#i honestly want to write an essay but i doubt any of you will want to read it

[w1ld-wr1t3r]

Ok ok so I'm watching the video again (and again and again), and I am only going more nuts over it.

Because Lando is absolutely beaming the entire time he's talking to Martin, like he knew exactly who he was gonna call from the start, and even if he hates making calls, it's clear that he is overjoyed at getting to speak to Martin, even just for a few minutes in the middle of their crazy schedules.

And in the middle of the conversation, Martin just drops "I love you," and I know some people are comfortable using that phrase in a platonic way, but even then, you don't say it to just anyone. You say it to the people who light up your life, who make you feel whole. Who you want to cherish every moment with, because life is fleeting and you don't want to leave this life knowing that you wasted any time you could've spent with them.

And Lando wastes no time in saying it back, too. And even though he added "bro" at the end, that smile said a lot. He is talking to someone he cares about with his whole heart. I've said it before, whether their bond is platonic or romantic, it's clear that they really mean a lot to each other. But honestly, every time something new happens with them, I can't help but wonder if, at the very least, the lines between platonic and romantic are getting more and more blurred. Or if they haven't been crossed already.

On top of that, something that stood out to me was that everyone else's first thought was to call a family member or significant other. If that was their first impulse, then wouldn't it kind of make sense that whoever Lando chose to call would have the same level of importance to him? And note that he didn't call his parents, or Max F. or any of his other friends or family members. He chose to call Martin.

I'm practically writing a whole entire essay on this, but basically, my point is that out of everyone Lando could've called, he chose to call Martijn. And there is absolutely no doubt that those "I love yous" were completely heartfelt and sincere.

[renflowerwords]

Gentle Affection - SDV Harvey x Fem Reader fanfic

In which you are sick, and who better to take care of you than the valley's most friendly doctor, Harvey?

Harvey x Reader (Fem/Farmer) - 4.6k words - no smut, but it gets steamy? MDNI! - Harvey is beefy and I love him.

I wrote this after a large cup of coffee during finals instead of writing my final essays :D enjoy! ( also, I barely proofread this because I cannot read my own work for some reason, but it's still legible lol)

“It's so warm in here,” Harvey says as he walks into your room, surveying the darkness and the amorphous mass in bed, which is you. He kneels and unties his shoes, leaving them by the door before making his way towards your bed.

“I know,” you choke out from your makeshift shelter, wrapped in pounds of blankets and old tissues. You never really knew how to take care of yourself when you got sick. The go-to was always Nyquil, tea, peppermint tissues that left your nose red and sore, and heaps of blankets while you watched some old movie that would materialize into your fever dreams.

“My little farmer really is sick.”  His eyes soften as he takes in your appearance.

He places his doctor’s bag down on your floor, farthest away from the heaps of tissues. Your trashcan had been filled since the first night, and honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to replace it.

“It’s not getting any better,” you say, followed by a weak cough and a sniffle.

“You should have told me sooner, y/n.” Before you can respond, he’s making his way to your bathroom, the yellow light illuminating your bedroom. You close your eyes, the fever-induced headache coming back tenfold by the light. “I didn’t want you to see me like this, Harv.” Another cough, this time partnered with a flying speck of spit. God, you were such a mess.

If he does respond, you don’t hear him. The sound of the tub faucet running fills the room. His shuffling in the bathroom ceases, and he makes his way back to your bed, holding a trash bag and adorning the thin gloves that come in hair dye boxes. You chuckle. “How’d you find those?”

 He starts picking up the random tissues and throwing them away while grabbing all the other trash, too. The Nyquil box, tea bags left in your empty mug, and the old Pho you ordered the night before that was half eaten. “I know my way around your bathroom y/n; you always keep leftover supplies.” He chuckles, continuing his search for more tissues under the first layer of blankets.

“Sorry about the mess.” You let out an embarrassed laugh before further looking around at the mess that is your room.

“Do you forget that I am a doctor? It’s my job to take care of the sick. Especially my loved ones.”

You feel like you're dreaming, and with the past few fever dreams you’ve been having, you wouldn’t doubt it. Here in your room was Harvey, your Harvey. You had been “dating” each other for a few months now, but you were still in that stage of wanting to be somewhat perfect to him. Sure, he had seen you passed out in the mines after forgoing your curfew and a few times when you were completely foul after taking care of the animals all day, but that was to be expected. You were a farmer, of course.

But this, for him to see you at your weakest, riddled with fever, was something else. You hadn’t left your room in three days, it and yourself being a sick mess. This wasn’t the result of hard work; it was the result of negligence. And now, despite your best wishes, he gets to see you at your worst.

To make matters even more terrible, you weren’t the only one sick. Plenty of people in the valley were falling ill, people who were more important and more at risk. You were taking Harvey away from them, away from his work. If only you had kept yourself inside for a few more days instead of trudging through the frozen mines, you would have been in tip-top shape and been able to help, instead of be helped.

When your fever wouldn’t let up after a few days, you called Harvey’s office to make a home visit, of course, downplaying your symptoms and telling him to come to see you last after everyone else because “it’s just a little cold.” That was this morning, and now, you had been feeling a hundred times worse. You had tried everything in the book to cure your ailments yourself, but evidently, you needed professional help.

In an effort to pull you from your thoughts, Harvey, mid-tissue search, kneels on the edge of your bed and presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling back and saying, “Hey, come back to me.”

“I’m here,” you breathe out, holding his gaze, his eyes seemingly healing your every ailment already. Suddenly, the warmth in your chest wasn’t just from the blankets trapping your body heat but from his presence. You lay there for a few seconds, staring back into his brown eyes before becoming presently aware of the crust that had been accumulating on your face. “I’ve been here unmoved for 72 two hours, actually.” You break his gaze with a turn of your head to let out a fake cough, anything to ease the tension.

His warm chuckle calls your eyes back to his, but he’s already moving away from the bed, placing the trash bag by your door.

“Never thought you’d be the type to crack jokes while sick, you're usually so serious when it comes to matters of health.” He walks towards the thermostat and inquisitively looks at the settings, knocking it with his knuckles before he turns back to you “Well, this explains the heat.” 

A feigned smile spreads across your face “Says you, and I’m trying to sweat it out, doctor.” 

Another chuckle erupts from him as he shakes his head, walking towards your bed again. This time, he sits right next to you and places his hand on your forehead. His hand, big and usually very warm, is cold when it touches your skin, and you wince at the contact. “You are very hot, let’s get you into a bath, okay? And then you can rest.”

You blame your fever brain for not noticing his outerwear, a thick wool brown sweater that you gifted him at the start of winter. It was bulky, and the ends were funky and crooked (you were a beginner; it was expected), but it was warm. Of course, he was hot in here.

Harvey sat silently, waiting for your approval, holding your gaze. 

That was all it took for him to get his way, not like you could fight him on this anyway. He wasn’t just some cute guy you were seeing at that moment; he was a medical professional.

You nod your head and pull yourself up with your arms, wobbling slightly. “Here.” He says before pulling off your blankets in one swift movement and holding you to his chest to lift you.

You let your arm fall into his chest and then recoil immediately, the itchy wool sweater feeling sharp and abrasive on your feverish skin. Before you can say anything, he lets go of you for a split second and pulls the sweater upward.

“Sorry, it’s just really itchy,” You say as you watch him pull the sweater over his head, his hair slightly frizzled and glasses crooked on his face from the action. Underneath his sweater, he’s wearing a thin white cotton t-shirt with the words ZuZu University in faded brown letters. It’s tight on his arms yet loose everywhere else, and even though he looks a bit frazzled, he is still shockingly handsome. This might also be the side effect of my fever brain, you think as you pull your eyes away from his thick arms and back up to his face. Big mistake.

He runs his hands through his hair and fixes his glasses with a warm flush on his cheeks. “Don’t apologize, you can’t help it.” He says without meeting your eyes and pulling you back into him, lifting your sick body with ease. He’s warm all over, and his chest is solid and soft. You could fall right back asleep in his arms.

The gentle lull of his walk and caress only eases you for a minute before the bright yellow light of the bathroom shines into your eyes. Becoming presently aware of the fact the light is now illuminating every gross aspect of your being, you turn your face into Harvey’s chest. “Are you okay?” He says as he places you on the bathroom counter, placing his hand on your forehead and then on your neck. His touch makes your whole body hotter, and you think you might die from overheating.

“Yeah, I'm just a little gross right now.” You say, head in your hands, as you attempt to rub the crust away from your eyes.

“Well, that’s the best thing about baths” You can hear him swirling his hand through the water, checking the temperature before turning back to you “They help you get clean.”

You laugh again, even though this entire scenario is a mix between your biggest nightmare and greatest fantasy. You’ve got Harvey’s attention all to yourself, but at what cost? Now, you’ve been reduced to a patient instead of a hot, hard-working girlfriend. Right now, you should be setting up a Christmas tree in his office or drinking hot cocoa in the park while stargazing.

Before you can say anything, Harvey makes his way to you and fiddles with the end of your tank top. “Do you want me to stay and help or wait in your room?” For the first time in the evening, you can sense his anxiety. This would be the first time he would see you naked, of course. A part of you dies inside at that fact. It wasn’t supposed to be this way!!

You let your eyes reach his again; he towers over you even with your position on the counter. His nervous face prompts a jolt in your stomach. Sure he’s probably seen plenty of his patients naked, but have any of them been potential girlfriends? You don’t want the answer to that question. Despite wanting to do it yourself, his shifty gaze and fleeting gentle touches at your abdomen under your tank top convince you otherwise.

This isn’t going to be romantic in any way, just a doctor helping a girl in need. You think to reassure yourself. 

“I could use a little help.” You breathe out finally, shifting yourself closer to the edge of the counter.

If Harvey is surprised by your answer, he doesn’t show it. He just nods slowly and goes to lift off your tank top. It’s not like you needed help taking your clothes off, but the sentiment was too good to deny.

Although the tank top was quite thin, its removal left you even more cold. You look up and see Harvey's flushed face and his eyes avoidance of your chest as he unties the strings of your sleep pants.

God, he really is heaven-sent.

You pull your arms up to cover your chest as he pulls you off the counter to take off your pants. He kneels down with the action, looking up at you when the pants hit your ankles. Your eyes meet, but you turn away first, suddenly embarrassed by the entire scenario.

 He looks at you as if you were an angel, haloed by bathroom light. The warmth in your chest is multiplied, and you think that if you were to die tonight, you’d definitely die happy.

He pulls your ankles up and releases them from your pants. You become acutely aware of his touch, nervous about what comes next. He takes his time folding the pants and tank top, standing up briefly to place them on the counter before kneeling down again, his warm hands on your hips.

Surprisingly, his hands are shaky. You feel your heart jolt and can’t tell if your light-headedness is from standing for so long or Harvey’s intoxicating presence and touch.

His hands remain on your hips for a few seconds before he hooks his thumbs into your underwear and begins to slowly pull them down. You can’t even look at him or his hands, your gaze centered on the ripples being created from the dripping faucet into the tub.

Your underwear is on your knees when you finally pull your eyes back to him, just to catch his. He’s not even looking at what he’s doing, not needing the reassurance of sight to pull off your underwear correctly. Slowly, he continues to pull them down, holding your eyes to his. His body contradicts the boldness of his actions, a bright flush on his cheeks that stretches to his ears and neck.

Okay, I could die from this. You think, offering a small smile to him, hoping it will ease his anxiety. He returns it with a gulp.

The feeling of his fingertips and the cotton on your skin makes you shiver, every sensation intensified by your skin’s heightened sensitivity.

When he finally does look down, it’s to pull your underwear from your ankles and render you completely naked.

He breaks the silence by clearing his throat, taking your hand without looking at you, and guiding you to the tub.

