it's so hard to come up with something to make you laugh at!

Listen I know we all love bilingual Lance and boy oh boy guess who’s here with some bilingual headcanons!!

•Lance used to speak fluent spanish as a child, but when he started going to public school, he just … Lost that ability.
•Lance can understand some words and phrases in spanish but doesn’t really know how to form sentences. (he knows all the cursewords and tries to use them as much as he can bc that’s Cool™)
•He can understand enough words to get the gist of what people are saying.
•Lance started to feel kind of detatched from his family since he couldn’t speak spanish and basically everyone else (save for the younger kids) could.
•His family doesn’t put any effort into teaching him spanish bc they want him to be more American than Hispanic (a sad truth that I unfortunately experienced)
•Lance starts to take spanish classes seriously when he gets to high school. He slowly learns how to form proper sentences, and he’s at the top of his class bc he wants to connect with his family language-wise. He tries hard, and grasps the language without any help from his fluent-spanish-speaking parents.
•One time, he had to do a project in spanish class, but he didn’t know how to form the sentence he wanted. So, he goes to his parents for help.
•Big mistake.
•His parents are from different regions of south america, so they speak different forms of spanish. Whatever he’s learning at school is. Not. The same.
•He had to go back and forth from his dad to his mom for one goddamn question like holy crow.
•"No, no! Your father is wrong! I speak PROPER spanish!“
-That was an actual quote from my mother it’s legit.
•His father ends up being right. At least in terms of School Spanish.
•Lance’s teacher ended up taking points away anyway bc she knew he wasn’t capable of speaking in such eloquent, complex spanish.
•He once went over his vocab list with his fam since he forgot his spanish dictionary at school. Another mistake. Don’t ask your different-spanish-speaking parents for translations when they’re in the same room.
•They spent more time arguing about the translation than actually translating.
•Mom: “Aficion? I’ve never heard that word in my life! It doesn’t exist!”
•"It means ceiling fan, mom.“
•M: “Oh! Then you mean ‘hincha’!”
•Dad: “Hincha?! Are you trying to teach our son slang?!”
•"Wait, that’s slang?!“
•"Well, ya-”
•D: “Aficion es the tiki tiki.”
•M: “No. El tiki tiki es la hincha!”
•They slowly seep into full spanish and Lance is watching on in amusement.
•He ends up texting his aunt about the right answer, and she tells him that it’s aficion.
•Mom loses the argument.
•He has a presentation in class for an oral test. He knows he has a great accent and great understanding of spanish, but when he goes up to speak, he can’t say anything.
•Everything comes out slow and stuttered, but he still gets an A+ bc his pronunciation is on point.
•There’s a non-hispanic/latinx kid in his class. They get straight A’s and speak faster than Lance. Lance is jealous of them. It’s not fair that a person who isn’t surrounded by latin culture can speak it so well, while he can’t.
•They’re the top 2 in the class, but Lance is always second. He’s always second in everything.
•Eventually, Lance learns enough Spanish to understand full sentences. He gets a giddiness in his chest when he can understand EXACTLY what is being said in spanish. He loves it.
•Even when his parents are scolding him in spanish, he tries his best not to smile bc he UNDERSTANDS!! •He tries to get his parents/family to communicate with him in Spanish more bc he’s so proud that he can FINALLY understand them. He feels connected to them again, and loves the feeling of embracing his heritage at last.
•Then … His family asks hin why he never talks back in spanish.
•Lance is still shy and insecure about his spanish, bc sometimes he makes mistakes. And sometimes, fluent speakers are not the nicest when it comes to that. He’s afraid they’ll make fun of him bc he’s still learning.
•He goes to a restaurant that has people who only speak spanish in it. He then has to order from the menu.
•He asks for a soda. When the waitress leaves, his entire family is beaming at him. He asks why.
•They gush about his perfect pronunciation and format. They’re proud of him. They had no idea he knew it so well.
•Lance is almost brought to tears bc his family is just as proud of him as he is - especially on something so important to him.
•He talks and laughs with his family at dinner again after that.
•When he gets in space, he tries to keep himself knowledgeable in spanish. He doesn’t want to forget again.
•He listens to old spanish radio shows and songs all of the time. He listens to sports, no matter which kind, in spanish.
•He tries to teach the other paladins Spanish. He grins when they start cussing under their breath in spanish. Sometimes, the paladins will just slip into it and they’ll forget that they’re speaking another language bc it’s so second-nature to them.
•But Lance notices, and it feels a little more like home.

anonymous asked:

heres a prompt if u were interested: neil being oblivious when flirted with constantly while andrew doing nothing, passing by, twirling his racquet is enough to get neil's attention (the rest of the foxes smirk)

“You’re all zoned out,” Matt says in her ear. Dan tips him immediately backwards with a hand to the chest.

“Shush,” she tells him, gritted through the straw she’s worrying between her teeth. She ran out of the watered-down pepsi they’re serving in battered plastic jugs a half hour ago.

“Dan.”

“Shush,” she insists, pressing two fingers to his mouth. She’s watching Neil trying to fill his water cup over at the far side of the banquet hall. He’s hovering in that way he does, like a shark who hasn’t figured out if something’s food yet.

There’s this sweet brown-eyed boy trying to talk to him, possibly the only male cheerleader in the room, certainly the least in the loop about Exy gossip. Dan watches him touch Neil’s arm and Neil jerks backwards into the table, toppling an entire icy water jug so it slops onto the floor and seeps through the tablecloth to the dark wood underneath.

Heads pop up, the boy falls all over himself to pour Neil a new glass, and Neil wanders off, bored.

Dan has noticed that people really want Neil to have a heart of gold. They like the news stories and they want them for themselves. They want the seams showing on his face and the tragedy in his back pocket, and they want to show everyone how accepting they are for finding his scars sexy. 

All they really want is his trim waist and his pretty eyes and his vice-cap badge and the way he shoves cameras away and has more history than any twenty-year-old has any business having.

Dan’s seen it all before. The way people like the character you’re playing so much that they want to take you home and open you up and see how deep it goes.

Neil’s worse at knowing when it’s happening. Dan’s a professional. She can see the way their eyes follow him because at least a dozen are always following her too, especially in places like this banquet. They look at Neil, or Dan, and a little part of them expects a show.

She watches Neil walk towards them with his eyes pouring over the room like liquid and finding every crevice, every exit. She looks at Matt.

“He’s doing that thing where he’s making a spectacle but he thinks he’s being very subtle.”

“That’s his whole shtick. I’m fond of it, now.” Matt grins.

“Do you think he actually noticed he was being hit on?”

Matt hums, watching Neil wind through the tables back to the fox—trojan extravaganza at theirs. “I doubt he knows anything about that boy other than the fact that he was in front of him for a bit.”

Keep reading

Six Years and Seven Days

This is pretending that Bellamy could hear Clarke talking all those years, she just can’t hear him responding, and that the ship at the end is them coming back to Earth. 

So…pain. 


Day Three

“Bellamy…are you up there? Are you alive? Is anyone alive?”

Static.

“I only woke up yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday. I barely made it into the bunker in time, but I made it. And the computer says it’s been three days since the radiation hit, and I was so hungry I thought I might die. Please tell me you didn’t die.”

Silence.

“Bellamy, my mom was right. In a way. My face is disgusting, covered in boils. You’d be laughing at me…probably. Because she was right but so were you. I’m not dead Bellamy. I hope you aren’t either.”

His fingers slammed on the respond button, pushing it down to the point of it feeling like it would crack from the pressure.

“I’m not dead, Clarke. I’m not dead.”

Keep reading

fireflies | M

Contains: fluff, smut {punk!taehyung}

Words: 17,158

Summary: “There’s no hope for people like us, sweetheart. We’re destined to fall in love a thousand times, and have our hearts broken in each one of them. We might as well be miserable together.”

[img cr]

A/N: Long fics might be turning into my new aesthetic. I’m sorry.

You never truly believed in love at first sight ― there was no reason to. The very idea seemed far too preposterous to be taken seriously, too ludicrous to exist outside of dreamy movies or forgotten fairy tales. How could two strangers cultivate such deep, mesmerizing emotion in the mere seconds they held a glance? How was it possible for them to simply know of their fate in the short amount of time they encountered each other? ― No; there were no soulmates, no predestined encounters. At least not for you. For you, there was only the faint ghost of a broken heart, the haunting of crumbled expectations; and the strong, determined promise to never fool yourself into another failed attempt at romance.

When you first saw him, however, you felt like the cosmos had morphed into static.


Keep reading

Straight? I think not.

Warning: Smut
Length: 2.6k

Summary:
Dan brags that his blowjobs could turn any guy gay. Unfortunately for him, his friends put this to the test and lock him in a closet…

“My blowjobs are so good, they’d probably turn a straight guy gay!”

That was the comment I had made during gym. It was also the reason I was currently locked in a locker room closet with Phil Lester. Who was, by the way, the school’s straightest heartthrob, and my least favourite classmate. I really needed better friends.

“So you’re telling me that Chris and your other groupies pushed me into this closet so that you could blow me?!”

I winced at Phil’s shrill screech. “If you could not shriek at me, that’d be great. I happen to like my hearing.” I mumbled from my place on the closet floor. “Look, they aren’t going to let us out until we do it, so can we just get it over with so that I can rush home and wash out my mouth?”

He flattened himself to the wall, wide-eyed. “No!”

“What other ideas do you have to get out of here, then?”

“I…” He stopped, a perplexed look overtaking his frantic one. “Are they really not going to unlock the door? Even if we wait?”

“Last month I claimed that I could eat anything. They trapped me inside of my bathroom with a platter of raw worms and crickets, everything completely drenched in hot sauce. I waited for three hours, but they didn’t let me out until I’d licked the plate clean.”

He tried to recoil further, but he was already up against the wall. “You’re not making me want your mouth all over me, Howell. That’s disgusting!”

“You’re telling me!” I groaned, getting pretty tired of fighting. “Just let me take control, and it’ll be over before you know it.”

He clenched his eyes shut, staying silent for several minutes before stepping away from the wall tentatively. “Fine… But you can’t tell everyone about this.” He muttered, watching me warily.

“Noted.” I sighed, closing my eyes and forcing myself into my sexual headspace. Then I reopened them, taking in Phil’s frame. He has nice curves, I decided, licking my lips instinctively as my gaze roamed over his hips. Good legs, too.

I crawled towards him on my hands and knees. He let out a startled squeak as my hands found his hips, pushing them back against the wall. His scent filled my nose, musky and slightly sweaty due to the gym class last period. It was exciting, causing heat to spiral down and in between my legs.

Whining softly, I glided my hands up and down his sides and over his chest, trying to feel every part of him I could reach. Then I pressed my nose to the front of his jeans in search of more of his smell. Phil jumped, gasping harshly when I nuzzled his half-hard length through his clothes.

“Do you want me to do it, or you?” I murmured, playing with the waistband of his jeans. Phil gaped at me, his mouth opening and closing but no sound escaping. Trailing my fingers daintily across his stomach, I leaned against his thigh to look up at him as innocently as I could. “I don’t mind doing it for you.”

