#stop being so weird about black and brown women!!!

[the-everqueen]

i think my pinned post summarizes the issue fairly succinctly, pero...it makes me so so uncomfortable when fandom et large decides that a dark-skinned black woman or a distinctly "ethnic" woman is a sex-repulsed aroace lesbian. not because there aren't black and brown women who identify that way, and not because i don't support them or diverse headcanons around a character's sexuality. but because when a lot of people automatically categorize a racialized Other as above/beyond/disgusted by sex, esp. when they otherwise intensely talk about white mlm or light-skinned queer ships as being sexual and romantic, it feels like the message (unintentional or not) is, "black and brown women are not worthy of love or romance. black and brown women need to be Untouchable in order to be acceptable. black and brown women do not warrant devotion or physical intimacy or narratives outside of pain." so many black female characters get labeled aroace in order to remove them as a "threat" to the primary white mlm ship. so many characters coded as brown get labeled as "platonic" partners. oh, fandom will say they're codependent with a male character, but then insist in the same breath that the two characters could NEVER feel romantic or sexual attraction, could NEVER be something besides friends. and i see this primarily from white fans, which is why i want them to consider what impulses led them to these conclusions. you don't have to "ship" the characters, you don't have to subscribe to the same textual readings. but why are you so insistent that yours is the ONLY one?

[daisy-mooon]

"I want Annabeth to be blonde :(" then pick up a PJO book and read it you dumb fuck

[erenjaegerwifee]

Omg, you write so good!

Can you write something about Neteyam a little possessive about his secret crush towards his human female friend? I WOULD LOVE THAT SJSJSJS

OFC I CAN! This is such a fucking cute idea!!!!

✧₊⁺ Crushing

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: 18+, mentions of explicit actions

Disclaimer: my characters are aged-up! If u are uncomfortable reading don’t both interacting with my account

Neteyam grew up with you. From since you were a babygirl he was always around or with you, neteyam was fascinated with your small form. The way you learned to walk long after he did even though you were only months apart.

He thought you were weird at first cause you were so small and not blue like him. You had no tail and no point ears, no golden eyes instead you were kind of dull, the only thing you both had in common was your black hair.

Other than that it was wavy not straight like him, your eyes were a different color from him, your skin was brown? A shade of brown? He didn’t know the name of the color. But one thing he does know, you were absolutely beautiful.

In your teen years when you went through puberty you didn’t think much off it, your body was changing but you changed with it so it wasn’t so shocking to you, but neteyam had a hard time keep his eyes to himself. The way your scent changed slightly every month, your body filled out in ways he didn’t know was possible.

He never knew why you stopped wearing na’vi clothes until he saw you in a little tank top and shorts running around with Yuk. The way you tits bounces in your bra, the way your thighs were squeezed into your little denim shorts, he knew your body would just fall right out of na’vi clothing.

Yet still he found you amazingly beautiful. It was weird but it worked out, he would never get to truly mate with you but his mother already liked you. You were probably the only human girl she allowed around. It was perfect for him yet, Neteyam was so scared to tell you how he felt.

What if you thought he was too big and scary? What if you laughed in his face at the thought of being with him? What if you didn’t like him back? His thoughts pledged his mind, he didn’t want to embarrass himself, he didn’t want to face rejection of the first women he had every loved.

But still, his mind never drifted to another woman. Even his family saw the way he looked at you, like you were his very own gift from Eywa. Neteyam had been the only person that put himself in danger to protect you and no matter how much cuts or bruises he received he was happy with himself knowing he kept his special girl safe.

Neteyam loved the way you tied your hair up, he’d spend hours out of his day watching you style your long pretty hair if he could, and he has a few times. Watching the way you’d make different braided hairstyles or ponytails you called them. He especially loved how cute you’d look when you got mad the Pandora humidity made your hair look like you’ve been electrocuted. He thought it was adorable the way you’d continuously run your hands over your head and nothing seems to keep down the frizzy mess.

He loved your sense of human style even though you didn’t have much to work with the clothes you would make from repurposed avatar clothing when they joined the Omatikaya clan and didn’t need them anymore. Or when you would use big petals and leaves to make cute tops and skirts that always seems to fit your figure perfectly.

Neteyam was undeniably in love with you and he would do anything for you to love him back. Tonight, he walked his way to the human outpost, it was late at night but thanks to the humans moving closer to the clan, your bedroom was only about 4 minutes away from his hut.

Neteyam knows you stay awake all hours in the night so he thought nothing off it when he saw the faith glow through your bedroom window. You had a nice view of the forest from there, it faced away from the clan so people couldn’t see you unless they looked. Neteyam made a habit of checking on you before bed so he went to the window before anything else.

He walked up to it you were in clear view, luckily since your bedroom light was on your window acted as a mirror for you, but he could see you clear as day from outside. He watched you lay in bed in an oversized t-shirt undoubtedly an avatar’s, your legs were bare and shiny, you shaved. Your hair was loose, it curled so pretty over your shoulders and you laid on a big pillow snuggled up to your fluffy sheets and blankets.

You looked like you were drowning under all that warmth you looked adorable. When you got up off your bed and walked across the room to your desk, your back turned to him letting him see the back of your t-shirt.

Neteyam was not prepared. Your t-shirt stopped right under your ass and you bent over to pick up something from the floor displaying for him your pretty pink panties that were riding up your ass just perfectly.

It’s been a long time since neteyam saw some skin on you, it make his cock harden just seeing a sliver of what no one else does. He dropped to him knees by your window sill now only his face was in view, not that you could see him. You were so sexy for a little thing. He wants so bad to lay it down on you.

Neteyam pressed his forehead up against the window starting at your plump pretty ass until you stood back up. Only then did he blink refocusing on your t-shirt and then it caught his eye.

His brain lagged taking in the word he knew all too well, on the back on your shirt was the word big and bold ‘SULLY’ it was undoubtedly his father’s old t-shirt but seeing you sport something with his name on it made him shiver.

You had to be his, you’re literally carrying his name. He swears if you pumped you full of his babies it would be when you had his name written down on your skin, maybe he could convince you to get one of those human tattoos, he had hear they were permanent. He’d love to fuck into you seeing his name displayed pretty on your lower back over your ass, of above your collarbone so he can watch you tits bouce and see his ownership at the same time.

You have to be his. He has to tell you how he feels. He can’t let you get away and fall for someone else no. If Eywa didn’t give him a sign you were meant to belong to him before, she did now. Or at least that’s what he got out of tonight.

Tags: @rivatar @strongheartneteyam @xylianasblog @delusionalwh6re @nilahsstuff @m1tsu-ki @kylimarz @quicktosimp

✨ Part 2 is out! Here!

[zombyjuice]

YOU USED TO LIVE A BLONDED LIFE₊˚⊹ ᰔ(๑ᵕ⌓ᵕ̤)>c[_]

in which it’s almost valentines and all wonbin can think about is the girl on his bus rides home.

wonbin x fem!reader

cussing, awkward, kinda bad ngl, reader is poc ermmm enjoy :3

“I’m lonely, I need a man before Valentine or I’ll go fucking insane” you speak coming up behind your friend Luna who practically jumped out of her seat phone flying in the air “Goodness! Someone needs to go put a bell on you” you look down at her with a menacing stare getting out of your 🕴️pose and going to the other side to grab your chair, stepping over her phone.

“I feel like you’ve already gone insane,” she picks up her phone thanking God it’s not broken “Cute hair by the way” she points out your now dark brown hair up put in a ponytail and a white headband with a fluffy blue star clip attached to it, you smile softly touching your hair “hopefully that cute boy on the bus thinks the same, he’s always staring at me I think he wants at me” you let out a giggle and jump up and down on your chair “oh my GOSH he’s so fine how~”

“shut up I’m sure he’s going to like it your pretty and look straight out of one of those old quirky Japanese fashion magazines, also you don’t have the worst personality” she states finishing her coffee “Oh? whatever fuck you let’s go” you kick her under the table and watch her face curl up in pain laughing out loud.

You guys shuffle out of the cafe with grumpy faces seeing all Valentine’s decorations and giddy men and women with gifts for the significant others, “disgusting” you sneer “Be happy” you glare at her “Shut the fuck up and be mad with me fuck valentines!” you slightly shout her eyes darting around not understanding how you have no shame(in Korea), you were a strange complex person but she loved you for it, deciding to ignore the glares.

Not even on the bus yet eyes immediately start darting trying to find the boy excited dressed just for him even though in the back of your mind you knew you were never going to go up to him ever, especially remembering your first interaction.

To make a long story short he was at the bus station at 1 am doing God knows what (waiting for the bus) and since there was barely anyone there you and Luna thought it was the best time to do a silly little TikTok you sprouting with energy cause Luna just gave you tons of it.

The song was slowed down so there you were dancing your heart out (slowly) to Ma Boy by sistar19 to get the perfect video and everything would’ve been fine if you didn’t heard the stifled laugh that the boy was holding.

Your face contoured with fear and Luna's deadpan while tapping your shoulder to run. And ever since then you’d see the boy every day, which would be concerning any other man but this was a breathtaking man who looked at you like he wanted to go down on you any moment.

Luna says it’s not that bad because the video ended up being great the sped up video making people laugh and you guys got viral the next day but you think that was hands down the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“I think you guys would look good together” your friend states while you guys eagerly waiting for the bus “What do you mean? How?!” you get giddy slapping her arm “idk it give cute black cat bf and weird orange cat gf” “okay can you hop off always trying to insult me” “that’s what I do best” “oh you're a fucker” “ow! Stop pinching me gay fuck” “You’re g-”

“the doors open” a quiet voice that belonged to no other than your future(not really) pretty black cat boyfriend >:3

you both barely look back and beeline into the bus.

