#i didn’t even question it when I joined the fandom

[withleeknow]

october 23rd.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, slice of life; one ass grab, unedited bc i am a danger to society word count: 1k note: i whipped this up pretty spontaneously and i actually kinda loathe it lol but i still wanted to post smth bc it’s my anniversary of joining the fandom 🥺 also a little early bday post for mimo. the bunny in question is leebit but i couldn’t drop any names bc this is not idol specific lol. anywhomst happy jen(o)versary

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

Minho comes into your shared apartment, shrugging off his coat and taking off his shoes with minimal noise. It’s not that late — just a quarter past midnight — and you’re not a light sleeper by any means, but still.

He had told you not to wait up for him, that his work dinner might end late and he knew you had a long day. Minho patters on socked feet further into your home, expecting you to be in bed already sleeping, surrounded by your loyal trio of cats, and yet, it’s not the bedroom where he finds you.

Yes, you’re sleeping, but you’re on the couch, in front of the TV with Netflix’s question “Are you still watching?” written over a paused scene of the K-drama you’re both currently obsessed with. There’s a stuffed bunny in your arms, held tightly against your chest like it’s your most prized possession. Looks like you’ve been napping for a while now.

The white bunny is dressed in a navy hoodie, his eyes full of mischief that’s only emphasized by a toothy smile that he sports. It’s the plushie that Minho got for you during your vacation trip to Osaka last year, when you happened to spot the little fur ball in the window of a toy store and said it looked like your boyfriend. It’s become a great companion for you ever since you brought it home, something for you to hold onto whenever you miss your love.

Minho is a little surprised. You don’t usually force yourself to stay up for you, especially when you’re tired.

He doesn’t disturb you right away though. Instead, he heads toward the bathroom to change and freshen up for bed. You would probably kill him if he touched you in his outside clothes anyway.

When he returns some fifteen minutes later, he switches off the TV, tugs the bunny by its ears to free it from your embrace and chucks the thing haphazardly to the carpeted floor. It’s your prized possession, not his. Besides, you don’t need your little replacement Minho anymore now that he’s home.

When he scoops you in his arms, you stir awake, adorably confused as he carries you to the bedroom.

“Where’s my bunny?” Half a question, half a yawn.

“Hello to you too,” he mutters, laying you under the covers with narrowed eyes though he still leans in to press a greeting peck to the corner of your mouth. “I guess I don’t even matter as much as your little toy. Not even a ‘How are you?’”

“Okay, love of my entire life.” You roll your eyes with affection, pulling him down to kiss him properly. You can still taste it, the white wine that he must’ve had all night. “How are you? How was the dinner, big baby?”

“Boring. Unbearable. Should’ve just stayed home with you,” Minho laments, crawling into the space next to you, settling into your arms as you hug him close. This is what you should be doing all the time. With him, not some lame rabbit. “Why did you wait up? I told you you didn’t have to.”

You card your fingers through his soft hair, playing with the strands that curl at the nape of his neck. “Our anniversary’s tomorrow. Or I guess it’s today already. Just wanted to see you before the morning.”

“Would it make a difference?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to see you.”

Your boyfriend detaches from you for a second to hold himself up on one elbow. He just stares at you for a brief moment, makes you blush under the scrutiny of his gaze. His big eyes, usually keen and sharp, always soften to a dizzying degree when they look at you.

Then Minho is leaning close to slant his mouth over yours again. “You’re cheesy today,” he comments, his tender smile still pressed against your lips. "Happy anniversary."

You only hum in response. One of his hands slides down your body to rest on your ass, giving it a little affectionate squeeze, the moment still entirely innocent despite his sneaky fingers.

You kiss for a while, lazily moving together in tandem, gentle hands holding onto the other person like a lifeline. In a way, you suppose you are. You’re each other’s lifelines, each other’s lighthouses.

When you pull away, it’s to let out a yawn that you can’t hold in anymore. “Happy anniversary”, you finally say back, sleepily. “Can you go get my bunny now? Did you leave him on the floor again?”

Minho rolls his eyes, yet it’s playful and completely endeared. “Your bunny again. That thing is on the floor where it belongs. You replaced me. Didn’t you use to call me your bunny?”

“Don’t do that to him,” you scold softly. “He’s our son. Have you seen the resemblance? You look like you literally birthed him.”

“Oh my god, why would you compare me to that thing like that?” Before you know it, Minho’s rolling over, resting half of his body on top of yours like a weighted blanket to pin you down, to get you complacent before you nag him any further about a toy bunny that he only sometimes gets jealous of. “You’re delirious. Please go to sleep.”

The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed, the warmth that you usually feel beside you gradually waning by the second. Minho’s gone, but greeting you in his place is a white bunny with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his big eyes — truly a perfect replica of the man. The same bunny that he always makes a show of hating so much.

The sun is out to play, hanging high up in the sky, slithering through the cracks between the curtains to caress your hair. It feels like it’s gonna be a beautiful day; you’ve got your bunny, the sun, and if you focus hard enough, you’ll hear the sounds of pots and pans out there in the kitchen, Minho’s soft voice humming a tune you’re too familiar with, and the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes wafting all around.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 23.10.2024]

[vaokses]

How long this love can hold its breath

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: It has been years since your mother took you from King's Landing to join her in Dragonstone. Years since you and Aegon have seen one another. Years in which he has refused, time and time again, to marry, even as you tour Westeros meeting suitors in search of a husband of your choosing. That refusal can easily be undone with a few words: it was you she chose, Aegon.

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: Alicent's abuse of Aegon. Alcohol/drunkenness. Mentions of sex/prostitution. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Arranged marriage stuff. Angst. Hurt and kind of no comfort for now.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother's claim. She rides Vermithor. As you'll figure out thorugh this one shot, she and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King's Landing. How relevant or impactful that 'thing' was depends on who of the two you ask. I've stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King's Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry.

A/N: My first work in this fandom, so i'm a bit nervous. This is a bit of a prologue/alternate PoV for a series I have in the works, but I wanted to share it as a one shot since I think it also works as one. I hope you like this!

Title is from the quote "I've hoarded your name in my mouth for months. My throat is a beehive pitched in the river. Look! Look how long this love can hold its breath." - Sierra DeMulder

It feels as if he has just rested his head on his pillow when he hears the heavy doors being pushed open, and the familiar hurried steps of his mother as she enters his apartments. 

He isn’t sure why he bothers by now in telling the guards not to let her in, since she insists on overruling his orders whenever she wishes. 

Still half-asleep, Aegon reaches for the bedsheet covering his body, wary of any attempt she might make in her anger to pull it off him. Surprisingly, his mother stops a few steps away from the foot of the bed. 

Aegon feels her piercing gaze on him, and aware the choice is between caving and chasing after her, asking her what it is she wants; or waiting for the anger at his unwillingness to follow the unspoken command -and the thrown object, or the stinging hit, that comes after said anger-; he drags his hands over his face in an effort to wake himself further and asks,  

“What is it, mother?” 

“Where in the Father’s name were you? Three days, Aegon,” He winces at the reprimand. In his defense, he truly didn’t think they’d notice. Helaena would, perhaps, but she wouldn’t seek him out either way. “You were gone for three days.” 

“I wasn’t…far. I didn’t even leave King’s Landing.” 

She starts letting out a sigh, laced with disappointment and annoyance, but stops herself short, instead turning her back to him and pacing a few steps away. 

“I know where it is you go to…to satiate your vices, caring not for the shame it brings to your name and mine, behaving most unlike your station.” 

“Then why did you ask?” 

His mother won’t turn to look at him, her back turned to him and her hands joined in front of her. 

“Your sister was here.” 

His brow furrows in confusion. 

“My sister is always here.” 

“Rhaenyra was here, Aegon.” 

“Oh. What for?” 

Alicent turns on her side, considers him with eyes widened in afront and mouth curled in disgust. The question leaves her lips slowly, a threat and a dare all at once. 

“Are you still drunk?” 

He mulls over the question for a few moments, and realizes his thoughts are entirely too calm for him to be already sober. The numb haziness of the night before remains, a comfort. 

“I think I might be,” He admits, eyes darting to the side and lingering on the pitcher of wine on a nearby table. He wonders if it is empty. “Slightly.” 

When it seems his mother is intent on merely staring at him in disappointment, he motions for her to turn away and gets dressed. 

He can’t help but feel unseemly, standing before his mother in rumpled clothes and disheveled hair, while she stands tall with not a strand of hair out of order, not a speck of dust on her dress. Then again, even at his best he hasn’t managed not to feel small, unsuited, by comparison. 

Instead of letting those thoughts linger, aided by the comfortable haze the wine from the previous night -or nights, rather- provides him with, Aegon moves to sit on a table in one of the darker parts of the room. 

Alicent follows quietly, but she doesn’t sit. 

“I come here with news. You are to be married, n-…” 

He shakes his head with a mocking laugh, the defiance as easy as breathing, after four years of holding the same stance. He might not have a say in much, but he does in this. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Your father has approved of this union. As have I.” 

He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Then you are welcome to marry her yourselves. I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you three.” 

Sometimes, perhaps in foolish hope, in some hollow fantasy, he thinks his impertinence amuses his mother. He might imagine it, he’s quite certain he does, but sometimes he swears she furrows her lips to hide the faintest of smiles. 

But of course, she shows no give, betrays not a flicker of amusement, of softness, of anything. Try as he might to earn any of them. 

“I did not come here to entertain insolence.” 

“Why did you come here, mother?” He asks, not able to reign in the restless movements of his hands, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the table. “My stance hasn’t changed. And it won’t.” 

The restlessness building within her is betrayed in the small movements of her hands that increase in intensity the longer she looks at him. With a sudden movement, she slams a hand on the table between them and leans closer. 

“You cannot go on like this, Aegon, shrinking your duty because of the denial of a caprice of your youth.” 

“It was the one thing I asked for. I haven’t asked for anything since, nor did I ask for anything before.” 

His mother scoffs in response, looking away. 

“And that is reason enough for your wish to be granted?” She asks, derisive, almost jeering. Alicent leans back, straightens her stance again. Not too unlike Aemond adjusting his posture to strike with his sword during training, he supposes. “You have gone through your entire life doing as you please, not considering the cost to your family, to your House, to me, and you expected to be rewarded?” 

But he has considered the cost, has had no choice but to consider it, when every choice, every action, it seems almost every thought, is heavy with the impact it might have on his name, on his family. He has considered the cost, but try as he might no choice, no action, has been enough. 

“It would have…It would have changed things. If you had said yes,” He argues, an argument repeated, in his head if not aloud, a thousand times over in these passing years. And yet restlessness builds within him regardless, and he finds himself grasping at the table to keep his hands from fidgeting. “It was the smart choice. You know father would have been for it. You could have kept Vermithor on our side, and given them no choice but to play by our rules with their daughter here. We might have won this war you want so b-…” 

“All I have wanted is to make sure your lives are not forfeit when your father dies. It is not war I want.” 

“Then why did you say no?” 

She shakes her head as she looks away again. 

“The matter is settled. Long settled.” 

“Yet you never told me why.” 

He wants to hear it. More than an apology for denying him a chance at happiness, more than an admission that beyond the feelings of any involved it was the smartest choice, more than anything, he wants to hear her tell him why. 

She didn’t even hear his reasons, she didn’t even consider proposing the union to your mother, or Viserys. She dismissed him, and denied him, without even a second thought. 

He wants to know the reason why. If it was because she knew of you something he didn’t, and was certain you would have rejected him even at the cost of your home and life as you knew it, he wants to know. If it was because she believes him so monstrous that she wished to protect even the daughter of her lifelong adversary from him, he wants to know. 

If it was because in his weakness and his failings he has made himself into something even his own mother wishes to see punished, or because there was something he did -because it had to be something he did, there cannot be so many that were supposed to love him and refuse to for it not to be something he is doing wrong, something about him that is wrong- that not only managed to make his mother’s love for him vanish, but also earned him her scorn, he wants to know. He thinks knowing that to be the truth would splinter him in a way he isn’t sure he’d be able to recover from, but he is tired, and alone, and he wants to know why. 

He searches his mother’s gaze, desperate for an answer, any answer. She looks back, and yet all that is reflected back at him is contempt, disappointment, and what he fears is disgust. 

“It has been years, Aegon. You are being senselessly stubborn, holding onto this…this grudge against me.” 

He makes a face at her words, and grabs the pitcher in the table before him only to find it empty, the only wine remaining being that still in the half-filled cup. 

“It is not a grudge, I-..”  

“Weakness, then,” She sentences, and he doesn’t bother hiding the flinch at her words. His gaze lowers to the table before him. “You’re being a fool, if you think after all this t-…” 

His eyes are set on the half-full cup of wine before him, and he doesn’t dare move his gaze as he interrupts, “I am not marrying, mother.” 

She considers him in silence, and though for a moment he thinks a hit is to come -he doesn’t usually get away with interrupting her-, followed by her footsteps leaving the room, his mother takes a deep breath and insists, 

“It is not me or your father who request this of you. It is your King who commands it.” 

“The King, or his Hand?” He retorts. He grabs at the cup and downs the remaining liquid, making a face at the taste of stale wine, and presses on, “I’m guessing a Baratheon, to earn Borros’ support? Or a Tully, to secure the Riverlands?” 

For the briefest of moments, when his mother’s lips press into a thin line, hands fidgeting where they rest joined before her, he thinks he finally got the upper hand. That he proved he isn’t as blind to their plots and their increasing panic at Rhaenyra’s influence as he may appear. That he proved her wrong, that he showed he isn’t as incompetent as they’d like to think, that he… 

“A Velaryon,” Alicent admits, and any pride, any satisfaction, die out like flames in a room without air. His lips part, he knows not for what since all that leaves them is a choked breath, the beginning of a question, of a name. Aegon searches his mother’s gaze, attempts to find any truth, any certainty, but Alicent looks away. Her next words sound as if heard from underwater. “To keep you from certain execution when your sister ascends the Iron Throne.” 

“Do not toy with me, mother,” He means for it to sound like an accusation, like a demand, like anything but a plea, and yet that is what leaves his lips. Betrayed by the waver in his voice, by the iron grip on the glass, he goes on, “She’s touring the whole of fucking Westeros in search of a husband as we speak.”  

“She has made her choice, Aegon. It was you she chose,” She promises, and her voice is low and warm and almost comforting, so why does it feel wrong? Why does it make him want to crawl out of his own skin? “As for the tour, it will continue as scheduled. Rhaenyra deserted her own tour before time was due, she knows better than to repeat her mother’s mistake.” 

Breathable air is lacking by this chair, in this room, and he stands up, wincing at the too-loud sound of the chair scraping against the ground. 