You step in, the lukewarm water sending another shiver through your body. Harvey, thumb tracing your hand, doesn’t let go of you until you are completely submerged up to your chest.

You wish that the water could provide some kind of shield for your naked body, which you and Harvey both presently aware of. But of course, the water doesn’t, and there’s nothing you can do or want to do to change that.

In silence, Harvey grabs your washcloth and wets it in the water before pulling it out, wringing it, and drawing it near your face. In silent response, you close your eyes and allow him to clean away the crust surrounding them.

His touch is gentle and caring, and you feel more confident with your eyes closed. If you can’t see the look in his eyes, then your heart won’t toss, surely?

Surely not. Slowly, he pulls the washcloth down to your neck and then to your chest, and in the darkness, you imagine him taking in your body with his eyes. Another flip of your heart before you open your eyes and see his steady face looking down into the tub at your body.

You clear your throat of its phlegm, despite feeling disgusted at the fact that even have phlegm around him, and his eyes fly quickly back to yours, embarrassed.

“I can uh- I can wash my own body, Harv.” You say, your hand grasping his and the cloth under the water, caressing it softly.

If he kept touching you in this way, even with the separation of the cloth, you fear you might combust into a million little stars.

He clears his throat, and his free hand goes to push his glasses up. “Oh, yeah.” He lets out a nervous chuckle. “Of course you can.”

Despite his agreement, his hand doesn’t leave yours under the water, and he doesn’t make any movement to leave or get up.

You take a deep breath, internally cursing yourself for even stopping him despite the need to be released from his constant touch.

“Do you wanna pass me the soap?” you say, lifting yourself up in the bathtub a little, finally releasing his hand.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, his eyes instinctively going down to your chest, now slightly peaking over the edge of the water, before he swiftly turns his head to grab the soap.

He hands you the bottle and rises, drying his hand on his jeans and then fiddling with the fabric when it’s dry. “I’m, uh, gonna go clean the room a bit more. Don’t over-exert yourself, okay?” He says, looking down at you in the tub, trying his best to maintain eye contact. You nod your head slowly and you work to squeeze soap onto the cloth, pulling it up your neck and beginning to scrub.

He stands there in silence for a few seconds before suddenly remembering that he was supposed to leave and hurriedly shuffles out of the bathroom, leaving the door cracked open behind him.

With his absence, you finally feel at ease. The ease is short-lived as you hear him shuffle around your bedroom, suddenly missing his presence. This stupid fever was making it hard for you to think clearly.

You clean your body slowly, savoring the feeling of water and the scent of soap. It wasn’t long until the lukewarm water turned cold; your feverish body was shivering continuously signifying it was time to wrap it up.

As you wring out the cloth and make your attempt to remove yourself from the water, you hear him approach the bathroom door, knuckles slowly rapping at the door. “Can I come in?”

His politeness awed you. There was truly no more need for niceties after he had just stripped you, and yet he still offered them.

“Yes.” You say.

He enters the bathroom holding a towel and a change of pajamas. You flush with embarrassment at the idea of him going through your drawers, remembering their unorganized state. “Did it take you a while to find something that matches?” You offer the joke in hopes of easing the tension. It works more for you than it does for him. His face is still flushing pink as he takes you in again.

“No, not really.” He says under his breath as he draws near with the towel and opens it. You stand slowly and allow him to wrap it around you, cherishing the warmth it offers.

He put it in the dryer so it would be warm. Your heart swells at the gesture as he ties the towel ends around your chest and takes your hand to stabilize your exit from the tub.

“Do you still feel gross?” he asks, taking it your refreshed face. You shake your head, unraveling the towel to dry your body, making an effort to position your body away from him. It would be wrong to continue this act of indecency when you are actually clean, for his sake.

“In fact, I'm feeling better already.” You turn your head over your shoulder and smile at him before continuing, “You really are the best doctor ever,” in a goofy voice, attempting to mimic Evelyn’s sentiments when she found out that something was going on between you two.

The both of you had agreed to keep your meetings secret because rumors tended to get quite twisted in the valley, but Evelyn caught the two of you together after you had a particularly nasty fall in the mines. You had interrupted her appointment with the giant gash in your leg that needed immediate attention. Harvey hadn’t wasted a single second getting you onto the table to care for you. Maybe it was the panic in his eyes as he took in your dirt and blood-covered state or the way he flinched alongside your flinches, stopping to search your eyes for pain every time with furrowed brows. But, if you had to guess, you were pretty sure it was the way he held you in his arms when he finished, whispering into your hair to be careful and that he doesn’t know what he’d do if you got injured worse than this. Evelyn had peeped her head in at that exact moment, nosily checking in on you as well. Of all the people to know, Evelyn was the least to worry about. At least that’s what you hoped. Nothing has gotten back to you yet, and that was a few weeks ago.

Harvey laughed at your imitation, saying, “I really hope that’s not supposed to be Evelyn,” before grabbing your lotion bottle and pumping some into his hands. You look up from his hands to his eyes in question before he signals you to sit on the counter with a flick of his head.  

You, in no position to truly object, obey. You keep the towel wrapped around your shoulders, but it doesn’t quite cover your body entirely. You sigh a bit. At this point, there’s nothing you can do to shield him from your nudity. You didn’t dislike being this way around him; you knew it was normal to him as a doctor, but his constant blushing and averted eyes made you feel nervous. He probably felt fine with nudity from his other patients. What made it so different with you? Uh, maybe because he likes me?

Your internal rumination is cut short when you feel his warm hands and lotion warmed up between them touch your legs. He halts for a second when he senses your leg tense, looking up at you. “Is this okay? I didn’t think you’d want to go to bed without any…” He quiets before quickly adding, “Sorry, I should have asked,” and pulling his hands away.

“No, it’s okay! Please continue.” You blurt out fast and a little bit loud, which makes your brain sob in embarrassment. He smiles and returns his hands back to your legs, rubbing the lavender lotion in slowly. Having his hands back on you feels right. Like there’s some magnetic pull between you.

You sit in silence as he rubs lotion down to your feet, caressing them gently before making his way to your knees and then to your thighs. You feel dizzy at the pressure of his hands, and the idea of where they’ll go next.

As he gets to your thighs, he reaches behind you and pulls you off the counter, landing you on your feet. “I’ll be quick,” he says, and for a second, you think it is because he’s about to rub lotion into your most erogenous zone, but then he adds, “You don’t need to be standing for so long.”

You feel the heat rise up your chest for the millionth time this night as you curse yourself for your thoughts.

Of course, that’s why he’s going to be quick, surely, if you weren’t sick, he would take his ti…

You shake that thought from your head, now wasn’t the time to be thinking like that. He’s just taking care of you.

He takes his hands and pulls your legs apart and it takes everything inside of you to not shrivel up from embarrassment, your brain torn between never allowing itself to be sick again and staying sick forever.

Pumping more lotion into his hands, he makes his way up your thighs slowly. Every brush of his fingers or swipe of his palm sends your heart tumbling and stomach flipping. Despite the intimacy of the act that was making everything hazy, it was the gentle care that he took as well. When he reached your sex, he never once actually touched it in fullness, slowly brushing his fingers around it.

It was actually embarrassing at how wet you got from it, and you prayed that he wouldn’t be able to notice.

Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything; he just continues the process of pumping lotion into his hands, warming it up, and rubbing it into your kiss. You let out a small sign of relief as he finishes rubbing lotion into your behind and slowly rises from his knees to get to your chest.

This time, you look at him instead of all around the bathroom. Surely, him rubbing lotion into your breasts would be less intense. Proving to be repetitive, you are wrong again.

When his hands finally reach your breasts, he pulls his eyes away from them and looks into yours. His circular motions around your nipples send a chill down your spine, one that only intensifies with the look on his face. Plain and simple to the common eye, but you could sense a deviousness lying underneath.

This side of Harvey wasn’t entirely new to you.

You recall your first kiss, down near the dock by the sea. He had held you so gently and pressed his lips slowly into yours before pulling back and searching for approval in your eyes. You, missing the warmth of his mouth, leaned back in and kissed him fuller. You sat there for a while kissing the tender kiss until you pulled back for a breath. The look in his eyes then was something similar to the one now. Enraptured fully in desire and need.

Before you could even fully catch your breath, his warm hand was on your neck, pulling your mouth back to his. His tongue prodded at your mouth, and when you let him in, he whined. Like actually whined into your mouth, drinking the taste of the strawberry wine you had shared with one another earlier intertwined with your spit.

He has the one to pull back the next time, a thin line of saliva drawn between your mouths that, after an inch of separation of your faces, fell onto your chin. His lips, still slick, rushed down to your chin and licked it back up into your mouth, kissing you again, hot and heavy.

“All done,” he says as he takes the lotion and puts it into your cabinet. This snaps you out of your daydream, and you see a small smile on his face.

Okay, we have got to stay focused.  

“Thank you, Harvey.” You say as you reach for your fresh clothes and dress yourself.

“Anytime.” He says as he leans towards you and presses a kiss to your temple before leaving the bathroom. Another toss in your stomach.

You finish dressing, staring at yourself ashamedly in the mirror.

It didn’t take you long to finish getting ready for bed, doing your skincare for the first time in what felt like forever, and putting your hair in two braids. Weirdly enough, you had felt strength return to your body, albeit only a little. What you wanted most right now was some food, some tea, and (hopefully) some cuddles.

It was a stupid desire really, Harvey wouldn’t risk himself getting sick and staying the night. Still, you can’t blame yourself for trying.

When you finally emerge from the bathroom you see Harvey sitting on your bed in…his pajamas. A smile stretches across your face as you crawl into your bed, noticing the two cups of tea and thermos on your bedside table.

Harvey lifts the blanket up for you, and you lay your body half on top of his. “Are you feeling better?” he asks as he pulls your leg further around him, and you position your head on his chest. “Mhm.” You respond, taking in his warmth.

He chuckles lowly and reaches over to grab the tea mug and pills from the bedside table, “Here, take these, and then have some soup.”

It isn’t hard to obey his orders. You sip on the tea, sweet with honey, and take the pills without question. “Mmm, perfect,” you say, nose a little stuffy now that you’ve laid down.

“Did you make the soup?” You ask as you finish your tea with one big gulp.

“Yep, it’s got everything my little farmer needs to get strong again.” Your body heats up, and you feel so warm. “Here.” He takes the spoon from the thermos and brings it to your lips. You could object and feed yourself, but there was something in being the object of his gentle affection that you were addicted to. You had never been cared for like this before, and you most definitely were going to get in the way of it.

You eat the soup as quickly as possible, feeling exhaustion flood over your body. Harvey, as if he could sense it, closed up the thermos and laid your head on his shoulder, caressing your head. “get some rest love.” Love, you loved it when he called you that.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, Harvey’s gentle breath lulling you to sleep like a metronome.

[amorgansgal]

Practice Makes Perfect

So here we go! At long last, I've finished my fic and I loved writing this one so much! Just to ensure absolute clarity I'm kind of seeing the academy as a university, so everyone here is over the age of 20 and somehow I've pegged Gale as a complete slut evidently!

Gale x Fat Female Reader

CW: Sexual content, Oral sex

‘I really don’t think this is a good idea,’ you desperately whisper to your friend, Nira, who is dragging you through the mahogany panelled library where absurdly high bookshelves tower above you both.

The library is quieter in the late afternoons and evenings, there are only a few students either absorbed in the small mountains of books that surround them or are busily writing out long essays, the familiar, comforting sound of turning pages and the scratch of pen against paper fills the large room. As you pass the candlesticks the wicks catch alight, now that the room is getting gloomier and the sky is darkening. The sun is sinking low in the sky, casting the last rays of golden light to be dispersed through the diamond patterned windows. The dark wooden floorboard underneath your feet glitters with the thrumming magic that spills from the books in the room and the stunning reds, golds and oranges of the last light of the day.