“haha,” you awkwardly laugh a little too late at the boy who looked at you a little silly, both of your eyebrows raised strangely at each other “Oh my gosh” Luna muttered.

You turned around all of a sudden you would like to leave right about now.

The bus ride was quite awkward you and your friend standing and chatting sometimes losing yourselves in the convos and laughing a bit too loud immediately going to check if he looked at you a certain way.

You guys shared cute glances here and there you could feel the way he looked at your outfit or the way he scanned your side profile also not failing to catch the soft grin plastered on his face.

When the time came around for you to get off your bus stop you frowned, yeah you guys never talked before and you weren’t planning on it, but his presence was enough you could gladly sit awkwardly next to him as he looked at you with those cute boba eyes, gladly giving him the same look back.

You gave him one last look and a soft tight lip smile before walking away with your friend off the bus, but what you didn’t catch was that he followed you guys off.

“excuse me- excuse me”

You guys turn stiff and you snap back to see him slightly smile and wave “Can I um speak to you, please, not to be weird or anything”

You look at Luna with a smile a little too bright and she nods smiling back and glaring at Wonbin before walking off.

you look back at the boy's direction and you walk up to meet each other properly…

“You changed your hair,” he states blankly your eyes go a bit wide, and chuckle a bit “Yeah I was tired of the blonde, but I’m nervous this might be too plain though it does look a lot better I might add some color or maybe like a couple of blo- sorry I blabbering” he giggles a little too hard eyes turning into crescents and cheeks burning red “sorry that was a weird statement, not your fault, haha but um I’m Wonbin…” he scammed your features and your reactions finding them all so cute how expressive and real you are it’s like he could see you take note of his name in your head.

“Wonbin.. pretty I like it! I’m y/n” his face burned more and he couldn’t help but let out a nervously high giggle “Also pretty I think you're pretty too and I wanted to introduce myself properly and take you on a date or two before you know, Valentine's” gulp.

[short-black-diamond]

{His woman.}

This is just a fantasy! AU, with princess x servant/bodyguard (?), reader is a badass lady and the servant is head over heels for her. also, have fun reading!

also, I tried to make this as poc! friendly as possible. I have written some parts about hair, but I don't mean it in a bad/racist way. I'm not black, but in this story, you just have problems with your hair like I do, so I literally just inserted myself there. I just made it so other people could maybe relate to my problems too :)

Warnings: suggestive content, Your bodyguard masturbates to you behind closed doors in detail, angst-father issues/trauma/no love (at first, maybe a part two? 👀👀👀), near death experience-but not you

this is more like a story, so buckle up babes! Also, I think I'll make more parts of these, but tell me if you like it!

---

I have plenty of weird but also pretty romantic dreams, and in this one, I was some sort of princess who had to choose a husband because of being the next queen and only child and no brother and bla bla bla.

BUT. I also had some sort of, I dunno, servant? Well, someone who always watched me/my back like some sort of bodyguard. The thing was, he was pretty hot. Freckles which adored and accentuated the cheeks, neck, shoulders (+ other body parts 😏), glasses in front of tired, serious eyes, long/dark brown thick/curly locks that were always in a low pony tail and forehead fringes that gave the guy a cute but also at the same time hot look, big nose, broad shoulders, tall, muscular body (but not too buff), nice arms, veiny hands and pretty much everything that would make a woman wet swoon.

Also, the voice was to die for. Do you know professor cal? (I know him from youtube). Yeah, I had his voice in my head as the guard and let me tell you guys, I wanted that guy to become real.

Also, let's call him...Cal, okay? because of professor cal's voice, alright? and his nickname or real name will be Lasco, so when you are alone with him, you call him cal! And you're the only one who's allowed to call him that.

But that's not- okay wait that was mainly the fucking introduction of the guy of my dreams, now let me start with the introduction of the story.

---

"Your majesty, you can't just reject a man blindly-", a nameless maid said, but was interrupted by your soft glare. "And why can't I?", you asked gently, looking at her with an almost pleading look. you wanted to know the answer as well.

Your poor excuse of a brutish father and shitty leader of your country wanted you to be married to an unimportant country. The son from the country was a playboy, treated women like objects, didn't know what sharing meant, stepped and spit on other people and wasn't really interested in you, more attracted to your body.

your mother was a softspoken woman, but since women were still not respected in the monarchy, you wanted to change that. you hated that your mother couldn't stand up for herself. you hated that she got belittled whenever you were around, and you feared that it was much worse when you weren't.

One day, however, it all stopped. and you were the reason.

"Why should I marry him again?", you asked the man who was one of the reasons you came to this world. you hated to call him that.

Father.

ugh.

your 'father' gave you a glare which you reciprocated tenfold, making the geezer sitting in front of you scratch his neck nervously.

"Well, because... because I said so!" "And what use would that bring to our kingdom?"

"How dare you-" "Your highness. please tell me. Why am I going to be betrothed to a man whom I have no information over and who doesn't even seem interested in wanting to get to know me? What use would our marriage have?", you retorted quickly, eyeing the guest to your 'father's' left. His son was right next to him, glaring at you angrily. your mother only looked at you with a shocked expression before standing up to apologize-

"Don't, mother. You have no reason to do that.", you only said coldly while holding a hand towards her direction, awaiting a plausible explanation from the bastard sitting next to your king.

"Listen, me and your father are good friends, and we decided that it'd be a good idea if-"

"So you have no use for the country but just want us to get married to each other because you guys are friends? Or because your whore of a son can't seem to stop getting his dick wet and because I have never touched a man? If that's the reason, THEN YOU CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF!!!", you screamed, pulling your golden sword from it's home-your earrings-and pointed it towards the bastard.

That seemed to be the thing they were not prepared for, because the king from the other country and his son scrambled away while your 'father' was getting angry at you. But, oh boy.

How was the saying again? Like father, like daughter?

If his anger was already bad enough that most people from his own country feared him because of his temper, how would the other countries try to calm yours?

"YOU INSOLENT CHILD! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST DO AS YOU'RE TOLD?! DAY AND NIGHT AM I WORKING-"

"WORKING?! DON'T GIVE ME THAT! WHAT YOU CALL 'WORKING', IS JUST FUCKING OTHER BITCHES, LOOSING YOUR MONEY FROM GAMBLING AND GIVING ALL YOUR DUTIES TO THE POOR SERVANTS!

YOU ARE NO WHERE TO BE CALLED A KING, A LORD OR EVEN A LEADER! YOU'RE NOT EVEN A GOOD FATHER!", you roared, your voice booming louder in the castle than his ever could, grabbing the attention of all the residents of your own, soon to be castle.

your golden sword pointed towards him, and while nearly every servant and some guards gathered together to know what this family fuss was about again, they were shocked and surprised to see that you were pointing your sword at him.

sure, you had arguments and fights with that old geezer, but nothing ever was as serious as this. "You put-" "YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU POOR EXCUSE OF A MAN, I am done with you humiliating our name, or kingdom, our country. do that you get the hell away from here, with all your fucking concubines and mistresses. and don't you ever show your face in here, or my country again. because if you do...

... then I'll find you and behead you myself."

All he could do was run, run as fast as he could, and while he was still at it, his concubines and bad partners, gambling friends, drinking friends and other bad people he liked to associate with, followed him as well while taking all their belongings, which surprisingly, wasn't less than you imagined.

After the last one was gone, your mother only whispered your name and you immediately threw yourself to the ground in shame in front of your mother. "I beg for forgiveness. Please forgive me for my big mouth and sharp tongue, mother. please don't be mad at me-"

"Mad at you? Oh, my sweet daughter, how could I ever be mad at you?", she asked, opening her arms with tears eyes and a wobbly smile. You ran towards her but held her as gently as you could, like a flower. "I fear that I do not onderstand, mother. Why are you not mad? I put shame on your name for rejecting a noble's proposal...!"

Your mother only chuckled, happy to hold her one reason to stay alive in her arms. She was also glad that everyone saw that her and her daughter were so close and that the rumours about the daughter and the mother hating each other would come to an end. "That's exactly why I am so proud of you, my love. you have mastered what I couldn't and still can not do today; express myself, voice out my uncomfy state, give my opinion...being loud. Being heard. Being understood."

You stroked your mother's back like a mother consoling her child. your mother's nerves were always on haywire when your father was around, and it was tearing your heart apart to see your mother so scared in the presence of that former bastard of a leader.

"I will try my best to help you mother. After all, you are leading this kingdom on your own now. But fear not, I will stay by your side until death will tear us apart. But even then, I will not rest in peace until I have found your soul next to mine and we can be together again, even after we've descended to heaven.", you promised. She only hugged you tighter and released a breath.

Lasco, your bodyguard, who has witnessed your great performance of strength and anger, only watched you in awe, a small blush on his cheeks. See, as you were the crown princess, the next queen and he was your guard, he had to look after you ever since he could remember. he was also your best friend and you and him did pretty much everything together.

Except...

...love.

...

It was actually not fair, to be honest. Cal had a crush on you since the first time he saw you, which was when him and you were children; even when you were chubby, had snot coming out of your nose, and always chaos-hair. what drew him to you was your calm nature. He thought of you like a flower when he first met you. Never bothering anyone. always in your own little world. You never yelled, or got really angry or made a fuss out of everything. Only when something really bothered you, did you frown, pout, and release a small and quiet 'hmpf!' sound, which he cherished forever by grabbing at his chest where his heart belonged whenever you did it.

He also found you really cute. your eyes were so adorably wide and full of wonder, wanting to explore the world with silent pleading. But since it was forbidden, you examined books, maps and even listened to adventurers and businessmen and women who sailed the world like your life depended on it.