“I-I… Um… Sure?” He squeaked. My fingers hooked into his belt loops, pulling them down and searching each bit of newly exposed skin as they slid down his thighs, pooling at his ankles. He kicked them off, glancing my way as if I was going to attack him once he was done. I simply pressed him back against the wall again.

He hissed as his bare legs met the wall, pressing up against my firm grip. “It’s cold!”

“You’ll warm up quickly, don’t you worry,” I chuckled. I focused my gaze on the outline of his semi through his boxers, which clung tightly to his thighs. Below the dark material was a seemingly endless supply of pale, unmarked skin. I decided that a slow buildup would be the best approach.

I pressed open mouthed kisses to the inside of his thighs to test his limits, tasting his skin with my tongue. Phil took a sharp intake of breath, trembling with the strain of keeping himself still. I moved slowly up from his knees to the top of his thighs. Then I took a quick detour to explore his hips, unable to resist digging my teeth into the taut skin there.

“Did you just bite me?” He stared down at me as I traced the blossoming mark with my finger.

“Mmhmm…” I decided that the dark bruises looked nice on his pale skin, so I tugged at the fabric of his boxers. “May I?”

He closed his eyes and nodded, his breathing getting heavier as I removed the last bit of clothing between my mouth and him. Then I moved to decorate the skin with more marks. Each time I bit down, a soft “ha” escaped from his lips.

“H-how am I-ha-going t-to explain these marks tomorrow?” He managed, squirming under my grip. A smirk tugged at my lips as I surveyed my work, pleased that the bruises were scattered both above and below where his gym shorts would be as well as along his v-line.

“Guess you’ll get to tell everyone that you snagged a hot boy…” I snickered quietly as Phil let out an indignant squeak and slapped my arm. “What? I’m hot, admit it!”

“You wish!” He scoffed, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he avoided my eyes. Interesting. I trailed a finger over the various bruises, before rubbing his base teasingly.

“Dan!” He hissed, curling his fingers into fists against the wall as my hand ran up and down his length. I leaned forwards, carefully, and flicked my tongue out to taste the bead of precum gathering at his tip.

Phil keened, bucking his hips forwards suddenly so that my tongue slid along the bottom of his length. As soon as he’d realized what he’d done though, he flushed red and leaned back against the wall.

I just chuckled and used my hands to steady him before wrapping my lips around his tip. I couldn’t help but mewl as the salty flavour spread across my tongue, but it was nothing compared to the loud whimper Phil emitted.

“D-Dan… Stop teasing…” He managed, struggling against where I was holding him from pressing forwards. I pulled off, doing the opposite of what he had asked. Instead, I pressed wet kisses along the side of his length. “Howell!” He spluttered uselessly.

Giggling, I glanced up to his incredibly red face. “Something wrong?” I purred. He just glared down at me, his fingers twitching like he wanted to just grab my head and make me obey him. Heat swirled low in my stomach at the thought.

“You are such a tease.” Phil muttered, and I couldn’t help but notice how much lower and more gravelly his voice had gone. Swallowing roughly, I tried to stay on top of the rushing images in my head.

“I just know how to get you all worked up,” I winked. He spluttered again, beginning to growl something about how annoyingly cocky I was. I cut him off by suddenly lurching forwards and taking him into my mouth.

He swore, loudly, and his hands flew forwards to tangle in my hair. Blunt fingernails scraped my scalp as his fingers curled to grip my brown locks, tugging my mouth forwards. His hips jerked a bit as a moan pushed its way up my throat.

We both paused for breath. Phil panted heavily above me, while I forced myself to breathe through my nose. When I finally glanced up to his face, I couldn’t help the choked whine that escaped.

His head had fallen to the side, bright crimson cheeks underlining his darkened blue eyes as they locked with mine. I was slightly aware of my hands falling from his hips. He must have suddenly realized that I was breathing quite heavily through my nose, because he tugged my hair until I moved my mouth off of him.

I gasped for breath, aware that Phil hadn’t let go of his grip on my curls. If anything, he seemed to have tightened it, as if he was afraid I’d run away.

“J-Jesus, Phil…” I managed, lust and want rushing through my veins. He seemed to decide that I wasn’t mad at him, removing his hands to unbutton his shirt. I watched him quizzically.

“Hot in here,” He stated gruffly, pushing the material off of his shoulders and cautiously pushing his fingers back through my curls. “Is this okay?”

“Mmh…” I mumbled, leaning up into the touch. My jeans felt tight and uncomfortable, and now that he mentioned it, hot and sweaty. “I wanna strip too.”

“Are you asking for permission?”

“Yeah, can I?” He nodded, releasing my hair again so that I could shuffle away a few steps. I made quick work of my shirt, fumbling a bit with my belt before finally kicking off my jeans, leaving my underwear on.

Instantly I scrambled forwards to take him into my mouth again, moaning when he bumped the back of my throat. I was vaguely aware of Phil murmuring praise, each quiet word shooting down my spine to join the jumble of arousal filling my lower body. He slid in and out of my mouth slowly as I relaxed my jaw.

“So pretty like this,” He murmured, tugging my hair to guide me forwards again. I took advantage of his newly exposed skin, using my hands to explore his chest and sides as he controlled the movement of my head.

“Wanna touch myself…” I whined, increasingly aware of the pressure on my length. Phil tutted, glancing down at where I was shifting against the hard tile floor. Immediately I stopped and blushed.

“No, want to see you come untouched like the slut you are.”

My hips jerked at the unexpected command, but I managed to pull myself together with a strangled sounding whine. Phil hummed approvingly. Pulling my hair back, I felt him push in deeper at the new angle, until I was deepthroating his length with my nose pressed against his base. The same musky smell from before filled my nose, and I moaned appreciatively as he pulled back out and repeated the motion.

“Gonna come just from me using your mouth, yeah? Only I get to use you like this?” His voice was a low growl, possessively commanding my thoughts.

“Yes! Please… Use me, I’m… your… toy!” I begged in between thrusts, climbing towards my climax much faster now that he was saying such things like that. Phil huffed out a laugh, clearly amused by how effectively he’d managed to take control.

“Good boy,” He murmured gently, holding my head still as his tip repeatedly hit the back of my throat. It was weird, the way he effortlessly switched from commands and degradation to soft praising whispers, but it seemed that my body reacted strongly to pretty much any talk during such intimate moments.

His heavy breathing brought my eyes back to his face. “I-I’m-” He gasped suddenly, breaking off his sentence and pulling me harshly forwards as he fell over the edge. Hot liquid streaked over my tongue and down my throat, Phil’s breathless moans and praise filling my ears.

Then I was coming suddenly, pleasure spiking in my body as my orgasm racked through me. Mine was much quieter than his, considering that I had a slowly softening length filling my mouth, the last bit of his come disappearing down my throat as I swallowed around my noises.

He pushed my lips off of him wearily as he came down from his high, slumping against the wall and sliding down to sit in front of me. I squirmed in my soiled underwear, not quite sure whether to go to him or not. Thankfully, Phil decided for me by motioning me forwards and allowing me to collapse against his chest.

“Did you actually come from that?” He murmured, pressing his heated palm to my sensitive scalp. I pressed up into the touch.

“Mmh.. maybe…” My voice was raspy, almost hoarse. I blushed as he chuckled. He stayed quiet for a few more minutes, brushing his fingers delicately over my abused curls. Then he turned to look at me with a gentle smile.

“Shower?”

“Please,” I mumbled, a bit embarrassed. He stood and went to the back of the closet, rummaging through a bin of towels while I took the chance to admire his body from behind. Turning, he offered me one to wrap around my waist to conceal the dark patch on my front. Once we were both covered, with his towel hiked a bit higher to cover the bruises, we tried the door. It opened easily. I chose not to think about when Chris had come to unlock it.

Phil ushered me through the locker room, grabbing his bag from a bench nearby and following me to the showers. The spray was warm and inviting, and Phil dropped his towel without much hesitation before stepping in with a content sigh. I followed, kicking off my underwear and throwing my towel to the side.

His eyes roamed over my frame before reaching out and pulling me under the water with him. I collided with his chest, nearly knocking him backwards and causing giggles to bubble up from our throats.

“This is nice,” Phil murmured, reaching for the shampoo and rubbing it into my hair. I hummed, closing my eyes at the blissful feeling of his fingers in my hair.

“Yeah?”

“Mm..” His breath moved to the side of my neck, tingles erupting where his lips barely brushed the skin. I bit my lip as teeth scraped over the same spot, knowing that he was going to leave a mark. I probably deserved it for marking him up so much. He took a deep breath when he was done. “You smell a bit like strawberries.”

I couldn’t help but snort at that. “I’m pretty sure I smell like sex, actually.” He swatted my arm, and I opened my eyes as he giggled, his tongue between his teeth. A smile tugged at my lips. “You have a nice laugh…”

“You have an amazing mouth.” He retorted, smirking despite the blush creeping up the back of his neck. I couldn’t help but wink.

“Oh, I’m sure my mouth can do more than that.” Phil swatted my arm again, pushing me under the spray and causing shampoo to run in rivulets down my face and neck. “Hey!” I squeaked, clenching my eyes shut to avoid getting it in my eyes. The sweet smelling suds had almost disappeared when I felt his hands slide around my waist, tugging me closer.

I’m not sure who kissed who first, but it was sweet and gentle and not at all heated or sexual. He tasted like peaches. Who gave him the right to taste so good? I cringed internally when I realized what I probably tasted like, but he didn’t seem to mind. He pulled back slowly, seemingly trying to catch his breath but leaning back in to press quick pecks to the corners of my mouth before resting his forehead against mine.

“I think I like boys.”

A soft smile tugged at my lips. “You think so?” He pulled me back for another delicate kiss, breathing a word into the tiny gap between our mouths.

“Yeah.”

Friendship Comes First:  What (Good) Fanfiction Can Teach Us About the Romantic Subplot.

I love all forms of storytelling:  television, books, movies, you name it.  As long as it’s quality, its ripe for the picking.  

It’s so easy for me to become engrossed in the lives and psychologies of fictitious characters, to care for them as though they’re people I really know.  Which, on some metaphysical level, I suppose is true, but that’s a topic for another essay.

However, in the midst of all my possibly Asperger’s-fueled hyper-fixation and nerdery, there’s one inevitable aspect of seemingly every plot to which I will almost always role my eyes and click the fast-forward button:  the goddamned romantic subplot.

So many times have I seen the exact same variation of romantic love between fifty homogeneous couples, and each time, I failed to see the appeal:  in books, the smirking, obnoxious male love interest will woo the object of his desire through flagrant disrespect, the same toned bodies will copulate furiously on my television screens (typically at the exact same moment my parents or small siblings will walk into the room), the same vapid, flirtatious stares and generic dialogue will be exchanged. 

But where’s the basis for it?  Yes, these people are stressed to be attracted to one another to the point of obnoxiousness, but do they even like each other as individuals?  Are they even friends?  Is there any three-dimensionality to their relationship besides sizing each other up and deciding to bump uglies? 

Simply and also sadly, the answer is very rarely.  And so, it seemed to me that romance was not my cup of tea, both in the fictitious world and out of it.  Or so it seemed.  