‘Don’t be such a wet blanket,’ Nira hisses in response. ‘Besides, I thought you were interested.’

‘I am,’ you insist, though a hot blush still creeps up your cheeks. ‘But I don’t want to be mocked or for him to judge me.’

‘He’s not going to judge you. From what I heard he quite likes…’ she hesitates, pursing her lips as though wanting to find the right way of putting it.

‘Fat women?’ you prompt.

She sighs. ‘I was going to say ladies with larger thighs, but sure, fat women.’

‘You promise me, he won’t laugh or-’

‘He’s not going to laugh and if he does I’ll fireball him right in his face.’

You bite back a laugh at the thought and Nira grins at you, then continues, ‘Besides, I’ve had the joy of experiencing Gale’s tongue and it’s well worth it. Honestly, I wish he was interested in properly dating someone, because I’d throw my hat in the ring, so many men act like the whole thing is disgusting. Oh but we’re expected to suck them off whenever, even if their dicks stink like piss!’

You smile, it’s been a complaint of Nira ever since she got to experience Gale’s tongue and you’ve heard all about his ability non-stop since. Most of the girls in your class have talked about it. You’re surprised they’re not jealous of one another or are trying to win him over, but he apparently doesn’t seem to care about entering a serious relationship and is just happy to oblige his classmates’ desires. You had your concerns though that he would not be interested in you. You’d always been on the larger size, your mother certainly didn’t help matters by pointedly making remarks about how most people associated female magic users with beautiful, ethereal waif like creatures. No one thought of dumpy little witches unless they were old and ugly. You did your best to shrug off comments like that but it still stung and you felt like you had to work twice as hard as your classmates just to be given any forethought or attention from either your peers or your teachers.

Gale, when you had occasion to work with him, was refreshingly respectful, kind and seemed to actually see you. You’d grown almost accustomed to any man’s gaze immediately drifting past you and onto your thinner friends. If it didn’t happen so often you might have even been angry about it, but you didn’t really see the point. So consequently your experience with men was rather limited. You’d been kissed, sure, but it was such a fumbling, innocent mess of a kiss you weren’t quite sure whether to count it. You’d touch yourself but you always felt a bit embarrassed about it and sometimes your own self-doubts would turn you off. So it was usually a rushed affair and didn’t quite leave you fully satisfied.

‘Ah, there you are,’ Nira says as you reach the end of the library where instead of desks and rigid back chairs there are soft, plush sofas nestled in alcoves and you see Gale look up at your approach. He gives you both a warm smile and you immediately feel that this whole thing is a horrible, terrible idea. Your feet slow and Nira is practically dragging you over. Your heart is thudding in your chest, the blood rushing in your ears, and it feels like your throat is about to close up. Gale is handsome. He has foppish brown hair that tickles the back of his neck. His eyes are a warm, deep brown. His easy going smile is inviting. And you feel all your weight, the soft plumpness of your belly, your thighs catching slightly on chairs and tables as you walk over. He is going to say no, he is going to look at you like you are disgusting and repulsive and how could you even think he would want to give you pleasure?

‘Good afternoon, Nira,’ he says and inclines his head in greeting. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘Well, it’s not so much pleasure you owe me!’ Nira says with a grin and tosses her head at you. ‘You remember Y/N, right?’

‘Of course, I still am very resentful you soundly beat me in my alchemy test!’’ he says, though there’s no malice in the tone as his smile widens and his eyes glimmer with mischief. 

‘Well, she’s heard what you like to do.’

Gale laughs, and for a moment your heart seizes in terror. ‘Really? Am I getting that kind of reputation?’ he asks, though you can see he’s quite proud of such a reputation.

Nira rolls her eyes. ‘Oh come off it Gale, you’ve practically had every girl in the classroom that way and we all talk about it!’

His eyes flick back to you and a shiver runs down your spine. The pupils in his eyes have widened and you’re quite certain it has nothing to do with the gloom of the library. He wets his lips and you’re almost scared of the way he’s looking at you… he’s looking at you with desire and your silly heart doesn’t quite know what to make of it. But then he clears his throat and gives you another sweet, winning smile.

‘And I take it you’re interested in allowing me to practise? Because if you’re not and Nira has just dragged you here when you don’t like the idea, then please don’t be bullied into it. I’m very happy to have a chance to work on my technique, but I don’t like the idea of someone being less than enthusiastic,’ he says and his gaze is entirely focused on you, and you almost don’t want to look at him because it’s so startling being treated like an object of desire. But you manage to keep your head raised and your eyes fixed on him.

‘Yes, I do… I am interested,’ you say. ‘If you’re… um… interested in me, you don’t have to if it would prove distasteful.’

That same wicked, mischievous gleam is back and he draws closer to you. ‘I am interested and I assure you, it never proves distasteful, quite the contrary in fact.’

‘Gods, should I just turn my back or are you going to wait until you’ve gone somewhere more private?’ Nira asks and you flush at her words, though Gale lets out another burst of laughter.

‘I would assume my room would be preferable,’ he says to you. ‘Though Lucia and I did make use of that corner over there,’ he gestures to a table tucked into a corner by a bookshelf and you inhale quickly, imagining your hands holding tightly onto the shelves, your butt on the table and Gale’s head between your thighs. You bite you lip and press your legs together, there is no denying the desire that courses through you at the thought of the risk that would be, the possibility of being caught, though you would find it mortifying. It’s better to not get ahead of yourself and you nod.

‘I would prefer the privacy of your room,’ you say, and Gale offers his hand to you. It takes you a moment for you to take it, but he gives your fingers a gentle squeeze and then puts the book he was holding back on the shelf. 

‘I assume we should go there now, unless you have prior plans,’ he says to you. Were it any other man you would have assumed he might be trying to put you off, but it sounds like he genuinely cares about whether or not you’re busy.

‘No, no, we can go there now,’ you say, then glance away because of how embarrassingly eager you sound.

‘Good,’ Gale says and takes hold of your hand more firmly. Nira catches your eye and smiles as he begins to walk by her.

‘Have fun!’ she says.

‘See you later, Nira,’ Gale says to her, you only manage a nod as you feel rather tongue tied.

***

Gale’s room is definitely cleaner than some of the guys’ rooms you had seen within the dormitory rooms of Blackstaff Academy. Oh, there’s robes tossed over chairs, the desk is littered with books, papers, quills, an open box of herbs and crystals and sublimates. But there’s no forgotten plates or dirty cups. Gale’s room actually smells quite good too, a faint hint of bergamot and cedar. He pulls out the chair in front of the desk and turns it around to face the bed, then gestures for you to sit in the chair. You sit down, nervously placing your hands in front of your belly, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Gale closes the bedroom door, then sits down on the bed opposite you.

‘So, now that Nira isn’t around, you definitely want to do this? He asks.

You nod, your throat feels very dry and tight. Gale smiles at you softly. ‘Just want to check, as I say, don’t want to do this with anyone who has doubts. I’d like to ask you a few things first.’

You nod again and curse yourself for losing all sense of any wit or wisdom you once had in your brain! But Gale is relaxed and begins work on removing his boots. ‘First, easy one, do you want me to lock the door or just have it closed. I’m sure you know I have a tressym and she comes and goes as she pleases, and while she’s respectful and polite, I don’t put it past some of our classmates not to barge in!’

You think about it carefully, then say, ‘Lock the door please.’

He casts arcane lock on the door and then grins at you, you can’t help smiling back. ‘And you know knock, so you want to get out you’re free to go whenever you want,’ he says, the implication runs underneath, you’re in control, what you say goes, if you don’t like it you can go and there won’t be any hurt feelings. You feel rather touched he’s going to all this effort.

‘Next question, would you prefer to be partially clothed or entirely naked? When I do this I do quite enjoy touching my partner everywhere, but your comfort is more important than what I find enjoyable,’ Gale says.

You look away, you still feel self-conscious about your belly and you can’t imagine Gale would want to touch the soft, fleshy weight of it, let alone even see it! ‘I’ll keep my blouse on, if that’s alright,’ you mutter.

His two fingers catch under your chin and he lifts your head. ‘It’s fine by me, but it’s more important that it’s what you find alright, your comfort comes first. Now, biggest and hardest question,’ he says, smiling. ‘Can I kiss you or would you rather I didn’t and just work my magic between your legs?’

‘Yes,’ you whisper, your eyes are captured entirely by his and your voice sounds faint. ‘You can kiss me.’

His hand slips down your cheek, lightly resting against your neck, his fingers curve round your head and he pulls you forward. His mouth finds yours and he kisses you sweetly at first, tentative, gentle, as though he is worried you might flinch away, but nothing could be further from the truth. Your heart hammers in your chest and you feel like you might forget to breathe. Your hand hesitantly goes to his chest, you don’t want to push your luck, but he instead presses his free hand over yours and you can feel the warmth of him bleeding through his shirt. He lets out a groan and then pulls away from you, breathing hard and certainly wearing an expression of wanting to eat you up. 

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘If I’m not careful I’ll get carried away!’

You wonder what ‘carried away’ might entail, given what you’re about to do. But you don’t have much time to think about it, he helps you up from the chair and unties the laces of your skirt. He tugs it down over your hips and you watch him bite his lip when your thighs come into view, he’s utterly focused on your legs and his hand reaches out eagerly, but he seems to collect himself to not just grab a meaty handful. Gale gently strokes down your thigh and guides you to the bed, grabbing the pillows and putting them behind your back. He removes the slippers that had been on your feet, tossing them off into a corner of the room and seems to admire the stockings you wear, though they aren’t particularly sexy you think, just the fairly standard academy uniform ones. Once you’re comfortable, he returns to looking at your legs, he traces his fingers up from your ankles to just behind your knees, making you shiver. You still feel a bit embarrassed about Gale seeing you like this, of opening your legs so he can see all of you.

Gale catches your eye and smiles. He leans down and kisses you, that same sweet, soft kiss. ‘You alright?’ he whispers.

‘Mmhm,’ you manage, well at least you made a sound this time. Gale chuckles quietly.

‘You look so beautiful,’ he says, then trails kisses down your mouth, your jaw and neck, nipping at your ear and making you gasp as the hot little jolt of pleasure soars through you. You decide to ignore that him saying you’re beautiful is probably both something he says to all the girls who come to him for this and also definitely a lie in your case.

He scoots down the bed and slowly pulls apart your legs, his stare is so intense you have to close your eyes. His fingers skim up your legs, his nails stroke down your thighs, until they reach the crease between them and your mound. 

‘Hmm pretty,’ he says, and he pulls his right hand away for a moment. You open your eyes to see him with his thumb in his mouth that he pulls out with a pop and then he places it against your clit and circles it. The sensation makes you gasp and arch up, though you still cover your belly with your arm. Gale lets out another tight groan and suddenly lies down between your legs, his fingers still play with your clit, feather-light touches sliding down to your entrance and teasing it, then going back up making you bite your lip hard to not let out a sound.

‘You can make as much noise as you like, in fact I’d rather you do,’ he says, then brings one of your thighs over his shoulder. Your eyes flicker open as he presses kisses against it. He nips at the sensitive skin, a playful, teasing bite. ‘It tells me if I’m doing a good job.’

He keeps kissing down your thigh and suddenly he’s at the apex, his hungry dark eyes watching you intently, you can feel his breath on your nether regions, your belly feels tight and it’s all you can do to both stay on the bed exactly where you are or beg him to relieve you of the growing ache and need for something. He gives you one quick, delicious smile and then buries himself between your thighs. You don’t know what to expect, but his warm tongue darting out, circling your clit and then more firmly suckling it makes you feel like a hot jolt of electricity zapped through your body. The pleasure is mind melting and Gale is all to happy to apparently drown in you, his mouth and lips and tongue… You forget yourself, forget all your shame, the hatred of your body, the disgust you feel with yourself, and surrender yourself utterly to pleasure. 