Your hair seemed to have a mind of it's own, as it was either perfectly calm, a few strands of hair not wanting to go to their place or your hair pointing to all directions. your personality was also to respect, or gush over.

You were always a calm kid, never dared to trouble your parents, always good with everyone. you tried your best to help everyone and do your homework or train your body to fit into a queen's life. you tried to take as much off of your mother's chest and shoulders as you could, with no regard of self care.

you, with those beautiful eyes, that changed over the years.

Your body, that changed over the years.

Your mind changed too.

But it scared him.

Sure, you've gotten a lot smarter and even more helpful than you already were. you blossomed from a small, sweet, shy, friendly, peace-loving girl to a poisonous, beautifully, deathly and ruthless woman. But Cal was not even close to the mind to complain.

I mean, you've grown up, and so has he. It was just...to him, time flew by so quickly. One moment, he was protecting you from other baby princes from bullying you because of your shy nature, then you and him talked about serious topics like future and love in your teenage years, where he nearly gave out his secret of having a crush on you, and now, you had to choose a husband, rule the kingdom alongside your mother, and forbid war, even when your kingdom was one of the strongest out there.

Cal has fallen for you. And...so have you.

You fell for him the moment he gave you the promise that he'd always protect you. It was when you two were still children. He was eight and you were five at the time, but you could not mistake your warming cheeks and fluttering stomach for anything else but love towards that boy. the first few weeks, you hid from him, spoke as little as possible with him and never looked him in the eyes.

You were wondering every night if Cal knew about how you gave him heart eyes everytime you two locked eyes. or if he maybe thought of you as a pretty girl...? Or if he thought of you as a nuisance, because you thought that you'd be one to him, being a princess and all. Since you had trouble forming big sentences and tended to be shy by nature, even as a grown up, you only gave him commands, asked about his wellbeings, or nodded when he gave you an update about something.

The more days passed, the more you strived to be perfect. Not just for the people you'd have to rule over one day, or your mother, but for him. you wanted to show him that you could become the perfect leader. That you'd become a great queen. You took more care to your body when Cal made some remarks about how skin care was less appreciated these days. your hair seemed to follow your lead too, because over the years, you managed to take proper care of it.

you took more care in the way you dressed, acted, spoke and most importantly, your face. you always frowned, naturally, and you hated it. You hated when people asked you why you were looking so sad or glum or depressed or angry, and you were left irritated. so you always raised your brows to give your face not an irritated, but bored look. Better than nothing, right?

whenever you looked at Cal, you didn't see your bodyguard, but a potential lover. He was always good with kids, treated women with the utmost respect, was one of the strongest men in your kingdom and very handsome.

However, there was one information that shattered your little love world and heart yes and daydreams about Cal; you had to marry a prince. Bodyguards were not allowed as potential husbands, except for when you'd like to have a consort or lover.

You, from that moment on, forbid your feelings towards your longest friend and buried them into the darkest corners of your heart, soul, and mind. and over the months, you managed to hold proper conversations with him, plus, you didn't see him as husband material anymore.

Or so you thought.

...

NSFW:

As you were busy with making new rules, comforting your mother and firing your father's followers, Cal thought that you didn't have any use for him at the moment, which was good.

As fast as he could, he excused himself with a silver plate in front of his crotch and went straight to his room. Beforehand, he made sure that no one was in the hallway, so that they couldn't hear him doing his unholy, and unforgivable act. In his chamber, he whimpered into his hand and his other one grabbed his hard-on. His glasses went down a little, but not that he cared. Lasco moaned into his hand as he slid against the door a little, panting at the thought of you.

You, who so bravely told your father to fuck out of your life with a blade at the bastards throat which you took from your earrings. you, who always was so...cold, but at the same time so unbelievably hot at the same time. His princess, who didn't want any nameless, stupid prince. Cal didn't know what type of prince you'd like. What type of husband would meet your standards. Maybe the fictional characters you've been sighing about with a sweet smile and gazing off with a blissed out face?

C-could he call you... his princess? Could he call you...his girl?

...His woman?

At that thought, Lasco stumbled towards his bed, throwing his belt and pants to the ground before stripping off his underwear and grasping his leaking cock. It may look small in his hands, but if you saw it, you'd be really scared of it's size and girth. Much over average, about 9 and a half inches, and his girth around the width of your wrist. His mushroom head was adorably flushed a light pink, with freckles adorning his shaft and inner thighs- actually his whole body to be honest.

He pumped it a few times, abs already glistening with sweat, whimpering in a high pitched voice again, brows furrowing and shoulders shaking, his nipples growing hard at the cool air of his room, forgetting that he'd get overly sensitive when he got hard because of you. He whined when he immediately had a flashback of him following after you for safety reasons and you suddenly halting in front of him and him stumbling on you, his hips - and so his dick - brushing against your soft, plump ass. When you turned to apologize, there was only a gust of whind in form of his silhouette.

He rubbed his head a little harder, and choked back a sob. His glasses nearly fell off, but he adjusted them while his left hand shook from touching himself. he faced the door this time, his brows furrowing, as he stroked his shaft, the foreskin covering and uncovering his cockhead evertime he moved his hand up and down.

What if somebody came in? How would he explain himself?

Lasco massaged his balls gently, groaning before chuckling breathily, growing shy as he thought of you again with a cute -about to be fucked out- smile on his face.

What if you came in and caught him in this state? How would you react? What would you say? Would you get aroused too? Or bully him? Tease him? Or be disgusted by him for thinking of you so lewdly?

He cried out your name before cumming so suddenly, the orgasm shaking him. His back arched and his thighs squeezed shut a little, and his glasses finally fell down, onto the sheets which were now soiled. He felt like the walls of his room were still echoing your name and he groaned. Cal was laying on his back now, arms spread out and he stared at the ceiling.

He panted, grinning like a madman with a heavy blush. The thought of you catching him in such an incredulous act, with him parting his legs for you and chanting your name like a mantra, giving you a show-

Ah shit. He got hard again. He sighed exasperately.

Just as he was about to do the act again, this time feeling a little more guilty for picturing you doing these things to him, he changed his mind. He stood up, and took a long, cold shower.

END OF NSFW.

...

Now refreshed and not so horny anymore, the bodyguard quickly made his way over to your presence, fixing his posture and taking deep breaths, a neatly written letter which he wrote months ago, only for you and you only to read.

Maybe Cal should just confess and hope that you'd accept his feelings. But he didn't know how you felt about him. Since you were little - since the first time you two fucking met - you never really talked much with him. Cal was left wondering if you even harboured any feelings for him in the first place.

If you didn't then he'd make a total fool out of himself. If you did, then maybe...

Just maybe, he'd become your husband. Your husband, who'd try to read every single wish you had right from your delicate lips. Your lover, who'd be the man of your dreams if you said yes to the very question. Your lover, who'd swear to become the greatest king in history, with you as his strong, smart and beautiful wife. His woman.

He wanted to be yours so bad it hurt him mentally and physically whenever a love interest who wasn't him got brought up. whenever you spoke about maybe visiting or inviting a prince over made him hurl and want to punch a wall.

He didn't notice that he was already in front of your door, your deep, gentle voice immediately reaching his well-trained ears. He allowed himself to smile for a millisecond, then his smile vanished and he stepped inside.

---

Heya, how was that?

I kinda let out everything I thought in here, like for part 2!

[olderthannetfic]

You know what obnoxious thing I keep seeing in fandom I wish would stop? This absolute need some people seem to have for their ship to be Representation in some way. Shipping is just imagining scenarios between two characters! You don’t need it to be a Special reason or whatever? I have a ship that is popular and people make weird vague comments about how the fandom is racist because both of them are white and there are other ship options that have poc so the white ship being big is a reflection on how racist the fandom is but the thing is…

Look I’m going to be real with y’all the fandom is for the game Detroit: Become Human and let’s just say the two major black characters are basically stereotypes written by a neocon lib boomer in a story that itself is imho…let’s call it tone deaf and corny af rather than overtly racist but yeah. Black folks on twitter regularly mock this game for good reason. It is very much a boomer white man’s idea of the civil rights movement but with robots. The robots sing actual slave hymns. The main character is essentially a light-skinned Martin Luther King Jr (dubbed Markus Luthur King by blktwt lol) and the religious allegories of him as a savior figure are very on the nose. It is bad lol. It’s not that I wouldn’t want to explore the black characters but the fandom is full of young white people singing the praises of this writing while patting themselves on the back about it which is genuinely uncomfortable to be around. Just my 2 cents but the virtue signaling and insane policing around those two characters makes it unbearable to interact with their content it is deeply sanitized and you WILL get death threats if you attempt any nuance or are critical of the (kinda racist imo) way they were written in canon.

The worst part of this is that Markus has a popular ship with a character a lot of people read or interpret as a more soft or femme gay man and you know what zoomers hate? Femme gay men. So obviously this is made to be ‘problematic’ in some way because these people can’t just admit to being femmphobic/homophobic themselves.

Sometimes it’s easier to stick with the boring white characters in the background because they aren’t being closely guarded by stupid reactionary people who are used to flashing their favorite fictional poc characters as tokens of their own goodness and virtue.

--

The pinnacle of this game is that moment when the black lady lectures her son about why they need to run the robot underground railroad to Canada.

I watched some playthroughs. Unsurprisingly, I liked the buddy cops with the good development, not the cringey activism plot with too many foils and not enough development of any single relationship and not the the Women Care About Babies plot.

But if I were going to do something fannish with Markus, I'd write him having a fucked up relationship with his mentor's son post game—the surrogate son who thought the guy was great and the estranged son who knew he wasn't but who has also done a bunch of shitty stuff himself.