Because it was then, at approximately seventeen, that I discovered a remarkable phenomenon that would change my life forever:  fanfiction.  

Never before had I been so enraptured in the relationships of fictional characters, and I was baffled as to why.  Yes, I’ve read a tremendous deal of fanfiction that is, in fact, book quality, but as an avid bibliophile, I was perplexed as to why I’d never been so captivated by the romantic endeavors of a published author as I was by the passion-projects of writers not much older than I was.     

After a lot of time, careful consideration, and the illuminating words of some of my fellow bloggers, however, I believe I can finally put words as to why. 


1.  Give your characters a narrative purpose (besides being The Love Interest.) 

Do you ever wonder what inspires Supernatural fans to tirelessly churn out fics about their favorite human-on-angel pairing?  I have, and this is someone who’s a proud proponent of the stuff.  

The sheer magnitude of free literature available, constantly repositing the pair in all manor of situations and walks of life, is absolutely baffling, and undeniably impressive.  Indeed, some of the best works of romantic literature – and yes, I do consider fanfiction to be a form of literature – I have ever come across were starring none other than this specific pairing:  from the infamous Twist and Shout (which I don’t recommend if you ever want to listen to Elvis Presley music, visit a beach, or feel joy ever again) to the charming Have Love, Will Travel (probably my personal favorite), some truly beautiful love stories have blossomed from a pairing that has never even been confirmed onscreen to have romantic connotations.  

Perhaps just as baffling is the other end of the spectrum:  Lisa Braeden.  Lisa, for those unfamiliar, is basically posited as the love of Dean’s life, with whom he lived for a year before being forced to give up his dream of a family life and return to full-time demon busting.  They’ve canonically kissed, had sex, shared a bed, and everything typically associated with an onscreen couple.    

Yet comparatively no fanworks exist about them.  When Lisa does appear in a fic, she is usual Castiel’s rival for Dean’s affections, or simply a hapless bystander. 

Why is this?  Well, a disillusioned observer might point to straight women’s apparent predilection towards fetishizing male homosexuality (I, for the record, am not straight myself;  I’m a proud bisexual who, thus far, has only dated women.)  I’m inclined to retort that this isn’t giving female fans nearly enough credit. 

For starters, remove all context from each relationship and examine them with a critical eye:  on the one hand, you have Castiel, Dean’s angelic savior from forty years in perdition.  Castiel is clearly fascinated with Dean, appearing in his bedroom, somewhat suggestively (advertently or otherwise) inquiring about his dreams, watching him sleep, routinely invading his personal space, and ultimately rebelling against heaven in accordance with Dean’s wishes. 

On the other hand, you have Lisa, a perfectly nice character who’s introduced as “the bendiest weekend of (Dean’s) life” and…well, that’s about it.  She’s later shown as a sort of amalgamation of Dean’s subconscious desire for a mother figure and normal life, but she, as a character, remains somewhat underdeveloped and hollow. 

You can’t expect fans to hold the two relationships to the same caliber and then cry internalized misogyny and fetishization of gay and bisexual men when they don’t.

The fact of the matter is, onscreen “friendships” are typically much more developed, much more three-dimensional, and much more ideal of what a truly epic romantic plot should be.  A character with a clear place in the narrative and three dimensional characterization all their own will almost always be more charismatic than a character who’s introduced as exclusively The Love Interest.  

This is not to say that what makes fanfiction so great is that it sexualizes or romanticizes friendship.  In fact, I’m inclined to believe it’s the other way around.  

Which brings me to my next point…

2.  Make sure your characters are friends.

It’s a romance for the ages.  A love like no other.  They’re soulmates, yin and yang, a match made in the stars.

But do they enjoy each other’s company?  Laugh at each other’s jokes?  Take part in each other’s interests?  Are they even friends?  

The sad fact of the matter is, romance and erotica are, as a whole, starved for values of friendship and camaraderie. 

This is something I realized only after my love of fanfiction took root, when I tried to return to my normal sources of adult entertainment (romance, erotica, and porn) and found them, by comparison, almost bafflingly lacking in warmth and camaraderie.  

What I think makes fanfiction so addictive is the fact that it’s built upon the established relationships of two or more characters (the Onceler and company notwithstanding) who, typically, care for one another as friends and compatriots.  

Look at some of the internet’s favorite pairings:  Dean Winchester and Castiel remain a classic.  Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers are always crowd-pleasers.  Kara Denvers and Lena Luthor are seeing a rise in popularity.  We all know Sherlock has somewhat fallen from grace, but the union of its two main characters still retains a devoted following.

This is no accident:  despite lacking onscreen confirmation, these characters have proven themselves to care for one another as more than objects of their sexual desire.  They’re friends, with relationships based in loyalty and warmth that are, unfortunately, sorely lacking in typical fictional romances.  

Once you get a taste of this brand of friendship-infused romance, in fanfiction or otherwise, it’s hard to go back.  

This isn’t just limited to quote-unquote “fanon” couples, either:  couples such as Mulder and Scully, Bones and Booth, Yuuri and Victor, and Ladybug and Chat Noir can all attribute their popularity to this strong basis in friendship, camaraderie, and mutual respect.

This is also the leading cause as to why the formerly booming 50 Shades franchise, and other arguably sexist, abusive dynamics, are struggling at the box office.  

Which reminds me… 

3.  Make sure your characters are equals. 

Unless you’re writing a Lolita-esque social commentary, it’s probably your best bet to keep your characters on fairly equal ground. 

I mean this in every sense of the word, too:  I have a difficult time getting invested in a romance when there’s a pretty blatant power imbalance, which oftentimes occurs due to the implicit sexism of the entertainment industry.

Disproportionately young actresses are assigned as love interests to much older men, such as Emma Watson’s twenty-something-year-old character lusting over a man almost twenty years her senior in Irrational Man.  

Physically mediocre or average-looking male characters are frequently pared with stunningly beautiful women who like them because they’re “nice,” fueling the existing mentality of all self-proclaimed “nice guys” who think society owes them a hot girl.

Furthermore, @popculturedetective just released an amazing video explaining the “Born Sexy Yesterday” trope, in which hopelessly naive, beautiful women are seen swooning over their more savvy male lovers.  (Found here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=2&v=0thpEyEwi80)

I love Splash and the Fifth Element as much as anybody, but both films incorporate all these tropes in ample proportions, and it’s frankly ridiculous. (On the topic of Splash, however, I’m greatly looking forward to a subversion of this trope in its remake, starring Channing Tatum as the titular merman and Julianne Belle as his human love interest.) 

On the other hand, you have fanfiction.  I’ve read numerous essays professing that fanfiction is becoming increasingly popular due to the fact that same-sex relationships tend to be implicitly devoid of these sex-based imbalances, and I’m inclined to agree.  

However, I’ve read others stating that male-male pairings tend to be so popular because male characters are typically more well-developed by writers, making it perfectly understandable that fans would be more invested in a possible romance between two characters of equal multidimensionality (see point 1) than one that is sorrowfully underdeveloped.  I’m inclined to think that this theory is even more on point.   

Because look at some of the successful onscreen relationships I listed prior:  we root for Bones and Booth’s inevitable union the same way we swoon over slowburn fanfiction, delighting in Mulder and Scully’s banter and craving their interaction.  

These are, in my opinion, some examples of straight couples done right, because they’re portrayed as friends (see the previous point), and just as importantly, as equals.  

Last, but certainly not least, the male characters in both pairings are depicted as having nothing but respect for their female compatriots, depending on their intellectual know how and not being ashamed to say so. 

A more contemporary example that gets this wrong?  Well, not to offend any fans of the pairing, but Mon-El and Kara, a la Supergirl.  Mon-El was, at the beginnings of his arc, consistently disrespectful towards Kara, putting her down and insulting her in the very same episodes in which her female compatriot – Lena Luthor – is shown vocally admiring and praising her.  

Mon-El has since improved on his behavior, but the damage is done:  I still have a difficult time seeing him as a likeable character, much less a suitable love interest for my beloved Kara.   


These are just a few recommendations, based on the ways in which my somewhat obsessive love of transformative literature (i.e. good fanfiction) have helped me as a writer and helped me view the implicit problems with mainstream romance with a more discerning and critical eye.

Here, I could provide a counterpoint with the recurring problems I’ve noticed in fanfiction, or I could go into some recomendations for writing explicitly gay and lesbian relationships.  Both of these, however, are topics worthy of another essay.

Disclaimer:  I am assuming that any and all readers are trying for an enjoyable, healthy romantic subplot with equally charismatic, consenting, and likable characters.  Dysfunctionality can be just as interesting from a literary standpoint, but again, this is a topic for another essay.


There will be essays like this published at least once every other week, so be sure to follow my blog and stay tuned for future writing advice and observations! 

cold coffee. (m)

pairing: jungkook | reader

genre: smut

word count: 4,564

description: “I wasn’t referring to verbal truth. I was referring to,” and then there was a brief pause that was followed by a light press to the center of your stomach. Your back laid flat against the wooden bench before the predatory loom of his figure appeared overhead, “Candor of the body. Which you, my love, are the absolute queen of.”

cr.


With an exchanged swipe, taste forthcoming as the two of you had intended. Too sweet, muttered against your lips – lips that curved into ones of amusement at his feigned disfavor for your particular arrangement of the poison. Too bitter, slipped past your teeth in retort, the air of the syllables brushing against his breath; a dance of icy exhales in a burning winter night. His mouth twitched at that, following your suit into similar enjoyment of the playful critique.

“Maybe not my coffee, but sweet in other aspects, no?” He spoke in a devilish dialect of insinuation and lust; one that, before encountering him, was unfamiliar to you. Adoration, it managed to claw at your chest with great vigor each and every time he glanced down at you through darkened tufts of raven hair. His words wrapping their way around you entirely until they sounded of music. The notes gliding across your bones as his voice conducted your motions.

Keep reading

somebodylost-chan  asked:

I'd like to ask, how do you know when fight/smut scenes are necessary? Or how to make them effective & not simply as fanservice or just for word count? Usually, I find myself skimming through fight scenes as a reader, bored. As a writer, I'm inclined to just 'fade to black' and imply stuff at the next chapters. I'm not really a fight/smut-scene writer, even though my characters know & need to fight. Thanks for keeping this blog. :D

A good fight scene (and a good smut scene for that matter) always works in the service of the narrative. It works toward the cohesive big picture.

From an entertainment standpoint, violence is boring.

You need your audience invested in the characters participating in the violence, in the actions and events leading up to the fight, in the aftermath and how this will effect the character’s overall goals.

In a narrative context, if you’re bored during a fight scene or a sex scene it’s because the build up to that moment failed. The scene itself may also have failed. However, your foundation is what makes your story sing.

Think of a story like building blocks. You’re playing Jenga with your reader on a homemade house, they’re slowly pulling out the pieces and you’re betting you built your blocks well enough to withstand scrutiny. You’ve got to keep them interested long enough to get to the end before the whole thing comes tumbling down.