He eyes a pitcher of wine in another table, and crosses the distance with quick strides, refilling his cup and draining half of it before turning to his mother again. 

“Why tell me now? I-If the tour is to continue,” If she can still change her mind, “Why tell me now?” 

“Your grandsire and I believed you might take this opportunity to amend your behaviors,” Alicent tells him, “So you might save your future wife the embarrassment, so you might protect her honor, seeing as you do not care for ours or your own.” 

She hasn’t said your name yet, he notices.  

Neither has he, but he has forgotten when it was the last time that he said it aloud. Intentionally, that is, he doesn’t count any time he let it slip past his lips when deep in his cups or buried inside some whore with the wrong shade of silver in her hair -and the wrong eyes, and the wrong voice, and the wrong smile, and the wrong touch-. 

Aegon can’t even remember when it was that he decided he wouldn’t utter your name again, all he knows is that through the years what started out of spite, as a way to deny the wound and the absence; has become something else. It has become to him something like a secret, something to be hoarded, to be kept his alone. 

Because there’s pride, and satisfaction, and something rotten but his, in having known you in ways no other did. In remembering you how he is certain -he has to be, it is of the few things he has left- no one has known you. 

And so he doesn’t speak your name. Lest in sharing any of the warmth of a bond long gone he loses it, dying embers to a strong wind; lest in admitting old truths he is left behind also by the part of you that he keeps safe, a secret only his. 

But now in his head resonate so loudly that they drown anything else -like thunder, like the beat of Vermithor’s wings taking you far up into the sky- his mother’s words.  

It was you she chose. 

Thinking of you has always meant the resurgence of the memory of the goodbye you refused to grant him, of waking to the reverberating cry of Vermithor as he took to the skies with you on his back and flew you away to Dragonstone; or the memory of your disappointment and your sorrow as he avoided your gaze and your words when you met again in Driftmark.  

Yet now the memory that comes forth in his mind is another. 

You smiled at him, daring and entirely too proud. But how could you not be, when you both knew he would oblige? How could you not be, when he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze from your lips since you had asked him for something as simple as a kiss? And your voice was softer than he’d expected -or perhaps he remembers it softer than it was, perhaps he sees something else when desire was all there was-, warmer than it had ever been, when you whispered, I want it to be you. 

And what harm can your name do that his own mind hasn’t inflicted upon him already? What ruin can the uttering of such a familiar word bring that the memories haven’t wrought already? 

So he says your name. Willingly, rationally, for the first time in years.  

He thought the foolish refusal to utter your name aloud kept you distant, kept the memory of you, the idea of you, as something far from him, gone from him. But he realizes now, with the shape of your name parting his lips and the taste of memories staining his tongue like ash; that you have been a distant memory, a distant dream, for a very long time. 

And the knowledge that you chose him, the helpless hope that blooms somewhere in his chest, they cannot do a thing against the horrifying certainty that the future he wanted, the future he mourned, is lost to him regardless of your choices now. 

What can he give you now, that that Tyrell knight the rumors say you were so enamored with cannot? How can he not fail whatever expectations you have of him, as he has failed all others? How could you want him now, as what he has made out of himself in these years you’ve spent apart? 

It was a comfort, he realizes now, thinking you lost. The comfort of knowing he couldn’t fail you, couldn’t earn your scorn when he had merely your indifference. 

A bitter, wretched little laugh leaves his lips then, and he turns his head -to hide, perhaps, the tears brimming in his eyes, the weakness his mother so loathes to see from him- and looks out the window towards the distant skies. 

Alicent doesn’t move, merely stands taller, prouder, and presses, 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Of course, this is what he fucking wanted, but nearly four years have gone by since he asked to be allowed to marry you and was refused. Even if some part of him wants it, wants you, still, it matters not. 

It is what he wanted, before. Before everything got worse, before everything got louder, harder. Before he got worse. Before you forgot about him. 

His mother approaches him then, and though he jumps when he sees her reach for him out of the corner of his eye, she grabs onto his forearm and speaks again, forceful, determined, 

“Listen to me, Aegon. Your sister has secured her hold on the Seven Kingdoms, both through the strength of her dragons and through her eldest children’s diplomacy with the noble Houses,” His mother tells him, but he cannot hear her, not over the warring thoughts of finally, finally, finally, and too late, too late, too late. “Rhaenyra has allowed for this to happen because she wishes to extend an offer of peace, and you cannot squander this opportunity.” 

He turns to her and asks, quietly, forlorning, “Why now?” 

“What?” 

“Why now?”

Why now, that everything is worse? Why now, that he has become this? 

For a moment, a flickering moment gone in the blink of an eye, he thinks he sees sadness, sympathy, in his mother’s warm gaze. For a moment, he believes she will offer words or touch in the way she hasn’t before, in comfort or in reassurance. 

But her gaze falls from his, and her grip on his arm -too tight, almost bruising, yet wanted, needed, if it is all he can get- loosens as she lets go of him. 

“The betrothal will be announced when the tour is over. The wedding in a week’s time from then.” She tells him, detached, not unlike a messenger delivering a missive. 

And with that she leaves his apartments. The door closing echoes in his mind, and he is left behind with a loneliness he doesn’t know where to put, and a hope he doesn’t know how not to fear. 

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!

I am endlessly fascinated by the greens and their deeply weird dynamics, and I hope I did them a modicum of justice, even when changed in this AU and despite the influence of fanon in my interpretations of them.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Harry Potter is Probably Gay and Here's Why

So.... a lot of this fandom likes to call one Harry James Potter a Bi disaster. Personally, I think he's gay and I can use book text to prove he isn't actually attracted to women at all.

So here goes:

How Harry Describes Men

Harry describes many men as attractive and handsome in the books, not only that but in general Harry goes into more detail when describing male characters. I'll mention it again in a later section in this post, but when describing men, even those Harry doesn't find attractive, he tends to describe much more details about them than about girls he supposedly does find attractive. Something that to me suggests, he doesn't find these girls attractive at all.

Here are some examples of Harry finding men attractive:

Charlie Weasley:

Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weatherbeaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.

(Goblet of Fire, page 52)

Bill Weasley:

However, Bill was — there was no other word for it — cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill’s clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that Harry recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide.

(Goblet of Fire, page 52)

Cedric Diggory:

Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen.

(Goblet of Fire, page 71)

Sirius Black:

Sirius was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good-looking; his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James’s nor Harry’s could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn’t seem to have noticed.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 642)

Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 644)

Firenze:

white-blond hair and astonishingly blue eyes, the head and torso of a man joined to the palomino body of a horse.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 598)

Professor McGonagall turned next to Parvati Patil, whose first question was whether Firenze, the handsome centaur, was still teaching Divination

(Half-Blood Prince, page 174)

Blaise Zabini:

He recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes

(Half-Blood Prince, page 143)

Draco Malfoy:

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.

(Chamber of Secrets, page 133)

Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 79)

A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair

(Goblet of Fire, pages 116-117)

Tom Marvolo Riddle:

There was no trace of the Gaunts in Tom Riddle’s face. Merope had got her dying wish: He was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale

(Half-Blood Prince, page 269)

The door creaked open. There on the threshold, holding an oldfashioned lamp, stood a boy Harry recognized at once: tall, pale, dark-haired, and handsome — the teenage Voldemort.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 364)

Harry recognized Voldemort at once. His was the most handsome face and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 369)

followed by a tall young man Harry had no difficulty whatsoever in recognizing as Voldemort. He was plainly dressed in a black suit; his hair was a little longer than it had been at school and his cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited him; he looked more handsome than ever.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 434)

I don't think anyone would argue Harry isn't attracted to men... He's kind of obvious. What I want to go more into detail about is him not being attracted to women, as that's what I think I disagree with most of the fandom about.

How Harry Describes Women (for comparison)

So, we saw how Harry describes men, specifically men he finds attractive, so, let's compare to how he describes a girl he thinks is pretty, like Cho Chang:

Harry couldn’t help noticing, nervous as he was, that she was extremely pretty. She smiled at Harry as the teams faced each other behind their captains, and he felt a slight lurch in the region of his stomach that he didn’t think had anything to do with nerves.

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 259)

“Good luck, Harry!” called Cho. Harry felt himself blushing.

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 304)

She was waiting for him a little to the side of the oak front doors, looking very pretty with her hair tied back in a long ponytail.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 556)

These are all the physical descriptions I managed to find of Cho, the girl Harry supposedly has a crush on from 3rd to 5th year... yeah, I don't see it. Sure, he mentions she's pretty, and he blushes around her, but he doesn't describe anything else about her. Not eye color, not hair color, skin color, eye shape, physique — nothing! Compare this to how he describes Bill Weasley or Blaise Zabini even, with so much more detail in their description.

Now, details in descriptions when writing from a character's POV are very important. Because a character would use more words to describe what's most important or striking to them... and in Harry's case Cho isn't it.

We know she's pretty and Harry's nervous around her, but the descriptions are just so stale and distant compared to: Tom "handsomest face in the room" Riddle, or Sirius "handsome handsomed handsomely" Black.

And I want to talk about Harry's crush on Cho more, but first:

Fleur Delacor:

I want to talk about Fleur for a bit. Because Harry's reaction to Fleur is very interesting, specifically because Fleur is a quarter veela.

Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Harry started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses. “She’s a veela!” he said hoarsely to Harry.

…

many boys’ heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

(Goblet of Fire, page 252)

Veelas are literally magically attractive, if you are attracted to women, you'll find a veela woman attractive and be mesmerized. We see it with Ron and other boys, as Harry notes in the above quote. Ron and many other boys all stare, speechless at Fleur because that's how her magic works.

Harry, on the other hand, isn't affected at all. To the point, he's confused by Ron's drooling over Fleur. He later in GoF wonders why Ron wanted to go with Fleur to the Yule Ball so much, as he didn't see the appeal.

Harry is literally not attracted to a woman who is magically attractive to anyone who's attracted to women.

Looking careworn, she [Fleur] left the room. Ron still seemed slightly punch-drunk; he was shaking his head experimentally like a dog trying to rid its ears of water. “Don’t you get used to her if she’s staying in the same house?” Harry asked. “Well, you do,” said Ron, “but if she jumps out at you unexpectedly, like then . . .”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 93)

It continues in his later interactions with Fleur, like when he arrives at the Burrow in HBP in the above quote. Harry asks Ron if he shouldn't get used to Fleur and stop drooling whenever he sees her, to which Ron responds that you do to a degree. The thing is, Harry isn't used to being around Fleur, he just arrived, after not seeing her for over a year. But still, he isn't affected at all, like in 4th year, he seems to not get what all the fuss is about.

That being said, Harry does react to the full veela in the Quidditch World Cup:

But a hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field, and Harry’s question was answered for him. Veela were women . . . the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen . . . except that they weren’t — they couldn’t be — human. This puzzled Harry for a moment while he tried to guess what exactly they could be; what could make their skin shine moon-bright like that, or their white-gold hair fan out behind them without wind . . . but then the music started, and Harry stopped worrying about them not being human — in fact, he stopped worrying about anything at all.

...

And as the veela danced faster and faster, wild, half-formed thoughts started chasing through Harry’s dazed mind. He wanted to do something very impressive, right now. Jumping from the box into the stadium seemed a good idea . . . but would it be good enough? “Harry, what are you doing?” said Hermione’s voice from a long way off. The music stopped. Harry blinked. He was standing up, and one of his legs was resting on the wall of the box. Next to him, Ron was frozen in an attitude that looked as though he were about to dive from a springboard.

(Goblet of Fire, page 103)

I'm not sure exactly about the full veela's effects. Mostly because Arthur Weasley doesn't seem as affected as Harry and Ron, and Harry describes the crowd in general reacting to them, not just the men. Hermione doesn't seem affected though.

Something I want to note is that Harry only becomes affected once they start dancing, and not just by looking at them the way Ron and some of the boys are described as being with Fluer. Only when the music and dance start Harry becomes mesmerized. Before that, he is wondering how their hair moves behind them without wind... Additionally, after the music stops, Harry snaps out of it quickly, Ron on the other hand doesn't and proceeds to tear his Ireland merch.

So, while full veela, can influence him, it isn't by their appearance alone but by magic beyond their regular magical attractiveness.

Note that even with the veela, Harry barely describes anything about them. his descriptions of them aren't as detailed as his descriptions of men he finds attractive.

So even if he is attracted to women, it's very minor and barely there.

Harry's Disastrous Relationship with Cho

So, Harry and Cho... I don't think it's a pairing that has fans, but I might be wrong about that. Regardless of your opinion about it, I don't think Harry actually liked Cho. Like, at all.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Harry felt a burning desire to run from the room and, at the same time, a complete inability to move his feet. “Mistletoe,” said Cho quietly, pointing at the ceiling over his head. “Yeah,” said Harry. His mouth was very dry. “It’s probably full of nargles, though.” “What are nargles?” “No idea,” said Harry. She had moved closer. His brain seemed to have been Stunned. “You’d have to ask Loony. Luna, I mean.” Cho made a funny noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. She was even nearer him now. He could have counted the freckles on her nose. “I really like you, Harry.” He could not think. A tingling sensation was spreading throughout him, paralyzing his arms, legs, and brain. She was much too close. He could see every tear clinging to her eyelashes. . . .

(Order of the Pheonix, page 456)

Cho, the girl Harry is convinced he's crushing on since he was 13, is about to kiss him under the mistletoe, and he's thinking about nargles and Luna... And how does he feel about kissing Cho?

"a burning desire to run from the room"

He wants to run away from kissing Cho. And, well, it doesn't get any better than that.

“What kept you?” he [Ron] asked, as Harry sank into the armchair next to Hermione’s. Harry did not answer. He was in a state of shock. Half of him wanted to tell Ron and Hermione what had just happened, but the other half wanted to take the secret with him to the grave. “Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill. Harry gave a halfhearted shrug. In truth, he didn’t know whether he was all right or not.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 457)

He is not sure he's alright after kissing Cho. Harry thinks about kissing Cho like it's a traumatic experience... He's happier talking about Voldemort's resurrection than about his first kiss. (WTF Harry?)

Harry doesn't like Cho. Not even a bit.

“Did you kiss?” asked Hermione briskly. Ron sat up so fast that he sent his ink bottle flying all over the rug. Disregarding this completely he stared avidly at Harry. “Well?” he demanded. Harry looked from Ron’s expression of mingled curiosity and hilarity to Hermione’s slight frown, and nodded. “HA!” Ron made a triumphant gesture with his fist and went into a raucous peal of laughter that made several timid-looking second years over beside the window jump. A reluctant grin spread over Harry’s face as he watched Ron rolling around on the hearthrug. Hermione gave Ron a look of deep disgust and returned to her letter. “Well?” Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. “How was it?” Harry considered for a moment. “Wet,” he said truthfully. Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell.