It's especially hilarious when tryhards think the problem is not enough people shipping Markus with North as if the slashers are going to be into 1. het and 2. yet another unnecessary traumatic sex stuff backstory for a lady.

Even worse, half the whining isn't even about that Nines fanon nonsense being more popular than Markus: it's about how Markus/Connor would be better than Hank/Connor because old people are ew.

Sorry, children, a lot of people are here to thirst for Clancy Brown and because they'll turn up for any Caves of Steel ripoff. Other Connor ships were never in the running.

[jestersmaskblog]

you people are so fucking stupid

perhaps the reading comprehension on this site is piss poor because the only thing you people can comprehend is incomprehensible to anyone who goes outside ever Is "all rap is sexist/violent/whatever" a stupid take? YES but some of it is and some people have only listened to like... 2 artist before AND there have been other rappers who have talked about the sexism in the industry HELL in the shit that started this entire bullshit one of kendrick's bar's literally mentions "theres weird shit in this industry" motherfuckers were tryna get tory lanez off for shooting megan the stallion, chris brown is STILL allowed to do whatever, and believe it or not, it's pretty easy to find on my acc that I am in fact a woman, and yk other motherfucker, down with the ship down with crew, it wasn't even that long ago it was a bigass topic that female rappers were talkin about men the same way male rappers talked about women, but i guess yall aren't ready for that conversation since it's easier for man to try to switch the topic away from exploitation and double standards against women and like i FUCKING SAID, i like rap, theres a lot of rap artists that make music that isn't violent, is chill, is introspective, gets into your feelings n shit, I also really only listen to female rap artists sue me But I want yall to go back and actually fuckin dust off that 8th grade reading level, and read the original fucking post i reblogged, doesn't matter what the intention was it was 100% fucking phrased like rap is the only music POC make, or the only music by POC people know is rap, it's fucking not, because it had no fucking mention of what people have been saying which I by the way haven't fucking heard anyone say and i've heard a TON of people talking about the kendrick drake beef, because i talk to people that exist off tumblr.com and once again the way the phrased it only works if there wasn't people of color on the top 100 chart, and stop being fucking weird about mixed people, mixed people are still fully allowed to identify with their heritage and some of yall, are just fucking weird, yes I did name artists that aren't mixed, i just happened to also name artists that are mixed? what happened to not erasing mixed people's cultural identity? you do realized the person i fucking responded to to begin with is not only mixed, but it's also not with black at all, tumblr really has this issue where they feel like they can only defend one community by diminishing another and it's fucking gross, as for me mentioning growing up in a mixed community, that was, as i stated multiple fucking times if you people weren't morons, only in relation to me having seen first fuckin hand different kinds of POC can be racist to eachother, as in, once again, the motherfucker wasn't black, sure they were POC, but not black, so they're on equal standing with me in this SPECIFIC conversation since i need to spell it out for yall, since yall seem to forget different POC experience different things and people of color aren't a fucking monolith that all experience the exact same things in conclusion, you can all kill yourselves now <3 and you've all become the very thing you hate, some of yall are sexist, some of all are gross towards mixed people, and some of yall are just straight up racist by generalizing xoxo, i regret nothing, and it's completely worth it to get your GED <3

[ghostssweetgirl]

crazy over you ~ simon ghost riley x reader slow burn/enemies to lovers

description: y/n gets transferred to task force 141 and quickly becomes friends with soap and gaz, but her and ghost "hate" each other for the first part. warnings: mentions of violence and death (duh), alcohol intake, smoking (at some point), nsfw (at some point), subtle flirting with soap. i'm new to writing? so don't expect this to be the greatest. this is not in line with the game campaigns or missions. the only characters i included are y/n, soap, gaz, price, & ghost. i have no knowledge of the military this is just creativity disclaimer: i do not own modern warfare or any of its characters.

chapters: [introduction] next

You're transferring to the Task Force 141. Nervous and scared of rejection, you can't help but think that this was going to end up going bad. You've read the files of those who are already in the Task Force, and you're going to be the only female on the team. This just can't be good. But you're a damn good shot with a sniper, really good in stealth, so you'll be beneficial to the team, and you'll fit in ability-wise. But a lot of men in the military don't treat women that well, and as much as you expect it, you know you can handle yourself if need be.

On the 4-hour ride to the new base to meet with the supposed 'Soap', you found yourself dead-asleep until the jeep came to an abrupt stop, jolting your body awake. You gather your duffel bag and thank the men who drove you and exit the vehicle. You breathe out as your feet meet the ground, hoping they won't fail you. They honestly have no choice but to tolerate you since you're there on behalf of Captain Price but fuck if it wasn't gut-wrenching, you silently spoke in your mind.

Walking up to the building, you straighten up your posture and go to knock until the door opens. Ahead of you, you see a man taller than you with a dark brown, almost black mohawk, walking out with an open folder in his hand. "Uh, hi," he says with a thick Scottish accent. "You're y/n? Or Diamond?"

"Yes, sir," you nod and hold your hand out to shake his. "Soap?"

He shakes your hand with his, much bigger than yours, and affirms, "Aye. Head this way. I'll show you your room, then give you the grand tour." He leads you to the next building, the safe house.

"So, why Diamond if I may ask?" he noses.

"Eh, couldn't think of anything cool, so. And I didn't want anything too stupid," you silently laugh.

"It's not that stupid," Soap giggles. "I mean... Yeah, not stupid."

Stepping foot into the safe house, you met with all eyes on you, all unfamiliar faces except for Price's, and what was on the files. And the man in the skull mask, you read about Simon Riley who had no picture but didn't and wouldn't assume him to be him.

He points to the men in the room, introducing you shortly. "That's Kyle, or Gaz, Captain Price, Ghost, and you've already met me. Guys, this is y/n or Diamond. Welcome to the team. And everyone... for fuck's sake be nice to her."

You speak out shyly and say "hi" and everyone answers except for Ghost, he just stares and nods at you. Weird, you think to yourself.

Being shown to your room, Soap stays at the door. You set your bags down, figuring you'll have time to unpack later, even though you're so tired that you don't care to. "Um, hey Soap? Question."

"What's up?" he cocks his head.

"Not trying to be too nosey, but... I read the files before I came here, um, who's Simon Riley? I didn't get to meet him," you shrug your shoulders.

"Oh, well," his hand plays with his hair then whispers to you, "Look, you didn't hear this from me, but that's... that's Ghost. It would've been better off if you let him be the one to tell you his name, so please don't get me killed for telling you."

"Gotcha, won't say a word," you smile as you step a little closer, gesturing to walk outside. "Well, I'm just going to unpack later, so I guess we can get on with the tour."

"Right," he says, heel turning and walking to the door. Walking past the guys, he asks if anyone wants to accompany them on the tour. To both of your surprise, Ghost says he'll walk along.

You two have shared eye contact twice, and you find it nearly impossible to read him. You can't tell if he's mad or what.

Walking behind the two tall men as they give each other shit, Ghost peeks behind and sees if you're still following. He nods at you, then at Soap.

Soap then slows down to walk with you while Ghost keeps walking ahead. "Aye, lass, so, quick question. Would you be down to spar...train with us? Just to show us what you're about... We're not doubting ya, just want to know what Price kept going on about."

"Sure thing," you shrug, thinking you had nothing better to do. "So, fuck the tour or something?"

"Pretty much, yeah. You'll learn the rest of this shit as it comes to you, no worries. It's pretty much like any other base."

"Aye, Ghost, she's in!" he yells ahead of him, and Ghost nods, turning the path to the training area as you both follow suit.

He looks at you and warns, "I might go easy on ya, but Ghost definitely won't. He wants to make sure you're able to handle yourself and that you're right for the Task Force 141. Oh, forgot to ask. What're you good at? Your abilities?"

"Sniper. Damn good one. Never missed a shot. Stealthy. Hand-to-hand is pretty good," you answer. "Ghost is... much bigger than me, so I'll try my best. I know I could handle you in combat, though, Soap."

He laughs, "You don't even know me! I could whoop your arse, girl."

Ghost chuckles, "Cocky one, eh, Johnny?" You didn't think he could hear you guys.

You furrow your brows at Soap, "Johnny?"

His face straightens, "You don't get to call me that. Just Soap, darlin'."

It's silence as you all approach the building, filled with mats and equipment. You don't know if it's your stupid hormones, but thoughts cross your mind how you're now alone in a room with two very attractive men. Ghost was much bigger than Soap, but you couldn't deny the attractiveness of them both, but you shake your head of the feeling, you're new, of course at first you may have a tiny crush on the men.

At least an hour and a half go by during your training. You got your ass handed to you by Ghost, to no surprise that he didn't go any bit of easy on you, but you showed Soap up. Even Ghost laughed as you had Soap in a headlock and you were teasing him, reminding him of what he said earlier.

"Thought you could whoop my ass, Soap?" you whispered in his ear, choking him tighter with your legs locked around his until he was forced to tap out.

"Aye... I could've..." he defended himself, even after you blocked all of his blows.

You think you blocked one hit against Ghost, but holy fuck, you didn't have anything on this brute. You thought you had him good at one point, and even he praised your attempt, but it was to no avail - you failed.

You became distracted when he complimented you, 'smart, good girl' after you tricked him with one move against him, and then it went to shit. Fuck me, you thought, I could have done better. Goddamn that "good girl" shit, damn his accent. Yeah, you were blaming it on his accent. Damn, was he an asshole, though. The way he corrected your actions while you were sparring made you feel almost dumb.

It was already 1700, getting late and time for dinner, and boy, were you exhausted. Walking back, Ghost was walking by your side this time, causing your heartbeat to slam against your ribcage.