A fight sequence which works in concert with it’s narrative is enjoyable, doesn’t overstay it’s welcome, and ultimately works to build up the story it’s telling. Fighting isn’t fighting, you see. Combat is a form of problem solving, the fight itself is an expression of the character’s individuality. Everything we’ve been learning about them, their goals, and their behaviors are being put in a pressure cooker and dialed up.

You should be learning about the character as the fight progresses, the fight working on multiple levels in concert with its narrative to get the story where it needs to go. Often, a first fight is like an establishing shot in film. You get a feel for who this character is when under pressure, who they are. Peril can be a great way to get the audience invested, but its up to the author to prove why they should.

Poor fight sequences don’t tell you anything. They’re there to establish the character as capable of fighting but don’t even do that because their concept of combat is generic.

The combatants aren’t individuals expressing themselves, the fight isn’t proving anything except fighting, it doesn’t have meaning except for its attempts to prove the narrative’s poor concept of badassery. This often happens with no regard for the setting’s rules, the aftermath consequences, what the character’s actions will effect in the long run.

It doesn’t mean anything and, while violence is shocking and terrifying in real life, in fiction violence has to mean more than just an exchange of blows.

How many times have you read a book where several mooks show up to get their ass kicked by the protagonist? They limp off at the end and while they’re often in a perfect position to be seen again due to their connections, we never do.

In even just a moderately competent narrative, those same mooks are characters. We’ll see them again in bit roles. They’ll play a role, either to help or hurt later as an aftermath consequence of the protagonist’s earlier actions. These are callback characters we can use to remind the audience of what happened previously in the narrative, and offer up some catharsis.

In a really well written scene, these mooks serve an important purpose when it comes to establishing the protagonist’s character in a quick snapshot. Like the moderately competent character, they come back later to the aid or the detriment of the protagonist. The mooks’ response actions are a direct result of their encounter with the character, often acting as an inciting incident. The protagonist suffers direct consequences as a result of their actions, whether its injury, loss, or the attention of the villain which causes them to lose something. In these fight scenes, you can see the story’s trajectory because it acts as another way to get to know the hero, the secondary characters, the tertiary characters, and whoever else is participating. It’s working on five different levels.

What you often see in a good fight sequence, whether it’s in a written medium or film, is the culmination of a great deal of hard work on the part of the author. A smut sequence is a reward, it’s a way to pay off on the reader’s investment in the relationship between these two characters and the narrative’s investment in them. It doesn’t matter if that’s hardcore sex, or a Victorian hand touch, or a knockout blow to the jaw, the end result is the same. It’s entertaining, satisfying, and even cathartic.

A poor sex scene is just dolls bumping bits. A poor fight scene is just dolls trading blows. Nothing occurs, nothing happens, there’s none of the underlying satisfaction or catharsis in the outcome. You don’t have any investment, no consequences, it overstays its welcome and tells you nothing about the characters.

You’ve no reason to care, so you don’t.

As a reader, you don’t owe a writer attention when reading their work. They’ve got to earn it. If they aren’t, then it may be that the story isn’t for you and that’s okay. Take into account your tastes,

It takes practice to choreograph a fun fight scene. Writing sex and violence is mostly about learning to find your limits (i.e. what you’re comfortable with writing), and overcoming embarrassment. Determine the difference between need and want.

Are you avoiding writing these scenes because you’re scared of being bad at them or because they just don’t interest you?

These are two very different issues, and it’s easy to hide from the first behind the second. Be honest with yourself. If it is fear, then don’t give into it. The easy solution if you’re afraid of being bad at something is to practice. Start looking critically at the media you consume, when you start to get bored during a fight scene or a sex scene, when you want to skip ahead, ask yourself, “why?”. Check out the sequences and stories where this doesn’t happen, and try to figure out the differences between the two.

When it comes to the mechanics of both violence and sex, the more you learn the better off you’ll be at writing it. The more you practice writing violence/sex/romance then the better you’ll be. Like with everything, it’ll probably be pretty terrible in the beginning but the more you practice, the better you get. Writing itself is a skill, but its also a lot of sub-skills built in underneath the surface. Being good at dialogue doesn’t mean you’ll be good at action, having a knack for great characterization doesn’t mean you’ll be good at writing setting description. Putting together great characters doesn’t mean you’ll automatically be good at worldbuilding.

Don’t be too hard on yourself.

All it takes to figure out whether or not the time to fight is right is by listening to your gut.

Remember, the best scenes are based in narrative cohesion and emotional investment. They’re a pay off in and of themselves for your audience, dessert after dinner. They aren’t the meat and potatoes. If you set out to just write a fight scene or write a smut scene then it’ll get gratuitous. Then the focus is on the fight or the sex itself, hangs entirely on their shoulders, and you’ve just upped the ante for how entertaining you need to be.

It’s not “how do I write a fight scene”, it’s “how did my characters get to this point and why are they fighting”. If you start from a character place, it gets easier. The same is true with romance. “How do my characters participate in a romance (sex or not)”.

Make it about the individuals, that’s when it really gets fun.

And, if you get too stuck, try writing fight scenes with characters who don’t know much about how to fight. Sometimes, it’s easier to get into it when you begin at the beginning. There’s a lot less pressure convincing an audience with a character who knows nothing than one at the top of their field.

There’s a lot less stress about “is this right?” when you’re trying to get a feel for the flow if you’re dealing with a character who doesn’t know jack shit. Fight scenes with characters who know nothing can also be really, really, really fun. They’re wild, improvisational frenzies where all you have is the character sorting through their alternative, non-fighting skills trying to figure out how to survive.

Believe it or not, this will help you because you don’t get to cheat with the idea that your character already knows what they’re doing when you don’t. It’ll help you tap into the character, seeing scenarios from their perspectives, and writing to that instead of “generic fight scene”. When you’re unsure, characters who know nothing about the subject matter they’re engaging in but still have to engage are great. They teach you how to write from the standpoint and perspective of the individual. You need those skills just as much when writing characters who are professionals or at the top of their field.

If you don’t think you can write an interesting fight sequence with a neophyte, then that might be a part of the problem. A character doesn’t need to be good at something to be entertaining. A smut sequence where everyone’s fumbling, knocking into each other, embarrassed, stuck in their clothing, cheesy, corny, and laughing can be just as fun (if not more so and more honest) than the ones that generally get envisioned.

For me, good is entertaining and the entertainment is based in humanity but you need to define “good” for yourself in your own writing. Be honest with yourself about your fears and you’ll find a way to bridge yourself to the kind of writing you want to be doing.

Freeing yourself of your own internalized preconceived notions will help a lot, and produce stories that are way more fun.

-Michi

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Happy Tuesday.

I’m calling it “Yurio Catches Puberty” as a working title. (PG for swearing and puberty.) (Warning for body image stuff, very minor.) 

***

“WHEN WILL THIS BE OVER?”

The scream of anguish from the rink’s locker room shower made Yuuri look up sharply. He’d only arrived in St. Petersburg yesterday, but this couldn’t be normal, even if nobody else seemed to be paying the slightest attention.

“AUGH!”

It was definitely Yurio.

“Yurio?” he started to ask, but Georgi clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t engage,” he hissed.

Yuuri looked at him, wide-eyed.

“What’s going on?” he whispered, as Yurio began a steady, at least quieter stream of cursing in Russian, then English, then Japanese that Yuuri definitely hadn’t taught him.

“Puberty,” Georgi said.

Yuuri blinked. “Puberty?” he asked.

Georgi gave him a disgusted look. “Of course,” he mumbled to himself. “The golden boy didn’t suffer puberty…”

He wandered off, now also cursing, and Yuuri had ten seconds of silence before Yurio kicked the shower door open and strode out, towel around his waist.

(There is a readmore below! Read more!)

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Patronus
  • So the patronus isn’t straight up taught in Hogwarts, as a wise professor once said, it’s a ‘highly advanced spell, well beyond O.W.L level’
  • But you know, this is the marauders, the rebellious little nerds that we all know and love.
  • So James got hold of a book from  the library one day about how to do the patronus and it seemed very cool. Not the whole fighting dementors part, but the distant and simple communication? priceless for a marauder.
  • And so they all stayed up one night trying to learn how to do it.
  • Sirius was actually the first to successfully do the spell. He had spent the last hour lavishly flinging his wand in the air shouting ‘Expecto Patronum!’ to no avail. Them Remus told him he should try to think of a happier memory.
  • He thought of the first time he had called Euphemia Potter ‘mum’. It had been an accident and had really just slipped out. He had been so embarrassed. But none of the Potter’s seemed to have noticed. A few moments later James had turned over to Sirius and said.’Could you pass your brother the salt then?’
  • And Sirius had never felt more part of a family in his life.
  • He was so engrossed in the memory he didn’t even notice the frantic black dog shoot out to his wand and knock Peter onto his backside.
  • Peter was next, he was thinking of the moment when some of the Slytherins had been bullying him earlier one day in first year and he had been crying down by the lake all afternoon, only to have Remus come up and sit behind him, rubbing his back and comforting him. Then Sirius and James had pushed the Slytherins into the Black lake right in front of him. How they had laughed. Real friends.
  • The small rat that scurried out of Peter’s wand that night was the first and last one Peter could ever produce. This was 6th year and soon the war became to much for the young boy.
  • Standing next to a struggling James, Remus was viciously whispering and flicking his wrists over and over again. ‘Expecto Patronum. Expecto Patronum. Expecto f’fucks sake. This is hopeless.’
  • ‘You can do it Moony.’ Sirius smiled.
  • Remus thought about the first time he had kissed the stupid black haired Gryffindor in front of him. Sirius had been stealing something out of one of the cupboards along the school corridors when Remus had caught him on prefect rounds.
  • Looking back on it Remus couldn’t help but laugh at how unsubtle Sirius had been about the whole thing. ‘Oh, we seem to have bumped into each other Moons’ ‘What a coincidence.’ Remus of course had just assumed Sirius was trying to tease him into giving him detention, something Remus would never do, and had ended up getting pretty annoyed and flustered about being this close to Sirius in a small space and omg he could feel the heat of his skin and ah this was too much and he couldn’t stop talking.
  • Until Sirius closed that little gap between them to shut him up.
  • And Remus had never been happier. And he had never looked back.
  • And then a large animal came running out of the end of his wand, and Remus thought to himself.
  • ‘It’s a dog! Sirius and I have the same Patronus!’
  • Only Remus’ was much bigger than Sirius’ dog… and it’s tail was bushier.. and did it just howl?
  • No. This wasn’t fair. Not this. That wasn’t how this was supposed t be. It was meant to be a happy memory. This wasn’t fair, after all this time, the one thing he thought he could share with his boyfriend.. and this was what he gets… another reminder about how imperfect and unworthy and unwanted…
  • And then there was Sirius standing next to him, sliding his arm around his back and kissing him gently on the cheek.
  • ‘I love it.’ He whispered.
  • ‘ ‘s not fair.’ Remus mumbled.
  • ‘Remus look.’ Sirius replied. ‘it’s not that. It’s a wolf. A normal wolf. A loyal and pack having, friendly wolf.’
  • And Sirius was grinning.
  • But Remus just shrugged.
  • James was having the most trouble of them all.
  • Something was wrong, he just couldn’t seem to do it. He kept thinking of happy memories, first time he rode a broom, first time Sirius came to stay, first time he transformed into a stag.
  • And still nothing.
  • Tiny wisps of silver.
  • And then nothing.
  • ‘It’s fine James, we already know what it’s going to be.’
  • ‘I know,’ James replied through gritted teeth. ‘I just want to see it.’
  • And he was so fustrated.
  • And making a crap load of noise about it too.
  • So much noise in fact, that he started to wake the other residents of the Gryffindor tower up from their slumber.
  • And so a very grumpy and tired Lily Evans came storming down the staircase.
  • ‘What in Merlin’s name are you twats doing now!’
  • ‘Ah Evans.’ Sirius grinned. ‘care to join us?’
  • ‘It’s three in the fucking morning Black! I’m supposed to be sleeping, except someone has been screaming for the past half hour about how hard this is and he trying but it’s not working, and I can’t tell if James is finally losing his virginity or doing his homework for once, but what I do know is that it’s stopping me from being able to enjoy the few hours of the day that I don’t have to be around you lot.’
  • A rather deeply embarrassed James pushed past a bent-over-with-laughter Sirius.
  • ‘Actually Lily,’ he said, trying to act suave and like he hand’t just heard the last bit. ‘We are trying to do the patronus charm.’
  • This had peaked Lily’s interest, and although she knew better, she asked. ‘Really? The patronus charm? Wow. A proper one?’
  • ‘Yepp.’ peter chimed in. ‘And we’ve all been able to do it, except for James.’
  • Lily cocked her eyebrow.
  • ‘Oh.’ She smiled. ‘Let me try then.’
  • James, not wanting to be shown up any more by the fiery red head who was hopelessly in love with, quickly butted in. ‘No no. I mean, you can try.. but its really hard and took everyone ages to master and you’ll be up all night trying and-’
  • ‘Potter.’ She replied sternly.
  • It only took her three attempts.
  • And there it was.
  • A beautiful silver shimmering doe burst through the tip of her wand and gracefully ran across the common room, galloping past it occupants before turning and vanishing as Lily dropped her arm. She grinned.
  • ‘See? Not so hard then.’
  • James just stared. Open mouthed. Like the rest of the marauders. Dumb-founded in total and complete shock, until Lily just gave up on them and went back off to bed.
  • James didn’t have any trouble producing a Patronus after that.
unpopular opinion: there’s no way we can get a great garnet episode at this point