(Order of the Pheonix, pages 456-458)

I don't need I need to add anything here... Harry speaks for himself.

“You just had to be nice to her,” said Hermione, looking up anxiously. “You were, weren’t you?” “Well,” said Harry, an unpleasant heat creeping up his face, “I sort of — patted her on the back a bit.” Hermione looked as though she was restraining herself from rolling her eyes with extreme difficulty. “Well, I suppose it could have been worse,” she said. “Are you going to see her again?” “I’ll have to, won’t I?” said Harry. “We’ve got D.A. meetings, haven’t we?” “You know what I mean,” said Hermione impatiently. Harry said nothing. Hermione’s words opened up a whole new vista of frightening possibilities. He tried to imagine going somewhere with Cho — Hogsmeade, perhaps — and being alone with her for hours at a time. Of course, she would have been expecting him to ask her out after what had just happened. . . . The thought made his stomach clench painfully. “Oh well,” said Hermione distantly, buried in her letter once more, “you’ll have plenty of opportunities to ask her. . . .” “What if he doesn’t want to ask her?” said Ron, who had been watching Harry with an unusually shrewd expression on his face. “Don’t be silly,” said Hermione vaguely, “Harry’s liked her for ages, haven’t you, Harry?” He did not answer. Yes, he had liked Cho for ages, but whenever he had imagined a scene involving the two of them it had always featured a Cho who was enjoying herself, as opposed to a Cho who was sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 460)

Okay, so I have two things to mention about this quote.

The first, Harry realizes he doesn't like Cho and probably never did. He didn't consider dating her until Hermoine mentioned it. He doesn't want to date her. He's terrified and grossed out by the notion.

This isn't a boy with a crush. I'd argue this proves he isn't straight at all. I mean, a guy who is attracted to girls, even if not crushing on Cho specifically, wouldn't be horrified to a painful degree at the thought of going on a date with a pretty girl. Or kissing a pretty girl. His reaction is just too viscerally grossed out.

The second is Ron's response. Not really related to Harry being gay, but I love Harry and Ron's friendship so I want to mention it. Hermione and a good chunk of the fandom dunk on Ron for having "the emotional range of a teaspoon", but he clearly doesn't. Ron is Harry's best friend, he knows Harry better than anyone else, yes, better than Hermione even, and this scene proves it. Hermione is flippant, ignoring Harry's responses to his kiss with Cho, just saying he should ask her out as if it's obvious.

Ron on the other hand, Ron notices Harry's expression and the turmoil thinking of dating Cho causes him. Ron is the one who speaks up that maybe Harry doesn't want to date Cho. He immediately defends Harry and his option to choose not to date Cho. (Ron would be very supportive if Harry ever came out, is what I'm saying)

They sat down at the last remaining table, which was situated in the steamy window. Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, was sitting about a foot and a half away with a pretty blonde girl. They were holding hands. The sight made Harry feel uncomfortable, particularly when, looking around the tea shop, he saw that it was full of nothing but couples, all of them holding hands. Perhaps Cho would expect him to hold her hand.

…

In the time it took for their coffees to arrive, Roger Davies and his girlfriend started kissing over their sugar bowl. Harry wished they wouldn’t; he felt that Davies was setting a standard with which Cho would soon expect him to compete.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 559)

The above quotes are from Harry's disaster of a date with Cho. I think no one needs me to explain that the date went badly, but what I want to note is how uncomfortable and grossed out Harry is by the very notion of holding Cho's hands. That he'd have to kiss her again.

Like, again, even if he isn't crushing on her, a guy who's attracted to girls wouldn't be grossed out and pained at the thought of kissing or holding hands with a pretty, attractive girl.

Harry has never been attracted to Cho, and I don't think he's attracted to girls at all.

But What About Ginny?

So this post has gotten quite long already, but I don't think Harry actually likes Ginny. And I have evidence for it in the sequel to this post that is taking a while to write.

No hate for Hinny shippers, but I don't see the pairing, like, at all. I did write some of my thoughts about Hinny here until I finish with the more comprehensive post about them.

But in general, let's just say Harry never uses the word pretty (or good-looking, or nice-looking, or attractive) to describe Ginny. Ever.

And when I looked for his descriptions of her all I found were descriptions of her hair:

He felt a strange twinge of annoyance as she [Ginny] walked away, her long red hair dancing behind her

(Half-Blood Prince, page 136)

she was the only real thing in the world, Ginny, the feel of her, one hand at her back and one in her long, sweet-smelling hair

(Deathly Hollows, page 103)

(There are more descriptions of her hair in the books, but they follow the same lines as these and don't add more information)

Again, contrast these descriptions to the ones of the guys earlier. No eye color, face shape, eye shape, or descriptions of her body or clothes — nothing.

I have more to say about their relationship, but that's for another post.

[angstflavoured]

A little fiddauthor analysis...

Making this post mostly just to get all of my thoughts out about it regarding how I think it is inherently very toxic on both ends, despite people treating it as more wholesome near the beginning when they were both younger… and the fact that I think it’s very incredibly one-sided. I’m strictly going to be talking about CANON events, not headcanons or speculations or AU’s. If you wanna draw Fiddleford and Ford being cute and hugging and dating, I don’t care, I like a lot of the content for them myself. It isn’t canon to the show and doesn’t affect or harm anybody. That’s what a fandom is and I’m not trying to police anyone, I just think a lot of people misinterpret their relationship and thought it would be fun to talk about it because I find their dynamic really interesting. I’m going to be using a lot of direct quotes and scenes from Ford’s journal, TBOB, and the show, so buckle in baby ! This was supposed to be a quicker and smaller one while I work on my Billford essay, but I had a lot more to say than I thought…

First off, it’s interesting to see how Ford thinks their interaction after so long is going to go. In Journal 3 he says he has “no choice” but to call Fiddleford up to work on the portal because Ford just doesn’t have the smarts to do what he wants to do himself, and he thinks he’s going to have to literally beg Fiddleford to join him. But as we see in the journal and in the show, it hardly takes ANY convincing at all for Fiddleford to drop everything he was doing and leave his wife and kid for months on end to work on a project he knows nothing about. All the info he has he got over a short phone call. It seems like Ford, at this point being so close with Bill and thinking he’s the only one who cares about him, just assumed that most people he used to talk with don’t think about him anymore. He’s had Bill whispering in his ear that he’s the only one who understands him, so it makes sense he doesn’t think Fiddleford will want to do this with him. But from what it looks like, Fiddleford either has been waiting every second for Ford specifically to get back to him, or just has been waiting for any excuse to get the hell away from his family which is… yeesh. Either way, not very healthy regarding his wife and kid. He doesn’t seem to really care all that much about either of them, but more on that later.

Obviously Ford cares about Fiddleford, as soon as he comes down to live with him, Ford hasn’t been so happy in a good while. He missed human connection, despite how good things were going with Bill. Having another person there to talk with was nice. Despite Fiddleford having strange quirks that did irk Ford, he found them endearing and genuinely felt better in his company.

But I think the biggest thing here a lot of people overlook is that Ford only ever refers to Fiddleford as his college buddy in the show, and in the journals as “my assistant.” I’ve seen so many people have Ford call him his partner, but he actually only calls him this like once in the show i think. It’s always my assistant, my research, my theory. Which is funny because Ford didn’t come up with any of this stuff with the portal on his own. Bill was the one that gave him the blueprints. Fiddleford even questions Ford at one point, asking if he had help coming up with them because of how complex they are, and Ford decidedly DOESN’T mention Bill and instead tells him “with hard work, anything is possible.” (Btw he does refer to Bill as his partner multiple times… just sayin.)

The way he talks to and about Fiddleford, Ford is always talking down. He does think that Fiddleford is smart and does think he has a brilliant mind, but he still thinks that he’s below him.

Because Ford has Bill.

And oh my lord, do I not see anyone talk about this. Soooo many comics always depict Fiddleford knowing about Bill existence, but I think the biggest roadblock with their ship and a huge point of contention is that Fiddleford never canonically knows about Ford’s relationship with Bill until after he’s already lost his mind when he’s old. He doesn’t even KNOW that he exists until he’s half sucked through the portal. People ignore this, but it’s so important to their dynamic. Ford doesn’t think that Fiddleford could handle it, and he doesn’t think he necessarily deserves to know. Because Bill is Fords thing. Their relationship is special. Ford is special.

Ford claims he doesn’t tell Fiddleford about Bill because he would throw him in a looney bin, despite their research being so whimsical and ridiculous already. They’re literally building a portal to a different dimension, Fiddleford would’ve believed him. And the way Ford talks about it, you can tell it’s less about Fiddleford thinking he’s crazy and more about something else.

Could F ever truly appreciate the complex fates that brought me and my Muse together?

He doesn’t think Fiddleford could APPRECIATE it. The language he uses, you can tell that Ford knows that Fiddleford would see right through Bill’s facade. And Ford doesn’t want that because he wants to be friends with Bill and he wants to be special, and he’d rather hide Bill and stay in denial than tell his dearest friend, just so he can feel special a little longer.

This is why I think as much as Fiddleford’s romantic feelings for Ford were there, it never ended up going anywhere. Ford would always choose Bill over him. When Fiddleford got him the axolotl pet, Ford quickly threw it out and lied about it to Fiddleford just because Bill told him to. And there’s multiple cases of interactions like this, where Bill will talk down about Fiddleford and Ford will just be like damn… yeah. Here’s a journal excerpt from TBOB around Christmas time. For context, Ford got into a huge fight with a monster and tried to contact Bill to help him, but he didn’t come. And then Bill randomly shows up later when Ford’s at home decorating.

I was almost roasted by Krampus, and where was he? Off inspiring some other scientist? Posing for some tapestry? Were we even partners? He threw the accusation back in my face. “Hey, I’m not the one skipping portal work to carouse with a third-wheel hillbilly with second thoughts about our project!” I started to argue--but he had a point. F has seemed less and less committed to work lately.

Which is INSANE !!! when we see that only a fucking page ago, Fiddleford was explaining how he got in a fight with his wife because he didn’t get her a present for Christmas. After spending multiple weeks and making multiple prototypes for a pair of 6 fingered gloves for Ford.

And if we hop back to Journal 3, there’s a particular interaction with them which is crazy to me. While hiking up a mountain to go to Crash Site Omega, they get into a fight with the Gremloblin, which fucking swoops up Fiddleford into the sky. In Ford’s attempt to get him down, they both end up falling down through the roof of a barn, where Fiddleford gets stuck full of quills and breaks his arm.

Despite our fortune, I have become worried about my assistant. I was able to treat his physical wounds, but I fear there are mental wounds not as easily remedied. For the past several nights, he has been unable to sleep, apparently still haunted by the Gremloblin’s gaze. More alarming is his Cubic’s Cube. It has sat scrambled, unfixed, on his desk for days. I myself have survived many monster attacks without trauma, but perhaps F is more sensitive than I realized…

OH. MY. GOD. The way that Ford talks so condescendingly is enough to make any person's blood boil. It’s the same way when Fiddleford gets sucked through the portal, and when Fiddleford gets pulled back, Ford’s first words out of his mouth are “WHAT DID YOU SEE!”

As much as he cared for Fiddleford… he has no regard at all for Fiddlefords VERY VALID feelings about events that would traumatize literally anyone. But he just pats Fiddlefords back and tells him to get used to it because this is just part of the job and he shouldn’t be whining so much. He does nothing to properly comfort him and scoffs it off like “apparently he’s ‘TRAMATIZED’ or something. I’ve been through so much worse and never had a problem, I don’t get what his issue is.” And then ford is SURPRISED AND APPALLED when Fiddleford creates the memory gun.

Which oohhhhh lord, the memory gun. jesus christ. Such a big example of the distrust between them on both sides. Fiddleford literally canonically lied about destroying the gun and then erased Fords memory about it so that he could erase his own memories in secret without him knowing. And also probably fords sometimes! Not completely canon, but like…. Fiddleford did it once, I wouldn’t put it past the guy. And then when they go to the carnival, Fiddleford hands out his fucking card to Ivan (the leader of the society of the blind eye, who was a teen/early 20s at the time) so that he can erase memories for him that he didn’t like.

Biggest thing we can take away from everything regarding Fiddleford’s character, is that he always takes the easy way out. He ran away from his family he obviously didn’t really care for as much as he should’ve because that was easier than talking it out or divorcing. He pushed it aside for later. Bro was literally looking for a fucken Brokeback Mountain situation, but Ford wasn’t giving anything back to him. So instead Fiddleford constantly made a fool of himself doing things for Ford and tripping over himself to show his gratitude when all the while Ford was entirely focused on Bill. and then he just goes around and starts erasing memories, because it’s easier than having to actually deal with things. Which is why I don’t foresee a reality in which Fiddauthor makes sense, in the way they actually end up doing anything together. Because Fiddleford’s too much of a coward to admit his feelings first, and Ford obviously has his sights on someone else.

And here’s the BIGGEST damning thing, like oh my god.

In Journal 3, Ford goes to a fortune teller (which don’t get me fucking started on how judgy he is to her and how much he talks down about her, DESPITE HER BEING LEGIT AND ACTUALLY WARNING HIM). Long story short, she gives Ford a spiel about how someone close to him is deceiving him. She then gives him a mood ring and says “when this is blue, you may pull through. When this is black, you can’t turn back.”

And LO AND BEHOLD!! OH MY FUCKING GOD, when they’re at the carnival and Fiddleford is talking to Ivan and whispering--

Ford. Looks down. To check if the ring is black.

I took one last look down at my hand and was strangely relieved to find that the palm reader’s ring was still blue. I shoved it in my pocket, collected F, and tried to put the whole experience out of my mind.

FORD LITERALLY THOUGHT ABOUT THE IDEA OF FIDDLEFORD BETRAYING HIM BEFORE BILL. IN FACT, HE LITERALLY NEVER MENTIONS THINKING IT WAS BILL ONCE.

He talks about how they got into a fight at dinner the night before the portal test because Fiddleford was having second thoughts about it being dangerous, and Ford told him to be there or he would get left behind. He’d do it without him.

And when Fiddleford gets pulled through the portal and quits the project, Ford says gooooddd fucking riddance, I never even needed you bro.

F, you weak-willed hayseed! Go back to your doting family and a life of fear and compromise! I weep now not for our failed partnership, but for the golden opportunity thrown away. To think I considered him a friend! I know my true friend. It is my Muse.