"She's good, Soap. Could be better," Ghost spoke about you to Soap as if you weren't there. "But she beat your arse."

"Yes, sir," you nod and try to butt in. "Yeah, it was fun beating his ass."

Soap shakes his head playfully, "I'll get you back, Diamond. I will!"

Everyone gets to enjoy their dinner, except Ghost, you didn't see him take one bite due to that damn mask, and you head back to your room afterward. Exploring, you open a door you thought to be a closet, but it was your bathroom. Relief floods down your spine as you were happy to have your own space. Your last safehouse only had one bathroom in your hall, it was a living hell.

You get the water nice and hot and get ready to take a shower, stripping out of your uniform. That is until you hear a faint knock on the door. Hurriedly, you wrap a towel around you and slightly crack the door, peeking into the open space. "Yes?"

It's Ghost. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Figured I'd let you know that tomorrow morning, 0600, we're going to the range," and he then pulls the door shut, not giving you time to respond.

Okay, you tell yourself, calm the fuck down.

You let the shower calm you down and call it a night. It did take a while for your heart to steady, but you told yourself this anxiousness of being around Ghost would sort itself out. You're just new here, you don't even know him, he's honestly a bit of a dick, too. Yeah, it'd be okay, you kept telling yourself.

After being in the shower until you ran almost all the hot water out, you dress in sleep attire and lay in bed, hoping to drift away soon. 2040 the clock read. You better get to sleep as 0530 comes early and you're going to need all the rest you can get. Not knowing if it's just going to be you and Ghost, or if Soap will be accompanying you, you decide to worry about that when the time comes and let yourself drift off to sleep.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Illustrious Client pt 2

Last time we were dealing with a hypnotist, it seemed, who was doing everything short of tying women to railway tracks and twirling his moustaches to show Holmes how evil he is.

Honestly, it's probably a little surprising that it's taken this long for hypnotism to show up in these stories, as it seems right up ACD's alley

And we're about to meet an old friend of Holmes' who has simply never come up before.

...a huge, coarse, red-faced, scorbutic man, with a pair of vivid black eyes which were the only external sign of the very cunning mind within.

"Scorbutic" apparently means affected by scurvy, which I had never come across before. Does that mean his gums are bleeding? The NHS tells me it might also mean red or blue spots on the skin.

Mr Johnson, may I introduce you to the joys of... fruit and veg.

Please stop your gums from bleeding. Please.

...a slim, flame-like young woman with a pale, intense face, youthful, and yet so worn with sin and sorrow that one read the terrible years which had left their leprous mark upon her.

From scurvy to leprosy, once again being particularly flattering in your descriptions, Watson. Though I do love the 'flame-like' here. That's very evocative.

“Hell, London, gets me every time. Same address for Porky Shinwell. We're old mates, Porky, you and I. But, by cripes! there is another who ought to be down in a lower hell than we if there was any justice in the world!"

I like Kitty. I hope she doesn't die. She feels like a parody of a Victorian cockney character. It's beautiful.

There was an intensity of hatred in her white, set face and her blazing eyes such as woman seldom and man never can attain.

I guess women are just better at hating things?

Does it though? Idek, such a weird thing to divide by gender.

"He would speak of someone in his velvet way and then look at me with a steady eye and say: ‘He died within a month.’"

This guy really needs to stop telling people about the crimes he's committed. I get that you're an arrogant dickhead, but surely there must be some room for brains in your head beside all that hubris. Maybe think before you speak? And don't just think 'oh how awesome and evil I am tee hee hee'.

I'm sorry, I just get annoyed when I see bad guys making such obvious, preventable mistakes. At least be good at being evil, if you're going to do it. Do it properly.

"It's a book he has—a brown leather book with a lock, and his arms in gold on the outside. I think he was a bit drunk that night, or he would not have shown it to me.”

Oh for- Do you write it all down? Tell me you don't have a very secret evil diary of all your very secret evil deeds. Please... Please don't be that guy.

I get that this is realistic, because serial killers and horrible people do take trophies. But still...

Also, Adelbert is a name I've heard of before but never actually seen used.

“No good,” said Shinwell Johnson with the decided voice of the expert. “No fence wants stuff of that sort that you can neither melt nor sell.”

Shinwell Johnson here reminding us not only that he exists and that he is a criminal, but also possibly the most competent criminal in this story. Good for him.

“I am not out for money. Let me see this man in the mud, and I've got all I've worked for—in the mud with my foot on his cursed face. That's my price."

Vengeance!!!

Yes. I like Kitty a lot.

"If your head is inclined to swell, my dear Watson, take a course of Miss Violet de Merville."

S-tier line. This is just perfection. I love it.

"I pictured to her the awful position of the woman who only wakes to a man's character after she is his wife—a woman who has to submit to be caressed by bloody hands and lecherous lips. I spared her nothing—the shame, the fear, the agony, the hopelessness of it all."

Holmes going hard. I feel disgusted and I'm just getting the description of the description. This story has a lot of excellent turns of phrase in it. This section is particularly repellent.

"'...you needn't look at me like that, my fine lady, for you may be lower than I am before you are through with it.’"

Kitty is the best and I want her to be in every story from now on. You tell her. Go for the throat. I know it's not going to work, but yes!

"And it did. Their blow fell—or his blow rather, for never could I believe that the lady was privy to it."

So women are capable of more hatred than men, but they aren't capable of things like this. You have a very confused and tangled view of gender, Watson. Who hurt you?

But they eloped, didn't they? But then she'd definitely be privy to that.

"There, black upon yellow, was the terrible news-sheet: Murderous Attack Upon Sherlock Holmes"

Well, I suppose in a way that's better... because clearly he's not dead. And also that means that Holmes will have some sort of evidence against him.

Adelbert really needs to learn not to overplay his hand. If you're so sure that nothing can go wrong, just... wait it out. She'll marry you and everything will be fine. Patience.

[bitchin-beskar]

soapghost public transit drabble pt. 1

Soap had always liked watching people. Not in any weird, creepy way, he just liked observing random strangers as they went around on their daily commute. People were fascinating, after all. He’d always been a nosy wee lad, according to his ma, and when he’d joined the military at 18, his experience with observing people without being noticed had only helped in his chosen career path.

Then, when he got out of the military, it was more paranoia than anything else. Everyone and anyone could be a potential enemy, and it took him awhile to learn to turn that switch off in his brain. His art helped. He started bringing his sketchbook everywhere, choosing to turn his paranoia into something productive. He’d always wanted to get better at sketching people in real life, and if he was gonna be a paranoid nosy bastard anyways… well, it just made sense, didn’t it?

He quickly filled up sketchbook after sketchbook, with men, women, and children, families, businessmen, and tourists, the rich, the poor and everyone in between. As time passed, he noticed repeats of people he’d see regularly on his commute to and from his various jobs because he couldn’t stop from bouncing back and forth between various careers, nothing ever fitting quite as well as military life had. It drove his ma crazy. He’d tried to adjust to civilian life, really he had, but it was hard, dammit.

It was while he was doing a stint with a construction company that he noticed his sketchbooks filling up with one subject in particular. He realized it after Isla, his sister, had asked him why he’d drawn the same man for the last few days. When he flipped through the pages, he realized she was right. He’d drawn almost nothing except this one man for nearly a whole week, something that hadn’t happened… well, ever, that Soap could remember at least. He was flighty, always moving onto the newest thing to catch his attention, never able to focus.

Except now, apparently. The man in his sketchbook was absolutely entrancing, if Soap were being completely honest. He understood why his subconscious had kept drifting to this mysterious stranger. He was built like a brick shithouse, all broad shoulders and thick thighs, his face always covered by a black balaclava with a skeleton’s jaw printed on the front.

In all of Soap’s drawings, he wore a black hoodie, pulled up so only the barest hints of curls poked out the front. He also always had a pair of headphones in, the cord trailing down to the big kangaroo pocket. His eyes, framed by long lashes, were always aimed out the window, though he didn’t seem to take in much of the scenery. Looking at his drawings, it was the first time Soap mourned the fact that he didn’t sketch in color. He wanted to know what color those pretty eyes were. Now that he’d realized his brain’s subconscious hyper-fixation, Soap couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. What was he thinking about? What music did he listen to? Where was he going every day? Soap wanted to know everything.

Huh, maybe he hadn’t outgrown being a nosy bastard as much as he’d thought. When he saw the man again on the bus, he immediately tried to soak in every detail missing from his sketches. His curls looked to be a strawberry blonde, and those pale lashes framed eyes that were a warm honey brown, almost amber in the afternoon light.

His skin was pale, the little of it Soap could see around the eyes of his balaclava. When he pulled his hands out of his pocket, Soap couldn’t stop his eyes widening at the sight of soft black gloves with the outline of a skeleton’s hands on the backs. Whoever he was, he was committed to his bit at the very least. Weeks passed by, and on more than one occasion, Soap made eye contact with his mysterious stranger. It always left him a little flustered, a little embarrassed, but not enough to actually stop.

Shameless, Isla always called him. She was absolutely correct. But regardless, his stranger (his? when did Soap start calling this stranger his? he always knew he was a possessive little shite, but honestly…) never looked away first. Never seemed to mind, and in fact, on multiple occasions it almost seemed like he was… posing, for Soap.

He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so Soap just kept drawing him. Day after day, week after week. Soap even found himself clinging to his construction job longer than any other, not wanting to change his commute, and lose this… connection? He couldn’t call it a friendship, for Christ’s sake he’d never even spoken to the man. But it felt like every day, the tension grew thicker and thicker in the stagnant, musty air on the bus between Soap and his stranger.

Eventually, something had to give.

And it did, on an unassuming Tuesday in the middle of March.

