that he ran for his life.

thinks you guys are now married - alhaitham, ayato, baizhu, kaveh, zhongli, wriothesley

Oh so you like him? When's the wedding? He was now thinking of a designer for your wedding fits. After all, his partner deserves the very best. Do you want to be child free? Is there a need for him to make a planned parenthood account? What will your retirement plan be? Do you plan to be buried with him or separate? Thoughts like these raced through his mind.

The letter gripped by his hand, you were afraid to be rejected. And when you were about to speak and confront the silence he moved and folded the paper and put it in his pocket. Next time, it will definitely be a ring.

"See you at 5, sweetheart."