One of the few times he ever refers to it as partnership btw. Literally only when they break everything off.

And Ford only starts fighting with Bill about everything after it starts directly hurting him. It literally just seems like Ford is less upset about Bill’s plan being evil, and more upset at the fact that he lied to Ford LMAOOOOO he didn’t like the fact that he was disposable and lesser to Bill, despite Ford treating Fiddleford the exact same way.

At the end of all of this… it may seem like I’m really fighting against this ship, but not in the slightest. I LOVEEEE them so much, but in a way where it would be really toxic and not actually end up with anything happening.

Such a biggg theme when it comes to Ford’s character specifically is yearning. He yearns for success and attention and love and acceptance, but he’s constantly never giving other people those things. Which ends in him not receiving any in return. That is obviously until he gets back from dimension hopping and works on being a better person. When he starts towards healing, that’s when he starts receiving what he always wanted.

There’s so much tension between Ford and Fiddleford it's like disgusting, they were so incredibly gay… but, I hate to say it, it was very one-sided. They did have some fun times together and Ford enjoyed his company for quite a bit, but it was nothing like how Fiddleford felt for him. Fiddleford was always thinking about how Ford was feeling and what he was doing, and Ford never really did that for Fiddleford unless he was prompted to. But he was alwayasyayayss thinking about how Bill felt. And he always chose Bill in the end.

I just see so much of all of this get swept under the rug and never addressed, when it's kind of sad because it’s all so interesting and really adds a lot to both of their characters. They were both so morally gray back in their day, and honestly even more so now that they’re older, and its kinda sad to see that all go ignored. I JUST LOVE TOXIC GAYS SM AND THEY WERE SO TOXIC AND I’D LOVE TO SEE PEOPLE EXPLORE THAT MORE. Hopefully maybe this will prompt some people to think about it like this…….. It’s all so very tragic and their relationship was doomed from the start and i loveeeee shit like that. only misery to be had...

[cy-cyborg]

We have communities - Writing disability quick tips

So often, stories centred on disabled characters, especially in modern settings, emphasise how lonely or isolated the character is because of their disability, especially if it’s a newly acquired disability or one that non-disabled people assume would have a big impact on our ability to do “fun stuff”. This will often be accompanied by statements of “no-one understands what living with [insert disability here]” is like!

And while isolation and loneliness are things a lot of disabled people deal with, a lot of us are not completely alone either, especially in the modern day.

Just like any group of people with shared experiences, we find one another. Sometimes this is through formal systems; some spinal rehabilitation centres for example, will pair newly paralysed people up with a mentor who’s had a similar form of paralysis for much longer to help guide the person while the adjust to their new disability. Other more formal systems can look like disability sporting organisations - the one I used to work for used to specifically encourage very newly disabled people to join so they didn’t feel like the had to learn everything about their disability alone, or support groups.

Other times though, these communities are much less formal. They may look like online forums, such as the ones on Reddit, built by and for disabled people to talk about their experiences and seek recommendations from others in the same boat, or parts of larger social media sites. For example, on Tumblr, there aren’t really any formal groups, but thanks to the hashtags we use in our posts, we often find one another fairly quickly there. We sometimes also carve out our own little subsections of fandom or hobby spaces, brought together by the shared interest itself, how things like disability might impact the way you interpret or interact with it, and how we can modify it (in the case of hobbies) to make it work for us.

A lot of disability communities, formal or otherwise, also form out of necessity, such as advocacy groups run by and for disabled people, and those built around ensuring the rights of disabled people are protected.

Isolation and loneliness are problems within the disabled community that many of us deal with, but this tends to be more in the context of isolation from the wider public, exclusion from public spaces and events (despite there being laws that are supposed to stop this because they’re often not enforced), disconnect from non-disabled friends and family, etc, most of which are the result of systematic issues or the lack of understanding or care and support from non-disabled people in our lives. Not always, but often.

The communities made by and for disabled people though are often (at least in part) made to help make up for this, and they’re more common than you might think, you just have to know where to look. It would be nice to see more creators reflecting this in their work a bit more often, or at least acknowledging that they are there, even if your character chooses not to engage with them.

However, as a reminder to authors and creatives: These communities, especially the online ones, are for disabled people, they are not there for you to use as a reference as a creator. Some communities are ok with you being there to learn, so long as you listen and don’t try to speak over/bombard their members with questions. Others are not. The ones that are, typically will have something written somewhere if it’s online (e.g. subreddits that accept writers wanting to write disabled characters will often have it written in the “about” section or the rules). There are also dedicated groups and platforms for non-disabled people seeking to learn more about us and our communities, which can be excellent resources for creatives like writers. Just remember to be mindful of where you are and respectful of people’s spaces and boundaries when doing your research.

[shxtodxroki]

𝙾𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢

Send me a character's name (of the fandoms I write for) and a word/phrase and I'll write you a drabble :]

Tap, tap, tap.

Your knocks are quiet, soft with the effort of not waking the others in the house as a sappy grin plays on your lips. The hallways are almost eerily silent at this time of night, and the only sound that rings through the air at this time is the soft grumbling coming from Lucifer’s office down the hall. Though your knocks breathe a sudden spark of energy into the room in front of you now as well, as rustling sounds grow louder and you’re able to briefly catch the sound of something (or someone) tumbling to the floor in the occupant’s haste to open the door. Even without being able to see the commotion you let out a small giggle at the thought, knowing the man in question must know it’s you who’s come to see him this late at night after the way he left off your conversation over text only moments ago.

“Hmph. Thought I told ya I was going to bed.” Mammon grumbles as the door clicks open and reveals his disheveled form behind it, clearly flustered as he stands in his room, clad in only his loose-fitting pajama pants. Despite his standoffish ruse and his flustered expression, though, he leaves the door open for you to join him in his room as you make your way over to him with a knowing grin.

“Well, you ran away before I could respond to what you said.” You retort as you close the door behind you, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into him as you embrace the musky scent of his cologne. Your eyes easily flutter closed as you press your head against his skin and feel his arms wrap around you on instinct. “I had something I wanted to say to you too, you know.”

The easily flustered demon quickly begins to sputter in response to your words, floundering for a moment before settling as his arms rest around your waist with a comforting warmth. 

“I love you too, Mammon.” You lean in further to whisper in his ear in response to his earlier message, a smirk unfurling across your face as you can feel the heat emanating from his cheeks in response to your flirtations.

“Uh yeah, obviously. Ya didn’t need to come all the way here to tell me that.” He grumbles out in response, though he’s unable to hide how flustered and giddy he feels at your words despite what he says. You can feel how quickly his heart beats beneath his skin as your head leans against his bare chest, and when you tilt your head towards his and cup his cheek in your hand, you can feel the way his skin burns with a passionate fire as he stares back at you in eager anticipation of what he knows you’re about to do.

And despite his nonchalant act, the second your lips begin moving towards his he’s quick to meet you halfway, cradling the back of your head in his large hand as his lips tangle gently with yours. The kiss is short and sweet, little more than a peck, but you both pull away with obvious lovestruck grins across your faces, despite Mammon’s brief attempt to appear unaffected by the affection.

"…..Alright, alright. If you’re gonna come all the way here, ya may as well spend the night. Come on, let’s get to bed.” He mutters after standing awestruck for a moment following the kiss, and you’re quick to reach down and lace your fingers with his as you allow your stubborn boyfriend to drag you to bed. His attitude and his words do little to mask his affectionate nature as he clings to you all night long, but you can’t bring yourself to tease him for it, not when you’d rather focus on simply enjoying the small, adorable moments like this you get to share with your childish lover. These are the moments you wouldn’t trade for the world, and as his strong arms encase you in their hold from behind and his soft snoring echoes in your ear, all you can do is smile as you allow his love to engulf you.

A/N: Hey guys, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten any writing out but I’ve had this one sitting in my drafts for a while so I finally decided to edit and post it :) I just got this idea a while ago while reading the text above in the game, but I’m also doing a bit of a drabble game for all the fandoms I write for rn which I’ve linked above, so please feel free to check that out! I’m having a pretty rough week right now, so I may write slower than usual, but still feel free to send in any requests you have and I’ll do my best to get to them as soon as I can :)

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter I - In Between These Lines

Summary: Aemond had been avoiding you all day, and you were determined to get some answers, and maybe comfort him when he needed you to.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Hello hello! It's the day of the (official) release of the season 2 finale of HotD and I thought it was the perfect time to publish this. I have been meaning to write for this fandom for quite some time now, and this one had been on my mind for quite some time now and I decided to write it down and see where it went, and I’m quite proud of how it turned out.

Just to clear some things up: reader is Rhaenyra’s eldest child (yes, I went for that trope), being one or two years younger than Aemond and one or two years older than Jace (so she and Aemond are more or less the same age). This first chapter is set on the same day of the Pink Dread incident (season 1, episode 6), which means they are children. (Also, I don't understand anything of palm reading, but that's kinda the whole point)

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it. If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Next chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

He had been ignoring you all day. The only time you even managed to catch a glimpse of him was on the courtyard during his training lessons with Ser Criston, accompanied by both your brothers and his own. It was pretty boring, really, watching from afar as it would be considered ‘improper’ for you to join them, even though both your father and Ser Harwin had taken upon themselves to teach you the ways of the steel in secret (even though you had a strong suspicion your mother was well aware of it). At least you got some free entertainment for the day, watching Ser Harwin beat the absolute shit out of Cole.

Serves him right for being cunt to my brothers, you had thought.

You’d normally prefer to spend your afternoons with Helaena, truly enjoying the girl’s company, her fascination with bugs and beetles and her clever mind never failing to make you smile. However, you’d later have to apologize to your aunt for skipping on your daily meeting as you ventured around the keep in search of her brother. You were supposed to meet at the weirwood tree after he got back from going to the pit with the boys so you could work on your high valyrian lessons together, but as the minutes passed you began to worry and set out to find him. 

You thoroughly believed he wasn’t even going to show up at supper, his mother smiling softly albeit crookedly upon your questioning, claiming he was feeling indisposed, but to your surprise he did come in if only a little late. He wasn’t acting like himself, however, choosing to sit in the seat furthest away from you, where he would normally sit right by your side, leaving the seat vacant for Aegon to sit next to you, his abhorrent manners at the table almost making you physically recoil. He didn’t look at anyone, nor did he speak to anyone unless spoken to and he seemed way more interested in poking around his food than actually eating it. And once the meal was over and everyone was excused he practically vanished, rushing out of the hall before you could even rise to your feet.

Now, as night had fallen, you were determined to find him and get some answers. Goosebumps formed on your skin as you ventured deeper in the hidden passages of the Keep where your sword lessons were held, the chilly air of King’s Landing biting at your exposed arms. You walked with confidence, knowing for a fact both your chambers were connected through these halls. You just hoped to the Old Gods and the New that you did in fact know where you were going and that you didn’t accidentally walk in on Aegon doing something very morally questionable with one of the servants.

Please let it be this one, you prayed as your fingers pressed against a loose panel on the wall.

And it seemed you had to look no further. Aemond was half submerged in a bath arranged in the middle of the room (confirming these were, indeed, his chambers), the ends of his hair sticking to his skin as water clung to the strands. Upon hearing the wall moving he startled, his eyes widening as he desperately scrambled to try and cover some of his modesty, even though you could barely see anything below the waterline.

“B-by the Gods!” he squirmed, clearly not expecting visitors at this hour, and you felt an amused smirk building on your lips at his attempts at covering up.

“Worry not, uncle.” you jested walking closer to the tub after closing the secret door behind you “You seem to forget I have three younger brothers. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

His cheeks tinged with a bright shade of pink.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?!” he tried once again to cover up, trying to look anywhere but at you standing in the middle of his chambers in only your nightclothes.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you asked, the smirk promptly slipping from your face.

He seemed momentarily taken aback by such a question, looking away almost… ashamed?

“I have done no such thing, I have just been busy?” he tried, though his words lacked any conviction and ended up sounding more like a question.

“You promised to meet me after going to the Dragonpit.” you spoke softly “But you never came.”

At this he didn’t have a rebuttal, not one that wouldn’t give too much away, so he simply shrugged, his gaze cast down into the water. But you could tell from the way he shrunk under your gaze that there was something more to it.

“Did something happen in the Dragonpit?” you asked, taking a couple of slow and careful steps closer to him. When he stayed silent, only scrunching his eyes as if it physically pained him to think about it, you tried again “Aemond… what happened at the Dragonpit?”

“Nothing happened!” he snapped, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, before his voice acquired a venomous tone “Now if you could excuse me, little niece, I find myself quite occupied at the moment and don’t have the time to entertain you right now. Go meddle on somebody else’s business.”

Had you been anybody else you’d have left by now, with your tail between your legs and tears dripping down your face over the lashing of his tongue. And although his words did sting and left you feeling slightly humiliated, you stood your ground. You’d like to think that after all these years, having grown up together in the Red Keep, you’d come to know your uncle, your friend, better than anyone by now. You knew he, very much like yourself, was more reserved in his feelings, keeping them to himself, but once they finally bubbled over they tended to burn everything in their path. Aemond, like you, was the blood of the dragon after all. And you had come to learn that when he was hurting he tended to lash out at anyone and everyone around him, intending to inflict the same hurt onto others so he wasn’t left alone in his misery.

So, taking a steadying breath, you closed the distance between the two of you, carefully climbing inside the tub with him. The water was lukewarm, and given the propensities of the members of the Targaryen family to enjoy their baths scalding hot, it told you that he’d probably been here for quite a while now, sulking alone.

As you lowered yourself into the water, he pressed himself further into the side of the wooden tub, trying to stay as further away from you as possible. 

“T-this is hardly appropriate, niece.” he stammered, trying not to let his eyes curiously wander down to your now soaked nightgown.

You stayed silent for a moment, contemplating the situation you found yourself in, but you’d gone too far now to back down without the answers you seek.

“So, are you going to tell me what the matter is?”

He didn’t answer, but even though he refused to look directly at you, you spotted a lone tear escaping down his cheek.

“Aemond-”

“They gave me a pig.” he whispered, his gaze once again cast down.

“What?”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes finally meeting yours, and you could see the weight of the anger and the shame he’d been caring throughout the entire day.

“After Jacaerys finished his training with Vermax, he, Aegon and Lucerys mentioned they had found a dragon for me.” his voice wavered slightly as he recounted the event “I should not have believed them, I was such a fool… they brought a pig, decorated with wings and all.” more tears escaped his eyes, your heart clenching in your chest at the sight “‘The Pink Dread’ they called it.”

“Oh, Aemond-”

“I don’t want your pity, niece!” he lashed out once again, and you had to remind yourself it wasn’t personal “If that is all you came here for you can see yourself out.”