When Soap boarded the bus, for the first time that he could remember, the bus was almost completely full. People were even standing. He didn’t know what was going on, and he mourned the fact that he wouldn’t get the chance to sketch today. As he forced his way on, he was surprised to see the seat next to his stranger still empty. As a random businessman tried to sit, his stranger glared daggers until the idiot scoffed and moved further down to stand in an empty pocket. Soap almost laughed, but managed to refrain.

As he moved to stand, his eyes met his strangers, and to his utter surprise, the man who’d just death-glared at a random person for daring to sit, flicked his eyes from Soap’s to the open seat beside him. Soap froze for a moment, and the stranger repeated the small gesture before Soap managed to get his legs working, moving through the throngs of people to sit next to his stranger. There wasn’t a lot of space, so Soap’s side was pressed against his shoulder to thigh.

“I’m Soap.” He blurted, his mouth moving faster than his brain.

His stranger paused, eyeing him, before responding. “Ghost.”

“The hell kind of a name is Ghost?”

“The hell kind of a name is Soap?”

Soap barked out a surprised laugh. “Call me Johnny.” His stranger’s eyes crinkled, and Soap got the distinct feeling that he was smiling.

“Simon.”

Soap couldn’t help the grin blooming on his lips, a warm feeling curling in his gut the longer he looked into those warm, honey brown eyes.

“Very nice ta meet ye, Simon.”

“Likewise, Johnny.”

[running-with-toast]

In a perverse sort of way, even after the performance he had last night Trump probably still came off looking strong to his base. Strength for reactionaries has nothing to do with personal ability and everything to do with shunning of what they perceive as weakness (empathy, diversity, collaboration, femininity, etc.), and in their minds Trump almost certainly delivered on that front.

Reactionaries have a seemingly endless list of grievances, but I think the most fundamental issue for them is corruption. Not governmental corruption, they're more than okay with that, but moral corruption. Ideological corruption. The thing they care most about is purity.

It's why sexism, patriarchy, and misogyny are such a core part of the reactionary platform. Masculinity and femininity are polar opposites, and are only "pure" when their domains don't intersect. If a man shows any "feminine" traits, like empathy or sadness or curiosity, that's a corruption of the purity of masculinity. Deviance. If a woman shows any "masculine" traits, like confidence, aggression, avarice, a desire for leadership, that's also a corruption of the purity of masculinity.

It's what motivates their nationalism, isolationism, racism, and bigotry against migrants and queer folks. There's a desire within reactionaries to be part of The Majority. They feel that their beliefs are Normal and everyone believes the same things as them. They are pure, their community is pure, and anyone trying to change things is trying to corrupt that purity. It's why accusations of racist/rapist/felon/etc bounce off them, but being called weird drives them up the wall. Being called weird implies that they aren't the majority. It says that they are the outsiders, which they can't abide. It's why they go after immigrants and black people. Whiteness is Purity, and brown people moving in next door is a Corruption of that purity. It's why they hate queer people so much. Blurring the lines of gender and sexuality is a Corruption of the Purity of Masculinity and Femininity. It's why they hate higher education. Those teachers are Corrupting Your Kids with their Deviant Ideology.

It's why Donald Trump is their godking, and Kamala Harris is their worst nightmare. Trump is a rapist, a bigot, a greedy cruel vain bloviating jackass. He's everything a Strong White Man should be. Kamala Harris is a black woman, and I could honestly stop there, but she's also confident and forceful and a strong leader, everything a woman shouldn't be. Kamala Harris is everything reactionaries hate.

It's why they don't care about the truth. Liberals will call Trump a hypocrite and a liar and a pathetic babbling old man and they'll be right and it won't shift the needle a single inch, because neither he nor his supporters care about the actual words he's saying. The message is what matters, and as long as the message is Pure, anything he says in support of that message might as well be true. Immigrants eat cats? They obviously don't, and neither Trump nor is supporters believe it. The message is that immigrants are Outsiders, so it might as well be true. Schools are providing litter boxes for kids who self-identify as cats? Obviously not true, but the message is that Schools are Corrupting Your Kids with Deviant Ideology, so it might as well be true. The Jews Deep State is kidnapping kids to harvest blood adrenochrome? Outsiders, might as well be true. The Muslims are coming to bomb your house? Might as well be true. The Communists are coming for your money? The Queers are coming for your kids? The Blacks are coming for your women?

Might as well be true.

[maeleelee]

Liquor Lips

Prologue

PC x Skz!Frat Boys.

Feel free to replace your name with one from the crew, Mae and Minho are the main characters in this story.

Sleeping with him was a mistake, but telling him about her feelings for the guy her best friend likes was what she regrets the most. Now she's stuck doing everything he says in fear that if she doesn't, he'll tell everyone and her friendship will be ruined.

⚠️minors DO NOT interact⚠️

Warnings: shopping, mentioning hitting themselves, name calling(Devil)

Mae and Ani were at the dress store, looking for a dress for Ani to get, giggling away with each other. The others were somewhere in the store but they weren’t one hundred percent certain where they had gone.

“Wanna go look at the pants? I need new jeans.” Mae asked Ani, who nodded with a bright smile on her face.

They headed next door when they heard their names. They looked up and saw Chan. He was tall, gorgeous. Has black hair, a nose ring, some tattoos, and the prettiest smile. He was the dad of the frat boys and laid down the ‘respect all women’ rule in his house.

“Hey Chan.” Ani smiled at him with a wave. She’s had a crush on him for a hot minute. Who wouldn’t though, he’s always so polite and friendly to anyone he talks to.

“Hey babies.” Chan smiled. “We’re having a Halloween Costume party at the end of the month.” He looked at both the girls. “Wanted to invite you personally and let you know, all of you are welcome to come. Ignore Jamie and her group, okay?”

Ah, there it was. Jamie was the captain of the cheerleaders. She’s brown hair, blue eyed, with a wicked smile. She’s evil in a body. Whoever talks to the boys, “her” boys, she has it out for them.

“Speak of the devil and they appear. Have fun Channie.” Mae smiled at him. “We’ll think about the party.” She waved as they walked away, not wanting to be in Jamie’s eyesight.

“What were you talking to those losers about?” She asked him.

“The “losers” are my friends and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop being so rude to them.” Chan rolled his eyes and went to walk away. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back to her.

“You’re tense, let me help you relax?” She smiled at him. He pulled his arm away and shook his head.

“I’d rather punch myself in the face, Jamie.” He stated, walking away with a sigh.

Mae and Ani were now on a mission, be the hottest group dressed at the party.

Masterlist

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Taglist: @cadenonlinelive @bunnyiix @weird-bookworm @imagine-a-life-like-this @mxnsxngie @choisoorin @littleleatabixx @acrylishly @babyboyquokka @nyro-in-new-albion

[yuu3585]

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐜𝐡. 𝟐 - 𝐒𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

Backstory: Lead to the shrine of the king of curse, Tsumi encounters a coming fear of just what she’ll face at his hands

Pairing: …

Ch.1

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Blood, murder, Sukuna (it’s Sukuna he needs a warning), name-calling, oc x canon, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!

Extra:

----

The snow crunched as Tsumi stepped, the curse was quiet as they walked, not talking like she was to Dai. Tsumi thought it was weird shouldn’t Sukuna collect his Sacrifices? Or was this curse close to him in some manner, and if so how close to Sukuna was she a servant, or maybe even his love?

“You're falling behind”

Tsumi's head shot up at the curse's sudden voice, she was indeed falling behind the curse was a good ten feet away from her “I-I’m sorry” Tsumi apologized quickly walking up to the curse, “Don’t let it happen again…” Tsumi hummed as the curse hissed, before stepping ahead, Tsumi sighed as cold winter air nipped at her, gripping her cover-up tighter for a bit of warmth

“Tsumi, correct?” the curse asked, her pink eyes looking back, “Y-yes” Tsumi answered, the curse hummed looking away from Tsumi as she shivered “My name is Ahmya, I’m one of the two heads of Master Sukuna’s servants'' Ahmya spoke, her name was seemingly nice. Tsumi nods as she looks forward, eyes staring at the snow falling onto the ground… “We’ll be at the shrine soon, don't fall behind!” Ahmya informs voice harsh, Tsumi hums nodding her head

----

Ahmya was right about being at the shrine soon. It was big, looking like the mouth of a skull–colors of black, gray, and dark red–with the color of the white snow on top of it. Ahmya pushed open the large shrine doors gesturing to Tsumi inside, “Follow” Ahmya ordered as she closed the door. Tsumi nodded following close behind Ahmya her aura strong, as they passed by two curses

The curses were pale, paler than Tsumi was both had rusty red hair. “Look, a new human!” one teased, the other laughed. It was horrifying, echoing in Tsumi's ears, Ahmya groaned rolling her eyes at the two “Come, Sukuna must be informed of the changes” Tsumi hummed, eyes looking back at the curses they smiled sinisterly, waving before disappearing. Tsumi shivered before looking back in front of her

As the two walked, Ahmya stopped in front of two large doors engraved with beautiful patterns. Ahmya raised her hand ready to knock, but before she could it opened, a white hair person stepped out their eyes met Ahmya, and bowed before stepping aside two women walked out bodies barely covered with their kimonos barely even on, Tsumi turned away gripping her Kimono tightly uncomfortable, they were concubine’s

One of the two women looked over at Tsumi, she had tan skin, her hair was Raven black, and her eyes were chocolate brown. She smiled, waving slightly before walking off with the other concubine, her hair was a dark orange color, and she seemed quite young but way older than Tsumi “Come” Ahmya ordered bowing at the white-haired person, Tsumi did the same as she walked past them. The Chamber was large, and the dark only light was the few amounts of torches that dimly lit the chamber, Ahmya stopped getting down onto her knees and bowed