He’s good, too good. He seems to cotton on quickly to what you like, how best to draw out every bit of pleasure, everything that makes your toes curl, that tighten the muscles in your thighs, that makes you instinctively grasp a handful of his brown hair between your hands and he keeps bringing you to the peak of pleasure over and over, until you see stars in your eyes and feel so lost to it all, so desperate you wind up babbling and pleading for him to let you cum.

‘Please Gale, please, please, don’t stop, please don’t stop. I need it, I need it so badly!’

You feel his laughter vibrate through his body, but finally, mercifully, he acquiesces and you are undone by pleasure, it roars through your body like a furnace, his tongue still maddeningly teasing your clit and you are left almost sobbing on the bed, uncaring of the warm gush between your legs, the air not filling your lungs enough, the world feels dizzy and spectacular and glorious. His head pops up and you can’t help the laugh you let slip at his slightly dazed, but altogether thoroughly pleased expression. 

‘You need to taste yourself,’ he insists, and he kisses you again fiercely, his tongue sliding into your mouth and you do. It’s not a bad taste to your surprise, musky and a little tart, but intoxicating and sweet. Once he’s satisfied he raises his head, though he’s still lying on top of you, he rests his forehead against yours and sighs contentedly. His chin and small beard is soaked through. ‘How was that?’ he asks.

It takes you a moment to clear your throat and find your voice, but more because you’ve been done in, not because you are flustered. ‘Good, very, very good. Thank you.’

‘No, thank you,’ he says, and you let out a breath of laughter that he’s still ever the gentleman. He gets to his feet, grabs an empty basin and a cloth, and comes back to your side. He fills the bowl with warm water using a prestidigitation spell and starts work cleaning you up, tenderly washing you down, though you almost feel a little disappointed you couldn’t keep the slick between your thighs. There’s already a delightful prickling sensation from where his beard rubbed against your legs.

He helps you to your feet, then picks up your skirt, giving it a little shake to remove any dust and holding it open for you to step in. ‘I can manage to dress myself,’ you say.

‘I know, didn’t doubt that, Miss beats-me-soundly-at-alchemy,’ he teases. ‘But I like doing this.’

He brings over your shoes and insists on helping you with those too, having you sit back down on the bed as he puts them on your feet. You have a feeling it might just be because he gets to touch your legs once more.

‘You have the best legs,’ he murmurs. 

You let out a snort of laughter. ‘Given how many you’ve apparently seen, I doubt that!’

But he vehemently shakes his head. ‘I mean it, the best legs in the whole school. If you ever wish for another time I’d be happy to oblige, but I’d quite like it if you sat on my face.’

‘Gale, I’d squish you or break your nose!’ you say.

His eyes gleam at the thought. ‘Well worth the risk!’ He gets to his feet, then offers you a hand and after helping you up, he turns your hand over and presses a kiss to the knuckles. ‘Please come back any time.’

You shiver with delight at the thought, but simply nod and leave the room.

***

Of course Nira wants all the juicy, sordid details and you spend the better part of the evening quietly whispering and giggling in your dormitory room as you recount it. She does seem surprised though when you mention that Gale had asked if he could kiss you.

‘Really? He didn’t ask to kiss me,’ she muses, then gives a shrug. ‘Maybe that’s just something new he does, though I swear Jacanthe was just before you and she didn’t talk about him kissing her. I’ll have to ask her at breakfast.’

It’s an odd, trivial notion you’re sure, but you can’t help the pleased little smile at the thought that maybe, just maybe he had solely wanted to kiss you. But you dismiss it, Gale could have any women at the academy and you know better than to get swept away with the idea that maybe his feelings ran deeper for you than anyone else!

[zabchan]

I JUST got into hooked wayfinder and wanna know, do you think anything for Maui and Moana’s relationship being romantic be confirmed in the movie?? Or do you think the new male character will be more “intended” to be a potential partner? Honestly I’m not sure what direction Disney is planning to go, but I love your fanfics. I also see there was a ton of stuff that came out in 2016/17 for hooked waydinder ships too, such a shame I’m so late

:D welcome new friend! Realistically I figure we won't get any kind of confirmation in movie for a mxm romance beyond some highly subjective lingering looks- part of it being that moana is so heavily set up as a modern non-romantic princess. And that's not a bad thing! I'm 100% behind representation of well rounded self actualized heroines for whom romance is not a priority. its important for current and future generations to have role models who don't define themselves by their partners or partner-having potential, especially girls of color, who have gotten the short end of the stick for the majority of media history.

i personally ship moana x maui of course, because im a hopeless romantic and bisexual disaster for these two- but if moana never gets a romance it wont make me stop loving her character and story.

The other reason I doubt we'll see much overt romance is that Dwayne Johnson identifies so heavily with Maui that I can't see him comfortable with 19ish year old Moana being his self insert's love interest. especially with him wanting to fully act Maui in the live action. its one thing to voice some slightly suggestive and tender flirtations, its another to stare a teenage co-actor in the eye and not see very nearly your own daughters. of which johnson has 3, the eldest of whom is 20. (ish?)

Disney is not about to piss off The Rock.

I could write another essay on how Dwayne Johnson =/= maui, and while Mr.Johnson is entitled to his interpretation of the character he helped bring to life; I am also allowed to have my own interpretation, especially here, in the pseudo private realm. but I digress.

That's not to say there's not gonna be plenty of shipper fuel! I mean, idk if you've seen my unhinged screaming posts lately but

AHHHHHHHHH THE HUG! THE GAZES! THE MANHANDLING!

i can very easily see big dumb giant hints that at least moana has a crush on maui, and there is CLEARLY affection between them. at least in the promo material, the focus is on moana and maui teaming up again and we barely see her interact with our new storyteller apprentice & maui-fanboy Moni. he does hug her when he joins the crew, and we see Moni as the vehicle for several exposition dumps. I could see a possible romance, they have a shared interest in stories and on the surface he seems like a lovable cinnamon roll. (I'm projecting). i wouldn't hate that outcome. i also see him positioned next to Loni the ship-designer, our other near-moana's-age crewmate, fellow boat enthusiast and possible love interest *eyebrow wiggle*.

i headcanon moana as bi- altho thats not saying much, as i have a bad(?) habit of headcanoning EVERYone as bi

me, pointing at every character i remotely relate to: "youre all

so i can see moana happy with any of the 3 (maui, moni and loto)- or hell, why not all three?

i find it more probable that moni and loto get paired up as side characters, both of them seem enamored with the ideas of ocean-adventures; moni with his stories and loto with her boat designs, but not truly understanding the reality of seafaring. i can imagine actually going out and doing the things for real has quite a learning curve, and there's a built-in bonding experience. They start on a much more equal footing to one another than they do to Moana the chiefly hero, present and future legend.

as to being late to the fandom, heyyyy this is great timing!!! sequel hype is building, and im already feasting on the promo content- the actual movie release is gonna leave me feral for AT LEAST another year. if by November 2025 no one other than you ships moana x maui then I AM DEAD because aint no way they can squash my candle for this. even if the movie turns out shite i'll be there working on a fix it fic (that i will agonize over and probably never finish because of Who I Am As A Person but yeah know. #justadhdthings)

thank you for your kind words about my fanfictions, altho i read that & my brain immediately went "whoops i hope theyre messaging the right person, did they maybe mean to compliment @thehighpriestessofcuddles? or maybe @v8roadworrier?" because whohoo imposter syndrome. #justadhdthings

[20001541]

What do you think being in prison was actually like for All For One? We know he lies A LOT, so I don't think he's nearly as unaffected as he's shown or rather not shown I guess 😓

Thinking deeper on afo's imprisonment it's actually a lot more disturbing the more I think about it.

What afo is going through is basically solitary confinement 24/7. Guns constantly pointed at him ready to headshot him the second he tries tapping into his quirk or squirms too much. Unable to move at all from the neck down due to restraints. So many sensors it leaves him either completely vulnerable or overstimulated at worst. We never see him lying down either. He's always sitting which is painfull and extremely detrimental to a person's health and mobility if done for long hours without standing up.

I know he's an S rank criminal and super dangerous because the only person who could defeat him (All Might) retired, but you're telling me this futuristic society couldn't do anything more humane with all that tech other than shoving him into a death trap? (I wanted to call it a Saw death trap, but I never watched any of the Saw films ummm)

There's also the more creepy implication to questions like how does afo go to the bathroom in Tartarus. There's no way they just let him walk up to a toilet/urinal 😨

All For One is no stranger to dehumanization and he takes almost everything in stride even Tartarus from the looks of it, but that one panel where he almost begs All Might to not go always stuck out to me.

Sorry for the long essay. I just wanted to say something about this and chat with a fellow All For One fan.

you don't need to apologize, it's an interesting topic!

I think afo's time in prison affected him more deeply than he would ever admit. look how they had him ->

strapped to a metal slab, not being able to move his limbs at all, alone for hours constantly being watched and he doesn't have access to his quirks that allow him to navigate the world so he's completely blind here. oh let's not forget that if he thinks about activating a quirk or makes a sudden movement the guns pointed at his head will automatically shoot him. also like you said being in a sitting position for a long period of time will end up being detrimental to your health.

tartarus whole existence is a violation of human rights and that's without mentioning the disgusting way the guards treat the prisoners. yes they did evil things, but I think dehumanization of any group of people is a dangerous road to walk on and can lead to horrific things committed against said group because it's easier to justify doing horrid things to others if you think the other party isn't even human. with all the amazing quirks and technology that is available it's a surprise to see that they haven't come up with a better way to deal with imprisoned villains. maybe it's because they don't care to come up with a better solution because once again they don't see them as humans so why should they bother trying to make their living situation more bearable? awful stuff.

too bad we don't see anyone from our main cast really question this type of treatment, but oh well. I guess it's implied some things did change as we see spinner was allowed to write and publish a book while in prison (doubt they let him free to do it). so he's not strapped to a metal chair all day like the other prisoners we saw. unless he's getting some special treatment, I don't know the story doesn't really tell us about what happened with him after his confrontation with izuku. only shows us that he managed to publish his book.

BUT back to the main question, what was being in prison in like for afo? honestly, I think he had to fight to stay sane while down there. being in those conditions for a long period of time will wear down your sanity. you saw how desperate he was for all might to stay and talk with him despite him being someone he hates. probably the thought of getting yoichi back kept him going, after all when he's down there he gets excited when he's able to hear his voice for the first time in over a century. even the guards freaked out because his the monitor tracking his vitals went crazy when he heard it.

still I think the whole experience disturbs him more than he would ever admit and it was traumatic but he just shoves down in order to focus on the goal ahead of him. no time to process any of that he's got a brother to catch

[annabtg]

Can I ask why you like James? Everything he and his friends did are toxic male traits. They deserved to be expelled for how they treated Snape. All that guy wanted to do was study and spend time with the girl he loved. Snape shouldn’t have called her a mudblood but that was provoked by James. That guy had ruined Snape’s future and made him turn to the dark arts. How can you support someone like that?. Lily was in love with Snape and I’m certain James snuck a love potion to her or manipulated her into thinking Snape was evil. Snape deserved a happy ending with Lily, and he would have been a better father to Harry than James ever could have. Unfortunately, James arrogant and bullying personality rubbed off on his son. I don’t get how you people can like character like that. Snape deserved Lily because he loved her more than James ever could have.

Is this 2015 Quora?

Well, I meant to get some writing done, but there's always the afternoon, I suppose. I can never resist an opportunity to ramble about my favourite characters!

Can I ask why you like James?