You pursed your lips, a frown etched on your face. You knew how much it pained him to remain dragonless. He had shared his thoughts with you once in the library after your lessons in high valyrian, way past the time you should have retired to your respective chambers. How he thought himself a disgrace to the Targaryen name, ashamed at not having a dragon for himself when even your younger brother Luke already had Arrax. You tried to console him but he was having none of it, too caught up in his self-loathing to listen. So you knew nothing you said could comfort him how he deserved.

An idea struck you. It was a stupid one, and you didn’t even know if it would work, but you had to try even if it backfired spectacularly. So you scooted closer to him in the tub, fitting between his spread legs without touching him, and extended your palm out.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyes wide and confused.

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Just give me your hand.” you coaxed, making come-hither with your extended fingers.

Once he realized you weren’t going to give him any further explanation, he did as he was told, laying his hand over your own, his palm facing down, which you quickly turned around. You started tracing the lines on his palm gently with your other hand, so concentrated you barely noticed the goosebumps forming on his skin from your ministrations.

“What-?” he started but you were quick to cut him off with a gentle ‘shhh’, which promptly shut him up, only slightly offended.

“See here?” you pointed at one of the lines in his palm, tracing it with your finger “It is your line of life. See how long it is? It means you shall live a long and fulfilling life.”

He glanced at you, still not understanding a word you were saying, and you gave him a soft, encouraging smile. 

“And see this one?” you pointed to another line “This is your line of heart. It turns upwards, which means you will be wed to a nice lady one day, and that you will love eachother very deeply and rejoice in your happiness together.”

You don’t know why saying that made your heart ache only slightly, but the sight of a smile slowly but surely curling on his lips made it all worth it, as it meant your plan was working. 

“And here,” you curled your fingers, closing his hand inside your own, and pointing to the lines that formed on the outer side “two deep lines and one shallow, meaning you’ll have three children when you grow older, two daughters and a son. And from how deep these two lines are, the girls will be very beautiful, they will probably give you a headache from how many suitors they will have.”

To this he chuckled, his tears long forgotten, and you giggled along with him.

“And here…” you opened his hand once again, and pointed to a long vertical line that crossed almost the entirety of his palm “is your line of the dragon. Only those of Targaryen descent have this one on their palms, see?” you pointed to your own hand which showed a similar line, different only in length “It means you will have a dragon one day.”

At this his face fell and he tried to rip his hand from you, but you held onto it firmly.

“The lines don’t lie.” you rushed to explain, now focused on his eyes as they softened at your words “You can check for yourself. Your brother and sister both have it on their hands, my own brothers have it. Seven Hells, you can even check Princess Rhaenys hands, she has one as well.”

You searched his eyes for any trace of doubt and found none.

“You will have a dragon one day, Aemond.” you squeezed his hand to emphasize our point “I’m sure of it.”

His smile grew on his face, sheepish but sincere, only a flick of his lips away from becoming a smirk.

“You just came up with all that, didn’t you?” he asked, and you gasped in mock offense, pushing against his shoulder.

“You wound me, uncle!” you pressed your hand against your heart “Why would I do such a thing?”

A beat passed before both of you burst out laughing, not one bit concerned the guards stationed just outside his door could probably hear you. You were glad you could make him smile again and give him some comfort, knowing you had succeeded on your mission.

As you both calmed down you looked at him once again, truly looked at him. He was quite beautiful when he smiled, and oh, how you wished he would do it more often around you. In that moment only the two of you existed, together. When asked later you wouldn’t be able to tell what came over you in that very moment, but once you realized what you were doing you had surged forward, pressing your lips against his in the gentlest, softest of kisses.

No sooner had your lips come in contact with his own, you were pulling back, eyes widening in panic. His own were blown wide as well, surprised by your actions. You didn’t waste a second climbing out of the tub, almost toppling over the side in your rush, your drenched nightclothes making your task all the more difficult.

“Wait!” he tried to hold onto you but you were quicker “Please, don’t go, I-!”

But you were already making your way to the hidden passage on the wall and disappearing from his chambers. He would have thought he had fallen asleep in the bath and dreamed the whole thing had it not been for the dark trail left behind going from the tub all the way to the wall from where water had dripped from your body in your haste to get away. 

And if, come the next morrow, he forcefully grabbed his mother’s hand and flip it to look at her palms, much to her protests, and notice a line present on the exact place where you had pointed the so called ‘line of the dragon’ the night before, his smile gave away the gratitude he felt for you at that moment.

[mikanotes]

goodbyes are sour

connor x gn!reader — 2.1k words

genre: angst sorta! mutual pining in denial

warnings: mentions of guns and killing, kabedon for the sake of science, connor unreliable narrator LOL u have feelings android man… maybe ooc idk. (wrote this w the idea of connor being deviant since the beginning bcs Yeah!)

synopsis: You meet Connor again. Turns out things are much more complicated when you aren’t working together.

author’s note: hi dbh fic?! i Love connor nd i’ve been writing this for a while (crazy since it’s rly short) but i don’t like it much… anyways whoevers alive in the dbh fandom have this!

“Detective.”

There’s just something about the way Connor speaks. The cadence, the pitch, the enunciation of each word. It’s painfully evident that he isn’t human. Everything about him is so machine-like that even his perfect, human-like exterior could not fool anyone. However it is something you got used to. Hearing the android speak your name and call you ‘Detective’ back a while ago felt somewhat unsettling. Now it’s so easy to recognize that it almost makes you feel at ease.

“Do you seriously think I’m an android? I don’t wanna deal with those fucking machines, either. I’d be glad if you put a bullet through them rather than me.”

Turns out hearing him fake being a human is ten times more terrifying than his android speech patterns could ever hope to be.

This was not part of the plan.

You were sent with a unit to patrol around the streets for any android who still hadn’t been brought back or destroyed. You weren’t a fan of this whole assignment, but felt better than the rookies who were sent out to shoot humanoid robots as their first field mission probably did.

It would be fine, is what you told yourself, because you didn’t feel anything towards Cyberlife’s creations enough to be completely uncomfortable with the idea of their blue blood on your hands, though it wasn’t ideal. You could manage. Until the first person you came across happened to be the one android you genuinely cared about.

“I don’t think he’s one of them…” one of your fellow officers murmurs next to you. You suddenly become very aware of the gun he, too, is holding and pointing towards the target. Fuck. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough.

At least this idiot’s performance seems to be fooling them.

You wait one second, then sigh on the second, and finally lower your gun on the third. “You shouldn’t be here.” you say casually, prompting your colleagues to relax and the atmosphere to lighten a little. Your heart is in your throat, however. “We’ve got orders to round up every android we see around here. You should go home. This isn’t exactly safe.”

“I know, I know.” he sighs, rolling his eyes a little, “I was gonna leave anyways, thanks.”

Your coworkers mumble to themselves about how disagreeable this guy’s attitude is and it’s enough for them to miss the wink the latter sends your way as he leaves. You almost regret not shooting a bullet through his head.

Still, you sigh in relief, setting your gun back at your side and running a hand over your face. You don’t think you can continue patrolling in peace. There’s one too many questions in your mind and the key to answering them is escaping from your grasp.

You take the phone in your pocket and pretend to get a call, moving it to your ear and looking at the members of your team. “I’ll join up with you later.” you say, gesturing towards your phone. They nod and walk away, and you do the same, feeling more relieved than ever that these people see you as a leader of sorts. They won’t question you on anything. You hurry towards the direction your so-called partner left to the moment they’re out of sight.

A rooftop door, stairs, and more stairs. You’re jogging down like you’re chasing a criminal on the run. You’re down to the fifth floor out of eight when someone grabs your arm and pulls you out a door.

“Wha—” you try to yell, but a cold hand settle over your mouth. Your body relaxes but your expression tenses. Connor. “Let me go,” you mumble incoherently, surprisingly succeeding in getting him to let you step away.

You sigh and shake your head, turning around abruptly. His ‘human costume’ (which really just was a grey suit jacket thrown over what should’ve been his Cyberlife uniform, glasses, and a cap to hide his LED) is already gone, replaced by his usual attire, just missing his jacket.

“What the hell was that about?” you ask, annoyed, pointing towards the staircase (back there, on the roof) and the android simply shrugs. “Connor.”

“I was undercover, Detective. I thought someone as smart as you would recognize that much.” he says, his tone back to normal. You’d feel relieved if he wasn’t being so irritating. “Was I wrong?”

Your face drops. “No. I figured as much. But what for?” you sigh, crossing your arms.

“Same mission as always.”

“Who are you chasing? Did you find the place?”

“I have no reason to tell you.”

It only clicks then that while you know about Connor continuing his mission after being laid off the case, you’re not part of it anymore. He had to be sent back to Cyberlife, and you should’ve been forgetting about him entirely. You’re still DPD, and you have orders to shoot Androids on sight— Which you clearly aren’t following. He’s right. He has no reason to tell you.

Still.

You grab his arm when he threatens to walk away. You’re not sure what you want to say, but you’re not done talking. He lets you. “Connor.”

“Detective.” he says. You straighten your back and sigh, not breaking eye contact. He tilts his head to the side and his LED flashes yellow for an instant. “You’re angry.”

Of course you’re angry. He’s infuriating. There’s something about how logical and dead-set on following every single rule he is that makes Connor the most annoying individual you’ve ever talked to. Everything he does has to be for his mission. Every single thing.

“Do threats work with you?” you ask blankly, “If you don’t tell me where it is, I’ll get Cyberlife to bring you back, and all that?”

When he takes a step closer to you again, forcing your back to press against the wall, and his LED does not even threaten to change hues, you’re taken aback. Just a bit. It’s the same kind of frustrated attitude you would’ve expected from a human after saying what you just did. But not Connor.

He doesn’t seem frustrated, though. And you know he can look annoyed. He just doesn’t. So he must not be. And you want to find what it is he’s doing exactly, stepping closer to you without even saying a word, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting at the distance between you two. You know he does everything for his work. Does he think you have new information on deviants? Does he really believe you would call Cyberlife on him? Is he using his stupid interrogation module on you? Whatever it is makes you even more annoyed.

The silence feels heavy. It makes things worse. It gives your brain time to process how this is making you feel and it’s no good at all. “What?” you break the silence, tone somewhat irritated.

“I’m trying to understand the reason why you’re so angry at me.” he explains simply, like it makes sense. His eyes narrow a bit and the LED at the side of his head flickers yellow for a moment. “And no, Detective. Threats don’t work on me. Not when I can tell you’re lying so easily.” he adds, quieter.

“Shut up.” you scoff.

“I dont think I will.”

“Connor.”

“— However,” he interrupts, “I can step away from you at any moment if you tell me to.”

“No.”

“No?”

What— No?! You register the word after saying it and sigh, face contorting into a somewhat pained expression. You panicked and said it, your mind processing his offer as him leaving you again— With no information and nothing to ease your stupid worries. Now it just sounds odd.

Is that embarrassment?

“You didn’t finish what you were trying to do, did you? You haven’t told me why I’m angry yet. Since you apparently care so much.” you say, tone sounding much softer than before. Your apparent discomposure took away all the bitterness from your voice. Interesting.

Truth be told, Connor knows why you’re angry. He’s not letting you in on the details of what he’s doing despite the time you spent working as partners a very short while ago. He’s spent enough time with people, and you especially, to know that after forming some kind of bond with a work partner, it would be frustrating not to receive information about their mission the way you used to from them—

Especially considering he was still chasing after something you both knew about. Jericho. But he cannot tell you about that. Not… Right now.

What he really was trying to do was evaluate how much of a threat you really could be to his investigation. He didn’t sense any hostility before and he doesn’t now, and you could’ve shot him but you didn’t. But it’s not enough. He needs more time— More evidence that it’s fine. That’s why he pulled you here in the first place. That’s why he pressured you to talk.

He needs to make sure killing you isn’t necessary.

“Because I posed a threat to the stability of your current mission earlier. You wouldn’t have been able to shoot me had I been discovered, and your reaction to your colleagues shooting me would’ve jeopardized your job itself.” he answers.

This reasoning would make sense.

“That’s not it.” you sigh.

Your heartbeat is slowing down. No good. Connor leans his arm on the wall next to you and moves closer. Your heartbeat picks up in speed. It’s almost alarming. He can tell all the details about your physical condition and deduce what you’re thinking or feeling based off of them, sure. But he’s no human. The way he views and comprehends emotions is registered in his system in a much more clear and logic-based way than it is in humans’ brains.

So maybe he won’t ever know why your heart beats so heavily against your ribcage. So he just has to pressure the right places and demand answers. He unfortunately can’t allow you to relax. He won’t get anything out of you if you’re calm. You’re much too turbulent for that.

Or maybe he’ll just have to ask. In a normal way.

“Detective, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” you scoff, eyes widening. Wrong question.

You seem like you want to be angry but something is holding you back from displaying just how much he gets on your nerves. You sigh deeply and look at him, “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird. More than usual. Why’d you pull me here if you didn’t want to tell me anything? And I’m worried. What if you really did get shot? Wasn’t Cyberlife supposed to deactivate you? They wouldn’t have brought in another Connor this time. You’re off the case, you— You would’ve died!”

“Maybe.”

There’s circles under your eyes. There always are, but they’re more defined now than they were the last time he saw you. Now that you’re actually being honest, your whole voice and mannerisms betray any of your usual annoyed and dismissive facade. He didn’t think you cared this much, though he understands that some humans are quick to empathize. To a fault.

Now it’s clear he doesn’t need to eliminate you at all. Part of him seems to have grown fond of your company. He couldn’t risk that getting in the way of his better judgment.

“I only pulled you here so you wouldn’t pointlessly chase down the streets searching for me, since I made sure no one would follow.” he says, stepping back and giving you more space, “You’re a police officer. It doesn’t matter what you say you’ll keep to yourself or not. I can’t compromise. This is too important.”

You’re hurt, it’s visible. He’s saying he can’t risk trusting you. He figures that must not feel nice.

The sound of the radio attached to your side breaks this prolonged silence with the promise of separation. You take it, eyes not leaving Connor’s, and listen to your colleague speak. You tell them you’ll be right there. You’re not one to be late. He knows you’ll really leave this time— Too far away for him to hope to talk to you again, if anything goes awry.

You turn the radio off and put it back where it was. “Hope you succeed, then.” you say, bitter, and push yourself up to start walking away.

“Take care of yourself, Detective.” Connor says. Asks. The words come out before he can really think. Something about your voice and this whole atmosphere made him… Feel uneasy. Like he needed to say something. If this is how your partnership ends, he doesn’t believe it should be on such a sour note. He cares doesn’t dislike you at all, so why should it?