Tsumi, realizing what was going on, quickly got onto her knees bowing. A low groan filled Tsumi ear’s “Ahmya…” the voice echoed throughout the chamber “Yes my Lord?” Ahmya answered, “Who is this…?” the voice asked, anger seeping from his lips. Ahmya breathes before answering

“This is the Ito clan’s sacrifice… Tsumi. She took her sister's place, my lord!” Ahmya explained a hum left the Lord's lips. “Ahmya you may leave” he spoke, Tsumi froze fear creeping into her mind “Yes my Lord” Ahmya answered, she stood up, bowed and lefted the wooden door echoing as it shut. Tsumi shook as she could hear the breaths of the man Ahmya was talking to “Raise your head.” he ordered, Tsumi raised her head eyes not looking anywhere but at the ground

“You're quite obedient, scared like a little lamb.” He said, voice harsh as he spoke, Tsumi didn't speak fear consuming her. “What should I do with you…?” he questioned, he thought for a moment, the chamber went silent as he thought “Uraume!” he shouted, the white-haired person from earlier entered the chamber, and they bowed before leaning up “Yes, Lord Sukuna,” Uraume says voice monotone, “Take her to the servant chambers,” Sukuna says, Uraume bows “Come” they order, Tsumi stands bowing to Sukuna before following after Uraume

The walk is quiet, with barely any sound other than the laughs of a few women, in one of the three rooms they pass “This is the servant chambers,” Uraume says stopping, Tsumi raises her head, looking to Uraume. “Thank you!” Tsumi says bowing slightly, Uraume hums sliding the door open, Tsumi breathes before stepping past Uraume, through the door. It slides shut signing to Uraume's departure

The chamber was larger than the Ito clan's servant chambers, and warm, it's nice on Tsumi's cold skin “I wonder what’s in store for me here?” Tsumi questions. Ocean blue eyes scan the room, a noise from behind Tsumi snaps her out of her thoughts. It was another servant, her hair was a chocolate brown color, her eyes met Tsumi's, they were emerald green “H-hello…” Tsumi says waving slightly, “Uraume told me to give you this…” she says, stepping toward Tsumi, it's another kimono.

It’s white with blue stitched into it, “here I’ll wait for you outside!” she says bowing before she leaves, Tsumi smiles before she undresses. Quickly removing her blue kimono, Tsumi puts the other one on. Tsumi breathed before sliding the door open the servant from earlier was standing a few feet away from the door, “Follow” she said softly, Tsumi slid the door shut following the woman “You’ll be in charge of mopping up Sukuna’s meeting room with humans,” she says looking back at Tsumi “Alright” Tsumi answered smiling a little “Other than that you’ll clean whatever Uraume or Ahmya tells you to!”

Tsumi hums, “Sukunas in a meeting with someone I suggest getting a bucket…” The woman murmured “A-alright…”

----

The air felt denser, it wasn’t warm in this part of the shrine. Tsumi breathes as she sets the bucket down. A noise catches her attention from inside the room. It seems to be yelling, the voice sounds scared, Tsumi snaps her head back at the sound of footsteps. The two rusty red haired curses from earlier come into her view, they stare at her. “You're Tsumi right?” One asked, stepping closer to Tsumi he was a foot or so taller than her,

“Ahmya said not to bother the servants, Reiki!” Tsumi is caught off guard by the sudden voice, “Thanks for reminding me Daiki!” Reiki mocked turning to the curse which was called Daiki, Tsumi is tense for a moment as the two seemingly twin curses stare at one another. But they are different Reiki the one closest to Tsumi has black streaks in his hair while Daiki has white, and their kimonos are different as well Reiki wears a black, and red kimono, while Daiki wears a red and white one

A scream breaks the silence of the three causing Tsumi to jump a little, Daiki walks up to Reiki grabbing his shoulder “We should leave!” Reiki rolls his eyes “Let us go, bye Tsumi!” He mumbles waving as they both walk away, Tsumi's knees shake as she hears the sliding door open turning fast she bows, it’s Sukuna he steps out of the room sliding the door closed before he steps away

Tsumi raises her head sensing that Sukuna is gone, she sighs standing up, and grabs the bucket before sliding the door open, she almost drops the bucket choking on her breath. Looking away Tsumi sets the bucket down covering her mouth, stopping herself from throwing up. The site before her was sadistic, a man’s body was scattered across the room, his blood covered the floor and the wall closest to the door. Tsumi grasps for air, coughing harshly

Her eyes scan the room, turning to the bucket Tsumi sighs bending down, and grabs the sponge. Tsumi turned keeping her head down, staring at the blood-stained floor

----

Tsumi roughly scrubbed away at the last remaining blood, her hands lightly stained scarlet red… she had been at the murderous scene for a while, and the sun seemed to set, Tsumi sighed as the last stain of blood blurred away. Tsumi breathed dropping the sponge into the blood water bucket, stretching her arms Tsumi stood grabbing the bucket before exiting the room sliding the door shut, eyes lingering where the body of that man once was

The wind of winter blew harshly against Tsumi's skin as she emptied the bucket, snow fell landing on her blonde braided hair that lay lazily on her back. A rough voice filled Tsumi's ears as she stepped back into the shrine shivering slightly

“I want her somewhere else Uraume!”

“As you wish my lord…”

Tsumi stood still listening quietly, what was going on? What was Lord Sukuna talking about with Uraume? Who was she? Tsumi moved quietly from her spot trying not to alert Sukuna or Uraume that she was there

“You may leave Uraume…!”

Sukuna ordered his voice echoing in Tsumi's ears, she heard a shift before the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall outside the room she was in. Trying to gain some confidence to move forward, Tsumi hears the door of the room she was in slide open.

Tsumi's knees buckled under herself, fear filling her mind quickly she dropped to her knees staring at her scarlet-stained hands

“Seems there’s a lamb, not asleep!”

Sukuna mocked, laughing cruelly as the door slid shut, Tsumi's breath caught in her throat as she bowed to Sukuna, “Raise your head!” Sukuna ordered his voice unpleasant to the ringing in her ears, hesitantly Tsumi raised her head avoiding to stare at Sukuna’s face

“Look at me!” Sukuna ordered again, voice harsh, Tsumi hesitantly looked up, eyes locked with Sukuna’s. Four scarlet red eyes stare back. Tsumi froze in fear, eyes widen as she took in his looks

He was large in a sense, four arms crossed in front of his chest and stomach. Tsumi's eyes looked up at his face, it was covered in markings, she shuddered as her eyes stared at a wooden-like mask that covered the right side of his face. Sukuna smirked as Tsumi stared at him

“Servants are supposed to be in their chambers by sundown…” Sukuna said his voice low, Tsumi tensed up at his words, “I-I’m sorry my lord…” Tsumi apologizes, pressing her head to the ground, “I-it won’t happen again… I promise my lord!” Tsumi explains, her body beginning to shake. Sukuna stares down at Tsumi eyes lingering on her tense form

“You may leave…” Sukuna ordered, Tsumi raises her head shocked “Have a good night my lord…”

Tsumi stands up quickly, avoiding Sukuna eyes as she walks past him, letting out a shaky breath she steps out of the room sliding the door behind her shut

----

Divider credit - Sweetyparty

[vermillionbedfellow]

Can we please, finally, admit to ourselves that the problem was not immigrants, or asylum seekers, or black and brown British people. It was never their fault, and historically, if we're being honest with ourselves, it never has been. The British fascist terrorists (and let's call them out for what they are, thanks) and the disgusting complicit UK press took a horrendous event and monopolised it as a means to do what they do best, sow fear and division in already petrified communities, drink cans, chuck bricks into holy buildings and rob sausage rolls from Greggs. Brave martyrs to the 'British cause' such as they are, clutching imported beers and novelty £1 cupcakes. It has been clear from the start that the terrible actions of one young black man acted as a catalyst for pogrom like behaviour from some of Britains finest advertising for corsodyl, already angry and indoctrinated crowds looking to scapegoat communities already in a vulnerable position in the fabric of this weird, very weird island.

The issue, the repeating factor in all of this violence, is men. Misogyny in the UK is killing us. It's killing our boys, destroying their lives and warping their brains into hateful, spiteful, twisted rage machines , and it's killing us. Age won't protect us. You could be six years old at a Taylor Swift dance party, eleven years old and visiting Trafalgar Square with your mum, 33 and walking home from a quiet drink with friends, in your 60s and at home with your two daughters. You could be dressed in a tutu, a raincoat, a hijab, pyjamas. You can fight back, you can comply, you can run and you can dance, but you will always be at risk of a man having so many feelings that he just might have to kill you about them. We can't help but exist in the vicinity of men, and it's becoming increasingly clear that there is very little being done to stop them from destroying us for having the audacity to be visible. Today, authorities deemed violence against women to be at epidemic levels, but ask any woman living her day to day in this country and she could have told you that years ago. It's scary out here, and it's getting worse. I bartend for a living, and at least once a day a man says something so harmful and rude and repulsively sexual that it makes my eyes sting. Mostly it's more than once a day, often it's more than words. With the insidious surge of right wing populism and their major macho bullshit talking points creeping into politics, news media and daily vernacular, I don't have real confidence for the future and for womens safety going forward. No wonder the birth rates continue to decrease in the UK, I don't want to have to raise a girl in a society that will fail to protect her, nor do I wish to raise a little boy in a society that might just turn him into a 'red pilled' knife wielding maniac.

