#i accidentally reported him at the end of the game when i wanted to endorse him

[unnerving-presence]

FINALLY i got a nice wesker and he mourned over my death 😭😭

[hitchell-mope]

ABC headcanons part 1. Ben LeRoi

WARNING!!!! THIS POST CONTAINS NSFT MATERIAL

His relationship with Mal will be included with this seeing as it makes no sense to me to not include it if you know what I mean

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after the act). Ben is incredibly attentive afterwards. He cleans Mal up. Changes the sheets. Get her drinks and snacks. Basically doesn’t take her of himself until he’s sure she’s comfortable

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s). On him. He admits it’s a little vain. But he loves the enhanced musculature he got from gaining magic. And the ahem Enhanced Equipment down south isn’t too shabby either. On Mal. Ben loves everything to do with her otherworldliness. Her horns. Her wings. Her scales. Her tail. Etc etc

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically). Ben doesn’t have very strong feelings on it really. Doesn’t hate it. Doesn’t love it. But Mal likes it so he ahem dispenses it wherever she wants it.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs). It’s more of an open secret but Ben is quite honestly obsessed with dragons. He and Mal first did it after the first time she turned into a dragon during the cotillion confrontation. It ah really got him going

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?). By part three he’s very experienced. And he definitely knows what he’s doing. He knew what to do before his first time. He had his own private library after all. And he had surprisingly little supervision after his fifteenth birthday. So it was easy to read up on the subject

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying). Ben’s loves being face to face as it happens. Makes it seem even more intimate. He’ll gladly do it in what way they can. But he prefers face to face

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc). He’s a little goofy. Out of nervousness the first time. But after that he picked up on Mal’s slightly obscene sense of humour and joined in on the dirty jokes. So they’re both a bit goofy while still retaining the romantic aspect

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.). He used to keep himself well groomed down there. Not so much after he gained magic though. And yes. It all matches. Ever since the “being turned into a beast” incident accelerated the process every single hair on his head is a dark but somehow still vibrant shade of purple from his head to his toe knuckles.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…). He’s very romantic in the heat of the moment. Providing they have time for it however. But still. He always tries to make it as special as he possibly can.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon). He’s not a fan. Until he was seventeen and Mal told him not all myths are true he still thought you’d go blind if you did it to yourself. And while he’s still not big on it he will do it if there’s no other option available other then his own suffering.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks). Dragons. Magic. And this is a fairly recent one. But after he got the facial hair Mal accidentally let slip a certain parental honorific. Which he fully loves and more than fully endorses

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do). Anywhere basically. Special mention goes to the abandoned dragon cave he and Mal visited on spring break. And miles above the clouds that same day. Oh. And the royal jet.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going). Mal in his clothes. Showering together. The aforementioned honorific. Any display of Mal’s dragon form. Basically any anything Mal says or does gets him in the mood. He’s eighteen. What do you expect?

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs). He would never hurt Mal unless she asked. It’s sort of impossible for him to hurt her since they’ve got magic and all but that’s still a line he won’t cross unless she specifically asked him to do it. And the very moment Mal doesn’t look like she’s enjoying herself, he stops and goes to to en suite to take care of himself after he’s made sure Mal’s ok.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc). Ben is nothing if not a giver. And he’s insanely good at it. Gold standard skill. As for receiving. Mal’s very good at it as well magic helps clear away any obstacles they might encounter.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc). He prefers to go a little bit slow. It makes it last longer and it’s more intimate. At Mal’s urging he can so fast he’s practically invisible.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc). He prefers longer sessions but if they absolutely have to he’ll go for a quick one. Such as when they had to turn invisible and duck behind a topiary bush at his eighteenth birthday party.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc). He’s not adverse to experimenting. They’re both thinking of inviting either Jane or prince Tyrone to join them for a night. And he has definitely taken risks. Such as the time Mal paid him a visit under his desk during work hours as Doug rattled off fiduciary reports.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…). His personal best was on their honeymoon. A solid 24 hours. And one round every hour on the hour. Besides that they try to squeeze in two of three rounds throughout the day if they can manage it. And they are always successful. It helps that they can freeze time.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?). A few. Let’s just say that he doesn’t mind being restrained. Or in the receiving end of Mal asks. And they’ve definitely used their sceptre on each other. Mal’s personal favourite was The Night Of Three Ben’s.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease). If he’s feeling sneaky he will definitely tease. Such as the time after the desk visit where he returned the favour and paid a visit to Mal while she was having lunch with her Arendelle family.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make). Ever since their first time he’s let out a lot of beastly growls and elated whooping. Mal for her part matches him in loudness. And they both curse in french. A lot