You stagger a little, seemingly stopping in your tracks, but moving again no more than a second later. “You too, Connor.”

Somehow, goodbyes had never seemed so sad.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: it will always be you

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: angst

pairing: Alastor x Reader (slight romantic connotations), previous Vox x Alastor

warnings: previous abuse by a partner mentioned and talked about

summary: when vox has drank a bit too much he shows up on the hotels doorstep, screaming for alastor. but this scene was all too reminiscent for you. (inspired by the audio “veronica open the door please” on TikTok and a tiktok i can not find of alastor and vox… if you know the tiktok please let me know!!!)

Not many understood or even knew the connection that Vox of the Vees and Alastor had. While you assumed that Alastor looked at Vox like an electronic bug on his 1920’s version car windshield of life, Vox obviously saw Alastor as a Monster looking over the hill. If Vox’s meltdown on TV wasn’t enough to go by.

So, it was a surprise when a quiet night at the hotel ended up being interrupted, by said obsessed overlord. You were quietly reading, the doors locked up for the night. Husk was cleaning off the bar, Charlie and Vaggie were discussing activities for the next day, Alastor had a rare moment where he was sitting in the common area reading the newspaper and you sat across from him, reading a book that was recommended to you by Charlie.

You gasped a little at the book, quickly turning the page, enamored with words that were seemingly spilling off. So engrossed you didn’t notice Alastor looking up at you and a slight smile on his face as you continuously reacted to the story you were reading. It was quiet and peaceful, something that was an uncommon occurrence for Hell but a common occurrence for the hotel. That was until suddenly, banging on the door jolted everyone. You quickly look to the door, frozen and not moving. The banging startling you more than anyone else. Your breath short and your extremities going cold quickly. Your eyes wide in fear, as your mind thought you were in trouble again.

When you first arrived at the hotel you were fleeing a horrible relationship. And after a lot of mess and many nights terrified, everything ended up being rectified by Alastor eating said ex, after your ex and his friends tried to storm into the hotel and bring you back to “your home.” After that you decided to stay at the hotel and help as staff, wanting to help Charlie and Alastor since they practically saved you.

Now though, even if it had been almost a year since that happened, the noises at the front door brought you right back to the night your ex had stormed into the hotel. You were trying to breathe as Alastor got up and made his way past you, glancing down for just a second at you, before focusing on the door. Suddenly the banging increased in force and happened multiple times, everyone in the lounge area was on alert, with Husk and Vaggie looking ready to fight. You sat still, trying to breathe knowing that a panic attack would not help right now. Charlie quietly makes her way over to you and rests her hand on your shoulder. Grounding you enough to be present. You smile at her as she smiles back and then looks seriously at the door.

“Who is it Alastor?” Charlie asks quietly. Her questioned is answered almost immediately by the person outside starting to speak.

“ALASTOR-ALLLLAAAASTOOOOORRRR!” The voice, now recognized as Vox, screams out. “OPEN THE DOOR!” He bangs a few more times and you jump, but his bangs get increasingly stronger causing the door to start splintering open. Alastor quickly throws his back against the door as Vox tries to push himself in, still screaming.

“Alastor, open the door please.” He yells, “Alastor, OPEN THE DOOR.” Another pounding against the door and this time what could only be assumed as Vox throwing himself against the door, causes Alastor to stumble forward, his foot bracing against the carpet to stop Vox from coming in. His eyes are wild as Husk and Vaggie join him in keeping the door closed. Husk looks at Alastor, questioning what he wanted to do, Alastor could fight Vox, but that could mean all out war against the hotel from the Vees.

“ALASTOR, I know you’re in there, come out!” Vox screams again, getting angrier. “I know you’re scared, I’ve been there. I can set you free! Come, JOIN MY TEAM! Join ME!” Vox is yelling, pounding on the door, throwing himself at it. There’s glass outside that shatters and Husk mentions that he’s probably drunk. Alastor growls as the door keeps getting pushed against and looks over to Charlie. At this point, you are curled up against the couch, sobbing as Charlie keeps watch on the door and comforts you. Alastor’s eyes narrow.

“Get away from the door.” Alastor instructs Vaggie and Husk and they both back away as does Alastor and Vox runs through the door, ending up in a pile at Alastor’s feet. Vox looks around and sees Alastor.

“So, you finally decided to let me in, huh?” Vox says looking proud of himself, not even noticing the looks of anger or fear of anyone else in the lobby.

“Not by choice. I suggest you leave Vox.” Alastor says, tone cold.

“Now come on, Al, be a pal and just join me. We’d be a great team. We were a great team.” Vox slurs a bit heading over to the bar only to be cut off by Husk. Vox’s eyes widen and he regards Husk for a moment and then turn back to Alastor.

“I said for you to leave. You have endangered the guests at this hotel by leaving a hole in the door, not to mention you’ve damaged the hotel. Which Charlie will be sending you a bill to fix. Get out.” Alastor grinds out, pointing to what used to be the door. Vox looks at him questioningly, and then sees Alastor standing directly in front of you and Charlie.

Vox’s eyes widen and he looks at Alastor crossing closer to him. Vaggie raises her spear but Vox pays her no mind. “Which one of them is it?” Vox asks, suddenly quiet.

“I have no idea to what you mean, but you need to leave.” Alastor says again. Vox growls and grabs Alastor’s coat, “You know exactly what I mean. Is it the Princess? Finally got to climb your way to the top, huh?” Vox slurs, shaking Alastor a bit as Vaggie looks wide eyed at both demons, silently asking what to do. Alastor is still but the only show of anger is his eyes which are now radio dials.

“Charlie, take Y/N and the others out of here, now.” Alastor says, his voice almost unable to be heard through the static that accompanied it. Charlie quickly nods, and helps you up and out, you mildly protesting, asking about Alastor and his safety. Husk’s voice of reassurance that the overlord would be fine reaches Alastor and Vox. Vox stops and looks up at Alastor, “It’s her isn’t it?” Vox says, dropping his grip on Alastor’s lapels. “It’s HER!” Vox screams now, starting to go up toward the stairs the group disappeared. Alastor brings up his shield and stops Vox, one of his tentacles wrapping around Vox’s middle and throwing him to the front of the hotel.

“Leave now Vox, or else what happened last time will happen again, and you won’t fair as well as you did.” Alastor says, herding Vox out and his demon form taking shape.

“Normally you would have already tried to kill me… why are you hesitating?” Vox asked, unsteadily getting back up and wiping at his dirty shirt.

“Because, you are not worth my time.” Alastor growled, picking Vox up again and ignoring his protests, he threw him towards the Entertainment district. Vox’s screams fading into the distance. Alastor returned back to his normal stature and began having his shadows create a temporary replacement for the front door. He brushed off his lapels and straightened his coat, disgust somehow rampant on his face. He would never admit it, but the reason he didn’t make a knock down, drag out fight was he knew it would frighten you. And he had promised, one of the only promises he made in hell, not to scare you or be a source of your fear.

Alastor walked into the lobby and picked up your book and his newspaper, the shield disappearing from view as he walked up the stairs and headed to your room to check on you. It was you, and Alastor feared it would always be you for him.

[cy6err]

Whoops — W.S.

Pairings: Walker Scobell x Actress!Reader

Warnings: kissing ? (On the cheek)

Summary: Your boyfriend Walker made a mistake whilst you were on live…

A/N: I kind of don’t like this one 🥸 but this is a part 2 of first look! (check that one out first if you want, but it’s not required to.) also, this is awfully short and I apologise for it 🙏🏻

. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ . .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ . .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

It had been a few months since you and Walker have been together for, but you two kept it on the down low. The people who knew were Aryan and Leah (of course), and they too kept it a secret. The only reason was because you and Walker didn’t want to try and start a whole bunch of chaos within the fandom about your guys’ relationship.

Knowing how the fans are, you both decided to not reveal anything between you two— Other than the light flirting and glances you give each other during small videos uploaded by your friends. It was nice having him as your boyfriend… texting and calling each other every day, unless he’s busy with work or school obviously.

He would also call you during his live streams with Brady Noon— but you stayed in mute because you didn’t want others to hear you talking, you just wanted to be in each other’s presence.

Due to him being busy with work, you barely had time to call or even text him anymore. Yes, he did text you, but they were mostly dry responses. However, he made sure to put an emoji at the end of them so you knew he wasn’t being dry on purpose.

The calls were brief as well, only getting around 10-15 minutes of talking before the, “I’m being called to set and retouch my makeup, I’ll call you later.” Only to find yourself waiting until the moment you fall asleep with no call from him.

He would send an apology text and tell you how much he still cared about you to ease your overthinking. You understood that he was gonna be busy a lot more than usual now that he was filming for PJO season 2.

Sure, keeping the relationship a secret wasn’t all that bad, but it was somewhat hard to take pictures together without making anything obvious (Leah was so kind enough to help you two); So, you posted the ones you found most ‘friendly’ looking.

It had been a normal Saturday when you were home, laying in your bed and rotting in your room. You didn’t need to film until the next month or so, giving you some time to relax after filming for 2 and a half months straight. Your mom was out for the day doing some errands, leaving you home alone for some time.

Walker was also busy today, needing to film for season 2, so he was going to be very distant with you until further notice— which you hated. After contemplating on what to do, you decide to go live for a bit on Instagram and interact with a few fans.

You got up from your bed and set your phone up on your desk next to your window, making sure there was enough light to show yourself clearly. You tap the ‘live’ button and waited a bit for some people to join (which was really quick). You had over 1,009 viewers already and you were pretty shocked at how many people joined the live in under two minutes.

“Hi guys! How are you all doing today?” You greet, smiling widely as you laugh at the flooding comments. Each one being: “are you and Walker dating?” “Where’s Walker?” “Do you and Walker have a thing going on??”

Shaking your head, you deny the comments. “No, we’re just close friends. And he’s doing well, just busy at the moment.” You sat there as you played with a few objects sitting on your desk, answering other questions from them.

You were getting really engrossed with the conversation that you didn’t even realise your mom calling your name until you heard your bedroom door open. “Y/n, you in here?” She asked, peeking her head in your room.

“Oh, hey mom. Sorry, I didn’t hear you because I’m live right now.” You give an apologetic smile, “did you need something?”

Your mom waved to the camera as the comments spammed “hi mrs. L/n!!”

“Just checking up on you, what do you want for dinner?” Your mom asked, moving a strand of hair out of your face.

“Uhh, I’m not sure. Surprise me?”

“Sure,” she laughs, “I’ll call you down in a bit. I invited some friends over and they might spend the night, clean your room please.”

“Okay, are they gonna sleep in here?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Mhm! I’ll let you know when food’s ready.” Your mom then left the room leaving you back to your live.

You turn back to your camera and sigh, “well, unexpected guests I guess… and my room is not that messy!”

“Yeah it is.” A familiar voice said from behind, your head snapping toward the direction. Your eyes lit up with joy when you saw your boyfriend leaning against your doorframe, making you jump up from your seat to hug him.

“Walker! I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” You exclaim, embracing him tightly to which he returned with a chuckle.

“Yeah, got some time off for a bit and decided to surprise you. I thought it was obvious when your mom said she was inviting friends over?” Walker said, looking at you with wonder.

“I thought she meant the neighbourhood friends and their children.” You shrug, pulling away but not quite letting go of him.

It was a moment of silence when he finally spoke up in a soft, sweet tone. “I missed you.”

You felt your face get warm and your smile grew, “I missed you too.”

With that, he leaned in for a quick a quick kiss, making you mirror the action until you stopped and looked away, making him kiss your cheek instead. He looked at you confused and a little disappointed, “Why’d you do that?”

“Walker, I’m live. I completely forgot.” You quickly run to your phone, grabbing it as Walker immediately became red from embarrassment. The chat was filled with spamming: “OMG” “THEY’RE DATING!!” “WALKER X Y/N CONFIRMEDD” “MY SHIP HAS SAILED.”

“Im so so sorry, oh my god.” Walker groaned, throwing himself onto the bed as you laugh lightly. “It’s okay, Walker. I guess it’s one way of telling the fandom about our relationship.”

He buried his face into the pillows and ignored you, despite his big smile on his face. You quickly said your goodbyes to the fans and ended the live, joining him in the bed. “We were gonna tell them eventually, right?”

Walker took a peek at you and nods, “yeah. I guess so, I just hope it doesn’t ruin anything.”

You lie down and mess with his curls a bit, “Just ignore them. Being with you is all that matters, you’re my ray of sunshine”

He laughed at your comment, “you’re so corny.” Laughing with him, you got closer until your mom came in the room.

“Foods ready— don’t get too close to each other now.” She says, giving a pointed look making you roll your eyes playfully as she left the room.

“Come on, let’s go eat. Im starving.” You pull at his arm and drag him out of the bed, making him get up.

“Okay, okay!” He grins, kissing your cheek and following you downstairs to eat dinner.

—

(He surprised you with flowers 🤍)

—

HII IM SO SORRY IT WAS SHORT 😔 BUT NONETHELESS, I HOPE YOU LIKED IT :)) it was lowk hard to finish this. feel free to send requests !!

Tag list: @defnot-bri

[stellarbit]

Im a huge fan of your tbb x reader works! Especially tech x reader.

Can I make a request for a one bed scenario? (NSFW or SFW, no preference) On a mission maybe, or just generally tech up to his mischief, I adore the way you write his methodical testing and teasing. It appeals to my fandom trash heart *and* the ‘tism 😆

May your next ibuprofen kick in swiftly 💛💛

~And there was one bed~

Word Count: 1.3k Pairing: fem!reader x Tech Warnings: light petting Summary: It's not your fault there's one bed - you don't speak Rodese. Tech's not mad though.

Tech turned to you carrying an unimpressed deadpan expression. “Care to explain how your planning resulted in insufficient accommodations?”

You took a deep breath, stifling your rising frustration. “I did mention I’m not fluent in Rodese.” Turning a similarly unamused face on Tech, you offered a stiff smile.

Letting out a contemplative noise, Tech shifted his attention to the bed in question. “While it is of adequate size for two adults, I have no issue resting elsewhere.” He pivoted in place to assess the rest of the room. Pointing to an armchair tucked in the corner, he continued. “That will do nicely.”

Without pause, Tech stepped towards the chair only for you to catch him by the arm. His uncanny ability to fall asleep under any circumstances was no secret, but you couldn’t ignore the way he rolled kinks out of his neck and shoulders afterward. You didn’t want to be the reason for his soreness this time. You just had to keep your hands to yourself — no big deal.