What's more is that it's women of colour who are so much more at risk of being victims of femicide. These women are being attacked on two fronts, on the basis of their sex and on the basis of their race. We also know that crimes against women in these demographics are woefully underreported due to a lack of trust in policing institutions, with police often mishandling reports of violence when they are brought to their attention, causing further risk of harm. In London last year, 62% of the victims of femicide were black women (not that one would know that from a glance at the headlines, crimes against black women may as well be invisible to the uk media). And yet, where is the outrage over their safety from the bald headed pricks bellowing 'protect our women' and waving stolen crocs? It's almost as if only one form of compliant white woman is worthy of sympathy, but again, further than that, seeing as these brave protectors of woman have often been found to have had previous dv charges themselves, it's almost as if it was never about protecting women at all.

There is no conclusion to this post. Sometimes you just need to get thoughts out of your skull. Especially ones such as these. They make my teeth hurt. I don't have anything else to add. Just sad and apoplectic and feeling pretty powerless.

(In the tags are the names of some of the women and girls killed in the last year in this country. Just a few of them. If you have the strength to learn about their stories and honour their memories please do so, and if this isn't something you can face right now, they remain in our world even after death as long as we continue to share and speak their names, so share news articles and posts when you are able)

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 21: A World of Dreams

I really need to stop using Duck Duck Go for looking up images for this franchise because it is terrible at it and not only that but when I gave up and thought "Why not just get a picture of a mobius strip" and typed that in, I got a lot of porn, which is exactly the sort of thing you don't want to be looking up at work. Spoiler alert: I could get fired. Oh and also spoilers for the whole book series or whatever.

A new chapter icon! The twisted ring refers to T'A'R in general, but especially when being accessed by ter'angreal. It's in this chapter because, you know, we're getting it.

Verin had her quarters above the library, in corridors used only by a few other Brown sisters.

This is an accurate description of "on the floor exclusive to the Brown Ajah", but it feels a bit of a weird way to say it so I'll suggest Jordan's not quite there yet.

She rapped on the door, and entered hurriedly on the heels of an absentminded “Who is it? Come in.”

Ten bucks says Verin knew exactly who it was and not just because she'd summoned Egwene.

She recognized the names of some constellations—the Plowman and the Haywain, the Archer and the Five Sisters—but others were unfamiliar.

Being as the stars move around over thousands of years and the Earth has an axial procession of 26,000 years or so, I'm making absolutely no guesses as to any of these. The Archer and the Five Sisters may well be Orion and Cassiopeia after all, or they could be a mix of Scorpius, Libra, and Lupus. Heck, maybe two of the Pleiades exploded for some crazy reason.

What appeared to be a stuffed brown owl, not much bigger than Egwene’s hand, stood on what seemed to be a bleached white lizard’s skull, but could not be, for the skull was longer than her arm and had crooked teeth as big as her fingers.

I don't remember offhand if crocs are totally extinct in the west or if they're actually doing just fine on the southern coast and Egwene is oblivious because she's a country bumpkin. Does anyone?

What does it say? It is a direct translation, mind, and reads almost like a bard reciting in High Chant.

Verin my perfect angel I am calling bullshit. It is not a fucking direct translation because the sentences "Betrayer of Hope. Ishamael betrays all hope," would be fucking redundant to the point of incoherence in the Old Tongue unless there's some kind of proper name marker we don't know about.

Everything that is known about Liandrin and the women who went with her. Names, ages, Ajahs, where they were born. Everything I could find in the records. Even how they performed in their studies. What we know of the ter’angreal they took, too, which isn’t much. Only descriptions, for the most part. I do not know whether any of this will help. I saw nothing of any use in this.”

Verin had to be extra careful here because she can't give away any Black Ajah secrets, so only stuff that was public could be shared safely. That said, I wouldn't be surprised if she, like Elayne, knows that the information that is useless individually is still useful in aggregate.

What if Verin was Black Ajah herself? She gave herself a shake. She had traveled all the way from Toman Head to Tar Valon with Verin, and she refused to believe this plump scholar could be a Darkfriend. “I trust you, Verin Sedai.”

Dammit Egwene, your instincts are so good you should go with them. Both of them! (I think Verin is flattered by the trust and it's probably one of the reasons she's so casual in her Black Ajah reveal later, knowing Egwene won't blast her to pieces and will in fact listen.)

“Very good. But the Pattern may be even more complex than that, child. The Wheel weaves our lives to make the Pattern of an Age, but the Ages themselves are woven into the Age Lace, the Great Pattern. Who can know if this is even the tenth part of the weaving, though? Some in the Age of Legends apparently believe that there were still other worlds—even harder to reach than the worlds of the Portal Stones, if that can be believed—lying like this.” She drew more lines, cross-hatching the first set. For a moment she stared at them. “The warp and the woof of the weave. Perhaps the Wheel of Time weaves a still greater Pattern from worlds.”

I can't help but feel that Jordan initially planned to do more with this cosmology and then ultimately set it aside for being too much on top of everything else.

“Paradox, child. The Dark One is the embodiment of paradox and chaos, the destroyer of reason and logic, the breaker of balance, the unmaker of order.”

At the least though, this is setting up Egwene's eventual conclusion that belief and order bring strength.

Nothing? Of course it has something to do with it, child. The point is that there is a third constant besides the Creator and the Dark One.

This seems to elevate T'A'R a little much. It's not its own entity like the other two are, but exists only because of the Wheel and would vanish alongside everything else if time ever were destroyed. Good for Verin for not being one of those annoying perfect infodumpers.

“You have no time to wait, child. The Amyrlin has entrusted a great task to you and Nynaeve. You must reach out for any tool you might be able to use.”

A valuable life lesson and way of thinking a person should adapt for any task in front of them, great or small. Just saying.

The ring certainly looked like stone, but it felt harder than steel and heavier than lead. And the circle of it was twisted. If she ran a finger along one edge, it would go around twice, inside as well as out; it only had one edge. She moved her finger along that edge twice, just to convince herself.

"Heavier than lead" is a bit alarming, considering the sorts of things that are heavier than lead. Hopefully the Aes Sedai have just twisted it up in an unseen way so that it occupies an extra dimension or something and thus has more volume than it appears.

She pushed back the sleeve of her dress, revealing a faded scar the length of her forearm. “I tried it myself, once, some years ago. Anaiya’s Healing did not work as well as it should have. Remember that.”

The sucky thing about living in a world where the dream world is realer than the reality you inhabit is that it's much tricker to undo the stuff that's so real.

Once again she considered burning the manuscript, just as she had considered giving it to Egwene. But destroying knowledge, any knowledge, was anathema to her. And for the other. . . .

Verin can't share the manuscript because it contains some degree of Black Ajah secrets, IIRC. Thus, Egwene must soldier on in ignorance.

Next time: Egwene goes to the holodeck and... uh oh! It malfunctions!

[obsoleteozymandias]

Haii could I get a Stardew valley matchup? 😁

I go by any pronouns, I’d prefer to be matched up with a man but women are good too! If it matters I’m an Aries, INTJ :3

Appearance: long dark/almost black hair, pretty edgy/choppy haircut. Dark brown color eyes. I’m pretty lean and average height, usually dress in dark clothing or neutral shades. Very into formal clothes, always dress like i have somewhere to go(i dont) or into lazy outfits like long shorts and a tshirt. No in between

Personality: when meeting someone for the first time, I’m all awkward smiles, avoiding eye contact, and shy politeness. Ermm i tend to get attached to people who continue to look past that and continue talking to me. Anyways after being friends for a while, i get so much louder and more talkative, i like to annoy/tease my friends but will stop when they tell me to. Sarcastic, protective, loyal, and i also tend to make A LOT of jokes…sometimes during bad times. On the other hand, i can be quite irritable, gets overstimulated by my surroundings easily, awful memory, no motivation to do simple tasks at times, sensitive, sometimes does not know when to shut up. Stubborn AS HELL and a bit of a perfectionist

Likes: all forms of art, fiction books, the night sky, quiet environments, rain, storms, loud music, spending time with people i care about, playing videogames, trying out new hobbies, having my own space once in a while. Love when people rant about their interests to me as well, like yes please keep talking

Dislikes: not doing anything for a long period of time, loud and crowded places, hot weather

Hobbies: oh boy..drawing, writing, reading, tinkering with technology, coding, sculpting, 3d modeling, crocheting, storytelling. I also like collecting knives, rocks, figures, and toy cars :D

I have a pet dog and have some other animals on a farm! (Stardew reference)

Hope that’s enough, thank you!

*crawls out of my grave to give you this*

== Stardew Valley ==>

I match you up with…

Harvey

Harvey and you would start off as awkward aquiantences, both of you thinking you’re not good enough for the other, while simultaneously being down bad for the other. 

He’s really relieved when you become more comfortable around him, and is glad you trust him enough to be sarcastic and talkative. He’d love to hear about your hobbies. 

When you mention you like technology, he’s fucking FLOORED. 

He immeditaly invites you up to check out his radio equipment, and you, similarly invite him over to youre to look at all the farm tools you’re working with. 

The two of you spend a long evening chatting about your hobbies, and when you don’t shy away from his, or make fun of him, you’ve got him flushing red in the face and giggling. 

He’s pretty smitten after that. 

I imagine he asks you out in the dorkiest way possible - maybe by sending you a radio message or taking you out to stargaze before asking. He’s a romantic at heart, and wants you to feel absolutely loved.

He’s very attracted to your artistic and expressive side. He’s always felt like he’s had to hide his hobbies and passions for fear of being made fun of, but with you he feels free to be his weird self. 

He’s understanding of your changes in mood. He gets overstimulated as well, and thus is pretty considerate of when you need space and time. 

Your shared home is a house full of life and personality. He’s got trinkets and machines, and you’ve got sketchbooks and knives, and it’s obvious love is poured into every inch of your home.