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice). He’s taken to surprising Mal by greeting her in half beast mode since she didn’t get to see him like that when they were trying to stop Chad’s coup. In turn Mal’s taken turning into a humanoid version of her dragon form to surprise him. And it’s always effective.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words). Let’s put it this way. He was already “king sized” before he gained magic. And it’s only become even more impressive after he gained magic. And Mal is definitely impressed

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?). Pretty high. He’s eighteen. In love. And has a very powerful brand of magic. So he’s always willing and able.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards). He doesn’t sleep until he’s sure Mal is asleep. Unless of course they’ve managed to fit in another round. Then they both fall asleep almost as soon as they’re finished. They make sure to clean up though.

[megadarkbouquettidalwavethings]

24 Hours in Bachelor Nation

There are two ways to watch “The Bachelor.”

The first is, in “Bachelor” parlance, to be swept away on the “journey” and suspend any disbelief that suitors are “here for the right reasons.” For most viewers, though, the only way to sit through a two-hour episode is to accept the polyamorous spectacle as one big social experiment.

It’s hard to imagine that the millions of intelligent women (and men) who tune into the show are sold on its premise. Yet many of them consumed six hours of “Bachelor” programming per week this month. That’s not including the time they spent reading recaps, listening to “Bachelor”-adjacent podcasts or scrolling through contestants’ Instagram feeds.

Just as the internet can act as a (very dangerous) political echo chamber, it can also function as a “Bachelor” hall of mirrors, wherein the franchise’s offshoots become unavoidable. In turn, immersing oneself in Bachelor Nation can be accidental.

Or it can be a completely intentional, journalistic pursuit.

6 a.m.: Meeting Arie, Belatedly

I am watching 29 women compete for a Bachelor whom America did not want, “the human equivalent of a beige driving moccasin,” a man Kareem Abdul-Jabbar characterized as “shallow, bland, stiff and inarticulate.” (Though he added a disclaimer: He didn’t know the guy personally.)

Arie Luyendyk Jr., a racecar driver turned real estate agent, may soon pick a fiancée on television, after narrowing a pool of mostly white 20-somethings on Season 22 to three women. In the season premiere there were four Laurens; now we’re down to one. There was a “Bachelor” first: a woman with a pixie cut.

The lack of diversity isn’t new. The first African-American lead, Rachel Lindsay, was cast in 2017, a whopping 15 years after “The Bachelor” had its premiere.

On NPR, Linda Holmes described the franchise as a metaphor for white privilege: Talent hops from one “Bachelor” program to another. It’s “a story almost entirely of a white person picking the next white person,” she said, “and of that white person then picking another white person, and everybody shrugging and saying, ‘I just went with my gut!’”

I’m late to watching this season, but I can’t say I missed much. “The Bachelor” is a self-sustaining ecosystem with few surprises.

7:15 a.m.: Sifting Through the #Spon

Social media has only made the show easier to spin off. While it’s live on television, the “Bachelor” faithful go on Twitter to analyze the relationships and dissect manipulation by producers. Watching the commentary can be more fun than watching the show.

And then there’s Instagram. I tap through photos, starting with the fan favorite Ashley Iaconetti, known as “Crying Girl.” The list of accounts she follows is a pipeline of “Bachelor” contestants, and I absent-mindedly burn through 45 minutes.