Tech glanced between your touch and your tired expression. Nodding to the bed, you attempted to shrug off the situation. “It’s not like anyone is around to see.” You’d been dancing around your nerves concerning Tech for weeks. The idea of him avoiding sharing a bed due to your awkward reactions strengthened your resolve to professionally share the space.

 That very resolve cracked when his armor started dropping. While Tech stripped, rattling off Hunter’s mission briefing, you dialed in on the way his biceps flexed and relaxed as he moved. The tight fit of his blacks highlighted the definition of his muscles, a rare sight you couldn’t break away from.

“Are you listening?” Tech tilted his head to meet your gaze, pulling you back to reality. When your response was just a few absent blinks, Tech sighed but patiently repeated the details he had provided earlier.

After dousing yourself in a cold shower, you joined Tech in the bed. He was propped up against the headboard, sitting over the blankets with the soft glow of his datapad reflecting off his goggles.

Scooting beneath blankets, you debated the most appropriate position to take. Facing him was the last thing you could stomach, but you worried facing away would add to his evidence of your avoiding him. You ended up on your back, leaving it to fate once you were asleep.

“Are you comfortable?” Tech asked, his voice unusually gentle—a rare question for him.

You hummed an affirmative, breathing through the flutter in your chest at the reminder of his proximity to you. You weren’t sure you could manage even a simple ‘yep’ without a crack in your voice. Thankfully, the deep breathing at least eased you into a sleepy haze.

Tech wouldn’t say that he had been waiting for an opportunity to observe you under such intimate conditions. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to let the time go to waste. Sharing space with you was seemingly stress-free for him. Your response indicated minimal hesitation, which was intriguing to him.

You sparked his intrigue weeks prior during a fast escape. As he pulled you out of the path of blaster fire, Tech sheltered you against a wall, his body shielding yours. Trapped in his embrace, you were wide-eyed and with something like pain on your face, a reaction that lingered even after the danger had subsided.

 Initially, he thought your discomfort stemmed from his leg pressed between your thighs. However, when he shifted his leg and he saw you flinch, he was at a loss. You regained your composure once you completely disentangled, but there was a flush to your skin Tech had yet to witness. 

From then on, Tech meticulously observed your behavior under stress, around his brothers, and during physical contact. Yet, none of these situations triggered the reaction he had witnessed. Eventually, driven by impatience, Tech decided to take matters into his own hands.

He subtly closed in on you during ship repairs, selected you as his partner for running errands, and seized any opportunity to initiate contact. Through these interactions, he deduced that the common denominator in your reactions was his presence. He also realized the limitations of his experiments under the watchful eye of his brothers.

So, while your planning had landed you in one bed, sharing a night alone was entirely Tech’s maneuvering.

Tech waited until your breathing evened into a slow, controlled rhythm before setting his device aside. The room was dark, but his goggles provided him with sufficient visibility. He began his 'test' by slightly moving his leg against yours. When you didn't react, Tech wondered if he had missed his window with you.

Determined, Tech pushed back his side of the blankets and gently slid in. Again, he pressed his leg against yours. You mumbled through a twitch, spurring Tech to move further against you. You let out a long breath, but otherwise were unfazed.

Tech knew he was walking a fine line. While he wanted to test you, tease you even, he didn’t want this to be unpleasant for you. If he wanted to continue, he decided, he needed your consent and he needed you awake.

Deciding that any further steps required clear communication, Tech tapped his finger nervously against his thigh as he pondered his next move. With little experience in these matters, he was charting unknown territory, which only enticed him more.

Carefully rolling onto his side, he propped his head on one hand and prepared to wake you gently. His heart raced slightly at the factor of the unknown. Tech was leaning over you, taking perhaps his last chance to watch you so closely, when he spotted the tint of your cheeks through the low light.

A knowing smile ticked Tech’s lips. Diligently scanning your face, Tech rolled his thigh into you. The twitch of your lips proved his theory right. 

In a low voice, Tech announced, “You are awake.”

Unable to maintain a pretense of calm, your breath hitched and your eyes opened. You blinked against the soft glow of Tech’s goggles hovering above you. He was closer than you’d realized.

“Are you comfortable?” Tech asked you again. He adjusted his stance, purposely resting his free hand over his waist to barely brush your stomach. The light touch sent a shiver through you.

You didn’t immediately answer. You recognized the look in his eyes enough to know he was cataloging something about you. Noting all the places he was pressing against you, a thought occurred to you. 

Shifting your head back for a better look at him, you returned his smile. “Are you?”

His gaze caught on your smile for a moment. Drifting his hand closer, he spread his fingers over your stomach until his whole hand rested on you. Meeting your gaze, Tech gently tapped a finger on your stomach.

“No.” He answered and, before you could panic, added, “But that is to be expected when trying new things.”

Your breath hitched. “And what exactly are you trying?”

“To be blunt, you.” You made a small noise at his confession, flaring Tech’s eagerness. “I’ve noticed you often react like that to my presence and I’d like to see how else you might respond to me.”

Heat flooded your core. “How are you planning to do that?” you asked, a hint of nervousness in your voice.

Tech’s head lifted off his hand with some surprise, processing his next move quickly. Leaning in, he rested his arm on the pillow above your head, subtly shifting his weight onto you. “Would you like me to show you?”

Your response was immediate, your hips instinctively squirming under him. “Very much.”

Tech gave a low chuckle. “Well, for starters, I want to see how you react-” The hand on your stomach drifted lower, over your pelvis, and tucked between your thighs. “When I touch you here.”

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Charity Work

A/n: I needed to get this thought out

Warnings: smut, cockwarming, voyeurism, age gap, daddy!kink, if you think I missed anything let me know, otherwise enjoy!

Slash was evil. He was also the most supportive boyfriend ever. Anytime you found a new hobby he would do whatever he could to encourage it, even if he didn’t fully understand it.

You made videos online, your fandom full of people following along with your latest obsessions. Recently you’d gotten into gaming, it was expensive and you told Slash repeatedly that you didn’t need a better set up because you’d move on soon.

Of course he ignored you.

It was your birthday and he used that as an excuse to spoil you again, getting you an expensive computer and fancy monitor along with games you’d been none stop talking about among other things.

It was always he’d sit in while you made videos though your fans loved it when he did, always talking about how sweet he was with you, how cute you were together despite the age difference.

You were setting up to stream a new horror game he got you when Slash came in.

He wrapped his arms around you, draping them over your gaming chair. “About to start?” He asked, his voice soft and a bit raspy, you knew what that tone was.

“Yes, I am.” You said, making a few changes to your camera.

“How much time do you have?” You looked up at him with a raised brow. “Like, before you start.” He gestures towards the computer.

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m trying to start soon though, why?”

Slash placed a kiss on your cheek, then your jaw and down your neck. “Do we have enough time?”

You let out a heavy, shaky breath. “No.” You said, reaching for his hand.

“No?” He asked. “I could just hide under the desk, you know.” Though his offer was tempting you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it, feeling it was too risky.

You shook your head.

Slash sighed and headed to the door. He paused, his hand on the doorknob. “That’s your new game, right?” You spun your chair to face to him, nodding at his question. “Can I watch?”

You thought nothing of it and agreed.

You hadn’t expected him watching you game would include him pulling down your pants and sitting you on his cock.

In his defence, he wasn’t totally evil. He wouldn’t move and helped cover up any sounds you may have let escape.

However, he was still evil. He’d point out figures in the corners of your screen just to watch you jump, he’d tap his fingers on your thighs, whisper things in your ears. Anything that might make you move.

Your fans weren’t obviously, the comments filling with people pointing out your flushed cheeks or Slash’s wandering hands. They couldn’t see anything pretty much below your chest but they could all see how you flinched your heart those screams that sounded a little too enjoyed.

Slash moved the mic away and leaned into your ear. “You suck at pretending, sweetheart.” You huffed.

“I didn’t expect to have to.” You grumbled.

“Everyone knows.” He pointed to the comments in the corner of your screen. “‘Enjoying some kind of monster, huh?’” He asked, reading the comments. “‘I joined for horror not porno’” he couldn’t help but chuckle at that one. “Think they like it?”

You bit your lip, looking over some of the comments, few were negative, most were asking for a better view.

What really got you was when someone donated fifty bucks with the note “can’t even play when you’re getting fucked?” More people agreed, a small influx in donations coming in.

It might not have been much but the money was going to a good cause…

Slash rolled his hips into yours pulling a moan from you that you didn’t even try to hide.

He brought the mic back and let you continue with your game while he set a good rhythm beneath you, nothing that would stop you from playing but it was more than distracting.

When you stopped hiding it even more money came in, you kept telling yourself you were happy because it meant good for charity. “You love having people watch you, huh?” Slash said, pulling you from your thoughts and you realized you’d been walking into a wall. “Or do you just like when everyone praises you?” He emphasized his words by adjusting himself and hitting that spongey spot deep inside of you.

“Yes-! Yes, I like it.” You said with a dopey grin as he held your hips in place, fucking that same spot again and again.

Slash grinned widely at your response, lifting you up a bit and thrusting into you faster, pulling louder moans from you.

You still tried to play but as that knot built up in your gut you just couldn’t be bothered, focusing on Slash’s thick cock buried deep in you. “Look at that, you’re almost at your goal.” He mused. “You can celebrate that, can’t you?”

You nodded, ignoring your stream and begging to cum. “Please-please, daddy, feels s’good!” You whined, gripping your desk so tight your knuckles turned white.

“Aw, they like it when you call me that.” He mused. More donations came in, everyone talking about how hot you were, the pretty sounds that came out of you, those faces you made.

A donation came up on your screen; three thousand dollars, reaching over your initial goal.

You barely had a chance to celebrate before you were sent over the edge, babbling out whatever you could. “Oh, fuck, thank you, daddy!”

Your back arched, eyes rolling back as you came, Slash still pumping in and out of you.

He managed to get out of frame and pinned you against the wall, groaning in your ear as he filled you with his cum.

He pulled out of you, admiring his cum seeping out of your puffy, fluttering hole. He ran two fingers through your folds, gathering your mixed juices before sitting back down and going back to the camera, holding you close to his chest.

“Open up, sweetheart.” He whispered in your ear as he brought his fingers up to your mouth, pushing them past your lips and letting you lick and suck the mess off.

You were laying in bed, scrolling on your phone. Slash was laying next to you, hiding his face in his pillow as per usual.

“Hey, Slash.” You said to get his attention, still scrolling through everyone talking about you and what you’d done on stream. Slash looked up at you with tired eyes. “I think I found another hobby to get into.” You smiled down at him.

[spncrscasey]

One Chance (k.s.)

Fandom/Characters: Chicago Fire - Kelly Severide x Fem!Reader, Leslie Shay

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Kelly Severide. The man who hasn’t stopped asking you out since you joined 51. But now, you have a date and his time is up.

Warnings: flirting, fluff, tiniest bit of angst? (idk if this would even be considered angst,) happy ending

a/n: i don’t rlly like this but it’s smth quick and short cuz i was bored. i literally saw this gif and the idea came to me, idk what it was about the gif but it resulted in this so here you go ! enjoy reading <3

“Hey gorgeous,” You heard him say as you walked in, winking at you.

“Morning, Severide.” You reply, rolling your eyes.

“When are you going to let me take you out?” He asked like clockwork.

This had been going on since the week you'd joined the firehouse. Each day, he’d ask if you wanted to go on a date with him. And every time, your response would be the same,

“Never.”

Yet he still hadn't given up, “Never say never, m’lady.” His answer earned a chuckle from you, causing a grin to form on his face.

Truth be told, you really liked him. He was not only an excellent leader but also a great friend. And let's face it, he wasn't bad looking either. Who were you kidding? You could get lost in those mesmerizing blue eyes for hours. He was beautiful.

But you also knew him. You knew his reputation. A ladies’ man, a womanizer, a playboy— you could go on and on. You were aware of the multiple women he'd take home weekly and you didn’t want to be one of them. You weren't the kind of girl who regularly has one-night stands. There's nothing wrong with them, it just wasn't who you were.

The point is, you didn't want to just be someone he was one and done with. Which is why you were continuously rejecting his advances. You couldn't lie though, it was fun watching him flirt with you in hopes of one day, getting your attention.

As you entered the kitchen in search of coffee, you noticed that he had quietly followed you inside.

“So. Any plans for this weekend?” He questioned, as you poured yourself a cup.

“Actually, yes. You want one?” You asked, pointing the mug at him.

“No thanks, but do tell.” He inquires.

“I have a date.”

“With who?” He instantly questions.

“Not that it's any of your business, but this guy I met at a coffee shop down the street a few days ago,” You reply, smiling.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance but tries once more, “How about you ditch him and go on a date with me instead, beautiful?”

“Once again Severide, not happening.” You shut him down for the umpteenth time, walking away.

Shay was currently at your apartment helping you get ready for the date you had tonight.

“I'm just saying, I've never seen him so into a girl before.” She tells you, lying on your bed as you rummage through your closet for something to wear.

For the last hour, she has been persistently trying to convince you that Kelly has suddenly developed a romantic interest in you.

“Leslie, I know he's your best friend and roommate and that you have to be on his side or whatever- but come on, we both know how he is. Which one?” You ask, revealing two black dresses you were struggling to choose between.

“The one on the left.” She answers before going back to the topic at hand, “He’s changed Y/N- he hasn't brought home a single girl in the last month! If that doesn't tell you something then I don't know what will.” She exclaimed.

“Just because he hasn't brought them home doesn't mean he hasn't been to their places instead.” You point out, putting on the dress.

She sighs. “Just give him a chance Y/N, he's a great guy.”

“I know he is, but being a great man doesn't also necessarily make you a great boyfriend.” You say while beginning your hair and makeup.

“You’re so difficult.” She counters, earning a giggle from you.

Shay had gone home and since you were done getting ready with 30 minutes to spare, you decided to watch some TV.

You were flipping through the channels when you heard a knock at your door. Assuming your date had arrived early, you hurriedly went to answer it.

“Hey, you made it-” You speak excitedly before looking up and noticing who it is, “Severide?” You furrow your brows, not expecting him to be here.

“You look absolutely breathtaking.” He says, looking you up and down.

His words quickened the pace of your heart. And the way his gaze slowly roamed down the outline of your body caused a shiver to run down your spine, electrifying every nerve along the way.

“Uhh, thanks… But what are you doing here? If you're looking for Shay, she left a while ago-” You quickly answer, pushing aside the way his compliment made you feel before he cuts you off.

“I'm not here for her, I’m here to talk to you.”

“Well, you better make it quick because I'm sure my date will be here soon.” You open the door further, letting him into your space.