Sure you can (case in point) but why do you care? Do I know you? Do you read my writing? It doesn't seem like it, because he has a central role in it, often highlighted with tags such as "James Potter is a Little Shit", so you'd have an idea already. You're probably just asking to distract me from writing more fic about him. Slightly bothersome, but ultimately beneficial to my essay-writing skills.

Everything he and his friends did are toxic male traits.

As a pharmacist, I will tell you that the dose makes the poison. Anything can be toxic if you take enough of it.

They deserved to be expelled for how they treated Snape.

They did die in the end, which I understand is not as good a punishment as being expelled, but it will have to do.

All that guy wanted to do was study and spend time with the girl he loved.

Spending time with the girl you love is only a nice and honourable thing if she also wants the same thing. If she tells you she's not interested, it's creepy and disgusting.

Snape shouldn’t have called her a mudblood but that was provoked by James.

I fail to understand how a boy who can't even begin to utter the word and is obviously smitten with a girl, can convince another boy to call that same girl a racial slur. It seems rather counterintuitive.

That guy had ruined Snape’s future and made him turn to the dark arts.

Okay listen, I know that working with teens can be a pain sometimes but overall getting a job with tenure at the most prestigious magic school of Britain at the age of 19 is hardly a ruined future. I have many friends who would turn to the dark arts for it.

How can you support someone like that?

Well, he's hot and I have a thing for arrogant smart-arses.

Lily was in love with Snape and I’m certain James snuck a love potion to her or manipulated her into thinking Snape was evil.

Wait, no, we're not on 2015 Quora. 2015 Quora would be claiming that Lily was an ungrateful bitch who treated Snape so badly even though the poor sod loved her with all his life. Because honestly, we never see her showing any kind of love towards Snape. She's always lashing out at him or trying to get something out of him. So self-centered.

Snape deserved a happy ending with Lily, and he would have been a better father to Harry than James ever could have.

As the wonderfully loving way he treated Harry in the books proves beyond doubt, I assume?

Unfortunately, James arrogant and bullying personality rubbed off on his son.

I'm going to have to play the scientist card again but I have to inform you that genes don't work quite like that.

I don’t get how you people can like character like that.

Does this post help at all?

Snape deserved Lily because he loved her more than James ever could have.

Lily was a whole person and could choose her own partner. If she would rather marry the guy who loved her less, that's on her, not on James. I suppose he must have had some qualities that compensated for his less-than-perfect love.

[weirdkpopgirl]

In My Dreams | Renjun Imagine #5

Title: In My Dreams

Genre: College AU, a little angsty with a little fluff

Warnings: mentions of reader feeling insecure (what else is new 🙄)

Word Counts: 911

Author's Note: I seriously apologize for posting such depressing content lately. Honestly writing this type of stuff just makes me realize how much I hate myself. But I'm fine lol, using the Dreamies to distract me is more than enough. I really shouldn't be complaining. Anyway, hope you guys like this little imagine for Renjun ^ ^

𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪

The sigh that escaped your lips came out louder than intended, echoing slightly in the back corner of the lecture. As usual, your mind was subjected to its daily attack of self-conscious thoughts, though today they seemed particularly annoying. 

Absentmindedly you fidgeted with the hem of the black two-piece dress you had carefully chosen to wear. Was revealing your shoulders too much? Too bold? Did it make you look desperate for attention?  It was the only thing in your closet that you had yet to wear, mainly because you wanted to wait for the right time. However, you should’ve known you’d have doubts the minute you put on the dress. 

Your reflection stared back at you from the mirror-like surface of your phone screen, its intensity making your stomach churn. This morning, your wake-up routine had been prolonged by the meticulous effort you put into perfecting your makeup today and undoing the braids you’d done the night before so your hair would be wavy. 

Honestly, you weren’t entirely sure what drove you to put in the extra effort with your appearance today. Initially, you believed you were dressing up for yourself. Yet, as you navigated through a day packed with classes, a tiny glimmer of hope lingered that perhaps someone would notice, though the idea of attention drawn to you was intimidating.

However, as you glanced around the room, everyone seemed to be engrossed in their conversations about the upcoming essay that was due. Sometimes, a part of you wished you could muster up the courage to join one of those groups. But socializing never came naturally to you, and the lack of invitation to contribute only served to dishearten you.

As the professor began the afternoon’s lecture, you temporarily forced those thoughts to go away and focused on taking notes. Though it worked for the most part, your mind occasionally drifted back to the same imposter feeling you consistently experienced. Feeling as though everyone had their lives figured out, while you couldn’t be more out of place.

You were mentally ready to retreat into the confines of your apartment and change into sweats, by the time class was over. By now, your makeup was most likely smudged and the waves in your hair had gone down. Any semblance of confidence you donned that morning had diminished completely.

But just as you gathered your belongings and rose from your seat, a small folded piece of yellow paper fluttered to the table in front of you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you glanced around, expecting to see someone retrieve their misplaced note. Yet, people were already disappearing, leaving you alone with the mysterious paper.

Trying not to dwell on it too much, you hesitantly unfolded the paper. Your breath caught in your throat as you read the words neatly written across the page. While they sounded simple, they held a sincerity that you didn’t receive often.

 ~ Hi there, sorry if this is a little forward. But I just wanted to say that I think you look really pretty in that dress today (not that you don’t look pretty every day!). Also, you should curl your hair like that more often, it suits you ^ ^  - Huang Renjun

As you reached the end of the short message, your heart was pounding in your chest. You had to reread it a few times, to make sure you weren’t just hallucinating. Of all people, Huang Renjun noticed you? The cute boy who sat a few rows ahead of yours?

A shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you shifted your gaze upward to the doorway where he was nervously watching for your reaction. A light shade of pink tinged Renjun’s cheeks as he offered a tentative smile when the two of you locked eyes. Still trying to comprehend was just happened, you cautiously made your way over to him. 

“Um, hi,” you managed to stammer, your voice barely audible.

Renjun stepped closer, his expression softening with genuine warmth. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I just couldn’t leave without saying at least something.”

His words only made you blush more, but the smile on your lips grew with each passing moment.

“No, I should thank you…for the note. I feel a lot better now than I was earlier,” you said, with a half-hearted laugh. 

Renjun’s ears perked up at your response. “Really? Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

A hesitant silence stretched between the two of you, filled with unspoken possibilities. But before you could gather the courage to find something else to say, Renjun reached into his pocket and brought out his phone.

“Would you maybe want to have a meal sometime?” he asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He extended his phone toward you, displaying a new contact pulled up on the screen.

“I’d love to,” you replied a little too eagerly, feeling your heart skip a beat.

Your hand trembled slightly as you took his phone to quickly type in your number. Renjun thanked you with a shy smile and shared he couldn’t wait to get to know you more before leaving for his next class. You had to take a moment to process everything. Did you seriously just get complimented and asked out by Renjun?

Shaking your head with a laugh, “Yeah, right. In my dreams.”

However, that belief couldn’t wipe the foolish smile off your face as you walked out of the lecture hall.

𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪

[autisticlancemcclain]

Jackie supports the lion swap? How dare you!

Okay SO. This is not the first time I’ve gotten an ask or a comment like this, and I’m fully aware it’s a joke (or at least I think), but I also know that it is kind of a controversial topic on here! And I’ve already written an essay in the topic, but I have some more thoughts I’d like to dive into.

I used to be team Blue Paladin Lance, and hardcore on that team, too. If you look at some of my old fics, you’ll see that. However since I am a contrary person by nature, I started to notice that Red Paladin Lance was way less liked, and so I started to like it more. I really grew fond of the dynamic Keith and Lance got to have as co-leaders, both because it was homoerotic as hell and because the symbolism was fun to explore, but klance is not the main reason I started to care so deeply for the lion change — it was actually Shiro and Allura.

I’m going to start with Shiro, because he’s one of the most fascinating characters in VLD, if not underdeveloped. Part of that fascination for me is that he probably has the most arcs and opportunities for character growth and development in the show, and yet somehow he’s the flattest. He’s portrayed as very one-dimensional in a lot of fic — he tends to be less of a character and more of a role. He’s the Space Dad, or the older brother, or the cool teacher, or the kind and wise friend, or even the stoic Black Paladin. He is loved, I think, but the role he plays is loved, not quite the person he is. And that makes sense, because that is exactly how he’s portrayed in canon.

To Keith, Shiro is “like a brother to [him]”, but what do we see of that dynamic? The show has a clear sense of how a brother acts, that’s a good chunk of Pidge’s character. We barely even know Matt, but Pidge carries herself in such a way that it’s clear when her brother shines through her. And yet even though Shiro also goes missing, twice even, Shiro does not shine through his brother. Keith’s impulses are his own, developed from general abandonment issues rather than Shiro’s specific absence. Shiro’s absence becomes less of Shiro’s absence and more of an absence of a beloved leader figure, kind of a martyr, a “Shiro would have wanted you to carry on”. It is really hard for us as a fandom to use Shiro’s disappearance as anything but a plot device, because that’s all it felt like! We have occasional moments with Shiro, enough to care about him in some way, but as a figure, not as a person. Someone pointed it out on one of my fics and I agree wholeheartedly — Shiro is not shown with any flaws, and that makes it really hard to love him, because you don’t really get the pleasure of defending him, of seeing his motivations, his reasons. Not until the very end, at least.

This is, in all honesty, likely just poor writing. Shiro’s character was honestly just sidelined to a role, because he is really not that present in the show. But I am going to work with the benefit of the doubt, and see if I can use the lion change to explain why we all kind of love Shiro anyway, despite the fact that he’s flat as hell.

Shiro isn’t the Black Paladin. He never was. He flew the Black Lion, yes, and he flew her well — but he was never her Chosen. He couldn’t have been. From the very beginning, the Black Lion was in mourning; she was in no space to choose a new paladin. She accepted Shiro, and she loved him, but he did not fall into her as much as he fell into the role she provided for him. He piloted the Black Lion, but he was not her Paladin. This is made obvious in two ways: in that he never got her bayard, and that from the very beginning, he set up a replacement for himself.

Doesn’t that strike anyone else as odd? I haven’t seen the show in five years, and I don’t plan on rewatching, but I do remember that every moment with Shiro almost had this underlying tension. The closest thing I have to canon off the top of my head is the Handbook (which I had to stop reading because they did everyone SO dirty there, even though some of it was honestly pretty funny), which was released in S2, and even that incredibly early canon talked about Keith replacing Shiro!

From the very beginning, Shiro was planning an out to his role. He knew it was not meant for him. He did the role well, but it was not his to do.

Aside from those two reasons, Shiro also…can’t be the Black Paladin. He can’t be that and himself, I mean. This part is a little more complicated, so I’m going to borrow some of my own tags from some awesome fanart I saw:

I really do think Shiro is defined by his humanity (as is heavily implied by his illness — this is a character who is completely and totally bound to his mortality. Of all the other characters, he is the one most familiar with death, so he is the one who is most intimate with the raw fear of being human. But more on that later), but it’s my last comment that I want to focus on — “he is DEFINED by his his humanity…even as his greatest asset is the part of him that is not human”.

Every second that Shiro is leader of Voltron, he is the Champion. That can literally be his only goal — he is the head of the fight against Zarkon and the Empire. Either Shiro comes out the Champion, or Zarkon does. Either Shiro has to grit his teeth and fight off the flashbacks and the fear and the pain and use the one thing that forces him to reconcile with the fact that he had his entire personhood stripped away (his arm, his Galra arm, one of their biggest advantages as a team; his connection to Zarkon through Black, something that can only help the war effort at a direct cost to him; everything he does in this war is shoving him right back into that Arena again and again and again), or Zarkon wins. Every second Shiro pilots Black, every time he plays her paladin, he has to be who the Empire made him to be. He has to be the Champion. Once again he is not Takashi Shirogane, the person, the astronaut, the man, he is the Role. He is the Space Dad he is the Pilot of the Black Lion he is the Champion. For every second he is in that lion he is stripping away himself.