Here, the contestants gain what they seem to have auditioned for: internet fame. Many alumni pepper their feeds with sponsored content, advertisements for products that purport to improve lives: the meal kit delivery service HelloFresh, “detox” concoctions like Flat Tummy Tea, whatever a FabFitFun box is.

Each contestant sells a lifestyle: She is happy. She is effortlessly chic. She is usually on vacation. She is what the show implies a woman is supposed to be: white, affluent and hyperfeminine.

8 a.m.: Podcast Time

I scroll through podcasts created by fans and contestants and eventually land on “Bachelor Party,” hosted by Juliet Litman, of The Ringer. Her guest is a juicy get: the ABC executive Rob Mills, who shares that one of Mr. Luyendyk’s 25-year-old suitors has previously been engaged twice.

Then I read “Bachelor” blogs en route to the taping of another podcast, “Here to Make Friends,” produced by HuffPost. The hosts, Emma Gray and Claire Fallon, spend about an hour recapping an episode with Caila Quinn, a contestant envied for her bouncy, shiny hair.

Ms. Quinn, a focal point of misleading editing on the spinoff “Bachelor in Paradise,” is reserved and gracious, and asks if I’d like to wear her faux-fur coat for a photo. As she helps me into each sleeve, I silently acknowledge that I am the kind of person who is a bit star-struck by reality television personalities.

I ask the hosts why we binge on “The Bachelor.”

The 24-hour news cycle is overwhelming, Ms. Gray says, so there’s something very satisfying about watching a show based in an alternate reality. “The stakes feel high, but they’re actually low.”

The franchise is also appealing, Ms. Fallon says, because it taps into our basic desire for human connection. It’s nice to imagine that love can be this simple.

12:30 p.m.: Too Many Contestants in the Kitchen

As I stock up on wine for an evening “Bachelor” viewing party, I listen to Mr. Luyendyk’s “favorite tunes” on Spotify. Then, at home, I bake cupcakes from a recipe on Ms. Quinn’s blog while watching the series premiere of “Bachelor Pad.” I also arrange a platter of deli meat, inspired by the contestant Chad Johnson, and scan stories on Snapchat and posts on Off the Vine, a Facebook group started by the former Bachelorette Kaitlyn Bristowe.

The content never ends. The limit does not exist.

2:10 p.m.: Working on That ‘Bachelor’ Body

If a woman for some reason wants to be on “The Bachelor,” she can fill out an application that relies largely on photos and video. The Season 16 winner, Courtney Robertson, advises women to “save producers time by wearing a bikini in the photo.”

That reminds me: It’s time for my “Bachelor” workout. Exercises are tied to episode plot points. A date card shows up: 10 jumping jacks. The Bachelor kisses a woman: 10 mountain climbers.

Feeling uninspired, I switch to Krystal Nielson’s YouTube channel for an 18-minute total body workout.

Ms. Nielson is the villain on Mr. Luyendyk’s season, so America doesn’t like her. Eleven minutes in, I dislike her, too. I’m out of breath. My legs are on fire, but they’re still not hot enough to lounge poolside at Villa de la Vina, better known as the “Bachelor” mansion.

3 p.m.: The Spoiler

Stephen Carbone is a thorn in ABC’s side. Mr. Carbone has run the website RealitySteve.com for years, and since Season 13 of “The Bachelor” he has spoiled the show’s endings.

He now records a weekly podcast too, and holds an annual fan appreciation party at the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino in Las Vegas. The show’s creators do not acknowledge Mr. Carbone, aside from threatening him with legal action.

But what would they say if they did? “They can’t say, ‘That guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about,’” Mr. Carbone says. And “they can’t say, ‘Oh, he’s right.’”

Would Mr. Carbone call himself a fan? “The fun part for me is while it’s filming and spoiling it while it’s happening.” When he watches in retrospect, he says, “I can’t believe anything out of these people’s mouths.”