“Screw that guy!” He says turning to face you towards the door, “How many times do I have to ask you- go out with me. Please.”

If you didn't know him any better, you'd almost think he was desperate with the way he was pleading.

“Kelly,” You pause, noticing the way his breath hitches at your use of his first name. “I don't want to be just another name you add to your list of girls you've slept with.”

“You won't be! I like you Y/N and if you let me, I can prove it to you. I’m done with all the women- all I want is you.” He lets out exasperated.

“You mean that?” Still unsure of his motives, you look into his eyes searching for anything to prove to you that he’s being honest.

He nods before repeating his earlier statement while taking a step closer to you, “So how about, you call up your coffee shop man, tell him you're canceling and let me take you on this date instead?”

You laugh, “You drive a hard bargain Kelly Severide.”

“Is that a yes?”

You nod, not being able to contain your ear-to-ear grin, loving the way he beams back at you. That smile is something you could definitely get used to.

“Don't make me regret this Severide.” You say in a teasing manner.

“God no.” He says relieved before swiftly pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Maybe Shay was right, maybe he really had changed for the better.

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale loves Crowley but...

(A clickbait title? Me? Possibly)

There's this thought rattling in my brain for a good while and I have to try to get it out.

So most of the fandom seems to operate under the impression that Crowley loves Aziraphale unreservedly (since Eden) and that he is waiting for the angel to catch up with him.

This is evident across metas here, and many posts and comments elsewhere. Even fics (if I'm permitted to say that) keep dancing around the idea that Crowley never knows where he stands. It's not that obvious how Aziraphale feels about Crowley (especially to Crowley). Because Aziraphale is forever denying their connection (as if he didn’t have good enough reason) and/or also that Crowley, who is always open about his feelings, is waiting for Aziraphale to finally admit at some point (sooner than later please) how he feels so they can be together (...I'm not going there today...).

But I did have discussions with people from other countries and cultures. Notably @sayuri-of-the-valley who told me that most people in their country would assume Aziraphale is the smitten one and it's not so obvious how Crowley feels (he might be just toying with the angel?).

So I've been thinking about how Aziraphale feels from what we see.

In Before the Beginning, which is their first encounter, Aziraphale is immediately taken by the sweet, pretty, enthusiastic angel who seems completely oblivious to Aziraphale's hopes to be noticed.

We do not know if they meet again as angels or how long after their meeting the Great War happens. I would think this is not their only encounter. But it could be. I think they became friends and at some later point Angel!Crowley asked Aziraphale to join in the rebellion (or at least come with him to hang out with the guys and find out what it's about). But forever cautious Aziraphale warned him that it's not a good idea and refused and ... Crowley Fell.

Next time they see each other is in Eden.

They seem to recognise each other and Crawley is clearly pretty happy to see Aziraphale who does not introduce himself but Aziraphale gently prompts the demon to introduce himself.

Aziraphale seems a little unsure how they stand at first ... ...and I think it's because of what has transpired before the Fall (is Aziraphale forgiven?). But as Crawley gently teases him about the recently passed events, Aziraphale is assured and trusts Crawley as if nothing much changed between them and he readily admits he's given away his sword to the demon. (The truth of which he does not disclose to God Herself.)

Their relationship progresses as far as it can in the circumstances over the next centuries and millennia, they both care and look after each other. Until the next big heart-breaking 'break-up' happens. An impossible ask.

You can see how this request basically pierces Aziraphale's heart. He would prefer they don't see each other again than give in to such extraordinarily dangerous request. Out of the question! This would mean the end of existence for Crowley. He would not just be discorporated, not 'just' taken away. He'd be gone.

If they truly don't see each other for almost 80 years, this must have hurt so so deeply.

Next they see each other then, it's 1941. I know some people HC that Crowley slept until then but I think it's very unlikely. He seems to know what is happening with WWII, and besides, he has his car, which he says he has from new and you wouldn't buy a 1926 Bentley new in 1940.

So back to the husbands. Aziraphale might very well think he will never be forgiven for his resolute refusal of handing Crowley the one thing that can so easily simply wipe him from existence.

When Crowley shows up in the church, Aziraphale yet again is not sure where he stands. Is he forgiven? What is Crowley coming to do? (No, I don't think Aziraphale thought Crowley was coming with revenge or anything similar, I assume it's as he says, as Aziraphale assumes he's there because of his job, to do something for Hell). But Crowley assures him that is not the case and they fall into their usual bickering.

And all is well. Aziraphale breathes out and THEN Crowley remembers to save his books.

And Aziraphale knows he's forgiven.

When 1967 comes around and he hears about Crowley's frankly insane decision to get some humans to source holy water for him, the angel breaks his own heart and hands Crowley a double walled, securely closed vessel with the dangerous substance just because it's the safer option.

The next break up is...

After that they 'see' each other when Aziraphale's (soul? essence?) discorporated self finds Crowley drinking in the pub.

Crowley tells Aziraphale he lost his best friend... What is Aziraphale thinking?

Yet again, I suppose he's unsure where he stands. He did after all made a decision to do something Crowley disagreed with. And Crowley left. Twice. Aziraphale didn't want to run. He was going to try and find a way to save the Earth even if it meant to try and talk to God and whatever consequences would follow from that.

But Crowley is so gentle with him as he tells him his home burned down. He even has the one book Aziraphale really needed, somehow saved. So Aziraphale asks for help. They can do this.

And they do.

So we see Aziraphale through aeons, looking up to Crowley, admiring his wit, integrity, being exasperated with him, trying to keep him safe - from unreasonable requests just as much as from rash decisions and words that can have severe consequences. Aziraphale is an angel who is unlike any other. He finds himself, long before the rebellion of half the Host is a thing, in knowledge that some things should not be mentioned or suggested or criticised and he tries to stop this lovely angel he just met from getting into trouble.

Which he keeps doing for millions of years...

However. It doesn't always work. The angel Falls. He is hurt and abandoned by the God who made him and deemed unforgivable. He is threatened and punished when he just wants to be himself and Aziraphale sees all of this and loves him and tries to keep him safe and he is not always succeeding, having to make more and more difficult decisions.

And Aziraphale doubts himself. Is he good enough. Is something wrong with him. We see how anxious he gets all the time. What is he doing wrong. They were never allowed to speak to each other about how they feel. For the longest time they didn’t even know how to name their feelings I’m sure. They didn’t make any promises.

They both hope, yes but where I see people HC that Crowley doubts an angel would unconditionally love a demon (maybe he does, but I don’t really see it - I think Crowley knows all that talk of fiends is just a cover), I also see that Aziraphale thinks he’s not good enough. That he can’t give enough and that it’s a problem (it is to some fans but if he’s ever holding back - ‘you go too fast for me Crowley’, it’s only ever to keep the demon safe).

But yes, I think Crowley thinks the chasm that can’t be overcome between them is the angel/demon one. Because She made him unforgivable. And Aziraphale thinks that their world would never allow them to be together (and he’s right) and he simply can’t agree to trying when it’s doomed to failure. If they run, how long would they have together? What kind of freedom would they have as hunted outcasts? So he keeps making these difficult decisions. And feeling so guilty for them.

The hardest of which we meet at the end of Season Two.

Aziraphale meets the Second in Command of the ruler of their world who 'invites' him to run Heaven. After Aziraphale refuses several times, we see him enter his home and tell Crowley that he got an offer and ask Crowley to come with him.

And Crowley. Says no.

And all the subsequent metas focus on how Crowley was betrayed by Aziraphale's 'decision', how Aziraphale does not deserve to be loved or wanted or be forgiven by the demon.

And how does Aziraphale feel?

Does Aziraphale still think he can be forgiven?

[alexandraisyes]

500 FOLLOWERS

Wow. 500 of you. That number feels surreal, especially after everything these past few months. (Don't scroll away there's a surprise at the bottom of the post.)

In July, I faced harassment over a rumor about being hired as a TSAMS writer. In August and September, it escalated—stalking, harassment, and widespread slander over SolarNexus, a ship I don’t even ship. October brought betrayal as someone I trusted turned out to be a predator, slandering our friend group, faking their death, and running away upon confrontation. Last month, I had to take a stand against someone sharing NSFW with minors, leading to more slander and harassment.

Now it’s December, and honestly, fandom discourse feels inevitable. But you know what? I don’t care.

This community has been so supportive to me throughout this. I have grown close with friends, made new ones, and gained so many supporters and I don't know how to say thank you enough. I've reached so many of my goals for this year, and there's always going to be more work to do.

I'm starting a new fic. I'm updating my old ones. I'm making art for a voice actor. I'm a mod in the community server. And I'm finally working on a project again that I started in August.

I’ve been really hesitant to show this project off on main, beyond reblogging things here and there. I won’t reveal which character I specifically play—though it probably wouldn’t be hard to guess.

This project started as a way to support the mod who plays Lunar, who was receiving harassment simply for enforcing their boundaries. Yes, you read that right—they were harassed because they didn’t want to post negative confessions. When we saw that happening, my friends and I got together, and I said, “Haha, wouldn’t it be so cool if we just made a bunch of confession blogs to dunk on the haters and roleplay and shit?”

Within 24 hours, two new blogs popped up. One hasn’t done anything to hurt me, so I won’t name them, but we all know who they are. The second? Biased-tsams-confessions—a blog that was one of the leading forces behind the harassment I faced in August. They would flip their lid if they knew I was the leading force behind TSBS CVAU and remain its head administrator and manager. Honestly? That makes me even prouder of this project.

Of course, I couldn’t do this alone. A huge thank you to my partner in crime, @lyrical-hue, who has been my rock throughout this journey. They’ve helped smooth out the bumps along the way, making sure I don’t handle everything solo.

I’m so excited to finally share this project with my fanbase publicly. We’re expanding our world and currently looking for new members to join the group! If you’re interested, you can apply here:

Okay so now the real question. How am I celebrating this milestone? The past two times I made a post like this I did a raffle (one of which I'm still finishing the artwork for). This time I'd like to do something different.

I want to make some free emotes for the community. My community. To give back some of the support I've been given.

To be applicable for this, reblog this post with references of your character designs, AU designs, OCs, or sonas. As many as you want. They can be your own characters, or personal designs for preexisting characters. Or even just. Characters. I will literally just take canon designs of characters too. I'll even take requests for my own designs. As you can see there are a LOT of emotes there, so I need a LOT of characters from the community.

RULES:

Characters must be submitted through REBLOGS

You do not get to choose which emote is made, I do, I'm doing this for free after all

You HAVE to be following me, this is an event to celebrate my followers after all.

And uh, yeah that's kinda it. If you want to join the discord you can join here:

[phoenixkaptain]

My favourite part of Dick Grayson as a character is that he is never afraid of Bruce.

Like, Jason has his fear of disappointing him, Tim is a bit intimidated and has his hero worship, Damian fears that Bruce’ll kick him out the way he thinks Talia did, but Dick?

Dick is so unconcerned about Bruce at every possible moment. Even the earliest comics had Dick calling Bruce lame to his face. Dick works with Bruce and his partner for years and they understand each other on a deep level and Dick multiple times calls Bruce a fucking square.

Dick does not tell Bruce anything. He does not write home. If Bruce wasn’t in the room with him when Dick got called to go somewhere, I’m pretty sure Dick would not have informed Bruce that he was even leaving, let alone where he was going. The Teen Titans joined the Peace Corps, they were in Washington for at least a few days being trained, and Bruce finds out that Robin joined the Peace Corps from a newspaper. Dick does not tell him anything.

Dick and Bruce have such a fascinating relationship to me because Dick really doesn’t treat Bruce as his dad so much as he treats him like a particularly obnoxious older brother. Bruce treats Dick like his little baby bird who he cares about and doesn’t want to get hurt, but Dick is over there like “ugh, Bruce is so overdramatic” while he nearly drowns for the fifth time.

In early Teen Titans, there’s no question that Robin is physically the weakest member. Aqualad and Wonder Girl both have super strength, Kid Flash’s speed means that he doesn’t need super strength, but Robin is by far the easiest to capture. He gets caught very consistently through the early issues, albeit people can only catch him if they take him off guard, but it’s a lot easier to catch him off guard in early comics. Robin is the brains of the group, the others look to him for direction and depend on him to make plans that will work and panic when Robin gets nabbed because what will they do without Robin??

Robin gets captured a lot in early Batman comics too. Robin is the ultimate damsel, but he’s never really in very much distress? Like, Bruce and the Teen Titans are distressed, but Robin just looks maybe a bit surprised and bored. Robin never seems to take his own mortality into account when he does things, meanwhile literally everyone else does.

Dick only ever really gets annoyed with Bruce. He bever gets mad at his teammates, even when they question his ability. For the most part, Dick doesn’t even respond when they underestimate him to his face. I have no idea what’s going on in Dick’s head, but he isn’t a part of Aqualad and Kid Flash finding each other and him annoying in their first team ups and he never gets upset when they don’t believe in him.

Then, on the other hand, Bruce calls the music Dick is listening to noise, and Dick immediately is annoyed. Dick and Bruce having a turbulent relationship is more apparent later on in the comics, but Bruce is truly the only one in all the galaxies who gets under Dick’s skin as much as he does.

And it’s funny because fandom likes to paint Dick as bitter that Bruce didn’t adopt him, while I think Dick would have blown his top if Bruce even tried to adopt him. Dick had parents, he never views Bruce as a parental figure. Don’t get me wrong, Dick loves Bruce. Bruce does so much for Dick and Bruce is protective of him and Bruce is open about his affection, but Dick just doesn’t view him as his father.

I really think Dick views Bruce as more like a guard dog than a father. He talks so casually to Bruce, but he’s more formal to other adults. He complains about Bruce not trusting him, but doesn’t care when his teammates don’t trust him either. He views the rich billionaire vigilante who can take down a god in a fight as fucking lame.

Their relationship is amazing. They get along great. They’re a perfect duo, they work in tandem, they’re absolutely unstoppable together. If Bruce talks too much Dick will roll his eyes. They trust each other with their life. Dick is never telling Bruce anything. Bruce says “I guess I can spare Robin for a minute” and Dick is like “I would be perfectly content to never return home for the rest of my days.”

Of all the Robins, Dick is absolutely the one who respects Bruce the least. He loves the guy, but he just canNOT take him seriously.

(Do you think it was the time Bruce sent a box of bats to someone? Or the times Bruce gets captured and has to be rescued by his damsel side-kick? Or the way Bruce is like an overprotective mother, coming this close to reminding Robin to wash behind his ears? Or the way Bruce lets Robin say whatever he wants and never gets upset or offended or even hurt?

Or, maybe, Batman tripped on his cape once, and Dick just can never forget.)