aka why i can understand why garnet stopped having episodes dedicated to her.

this isnt to justify the lack of episodes dedicated to her, but rather my anger and frustrations with the crewniverse for repeatedly stunting any development for her and turning her into a really bland and overly forgiving mom character

garnet transformed from this mysterious mother figure that would do quirky things and have spouts of anger to a faux progressive happy go lucky character (odlaws’ put my issue into words perfectly if you wanna understand it more)

like back in season 1? what were garnet’s flaws:

she was awkward, she would turn violent if you pushed her hard enough, she over estimates steven, she can lose focus easily, her stoic persona made her come off as uncaring and intimidating

after jailbreak, keeping it together and cry for help you would think garnet would face new conflicts such as trust issues, dealing with PTSD, coping with horrific imagery, letting things go, etc

but no. we never get any of that. we’re not ALLOWED to get any of that. instead all that emotion and turmoil is given to ruby and sapphire. really godbless these characters, i still love them to death and despite some of my issues with keystone motel, its still a really solid and enjoyable ep. But this arc was supposed to be about garnet being hurt. pearl was jealous of garnet and pearl hurt garnet. when pearl was insulting sugilite no one went “how rude of pearl to insult amethyst and garnet”. We all understood that sugilite was a separate identity who made her own decisions and garnet and amethyst weren’t influencing it. 

even when ruby and sapphire were angry about how they were hurt, RUBY was in the wrong because she didnt want to forgive pearl right away and sapphire told her that forgiving pearl was the right thing. ignoring the fact that that was a terrible message to send, that you need to just forgive people who hurt you right away just because they’re close friends, we never get a chance to see garnet vent and show her anger. even in Friend Ship, it ended with garnet playing the life coach for pearl DESPITE pearl not giving a proper apology and instead making bad excuses and using guilt tripping tactics (”im not strong enough” “im just useless”). its like the tumblr equivalent of someone going “i know i did something bad i get it im trash i deserve to die”. But garnet can’t shut that down can she? garnet cant receive a good apology can she? no she has to sit down and stroke Pearl’s ego for a goddamn minute.

garnet cant express her feelings because that’s wrong and bad! pearl can scream at a child and smack a wall simply because he tried to be supportive but garnet cant be mad. garnet’s not allowed to express her feelings. Friend Ship and Cry For Help made me realize something awful.

when garnet’s mad its not sympathetic, it’s scary

back in season 1 I forgave it since garnet was an imposing figure. she’s weird and mysterious. when she was mad it was over things like accidentally getting her glasses knocked off and ronaldo kidnapping steven. you could laugh at the situation with her and not really take her anger seriously enough

so you would think given the circumstances, the writers would understand that we should sympathize with garnet since she was violated. which isnt at all funny and nearly made her defuse.

But you’re not supposed to empathize with garnet. you’re not supposed to relate to her. You’re not supposed to go “poor garnet thats so messed up”. you’re instead supposed to react like “Yeah that was messed up but WHY is she mad at pearl :(”

amethyst complains about the house being awkward and taking neither sides despite it clearly being something that she should be supporting garnet in. steven doesnt support garnet either. when pearl snapped at steven in Rose’s Scabbard, steven chases after her and spends some time with her to lift her mood. But steven didn’t care to do anything for garnet. Steven didn’t invite her to come to the motel. Steven didn’t take the time to talk to her. and Steven didn’t make any attempt to relate to her.

and yet guess who did get the good ol’ “get coddled like a baby” treatment.

pearl. someone who was the cause of all this drama. who not only violated a friend several times, but delayed their mission and risked endangering everyone for the sake of feeling good about herself. but ofc the writer’s woobie fave could never do anything wrong :(

an entire arc that should’ve been meant to flesh out both garnet and pearl ended up shelving garnet and treating pearl like the victim in all of this. that SHE’S the one who needs help.

how insulting

a black woman who sang a song about the importance of love and fusion, who nearly fell apart when she saw forced fusions, is not the victim in this. the Cry For Help was about pearl. garnet needed to drop all her feelings for pearl.

And afterwards it just went downhill from there. its like the show completely gave up on garnet.

more focus and screen time was given to ruby and sapphire, who again i love, but get more development than garnet.

and finally we reach “Log Date 7 15 2″ or as i like to call it “the rise of magical negro garnet”

Peridot’s comments don’t piss off Garnet. You don’t see her get visibly angry. She barely musters a response except for mildly bored look. I wasn’t asking for “garnet beats up peridot for being a homophobe”, but I know very well that garnet would not be the type to just allow Peridot to spend several days making off color comments. Garnet looks bored to mildly pleased. 

You could call this character development except… not really? Garnet smiling more does not equal Garnet being way more tolerant of disrespectful behavior. But since this was an arc for peridot i forgave it a bit. 

But then came episodes like Gem Harvest where Garnet would seriously be the last person to just shut up and tolerate Andy’s disrespectful behavior. And in Mindful Education we see garnet using ruby and sapphire to express how they handle trauma rather than Garnet using her own emotions.

Garnet isn’t flawed anymore. Garnet doesn’t make awkward comments or act in ways that are oddly violent. She’s not brash or passionate. She’s just there to offer advice.

Finally there’s Room For Ruby, an episode that made me sit and go “there is no way in hell this is the same garnet before”

  • garnet was already cautious with Steven trying to train a corrupted gem, why would she not even moniter him teaching Navy about earth (i know they think she’s dumb but she’s not an animal and there’s a reason why the diamonds sent out those rubies)
  • garnet saw a future where navy did not care about being a crystal gem and did nothing. excuse me? Garnet says herself her future vision works like a river with various streams connecting to it, and relies on the future thats most common (she when she jumped in front of a spilled coffee pot to protect steven). garnet even understood at the end of the episode that bad futures are possible and risky, and if they’re most common she needs needs to act on it. why on earth would garnet see a future where navy takes the ship and leave and not do anything about it
  • she was waaaaay too laxed about steven failing to stop navy. remember when she said she was terrified of Blue Diamond? Or when she smashed a warp pad just for seeing peridot show up? 

garnet’s cool with everything now. she doesnt care. she became the most assertive member of the team to the most passive. she’s easy to convince and push. she lacks any depth outside of “quiet mom who smiles sometimes”.

i cant believe im saying this but i honestly thing the crew fucked with her personality harder than lapis. because at least in lapis’s case, there was no concrete identity for her.

but there was one for garnet, one we all loved. 

awkward, funny, quirky, sensitive and assertive garnet.

the writers could have developed it more and jailbreak made me believe we were going to see more of her. but instead the writers decided decided “Garnet with layered personalities is a bit too much for us. so we gotta simplify her. make her the walking shoulder to cry on. the friend that enables everything you do, she just loves steven and thats all that matters.”

and that’s all garnet is now. she’s almost like peridot. happy go lucky, overly forgiving and a shell of her former self.

and that makes me mad

Truth May Vary

Yes, hi, excuse me, passing through, dropping crap all over the fandom. 

Hi. So, I did the prompt! @pink-paladin-lance hope you like it, tho I didn’t made it as angsty bc I craved fluffiness and well, …yeah. Hope you like it anyways!

Ps. Long Post. So yeah! No warnings? Just mean aliens, psh. 

Nothing much to say? Enjoy! 

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me and the idea come from @pink-paladin-lance (:

Edit: ….Did i fixed it the damn problem or? 


“Alright! Another win for Voltron!” Hunk shouts animatedly as he wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulder, shaking him as he cheers, “Did you guys see how Keith dodged that laser beam when one of the Galras tried to sneak up on him? Keith, buddy, that was amazing! You totally flipped them!”

Keith laughs as he takes off his helmet and brushes Hunk’s praise off. “What? No, come on! Are you kidding? Were you even present when your Lion completely crushed that rock and saved the entire village? Because I was and it was out of this planet, man.”

“Okay, guys, but I think I speak for everyone that the best part was when we formed Voltron and we completely destroyed that Robeast because Shiro’s plan was on point!” Pidge cuts in, grinning behind her shoulder to meet their leader, “If it hadn’t been for your quick thinking, the battle would have taken a lot longer.”

Shiro chuckles from his place besides Allura and waves the compliments off with a hand. “No way. The plan was a success because your plants held the Robeast long enough for us to make a move, Pidge. You have been improving a lot since the day we found of about your Lion’s power.”

Lance watches from the sidelines as he stands besides Coran, a few feet away from the team. He smiles fondly as he hears them cheer and praise each other, their adrenaline and enthusiasm that always come from a winning battle still running through their blood.

“Wait, wait, but did you guys notice when Lance –” Keith’s sentence is suddenly cut off when the Prince of the Royal Family from the Kingdom they just saved clears his throat abruptly, catching everyone’s attention and making Keith’s proud grin to dim, replacing it with a frown.