4 p.m.: What Really Happens on Set

It’s hard to trust what contestants say on camera because editors can recut dialogue and interviews using a trade technique known as “frankenbiting.” Amy Kaufman, a Los Angeles Times reporter and the author of “Bachelor Nation,” knows all about this. For the book, she consulted former producers and contestants who told all, including the following:

Sleep-deprived or intoxicated contestants are taken into a sort of solitary confinement for questioning. Some say what the producer wants simply to end an interview.

Chris Bukowski, a five-time contestant, was pressured to propose to a woman he didn’t like very much. (He didn’t go through with it.)

Clare Crawley, a four-time contestant, was made to appear as if she confided in a raccoon.

“I wouldn’t advise the smartest, most independent-minded friend I have to come on this show,” she says. “I don’t think you can control what happens.”

5:05 p.m.: Love as a Spectator Sport

Sean O’Leary is part of a “Bachelor” fantasy league, in which he and 20 co-workers at a public relations firm in Virginia try to predict the semi-predictable. The participants choose contestants they think will advance to the next episode. Bragging rights, and maybe a gift card, are at stake.

The brackets are taped to a conference room wall, Mr. O’Leary says: “Most people when they visit the office, it’s the first thing they notice.”

Adam Hoover’s league is a tad more complicated. Like the N.F.L., “The Bachelor” has its own language: First impression rose. One-on-ones. Hometowns. Fantasy suites. Points are awarded for all in Mr. Hoover’s league, which he and his wife run with another couple.

“At the end of every season, we say if so-and-so is the Bachelor, we might not do this again,” Mr. Hoover says. “And we always do.”

7 p.m.: The Viewing Party

I serve contestant-endorsed cheese pasta and cheese pizza, along with plenty of wine, to my “Bachelor” support group, which has convened for the premiere of “The Bachelor Winter Games.”

We end up talking through the Games, stopping only to acknowledge how cheesy the meal and the premise are. (The show finished a distant second in the ratings to the actual Olympics.)

11:15 p.m.: Switching Channels

“UnReal,” a Lifetime drama that takes place behind the scenes of a “Bachelor” look-alike called “Everlasting,” was a show I’d never watched until now. It focuses on the manipulation contestants endure at the hands of producers and exaggerates what we see in the “Bachelor” franchise, but not beyond recognition.

Sarah Gertrude Shapiro, a co-creator of “UnReal,” was a producer of “The Bachelor.” Part of her job during that time, she told The New Yorker, was to get contestants to “open up, and to give them terrible advice, and to deprive them of sleep.”

12:25 a.m.: Time for a Reading Break

“Bachelor” contestants aren’t allowed to read while filming. A former contestant, Ashley Spivey, said that producers confiscated her copy of “Life of Pi” even before cameras were rolling. Now she runs a 6,000-person book club on Facebook.

Currently, the club’s members are reading “An American Marriage,” by Tayari Jones, but Ms. Spivey suggested that I break up my “Bachelor”-thon with “The Light We Lost,” which explores a relationship shaped by outside events: a love story nothing like “The Bachelor.”

After an hour of blissful escapism, I turn the “Bachelor” switch back on and crack open “Single State of Mind,” by the former contestant Andi Dorfman. I can’t relate to much in Ms. Dorfman’s book about post-reality-TV life, but I laugh when she is shocked to learn, while apartment hunting, that for one place in the West Village, she must earn 90 times the monthly rent. Welcome to New York, Ms. Dorfman.

2:35 a.m.: The Parody

I am at the zenith of Bachelor Nation, but I have 27 think pieces and a parody called “Burning Love” on my agenda.

I’ll save delving into an on-set sexual misconduct allegation for another day, because that deserves the kind of thought and attention that is rarely present past midnight.

It occurs to me that if I sleep, I may dream about “The Bachelor,” and that technically I’d be consuming “Bachelor” content.

5:59 a.m.: So Close, but So Far

I have a nightmare about writing this article.

CARLA CORREA

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