Obviously, that is something that was never sustainable. On this argument alone, Shiro was going to waste away eventually. There was always going to be a point where Shiro was not going to be able to be the Champion anymore. There was always, from the very way the dynamic was set up, going to have to be a lion switch. Now, interestingly enough, there could have been a really easy fix to this: Black Paladin Allura. She’s already a born and raised leader, already shown her immense competence, already someone the rest of the paladins follow. With her at the helm, nothing else would have to change, right?

Well, maybe. We’ll never know. One part of that is absolutely true — Allura should have been a paladin from the very beginning. Her quintessence is canonically closest to the entirety of Voltron (something that bears its own essay,; the relationship between all six of the paladins and Voltron is wrought with heavy symbolism), she is the most highly trained, she is smart, and she actually wants to be out on the field. She should have been in that armour from day one.

But Allura cannot be the Black Paladin. Allura cannot handle other’s sacrifice.

Of course this is a complicated subject. Should a leader sit back and let her crew sacrifice themselves instead of her? Must she hold herself in higher regard, convince herself she’s more important? Of course not! Teams, especially Voltron, are built with assets. While not everyone might be ‘equal’ in the traditional sense, they are all integral, and expecting sacrifices is not the stance I am trying to take here. But the point of a team, especially a team so small and vital as Voltron, is that everyone is willing to be the sacrifice, as they have to be, and Allura simply can’t handle that. She shows us this from the beginning, when she disguises herself as Galra and is taken in place of anyone on the team she barely knows, and again in Oriande with the White Lion, and finally in the piece of shit canon ending. Allura has to be the sacrifice. Every time.

And how could she not be? The last time she spared herself of sacrifice, she lost her entire people. The last time she let others sacrifice themselves for her, she was left alone, to shoulder a war bigger and greater than she could ever handle. Allura is painfully familiar with the agony of being the survivor, and she cannot do that again. She cannot and will not put herself through that again. As the Black Paladin, she would have to let her team make sacrifices — she would have to let them have their own agency, their own decisions; she would have to let them choose to get hurt and choose to do risky things and analyse and react and act. As leader she would have to trust her team to put themselves in harm’s way, and not only that, but she would have to authorize them to do so.

Like Shiro cannot last as the Champion, Allura cannot last as the Survivor. Shiro cannot even last in Voltron, and it is foolish to keep Allura out of it. A lion change is absolutely necessary for the show to move forward, for the war to move forward. The initial team was doomed to fail.

How would it change, then? What would fit? I know I’ve said my piece. I know who I think would fit where. But since I’ve been comparing character arcs to their roles as paladins, I’d like to keep doing that — what about Keith makes me so sure that he’s the true Black Paladin?

I’ll show you with process of elimination. I know Black Paladin Lance is a favourite, and I can see why. Lance has many leadership qualities, is a good tactician, and cares deeply. However, aside from his desire for power making him less suitable for the role, Lance functions best as support, despite how much he hates it. He is the one who knows how to pick up the pieces of a broken situation. He is an excellent guide, which makes him an unbelievably valuable second. He is adaptable, so he can fill in for many different roles. He can step in for leader when necessary, but putting him in Black would encourage a more active role for him; would force him to anticipate and plan for specific outcomes rather than his strength as one who analyses any outcome as it arises and works within it then. Lance could be the Black Paladin, yes, but taking him from the body and placing him in the head would be a fool’s choice. It would be crippling to Voltron, to put the jack of all trades as a master of one. Lance’s arc is all about learning to love and trust himself as he is, as the seventh wheel. Not to put him in charge of the vehicle.

Well, what about Hunk? Hunk is incredibly intelligent and analytical. He probably could lead Voltron, and did in several occasions. But Hunk’s arc is interesting because it was handled so early in the show. Unlike the rest of the team, Hunk’s arcs were solved largely in the first season. His biggest flaws were his distrust of people and, literally, his inability to fly. He could not take his feet off the ground. He was so untrusting that he could not manage to take a step forward. However his bonding with Yellow and trust with the team and their subsequent and returned trust resolved these issues, more or less, which is probably why Hunk was treated more and more like a side character the longer VLD went on. Hunk didn’t need the role of Black Paladin because he had settled into the Yellow Paladin in a way that was sustainable.

Pidge is in a similar boat. Her arc, primarily, has been about finding her family. Voltron was almost second priority for her, or at least not her only first priority. And understandably so! As the youngest she was afforded with that lenience. Her growth was about growing into her own pain, about becoming her own person alongside what she had become in the absence of her brother. As the Black Paladin, she would no longer have the space to prioritize her search for her family alongside Voltron, so her position as Black Paladin would be unstable. She is best suited in Green, where she can focus on several things at once.

That really only leaves Keith. In many ways it comes full circle — the Black Lion healing from her grief by choosing the man who ran from his Galran heritage and his power as a leader, rather than the man who chose nationalism and power over anything else. Keith is Zarkon’s direct opposite, and as such is the other side of the same coin, the one who is truly Black’s Chosen. We know this because Keith is the one who wields the Black Bayard, and Keith is, from the very beginning, the one the rest of the team chooses to follow — I ask you whether it was for Shiro that the three other humans ran off to chase in the desert, or Keith? Who was it that Lance could not leave alone? Who was it that piqued Hunk’s curiousity? Who was it that challenged Pidge to choose Voltron, rather than the search for her family?

That covers Black Paladin Keith. But what about Red Paladin Lance? I’ve established already why he cannot be the Black Paladin, but why did he have to move from Blue? For that, I bring you another few slices from early, S2 and previous canon:

“I thought what we had was special!” “Seventh wheel, if you count the Alteans.” More than once, Lance laments over being forgotten. He struggles with feeling like anything but the extra, the unnecessary. Whether or not Blue Chose him is irrelevant — he does not feel Chosen by her. The Pilot of the Blue Lion position for Lance is as unsustainable as the Pilot of the Black Lion position for Shiro — Lance does not trust it. He doesn’t trust himself in the role, and doesn’t trust Blue in having chosen it for him. Obviously, this is not the role for him.

But Red? Keith’s Red Paladin, at least? Yes, he struggles with feeling like Keith’s second, but that is literally his arc. Lance’s development is about becoming his own person despite his own misgivings about being second-best. His role as the Red Paladin is the fulfilling of his arc, and is thus the best Lion for him, the Chosen. And Red did Choose him, mind you. There was an adjustment period, of course there was, but Red did more than let Lance pilot her. She opened up new possibilities for Lance — think the broadsword — that he could not see. Red saw his potential and revelled in it. She Chose him.

Lastly — and this turned out to be less relevant to the essay than I expected, but I do want to go over it a tad — is Shiro’s tie to humanity. I mentioned two important points: Shiro’s connection to mortality makes him the most intimate with his humanity out of all the characters, and he is undoubtedly the flattest character of them all. That is, if you don’t consider his clone to be part of his character.

But I’m begging you to reconsider. Reconsider, perhaps, who the clone is — Haggar had pure access to Shiro for a year, you remember. His thoughts, his dreams, his mannerisms, his priorities, his body. Even him at his most human, his most deranged, his most scared. She had Shiro then. She had Shiro when he had nothing to look forward to. She had Shiro when he hurt his crew to make sure they would live, at direct cost to himself.

She stripped him of his humanity — his connection to his own mortality. She took his illness from him. And who, then, did she return to the team? Who was clone? Shiro, mostly. The clone was happy to play with the team. The clone was clever. The clone believed, fully, that he was Shiro, only he was angrier and meaner, a little, and less capable of shoving down his own pain. Shiro, stripped of his tie to humanity and mortality, stripped of his compulsive need to be strained and stressed and the one everyone else can rely on, the Role rather than the Person, is emotional. He has flaws and outbursts. He can’t manage his own pain. He is is cruelest to the one person on the team — Lance — who canonically reminds him closest of himself.

Shiro, in the purest form that Haggar can make him, is flawed and self-hating. That is where our love for him comes. Not the man who pushes himself down at the same time as he sacrifices his personality to be someone for others, but the man who is struggling and can’t keep it locked down. That’s where it comes from.

Anyways. Like with my other essay, I’ll admit that this analysis is probably reading into this. The writing of VLD was flawed, at best, but regardless, I think the lion change is a rich amalgamation of the characters and who they really are.

[lgbtqreads]

not to b sappy on main but i really just wanted to wholeheartedly thank you for this. i read whatever i could get my hands on when i was younger, because i hadn’t really figured out my reading taste yet, just that i liked reading. and even after i realised i was queer, at first i didn’t really start seeking out books with queer characters in them. i guess i felt like i was an abnormality — something i know that a lot of us feel, particularly if we grow up in a place where there isn’t anyone who is like us. but i’ve been trying to seek out more queer media and history this year, if only because i finally managed to internally embrace my queerness for the first time, and so for the first time, i wanted to know more about our history and our culture and i wanted to be someone who could see myself in queer characters. and your blog has just really really helped with that. at first, i was reading any queer books i could find, which was… nice, but i eventually got tired of books that weren’t from genres i enjoyed, or books where the entire cast was white (nothing’s wrong with being any race obviously, i’m just not white and so their experiences weren’t what i wanted to read, since i was reading to try and comfort and see myself — or close to myself, anyway), or books that just weren’t my thing. hence, this blog. i’m now reading queer novels, comics, essay collections etc all the time, and often the characters are the same kind of queerness as me, or from my country, or follow the same religion i do. and i can’t tell you how much that’s meant to me. i honestly feel like a different person — a lot happier, a lot more settled, a lot more of nodding my head to others’ experiences and crying because i no longer feel like i’m the only person who’s desi, african, queer etc (being at the intersection of a lot of different marginalised groups is… interesting, at least in my case it just meant i had less people from which to relate to and never really felt accepted anywhere as i was too different for each ‘group’…. something which reading all of these books has helped combat). so, yeah. i’m planning to write my own stories about queer people and characters now, and looking into archives that my country has for us. for the first time in a long time, i feel genuinely optimistic and excited about my future as a queer person, because it just… it just feels so much more like a community to me now, reconciling my childhood love of reading and all of my experiences and ethnicity and religion with my queerness. and i have you to thank for making that happen for me and i know, in some capacity, for a lot of others. just… this is super long and rambly, but i just kind of wanted to convey how much this has (and does) mean/t to me and how grateful i am. thank you for uplifting our voices — i never knew how much i needed to hear them, and how healed i would feel because of that.

This is the absolute most perfect kind of “long and rambly” and I’m not saying I’m crying but I’m not saying I’m not. Thank you so much for sharing this with me, and I’m so, so happy you’ve found books you love and that inspire you and that help encourage you to share your own voice with readers and the world. 

I’ll be honest, it’s been a tough year and I have thought more than once about shutting down this blog because it does take a lot of time I don’t really have. But I think about a post that was sent to me a few years ago, and that always helps keep me going, and I know without a doubt this note will help inspire me when I need it too <3

[contentloadingandstuff]

Hi I know it was a vent post and you probably don't want anyone to i guess give advice/support (idk what to call this) but!! As a person who consumes content, especially written, i can tell you for sure that writing is a great skill to have! Like in school, people would pay me to write/help them with essays. But that's not important - what is important is that you are a great writer! And I don't know how long it's been since you started trying things outside of tumblr, but things take time. Unless you are super famous or have connections, you're not going to get involved in things right away. And that's okay!!! That doesn't mean you suck. It allows you to build a name for yourself as you continue doing great work that will get you recognized eventually!