“On behalf of my people and my Mother, I would like to express our gratitude towards the brave Paladins of Voltron who saved us today and forevermore, for it is their duty to defend and serve this Universe from the claws of evil.” The Prince says, voice high and powerful.

He stares into each of the Paladin’s eyes before they fall on Allura. “Princess Allura, please, as a thank you, allow us to escort you and the entire team to our Castle in order to present you an exquisite and well deserved banquet in your honor.”

Allura smiles and opens her mouth to respond but Lance’s voice beats her to it.

“Sure, dude!” He shouts happily, walking a few steps until he’s standing beside Allura and Shiro. “A banquet is always appreciated! I mean, Voltron really kicked some serious ass today if you know what I mean.” Lance can hear the way his team groan and chuckle at his words, too used to Lance’s cocky facade and he can feel Allura’s playful smack of her hand on his ribs.

Lance’s grin fades when the Price stares down at him unamused and something inside him drops unpleasantly.

“Blue…Paladin, of course.” The Prince says, a bore and uninterested tone on the back of his tone as he forces a rigid polite smile, “While I agree with you on the fact that Voltron surely won this battle by their own hands, I have to ask…”

He pauses, letting his words linger in the air as he takes a step towards Lance and clicks his tongue.

“Why are you on the team? I’m sure that your … talents, if you even have some, can be of much assistance back in the Castle.”

Lance’s smile falls and he hears the way someone behind him takes a sharp intake of breath but Lance doesn’t bother to turn around to found out who exactly.

“Well, I am the Blue Paladin. I have to be where the team is, of course.” Lance says, mouth twitching in what he hopes to be a smile but ends up being a grimace.

The Prince clicks his tongue once again and shakes his head as if in disappointment. “Ah, my apologies, Blue Paladin. I had just assumed that you were just filling the spot for the time being until the true Blue Paladin claimed the title.”

Lance doesn’t need to turn around to know what’s happening behind his back. He can feel the tense air that has settled on the team. He can hear the hard shallow pants from Hunk’s end as the Yellow Paladin tries to suppress the urge to lunge at the Prince. He can hear the soft faint sound of Shiro’s arm activating itself along with Keith’s bayard. He can even feel Pidge’s deathly glare that goes through him to get to their target that is the Prince.

He feels the grip of Allura’s hand on his suit tighten and the way Coran’s hand find its way until it’s resting on his shoulder.

But the Prince doesn’t. He doesn’t see, feel or sense any of what Lance does because they are not his team, they are Lance’s.

The Prince continues.

“No offense, Blue Paladin, but I had actually thought that Princess Allura here was the rightful Paladin for the Blue Lion. Having her leadership and power aside, she seems to be such a good fit for the title.”

Lance doesn’t disagree.

“Of course, I might be wrong. After all, there must be a reason why you are fighting besides Voltron itself. I speak out only because I believe your talents have been blurred by being surrounded by such powerful people and I’m merely concerned about the efficiency in future battles, thinking that your efforts may not be good enough –”

Lance can’t even come up with a response because suddenly there’s a body rushing past him and then Keith is standing there, pressing his Marmora Blade against the Prince’s neck.

“Would you like to say that again? Just to make sure I have the right motive to make you regret those words?” Keith hisses, face inches away from the Prince’s.

“Keith.” Coran calls, sharp and with a hidden warning, “Step back from the Prince, right now, Young Paladin.”

“But Coran –!”

Right now.

Keith growls but ends up taking a step back, his scowl deep in his face as he glares at the Prince from a distance.

“Prince Yult,” Allura says, voice tight and on edge as she releases Lance’s suit and takes a step forward, “While we appreciate your hospitality, you have no right to –”

“Princess Allura, if I may?” Lance cuts off, quiet but firm as he raises his chin high, staring at her evenly.

Allura stares right back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she nods.

“Prince Yult.” Lance addresses respectfully and waits until the royal nods at him before he continues, “I can understand your confusion about my position as a Paladin and your concern around the topic. My team’s talent and power is unmeasured and it’s not something anyone can live up to.”

“Lance…” Keith mumbles behind him but Lance continues.

“Which is why I must ask of you, not to doubt my team’s efficiency based on their one weakness that is me.”

“Lance, that’s enough.” Shiro snaps, low and dangerous but Lance doesn’t stop.

“Rest reassured, your highness.” Lance smiles, tight and forced, “That Voltron shall continue winning more battles and I will not be a liability to the team.”

“Buddy, come on, stop –”

“Now, if you excuse me, your highness.” Lance says, cutting Hunk’s plead short, “I shall take my leave. I’m sure the rest of the team would love to meet the Queen, but I sadly need to go back to the Castle and stand guard.”

Lance doesn’t wait for an answer. He turns around, ignoring the way Keith reaches out to him and how the rest of the team calls his name.

Keep reading

hugealienpie  asked:

I see prompts are open yay! Please tell me all about Ford finding out about Bitty and Jack.

Ooh, this is interesting, because I don’t feel like it’d be an announcement, but just something Ford finds out when Jack visits or the like. I mean, it could go the other way, like Lardo could be, “heads up, Bitty’s dating our ex-captain” and Ford would be like, “okay? why are you telling me?” (She’s a theatre background, what is a Bad Bob to her?) I think she’d be pretty chill with it, and coming from theatre, like being gay is not an issue, esp in college (and even at the professional level) and esp if we go with the oft reblogged “Ford is gay” headcanon.

But here is a small fic that is only half based on the above…

Ford double checks the dozens of pages Lardo has given her for the upcoming roadie. She thought dealing with dressing room allocation was hard (and it is, one hundred percent) but figuring out room allocations is somehow worse, particularly when she’s new, and hockey players are more superstitious than the girl who played Johanna in Sweeney.

“So, who was it I’m meant to pair Oliver with?” Ford asks, grabbing for the red pen she’d stuck into her bun earlier. She comes out with a green one. It’ll do.

“Wicks. But really, he’d be fine with any of the guys in his year.”

Ford makes a note on one of the pages. “Okay, then I think I’m–Oh, shit.”

“What is it?” Lardo looks up from her sketchbook.

Ford double checks through all her sheets before she says anything. She’s not worrying, because there’s no time for that, she’s just already hating the amount of extra work she’ll need to do to fix things.

“I’ve left Eric, um, Bitty,” Ford corrects herself, still getting used to hockey nicknames, “off the rooming list.”

“Oh, that. Nah, you’re good.” Lardo goes back to her drawing. “He stays with his boyfriend when we’re playing up there.”

“Boyfriend?” Ford double-checks.

“Yeah. He’s in Providence. And he’ll drive Bitty to the games and practices and stuff. Should’ve emailed you that. My bad.”

“That’s fine.” Ford grabs another pen from her hair, forgetting she already has one in front of her. It’s red this time. “Just thought I was going to have to redo an entire afternoon’s worth of work.”

“Right,” Lardo says. “I can see why the minor freak out.”

“Excuse you, I did not freak out.” It’s half a lie. Ford has so many notes on these sheets, but she’s not freaking out, she’s managing. It’s all part of it.

Lardo looks up and smiles at her. “Knew you’d be fine at this.”

Ford takes the compliment with a gracious nod, and goes back to ticking off the rooming list against the team names. All accept Eric.

Keep reading

Sleepy, Needy, Greedy (M)

⤞ When a simple case of morning wood proves to be much more difficult to get rid of than anticipated!

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Jackson x reader

Genre: just plain smut, you have been warned!

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: rated M, graphic sexual descriptions

A/N: okay wow this took me FOREVER to finish but here it is, at last! I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it ;)

Keep reading

I came up with a “humans as aliens” scenario on the bus and now I’m writing a story snippet.

Karikki was sitting in the ship’s mess when the most recent addition to the crew stumbled into the room and collapsed into a chair with a relieved groan, dropping her head onto the table.

“Rough shift?” ie said, making a sympathetic noise as ie broke off another piece of ir food pack.

Melanie Dupré, recently hired on as a ship’s mechanic and as of one month ago the only human crewmember of the Xanaki Star, mumbled something into the table before lifting her head so that her translator could actually be of use.

“I could swear the ventilation ducts actually hate me personally,” she said. “I’ve been running around all day.” A look of horror crossed her features then, and she groaned again, dragging her hand across her eyes. “And I left my food packs in my room. Goddamn it.”

Karikki churred soothingly. “Don’t worry about it, you can have one of ours,” ie said, getting to ir feet and digging one of the vacuum-sealed silver packs out of the pantry.

Melanie made a noise that Karikki had learned to interpret as grateful and peeled the pack open, looking down at it dubiously. “You’re sure this is okay?”

“We’re nutritionally compatible!” Karikki said. “The captain checked, before we hired you on. Just in case you ran out of your own supplies. It should be fine.”

“Okay. Thanks,” she said, breaking off a square of the compressed nutrition block and popping it into her mouth.

A look crossed her face then that it took Karikki a moment to identify: disgust, ie realized. That was disgust–which was made all the clearer when Melanie gagged and grabbed a napkin, spitting the square out into her hand. “Oh my god,” she said.

Karikki could feel ir antennae fluttering anxiously. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is that a bad texture for humans?”

Melanie wiped her mouth, scrubbing at her tongue with the side of her hand. She shook her head. “No, the texture’s fine, it’s just like one of our protein blocks. It’s the [——], I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you, but it’s awful! How can you eat that?”

Karikki flicked ir ear. “Sorry, say that again? I think your translator cut out in the middle. It’s the what?”

“The [——]. It [——] awful. I’m so sorry.”

Keep reading

Shapely🍑

Summary: Bucky and Steve will never let you know that they’re the heads of your booty’s fanclub.

Authors note: It was so hard to find old timey slang for butt. Like we have so many words now I was surprised lmao.

Warnings: None, Bucky and Steve appreciating that cake


  Your jeans only make it halfway up your thighs before they refuse to budge. You groan.

‘And this was my favorite pair too’

You sigh, before peeling off the jeans and rooting around in your dresser for something that you can wear. You never were the skinniest person, especially when it came to your hips and thighs. But then again you never were exactly bootylicious either. So when you became a SHEILD agent you thought your body would kinda slim down into a  svelte mass of lean, toned muscle like the other female agents.

 Boy were you wrong. 

You gained muscle, and a lot of it too. Every single inch of you had at least some definition and your thighs had bulked up considerably. As for your butt….You sneak a peek at it in the mirror ‘I swear it gets bigger every day’ . Since you had joined the Avengers last year and your training had gotten even more intense you swear your booty had doubled in size. Your body was very… in your face nowadays. Wanda kindly described you as ‘shapely’. You pull out a pair of denim shorts that have some slight stretch to them.

You look at yourself in the mirror sighing. ‘ If I get anymore shapely I’m gonna have to buy an entire new wardrobe.’ 


“Pal, why is ya oatmeal always so…” Steve makes a face “…Soggy?”

Bucky and Steve are sitting eating breakfast, at a table that’s situated slightly back and across from the kitchen, next to an open door. Bucky snorts.

“It’s oatmeal Steve, it’s supposed to be soggy.” Steve rolls his eyes but takes another bite of his oatmeal, making a mental note to make breakfast himself the next morning.

Bucky lets out a soft, low whistle. Steve turns his his head, slowly. He knows what that whistle means. He watches as you enter from the other side of the room, cross the kitchen and start rifling in the cabinets. Or rather he watches your ass cross the kitchen and start rifling in the cupboards. You Steve, and Bucky were pretty good friends. You had surprisingly befriended Bucky first, and then Steve. Bucky had been making a good recovery, but was still kind of shy, except around Steve and Sam, and then you. Your sense of humor and openness kind of disarmed him. The three of you would always hang out, watch movies, and talk about anything and everything. But the one thing that Bucky and Steve would never mention is that they both agreed that you by far had the best body they had ever seen. And they were low-key its fan club. The super soldier’s eyes track you as you gather your cup of tea and cheese danish in one hand and exit the room.

“Now ain’t that a beautiful sight to see in the morning?” Bucky says, smirking and sipping his coffee. 

“Yes,” Steve smirks back “As I always say,the lady is truly blessed.”

“Amen.” Bucky says raising his coffee mug. “I mean have you ever seen such beautiful gams on a dame?”

“No,”  Steve pushes back his bowl of soggy oatmeal and crosses his arms over his chest. A devious grin forms on his face. “But that’s not the only thing that’s beautiful.”

Bucky’s grin widens to epic shit eating proportions. “True, Y/N’s a bit broad in the beam, ain’t she?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 Your voice coming from behind them nearly stops both super soldier’s hearts. They turn, mouths slack, to find you standing in the doorway behind their table, tea and cheese danish in one hand, the other perched on your hip.

“Ah-um-I-um” Steve splutters, unable to form words. Bucky, on the other hand, decides distraction is the best course of action.

“Y/N! Sugar, sweetheart, you look lovely today. How’s that cheese danish? I heard the weather’s going to be nice , maybe we should go to the park?” He exclaims, red slowly creeping up his neck until his whole face is scarlet. You silently look from Steve to Bucky. ‘Well if they’re not gonna spill, Google will’

You pull out your phone and look at it. “Well looks like I have somewhere to be so I’ll see you boys later.”

You turn, hearing twin goodbye’s being called out after you, with at least one voice cracking in the middle.


You retreat back your room and fire up your laptop. Bucky and Steve were always using obscure old timey slang that no one understood. ‘they better haven’t been throwing shade…’ you shake your head. It seemed like they were talking about something physical about you, and not in a bad way. You feel warm and kind of insecure at the same time. You couldn’t deny that the two super soldiers were very attractive.

You open google and type “gams meaning” into the search engine.


gam

/ɡam/

noun,informal

plural noun: gams

  1. a leg, especially in reference to the shapeliness of a woman’s leg.

A giggle escapes your mouth. ‘oh my’ you think.

You type the next phrase into Google, and click on the phrase dictionary that comes up.


Broad in the beam

Meaning:

Having wide hips or buttocks


You stare at the screen for a moment and then  recall the overheard conversation. Your mouth falls open as you choke out a laugh ‘Oh my god’


Later that day you find Bucky,Steve and Sam sitting outside. You join them, and they all greet you, but you notice Bucky isn’t looking you in the eye and Steve’s ears are pink. Sam doesn’t seem to notice the tension and dives into a story about sweeping a girl off her feet in the local coffee shop.

“…then she gave me her number.”

“That’s great!” Steve says “You gonna take her out soon?”

“Yeah this weekend”

“That is great,” Bucky smiles “What does she look like?” he asks curiously.

“Man she had the cutest laugh, and those dimples…” Sam pauses, smiling to himself. “She had short dark hair, and was so curvy…..like damn.” Everyone chuckles a bit at this, and after the chuckles stop you pipe up.

“Curvy? Sam get with the times, you don’t call women curvy anymore, its called being broad in the beam.” You say and smirk at the two super soldiers. They promptly turn bright red, Bucky choking a little bit. Sam whips his head back and forth between the three of you.

“Am I missing something?” he asks.

 Steve clears his throat, holding out his hands imploringly.

“Y/n, sugar, listen. I can explain”


tags: @stephie-senpai @chamongangae

@iamwarrenspeace

anonymous asked:

do you know any good altean!lance and galra!keith fics??

ohhhkayyy, god damn, like tumblr crashed on me as I was like 3 fics away from finishing this so I had to like start all over, like rip me.

and, I don’t have many altean lance fics so most of this is galra Keith and pretty much all angsty. I tried to find some less angsty ones, I don’t know how well I succeeded xD.

Note: I’ll be starting weekly fic recs in April. just and fyi~


Warmth by Rahar_Moonfire

Summary: Lance is Allura’s younger brother. During the mission to retrieve the Red Lion from Galra hands, he gets captured. His guard is a curious Galra halfbreed named Keith who may just be his ticket to freedom. He’s a bit small for an alpha, but Lance is sure he can handle it. A little flirting never hurt anyone after all. The fact Keith is good looking for a Galra and those ears wiggle (so cute!) doesn’t influence this decision. Nope. Not one bit.
Series: 4 Works
            Work 1 WC: 61497 (19/19)
            Work 2 WC: 111883 (32/32)
            Work 3 WC: 133875 (42/42)
            Work 4 WC: 71480 (21/?)
Notes: THIS IS LIKE THE ONLY FIC I HAVE WITH ALTEAN!LANCE AND GALRA!KEITH. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. gahgldfkjhsa;d, ok so this is just an amazing series, some nsfw tossed in btw, youve been wared. but over all, i just love this series so much and i need to like catch really bad… i didnt know work3 or 4 even existed… >.< 11/10

Echoes of the Past by Gigapoodle

Summary: It was his fault. He shouldn’t have retreated – he should have ran after them, Galra forces be damned, and ripped the red paladin right out of his weaponized hands, shooting the commander dead on the spot.But he hadn’t. Lance stood there, frozen with adrenaline and fear, before backing out with tears in his eyes, justifying it to himself by saying, ‘he won’t get far, we can easily get him back once I have Voltron with me.’He’d forgotten they didn’t have Voltron. He’d forgotten that without Keith, Voltron was nothing.Keith is Galra. Keith is gone. Keith is Galra. Keith is gone.
WC: 28197
Notes: -hands over some tissues- here you will need these. 100/10

I Was Born A Lion by spectralPhobia

Summary: After Keith discovers he is part Galra and Red lion rejects him, there’s only one way he can make himself useful: to join Galra and try to wreck them from the inside, while figuring out a relationship with a guy who turns out to be his biological father.
A comic about one stubborn man’s self-discovery, the challenges of spying, everyone in team Voltron being BAMF, and the universe that needs saving, as usual.
WC: comic, so no words counted by AO3 (11/?)
Notes: Galra Keith because Thace is some kinda of scientist? Uhm yes please. 10/10

your claws in me by burlesquecomposer

Summary: “Oh trust me. When I’m done with you, I won’t be able to stop laughing,” Lance says lowly, and his lips curl farther, and there’s something wild in his stare, and it hits Keith suddenly.This isn’t Lance.
Lance falls under the control of Zarkon’s Druids, and although his friends manage to get him back, nothing is quite the same. Maybe the Galra succeeded after all. Maybe the Galra merely wanted to tear Team Voltron apart from the inside.
WC: 49072 (12/12)
Notes: Rip Lance tbh, this is like really angsty and my heart breaks for Lance. but yes, galra keith is there to save the day~ 10/10

This House Unfinished by boyghosts

Summary: “Concept,” Lance said, his voice heavy and gutted with the ache of it; he caught Keith’s gaze and smiled wide, for show. “The war’s over. We’re back home. All the things we love in one place.”Lance keeps losing the things he’s built. Then there’s Keith.
WC: 30776
Notes: -cackles- have some tissues my friend 100/10

Dancing Lion, Painted Wings by genericfanatic

Summary: Years after peace has been made between the Galran and Altean kingdoms, The witch Haggar comes for vengeance. The young symbol of peace, the half-galran, half-altean Prince Kalor is lost. His aunt, Princess Allura, and his bodyguard, Shiro, are heartbroken.10 years later, an orphan named Keith sets out on his own, trying to find the key to his past. All he has to help him is a small figurine with a cryptic message, a friendly engineer, a technician and her friendly robot, and a cocky con man with a mysterious, yet familiar past.
WC: 35154 (14/14)
Notes: the anastasia au everyone talks about. and like galtean keith gives me life, but conman Lance gives me more. 10/10

It Takes a Village by Zemmiphobia

Summary: One decision by an injured soldier changes not only the fate of the universe, but the fate of her young son.
WC: 18010 (6/6)
Notes: Smol Keith is like my fav, hes so cute in this. and Ulaz being a dad just heals my heart, like bless. 11/10

Ashes, Ashes by vagrantBreath

Summary: Everyone knew their kitten was destined for something greater.No one guessed it was Voltron.
WC: 26639 (20/20)
Notes: Keith raised by the BoM technically makes him Galra right? xD Hahah no, he does have ties, but yeah i love this, hes a sheltered little shit and its great. 9/10

Purple Marks and Bleeding Heart by TeaParade

Summary: Mark #223-code-violet, Lance’s newest job, is not what the sniper signed up for when he joined team Voltron, a specialist group designed to take out the universe’s worst of the worst. This mark shouldn’t be any different from the other Galra, but he is. And Lance is having a very hard time.
WC: 52377 (12/?)
Notes: Sniper Lance and Galra Keith. literally one of my fav pairings. like straight up (tho nothing about this is straight in any sense really) 11/10

To See Blue Skies by BoyBitingDemon

Summary: He scoffed as he watched the fight below, the crowds going wild at the two fighters in the arena. They had such poor taste for entertainment these days.He heard a small sound of amusement from the one sitting next to his standing form, ever vigilant.“As if you were any better your first time in the arena.” They murmured under their breath, a small smile sneaking onto their face, pupiless gold eyes focused on the fight below, but their attention solely on the person standing guard next to him.“I must have have been somewhat impressive to catch the eyes of a certain prince now wasn’t I?"The prince snuck a glance towards the taller, whose face was hidden behind the helmet they wore."You caught a lot more than just my eye that’s for sure.”
WC: 5947 (4/?)
Notes: i,, just love this fic? Like Galra Prince Keith and Champion Lance, you can’t really get much better than this. 10/10

If Only I Could Cry TheSlytherinMudblood

Summary: Galra biology differs from human biology in many ways. For example, Galra are purple. They have yellow eyes. The mammalian ones are able to purr.They also lack tear ducts.
WC: 586
Notes: this is short and sweet (read angsty sorry not sorry) 8/10

The Master of Disguise by NireYllek

Summary: “Wait, what that doesn’t make any sense.” Hunk protested.Pidge shook her head with a tsk. “It does if one of us is disguised as Allura.”Pidge flashed a smirk in Lance’s direction. “I’m sorry, why are you looking at me?” Lance protested. Something in Keith’s brain clicked, he looked at Lance and then at the Princess.Put a little make up on him, a wig, and a dress and he could- OH my god.
WC: 33596 (6/6)
Notes: Tbh, this made me giggle so much. Lance dressed as Allura and Keith and his gay awakening™ just give me life ok. 10/10

anonymous asked:

so gang!phil interrogating rival!dan but phils usual techniques (slapping, hitting, etc.) are just turning dan on, so instead phil just edges him til he gives in 💙

Phil cracked his knuckles, sighing as he pushed open the door to the interrogation room. He was instantly hit with a rank stench, and he flinched, crinkling his eyes in disgust.