But seriously, writing is NOT a skill that EVERYONE can just do. I've read work from people who could be a great artist as you said, but their writing reads as if it was written by a child. Or even a decent enough story that is better than a child's level, but still flows horrible and makes me try to skip parts to get to what I'm interested in. And I see this very prominently in the nsfw spaces, although there are some great writers like you, there are just as many (and im not trying to be rude) subpar writers. There's just no way I can stress enough that writing, especially being able to write things of a good quality, is a skill that is very important and i know you'll get to where you hope to be in time, and am grateful you continue to make content!

Like literally i am obsessed with your blog and I check at least every 2 days or so if not every day at least once. Please continue the great work you do, and continue growing in your craft and i knowyou will achieve your goals and i will personally look forward to everything you'll write!

-an experienced fanfic reader!

It's perfectly okay to write as you did here - posting my thoughts on a public blog means that I'm alright with people seeing it and commenting on it. Hm... Now that I think of it, I may be over sharing on the blog in general, but, honestly? It's my corner of the internet, and it's an important place to me - so it's probably alright. Anyway...

I wasn't expecting anybody to put this level of thought into any sort of interaction with me, if I am to be honest. I'm positively taken aback.

First of all, thank you. Reading this was very uplifting, and I will hold onto your ask, returning to it in moments of doubt. I can't stress how wholesome it felt... So just... Thank you.

The amusing thing is that I was never a great student at school, and essays that I created (both in my native language, Polish, and English) were usually mediocre. But I definitely had a better time, enjoyment wise, with Polish essays since those in English were always absurd. Very general, require certain hard words or phrases, and the damned word limit. On my highschool finals in C1 English I had to write an essay about the risks and opportunities AI provides (if I had a penny for every time I wrote about something like this, I would have a lot of them, but I wouldn't be able to buy more than a pack of gum)... in under 800 words. I'm a simple guy - either do it properly, or don't do it at all. These kinds of restrictions are the bane of my writing. Still, I got an 88%. Polish is similar, but there's no arbitrary word limit and the formal requirements go on for pages of rules and regulations. Brr. Never want to do it again. But I will. Since I'm studying law and all. The point is, I wasn't good at writing in the official sense - which doesn't give me a solid base of confidence in myself, and it's visible in the frequency of me doubting myself here.

Tsk. Pathetic. I'm making a clown of myself in front of hundreds of people, am I not? Typical of me.

In general, having my own blog killed most of my interest in reading and watching what others are doing, though I still occasionally read up. And when I do - comparisons. Okay, so this fic is short, not much attention paid to pacing and style, quite generic in topic, written with the most stereotypical words for this kind of content, but it's nice... Oh? Oh. It has over two thousand likes, reblogs and comments. Cool. What does it do that I don't? Am I writing too long fics? I do think so, because short form tends to get more attention. That's perfectly reasonable, but sad nonetheless. I can't fully enjoy the stuff of other people for another reason as well - my mind screams a question at me every short moment - "and what have YOU done that measures up to this?". This doesn't only apply to fics. Kinkymation, a nsfw comic creator for genshin, zzz and a few others that's quite famous, has it all seemingly - very characteristic and memorable style, good, wholesome content, lots of it too, and can write a good enough narrative. I even heard that he does animations now. The only minor shortcoming is I think the lack of variation in his stuff - everything is vanilla ice cream, wholesome-romantic and slightly cheesy at times. But he's still a great cc.

He has everything one could dream of in this "field", and I constantly compare myself to him. And the conclusion? I am nothing. I am a flounder, a bottom feeder in comparison to him.

It's not that I want to earn money - as you surely noticed, I never ever prompted my Kofi since I made it in spring of 2024. I just want to make something that I can be proud of, especially if it includes joining forces with those that make up for my lack of artistic skills. It would be very nice, for sure.

Alas, the reality is what it is, as the saying goes.

Never mind. On a final note, if you're checking contentloadingandstuff this frequently, I really need to kick myself into high(er) gear. You wish me well, and I should show some basic gratitude.

Again, thank you. So much.

[hisgxrlfriday]

RR fans and their scary parasocial ways

So I've been thinking about this for a little while and with the WWWY announcement a lot of attitudes have been re-emphasised online. I love Ryan and I honestly just feel bad- I don't think ruined is the right word nor am I trying to speak on his behalf. A lot of this is my opinion, but also, I'm really not making stuff up I'm just using them to justify my viewpoint. I'm gonna try and break it up into paragraphs, i know i said an essay but I'm in the middle of exams and theres nothing i want less than to write another damn essay.

Without further ado, here's my commentary on fan culture and how it how seems to have impacted Ryan Ross.

To clairfy, I'm assuming he's a bit done wiith the whole fame thing based off how little we see of him- compared to like, Jon.

Initial reception-

Obviously Panic blew up massively very early on, when they were very young. And fans treated them really gross. As a band they were harassed- if someone said to their favourite artist today "I want to lick you" they would get torn up. But there's a video where they talk about these kinds of comments being made to them at shows, and the interviewer laughs. These kids were young. Jon wasn't old enough to drink. And the behaviour was considered totally fine. Was it because they were a bunch of teenage boys, why wouldn't they want hot chicks all over them?

I'm not going to evaluate the effects harassment has. I am, however, sure you can understand. Yes that is just one example. But theres no doubt it happened plenty of times and people did not care. I'll go more into the sexualisation of the members later as well. But yeah. This was the treatment people dished out to Panic, its kinda obviously not cool! This is certainly more general than the rest, btw.

That fan who pretended to be Brendon Urie-

The sheer extent Chelsey Lynn went to in order to catfish Ryan is literally incriminating.

Here are the details: https://www.tumblr.com/pathetic-at-the-disco/171916782926/the-time-that-ryan-ross-was-catfished-by-a-fan

Brendon and Ryan's friendship, according to this, had officially fractured in 2010 and Chelsey wanted to rekindle it. We'll never know the genuine intent and that sucks- not too mention that you could begin to believe that it was driven by a sickening desire to prove 'Ryden'. It sucks that this fractured any chance of Ryan and Brendon hanging again- because Ryan clearly wanted that. And of course, he was so embarrassed. Why would he trust fans, why would he want to interact with anyone after that?

I think its clear that this did have a lasting impact, because Ryan clearly wasnt interested in rekindling the friendship after it occurred, personally I would never want to look at Brendon again after those messages leaked, its just a very personal thing and it sucks. We know that it was awkies between them because of that video from c2016 (made up time based on his hair) where Brendon explains that yeah, they saw each other somewhere and the conversation was super awkward the kind of thing you get from someone you literally toured the world with.

That instance in itself would have been enough for me to flee the country personally, but maybe I'm projecting.

The Milk Fic-

If Brendon Urie knows about it and Gerard Way read it, everyone ever knows about the milk fic. And theres two ways you can address this. I read the milk fic when i was young and it was gross. and then I read it again when I was older and that shit isnt just gross- its like. abhorrent. appalling. offensive. I think the issue with this isn't that its RPF- it's the fact that it is disturbingly vulnerable, highkey is romanticising abuse, and was (and kinda still is) the punchline to too many jokes. Aged 10 I proudly watched 'emo bands on crack' and other videos of the sort a lot, and the milk fic was mentioned a lot. Literally today (october, 2024) I saw a TikTok about it.

I think if i was a celebrity I would want people writing shit about me. Yay for a bit of fanfic. But when the work that is associated with you so broadly on social media is that... blegh. Its like, violating. I love CrankThatFrank, always did, but I'm telling you if Ryan Ross knew anything of CTF's content, which I assume he did based off the interview, Ryan totally knew about the milk fic. And that is no hate, Franks content was banger, and he wasnt the only person who contributed to it. So. I dont know, I dont see why fans would write that, but obviously the only people who would write about celebrities are fans. Its backwards.

[Edit] just proving my point, the photo at the end was posted on Halloween in 2024 and it’s soooo off putting that I’m not even blocking out the user

Conclusion-

I was gonna do a chunk about all his dickriders online but. I hope for their sake and his sake he doesnt see any of it. It's unfortunately embarassing. I'm going to pretend that he is completely unaware of them therefore it cant impact the relationship he has with them.

Anyways. Unsure if the tone of this is perfect, I've not really done a grammar check and I very well could keep adding to this post. Thank you for taking the time to read this all <3 happy to explain my thinking

[anewkindofme]

So I know you’ve talked about if Stefan was a girl in the past, which has made me think about what if Marcel was a girl? I don’t know if you’ve talked about this yet or not, but I’ve always found the concept interesting. Like would they have met the same way? Would klaus be even more possessive- similar to how he is with Rebekah? Would he be similar to how he is with Hope? The girl wouldn’t have gone to fight in the war so how would that change their dynamic? I honestly have so many ideas - but I don’t want to bug you with all of them but I would love to hear your opinion on this! <3

First off, you're not bothering me at all and I'd love to hear your ideas!

I think he'd probably find her the same way, to be honest. Being whipped by that asshole and Marcella standing up for herself. Except, I don't think it'd be Klaus seeing himself in her, it'd be him seeing Rebekah getting whipped by Mikael. Which I do believe had to have happened a few times. So, he steps in, kills the asshole and basically adopts her on the spot.

But yes, they would have a much different relationship. Again, Klaus saw nothing but himself in Marcel and so badly wanted to right the wrongs of Mikael. Whereas, I do think he wanted to break the abusive cycle when it came to Hope (and would the same for Marcella), but I also feel it was almost his way of trying to make up how he was with Rebekah. He was protective but when it came to things Hope wanted to do, he was supportive. She wanted to dabble in witchcraft? Safely, he allowed it. He indulged her love of art. Yes, he went into typical protective daddy mode with boys but he let her have that sweet moment with Landon. He did abandon her (which, I could write several essays on how fucked up it is that basically all of the family did, including Hayley but that's not what you asked lmao), but he truly thought with her best interest and not his.

But...Hope got the Klaus that went through centuries of growth. She got the dad that Marcel should've had. But, in the 1800s...he was not this man.

I think he would've been how he was with Rebekah, but knock it up to about 100 because Marcella would be human. I think he'd try to keep her sheltered as much as possible. She would not be allowed to leave the house alone. She'd always have to have an escort. If she merely thought about being with a boy, that boy would be dead.

He'd indulge her, there's no doubt about that. She'd have everything her heart desires. She's his sweet, precious princess. He wouldn't treat her as a warrior at all. Rather, just a fragile doll. It'd take time for her to see that she wasn't delicate.

As you said, she couldn't join the war as a soldier but she could've served as a nurse. I see her turning soldiers before they died as a way to save them. Kind of like the female version of Carlisle Cullen. And when Klaus found out...he'd be pissed.

I don't think he ever stopped looking at any of his kids like children. Even when he and Marcel had their rivalry, it's clear he (and Elijah) viewed him as a petulant little prince throwing a temper tantrum because he's mad at his daddy and uncle. And once again, I think it'd double with Marcella with Klaus not taking her seriously. I think the MIkaelson family overall is "above their time" when it comes to gender roles, sexuality, etc. That being said, Klaus holds some extremely sexist ideals. He says he supports women doing what they love and says they are warriors in their own right...but then he tries to step in and control things, even in a loving way. Like, he knows Rebekah can fend for herself but also thinks "She's my baby sister, she needs more protecting than my brothers". So, I think he'd do the same with Marcella. Even when she was a vampire, he'd think "This is my baby, no way in hell!"

Though, I think Marcella would be more straightforward than Marcel was when it came to defying Klaus. Marcel had to elaborately fake his death. I see Marcella snapping and daring Klaus to dagger her like he has his family. Or compel her to follow his every move. Really bait him into an argument. I don't think Klaus ever struck young Marcel (outside spanking him), but I do think there was that slight fear that he'd do it. Whereas, I don't think Marcella would have that fear. She'd call his bluff and threaten to run away.