Dan Howell sat in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, a gag over his mouth. He didn’t seem to notice Phil entering.

He had a black eye, and a cut on one cheek, so it was clear the boys had had some fun with him when they had caught him. He was still pretty cute though. And despite all this, Dan’s eyes were dry.

“Dan,” he said loudly, and the boy looked up, glaring at him fiercely.

Phil stepped forward, yanking the gag down, and Dan immediately took this opportunity to spit at him.

Phil calmly wiped it away, and Dan laughed. Phil shook his head, fiddling with the straps of the gloves they used to make punches hurt the offender less and the victim more. It was an old intimidation technique, but Dan didn’t flinch.

“You’re a goddamn idiot, Howell.” His voice was low, and he leaned down so he was at Dan’s level, their faces inches away.

“Maybe,” Dan said slowly, staring him down. “Or maybe you just don’t know why I did what I did.”

Phil stepped back, putting his foot on Dan’s chair, his clunky black boot resting between Dan’s legs.

“Unfortunately for you, that’s why I’m here.”

Dan’s subtle smirk grew, and Phil couldn’t help but growl under his breath. He was infuriating.

“Why would that be unfortunate?” Dan’s voice was light; teasing. “You know I adore our little chats.”

Phil was reminded why Dan was used for things like this - he was the best spy imaginable, and when he got caught, he wasn’t easy to crack.

Phil didn’t hesitate to swing at him, slapping him in the face, hard. Dan’s head was thrown to the side, but he came back smiling. He yawned, a strand of messy brown hair falling between his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes flashing. “I needed that. I was falling asleep.”

Phil grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward roughly and practically strangling him.

“Look Howell,” he hissed, and Dan’s eyes widened slightly. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. And either way, you’re gonna fucking tell me why you were spying on my base, and what you know.”

Dan searched his icy blue eyes, determined not to let his confidence waver.

“I think it’s gonna have to be the hard way,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Because I’m not telling you shit.”

Phil huffed through his nose, and grabbed a handful of Dan’s hair. He tugged back roughly, and Dan let out a soft whimper, of surprise or pain, Phil couldn’t tell.

Dan’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his exposed throat somehow made Phil want to bite him. Instead he fastened a hand around it, making Dan cry out.

“I could snap your fucking neck,” Phil growled at him. “I could slit your throat. Tell me everything, and it’s all over.”

Dan gagged softly, squirming in his tight grip. “No. Hit me again, fucker.”

Phil obliged, letting go of him just to backhand him. And it looked like it hurt like hell; the impact split Dan’s lip. But Dan fucking moaned.

His eyes glinted with red hot fire, a wild grin melting to his features. “Again,” he breathed, and Phil stared at him.

Dan was a mess; he was visibly shaking, he had a black eye and a lip that was bleeding down his chin. But he was asking for more…? What did it take to break this kid?

Phil glared at the boy, punching him twice in the stomach, and shoving him backwards. The chair toppled backwards, and Dan landed on his arms, his head hitting the ground as well.

He cried out in pain, but there was something else in his tone, a sort of whine, and oh my god, this was turning him on, wasn’t it?

Phil swallowed, moving to stand over Dan, hovering above him. Dan grinned at him cockily, until Phil grabbed his face with a firm grip, and he squeaked.

“You think this is hot, don’t you?” He asked quietly, getting as close to Dan as possible without being tempted to kiss his broken lips. Dan laughed.

“And you don’t?” He smirked. “Having me like this, completely helpless? Ruining my pretty face, fuck, like the worthless piece of shit I am.”

It all clicked in Phil’s mind- why no one could seem to make Dan break. It was impossible to get information from him, simply because he liked the abuse. It made Phil even more pissed.

Phil stood back up, grabbing Dan by the hair and pulling him and the chair back up. Dan whimpered; fire shooting through his head.

“We’re gonna try something a little different,” Phil said calmly, his voice coming out sickly-sweet. Dan shivered.

“Do whatever you want,” he spit, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m not saying anything.”

“Oh really? That’s too bad.” Without warning he leaned forward, his hands placed on either side of Dan’s hips, his breath brushing over the side of Dan’s neck. He ran his hand over Dan’s waistband, and then down to his (obvious at this point) bulge. “Guess you won’t be coming anytime soon, then.”

“Wha-” Dans breath caught and the words got stuck in his throat as Phil ran his fingertips over his hard on, certainly not making it better. “What d-do you mean?” He choked out.

Phil ignored him, pushing his hand into Dan’s pants, under his boxers, and ran his thumb over Dan’s tip.

Dan whined rather loudly, squirming on the chair, but the ropes made it so it was nearly impossible for him to move.

“Phil,” he breathed, trying to shift his hips away. “What are you d-doing…?”

Phil grinned maliciously. Finally, he had found something that would actually affect Dan. And he was going to have some fun with it.

“Mmh, just giving my whore what he wants,” he breathed in Dan’s ear, and Dan couldn’t help but moan.

Phil moved his hand, wrapping his fingers around Dan’s length. He watched Dan bite down on his bottom lip as Phil moved his hand, slowly teasing him, his thumb brushing over Dan’s slit occasionally.

Soon enough Dan was a whimpering mess, and he seemed to have given up any integrity he may have had left. His head fell back on the chair, his eyes closed, and he was attempting to rut against Phil’s hand while letting out an endless stream of high pitched moans. Phil had to be honest, it was sexy as hell.

Phil could tell Dan was getting close by the increase in pitch of his noises, and the way his hips stuttered. His cock was leaking precum, which made it easier for Phil to slide his hand up and down Dan’s shaft.

“Now,” he said softly, sweetly, even, slowing down his movements to a near halt. “Are you gonna tell me what you were doing outside the base, slut?”

Dan whined, his eyes opening, and he licked his lips.

“Please-”

“Answer the question.”

Phil stopped his movements all together, holding his hand at the base of Dan’s dick so he couldn’t cum even if he was able to.

Dan searched his face, chewing on the inside of his cheek before muttering, “no.”

At that Phil just smiled meanly, biting down on Dan’s throat and sucking hard, leaving a dark bruise in its place.

“That’s okay.” He laughed, and Dan looked almost scared. “We’ve got time.”

That began the next unbearable moments for Dan, with Phil scratching bright red marks down his thighs and occasionally leaving hickeys all over his neck and jaw.

And here’s the thing; Dan did not want to beg. He hated begging. Begging was admitting your defeat, and that was something Dan simply couldn’t do. But right then, Dan was probably closer to breaking down than he had been in his entire life.

He wanted to cum, he had been so close, and when Phil had stopped-

It was worse than any physical pain he could inflict.

When Phil started moving his hand again, Dan almost cried. He started slow again, gradually speeding up, stopping occasionally to flick his wrist around Dan’s head.

“Mmph, fuck,” Dan whined, his head falling back, beginning to lose his mind again. “Ph-Phil, please make me cum, please.”

“You wanna cum?” Phil growled softly, speeding up even more, and Dan practically screamed.

“Yes-! F-Fuck, n-need to…!”

Phil smirked, watching Dan’s face and admiring how he fell apart just from some pain and a hand around his cock. He was gorgeous, his face all roughed up and his hair falling in his eyes, sticking from sweat. Phil wanted to fuck his brains out, but then wasn’t really the time.

“Too bad,” he said finally, stopping again right when Dan was the closest possible.

Dan let out an incredulous noise, groaning, his hips bucking into nothing, desperate for friction.

“Fuck you,” he said breathlessly, his voice breaking. “Fuck you, Phil Lester. Let me cum.”

“Tell me what I need to know, sweetheart.” He dipped two fingers under Dan’s chin, bringing his face up. “Or, trust me, I could do this all day.”

Dan shook his head.

Twenty minutes later, and Dan was visibly shaking again. Tears streamed down his face, and he didn’t even remember when they had started. His hips constantly twitched, and he had to gasp for breath.

“Please.” His voice was soft and broken and desperate and sleepy; goddamn beautiful. “Please, Phil, I need it, I-”

“Aw.” Phil stuck out his lower lip, mocking him. “Poor baby. Poor desperate little whore, do you need to cum, my love?”

Dan shuddered, nodding frantically, not even above falling for Phil’s teasing.

Phil slapped him, the noice echoing through the room, and Dan moaned.

“Then tell me what I fucking need to know, Dan. It’s that simple,” he hissed through his teeth.

Dan whimpered, sleepily shaking his head. But then Phil’s mouth was on his dick, his jeans shoved down, and god, he had been close for an hour now. He just needed it so bad.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he squeezed them shut.

Phil had been edging him for so goddamn long, he was going crazy. He was so weak, and every second that Phil touched him, he got closer. The very edge, and Phil’s hot, wet mouth was closed around him, humming, and fuck he was going to cum. It was right there, and then…

Phil pulled off with a pop, glaring at him. Dan could scream. And then he lost it.

“Phil, f-fuck, your mouth is so good, please-” he choked on the words, the emotion and need getting caught in his throat, and there were tears on his cheeks again. “Please, need to cum, please let me, p-please-” he hiccuped, shaking his head desperately. “Please, no more. N-No more, I’ll tell you!”

Phil smiled, drawing his thumb down Dan’s cheek.

“Mmh, good boy,” he hummed, and Dan soaked up the praise, nuzzling against Phil’s hand like a kitten. He didn’t care anymore. “That’s all I wanted. Tell me everything, and then you can cum.”

Dan nodded frantically, sniffing, the words spilling from his mouth like a waterfall. How he had been sent to scope out the new recruits, how his gang had been planning to kidnap one of the new kids, hold him hostage. Even how they had anticipated that Dan would get caught, and how he would try and get information on the inside as well.

At the end Dan broke down, a sob catching in his throat, still so fucking hard, his dick still leaking and straining to reach his stomach.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Phil said sweetly, fastening his hand around Dan’s cock for the thousandth time.

Dan sucked in a sharp breath, his head lolling backwards, whimpering softly.

Phil got him off in a matter of moments, and Dan moaned loudly and high pitched as he spilled over Phil’s hand and his stomach.

Phil untied him, seeing as he was practically passed out, and Dan slumped to the ground.

He stood over him, looking over the exhausted, broken boy laying on the ground beneath him, breathing heavily. What a gorgeous mess.

He leaned over, kneeling next to him and lifting his head up by his hair. Dan didn’t even react, except for glancing at him sleepily.

“Needless to say, you can’t go back to your gang,” Phil said calmly.

“You gonna kill me?” Dan asked, more like a statement, as if he didn’t even care what the answer was.

“No…” Phil hummed, letting Dan lay back down and running his fingers through his tangled hair. “I was thinking you’d stay here. With me.”

Dan made a noise of acknowledgment, licking his ripped up lips.

“If it means we can do that again, then I’m down.”