And this is where I see it diverging. He does dagger Marcella. He keeps her in a coffin for 80 years because he will not lose his little girl. When Elijah undaggers the rest of his siblings, he undaggers his niece as well.

And I think having his daughter would be what pushed Klaus to try to be better. Especially when she wants very little to do with him. Eventually, she takes off for New Orleans. Klaus follows her. But The Originals would be about them, along with the rest of the family rebuilding that bond. Because as possessive as Klaus was, he was a loving father and Marcella just wants her dad back. She just can't have it be how it was before.

Marcella (Gerard) Mikaelson, as portrayed by Sierra McClain

[opinated-user]

https:/ / archive. ph/ svv67

archive for lily telling britt to unalive herself.

thank you, anon! you're a real one!

reading through this, i have no doubt in my mind that LO send that to herself just to have an excuse to try to one up Brittany... even though Brittany has her own blog to do that on her own space. which brings the question, LO, if you have anything specific to say about anything we claim, what exactly is stopping you from just screenshotting those pots and respond to them directly instead of this weird "anon brought me this thing you say and therefore i get to rant about it while pretending i had nothing to do with how this information came to me" you do? just about in general, you comes off less trustworthy because of this because nobody is actually seeing what you're reacting to. you can make all the angry anons you want. doesn't mean that people are going to actually believe that is Brittany. anyway, there are some point in the response of LO that i want to talk about for a second.

so, sincerely speaking? from my bottom of my heart, hypothetically, if LO was actually a ghost writer and she was earning enough for a comfortable living, enough that she can drop youtube entirely, i'd be honestly happy for her. i'd prefer that she became a full time ghost writer than a youtuber, because you can't groom people with ghost writing gigs. you can't form an audience around being a ghost writer, only inside clients who need your services, who are all pressumably going to be adults in the first place. whatever bigotry or misinformation you spread on that job comes from what a clent asked of you, not from you having horrible opinions about issues that either don't affect you or you don't actually care about or generally being an awful person. because the thing that LO is missing is that nobody is trying to deplatform her because. we want to do that and encourage people to not give her views ever, no matter what kind of video she's making about what topic (which is why my pinned post will always be resources for people to avoid going to give her clicks), not because we want her to become homeless and struggle to have her basic needs met. we know that it's not going to happen anyway because she's daddy's girl and will always count with his money when this youtuber thing completely fails for her, but even if that wasn't a factor, nobody is aiming for that. we want to deplatform LO because she has actively used her platform to abuse, hurt and traumatize people. i'm not talking about her bad takes on anime or show or animation or anything she claims we have an issue with. i'm talking about the way she has groomed people, used her money to make vulnerable people do things they wouldn't otherwise, exposed minors to think they shouldn't have been exposed to by a trusted adult and spread outright lies to defend rapist or other dangerous people because it was convenient for her narrative. we want LO to not be watched anymore by anyone because she has shown, time and time again, that she'll never try to not hurt someone the moment she has a chance for it. because as long she gets views, has subscribers and has any level of influence, she's still a danger.

i'm sure that the Brittany hivemind agrees with all of this as well. so no, LO, you had it all wrong. if you had a job outside of youtube or any social media, we'd love that for you. if anything, we'd encourage it so much more than keep creating bad essays in video form. but we both know that it's not true and you told us that yourself without realizing. so we have to call out the obvious lie you naively expect people to just take.

literally the first result in google search when you type "do ghost writer write fiction":

the second one:

who is the one who looks like they have no idea how this industry works? (although, if i want to get extra petty here, another reason why people can have reasonable doubt about your ghost writing job, beyond the fact that we have evidence of the many lies you tell on a regular basis... a ghost writer by definition has to know to be versatile and write on an more than acceptable level, if not being also good for the editing. LO, you don't even edit your own scripts. you record them in the first draft. your writing style is terrible, both in a grammar sense as an stylistic sense. so you mean to tell me that for your fanfiction, videos, posts, and everything to do with your name, you make zero effort into making it look decent and reserve all your hidden abilities for... writting for crappy apps? oh and flavor text on some unnamed RPG? seriously? how is anyone supposed to believe that?) anyway, the relevant portion is this:

LO, you're a despicable horrible human being. every ounce of compassion or grace i was ever willing to give you have killed it, smothered it, turned it into ashes and then piss on the debris just to spite me. every chance i gave you to be a better person, to do the right thing, you have squandered it and ignored it. you genuinely disgust me. you're repulsive. i feel sorry only for myself for ever believing you were more than a parasite, a groomer and an abuser. Brittany has never been better than the day you both stopped being friends. your sibling, who never liked you in the way you wanted them to and never would have, is a better friend you never was. everyone who has left you is better for it and someday that fact will fully crush you, but there won't be anyone there to console you and tell you that you "deserved better" because you'll be all alone. nobody will be responsible for that when it happens. not me, not Brittany, not Courtney, not any of the other blogs who criticize you. you. you always be your worst enemy and, the best part is, that is the one you'll never get rid of.

[littedidyouknow]

B, L and V for the ask game :)

Hey!

B - I just answered this one!

L:  Which of your fanfics was the most emotionally challenging to write?

Definitely You gave me my name and the color of your eyes. It’s a bit obvious with the theme and subjects being tackled but it’s the first time I’ve cried while writing something. It’s also a fic I can’t ‘binge-write’. With my other wips, I have no problem writing a lotttt in one go or several days in a row. For this one I really can’t.

V: Are there certain comments you’ve received on your stories that have stuck with you?

Oh, yes, absolutely. Abolutely!!

So I love and adore and reread every comment I receive because they make me genuinely so happy.

BUT i’ve had some specific comments that I hold dear to my heart. I’ve had readers who are single parents, SA survivors, who have been in a toxic relationship, who have experienced miscarriages, grief, depression (…) tell me they relate to my fics (or specific chapters) and that my writing has been some kind of healing for them and this is honestly the very best things I’ve ever been told about my writing. This makes me so, so, very happy.

I’ve said it many times but writing gets lonely, and I am a doubt-driven person at my core lol. I never thought my writing was any good (genuine) and wouldn’t even have started posting if I had been able to stop thinking about that scene that started wcltla. To know that people ✨relate✨ to what I write and that it helps them in a way is just— I have no words.

I’ve also had a reader telling me they usually didn’t like AUs but now they want to have my fic printed and bound to sit on their bookshelf (🥺) and read every single thing I post, or people who usually don’t like fics with kids love mine and I honestly just can’t describe what it feels like to receive these kind of comments.

I’ll add to that that I love when people pull out lines or passages that they really liked in the fics. It’s always so nice to know which parts hit the most!!

Sorry this turned into an essay lool. Can you tell I live off of comments and they make me SWOON?

[brasideios]

10 Characters/10 Fandoms/10 Tags

Thank you for thinking of me my dears @krankittoeleven & @ainulindaelynn

Lemme see. This is long, sorry about that. I’m in a rambling mood. These are just the characters that came wandering into my noodle in no order - at least, that was intended.

1. Dorothea from Middlemarch (by George Eliot). She’s probably my fave character ever. I think in a mostly abstract way, she’s come nearest to mapping out how I perceive the feminine part of myself. She starts out so so idealistic - wanting to do something to change the world, to matter, but society has its own rules that eventually beats her down, but she’s so stoic, enduring, and self-denying, that her happy ending is earned… but then the epilogue is so melancholy so was it happy? and… I don’t know. There’s something in it all that I’ve never found a better version of.

2. My brain is on D names now lol so Daphnae from AC Odyssey. The more I think about her story, as little as we’re given of it, the more I find something tragic and fated in it, and then there’s the possibility of changing that fate, or embracing it. Something, something doomed by the narrative, unless…?

3. Demosthenes from my pdfs lol listen - ancient history RPF is a fandom (apparently) so this is valid. I have been down some serious rabbit holes with this man of late - I won’t even start on why or this will be an essay. I could also have put Thucydides in this position - but I’m on D names.

4. Daria. No seriously. I loved this show when I was a teen, and she’s honestly my spirit animal. It was my nickname because I was unfortunately very much like that. I adore her deadpan, acerbic remarks and many of them will live on in my brain forevermore. I wasn’t as witty btw - but the vibes were the same.

5. Hedwyn from the vg Pyre (woot! My brain releases me from the letter D!). I’ve played it several times now, and he’s my fave. Just a sweet guy - so sweet, you always want to free him first, but then you also very much wanna keep him with you - and sometimes I’ve been selfish enough to send everyone else instead. I also like Volfred a lot but that has everything up do with the VA 🙈

6. Alfie from Peaky Blinders. I have no excuses - the character is an unhinged maniac but Tom Hardy just brought something (a twinkling eye) to the role that makes him a very likeable, back-stabbing psychopath.

7. Caesar from HBO Rome. Ciaran Hinds has been a fave of mine since Persuasion - and I liked how he acted this part / how he was written. That’s all I’ll ever say about Caesar - character or historical figure. There are at least another half a dozen characters in this series I might’ve mentioned too. I must rewatch it one of these days.

8. Gannicus from Starz Spartacus. Dustin Clare is an old time favourite from waaaay back when I was persuaded to watch McLeod’s Daughters - really bingeable but quite trashy Aussie TV - sorry to any fans - but it really is. I so enjoyed his vibes and he brings all of that to Gannicus and it just works so well for the character. Pure cheekiness, and when he does this face 🥺 chefs kiss. Side note - I will pretty regularly say some variation of ‘my cock rages on’ about the most random stuff so - thanks to this character for that gem lol.

9. Johnny Spit from the movie Gettin Square. Yeah this is left field and I seriously doubt there’s a fandom for it - but what a character - quintessentially Australian deadbeat, (played by David Wenham). There’s a courtroom scene that kills me every time. I hope he got square, for good this time.

10. Kenny from Mad Men. I don’t even know how to explain it, I just want to protect him and he doesn’t even deserve it, and he wouldn’t have thanked me for it - maybe it was just the way everyone else was just an asshole about his writing. I want to know more about the short story about the egg. I could’ve picked almost any other character from this show though. They’re all so good/bad for their own reasons.

I made it! Haha! I have no idea who to tag - I think the only people who usually join in have already been tagged - so I’ll just add a few and call it ten. Sorry for any double ups.

No pressure at all - @nemo-of-house-frye @theinkandthesea @liminalspacecowboah @cyrus-the-younger @myriath

[atla-confessions]

Don’t know who needs to hear this but using a character as a self insert in your ship is fine as long as you remeber that you are not actually that character and criticism of that character is not criticism of you but that is in a general sense.

Using a character as a self insert in your own blog in your own fanfiction or or your own fan art is fine and don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad about it. Self insert character has become such a dirty invalidating word in this fandom and it’s so fucking weird.

I honestly doubt it but so fucking what if Bryke self inserted themselves as Aang? So fucking what that one fanfic author that is a hot button topic recently self inserts as Katara. Same as if any of the female staff came out and said Katara or toph of any character was their self insert. Same for the numerous writers and fans that self insert as Zuko.

So fucking what if any body self inserts as any character to process their trauma, work out their feelings or simply because they want to ship themselves with a pretty boy/girl or just even because they want too!

Fucking some of our best stories are self inserts Dante’s inferno is self insert Bible fanfiction. Half of Plato’s essays are him self inserting himself as Socrates (over simplification) Jane Austen has self inserts in her own works. there is nothing inherently wrong with self inserting yourself in a character we all kinda do it when we write a character that’s a lot like ourselves.

Also self inserting is not inherently scummy when a man does it (it can be scummy but it is not inherently scummy) and it is not pure or ground breaking or inherently better when a woman does it (it definetly can be all those things) let’s stop being so fucking

Let’s all stop being so fucking puritanical

X