remote romance

I don’t want to make too many posts and burn myself out, but this is on my dash a lot right now so I want to say this:

If you are arospec but not acespec, you are not an inherently abusive or manipulative person.

The fact that you experience a lower than average or lack of romantic attraction doesn’t make you an abuser. It doesn’t make you manipulative. It doesn’t mean that you’re incapable of developing deep, personal, and even intimate relationships with other people.

It just means you’re arospec. That’s all.

Arospec people are more than capable of love, more than capable of being loving partners. There are many, many different kinds of love, and the idea that romantic love is The One True Love™ is untrue.

Your relationships to others are yours to build. So long as there’s healthy, open communication, then you do you. 

And arospecs who want nothing to do with anything remotely involving romance, the stereotypical view of love, or committed relationships? They’re totally fine too! Being in relationships and what kind of relationships you get into is a completely personal choice. So long as you are open and honest about your intentions with other people then you are in no way being manipulative. Communication is key.

You don’t owe anyone any sort of relationship. 

In the theme of my last two posts: Be unapologetically arospec. You’re perfect. 

anonymous asked:

Duuuudududuude I'm in the middle of conclusions and you Need to draw that scene when the boiler breaks and they're cuddling on the couch with blankets watching cartoons omg please

Conclusions, by Bexless (excellent fic, read it!!)

(this is for sad anon too, they asked for something sappy and cute!)

(thanks for everyone who told me what they thought frank and gerard looked like in this fic)

anonymous asked:

Hoping that someone could help, I'm looking for a fic where Stiles makes up Derek and writes letters to him pretending that they're together and one day Derek comes to Stiles and tries to collect on his promises.

feminismfox  said it’s this fic here!  :D  -Emmy

Originally posted by julia-loves-bette-davis

Very Sincerely Yours by semaphoredrivethru 

(9,948 I Teen I WIP)   *sterek, omega!Stiles

Terrified at the prospect of humiliating himself in front of the ton and completely ruining his first season with his crippling shyness, omega Stiles Stilinski does the only thing he can; he invents a sweetheart away at war. A completely fictitious and utterly gorgeous captain, a gentlemanly paragon of romance and adoration, an alpha with whom Stiles spends years “exchanging” letters.

Years later, an angry, war-battered Derek Hale shows up at Stiles’s door. He’s no gentleman, and vehemently denies the existence of anything remotely resembling romance. He’s received every last letter and has come to collect on Stiles’s promises of home and marriage, no matter what.

 As awful as the SF/F community can be, I still give the genre important credit for the fact that while there are still overused tropes and cliches, the plots and story lines usually don’t have to revolve sex and gender roles as normally dictated by the Romance Genre, and that the target audience isn’t remotely as gendered as Romance.

 As a wannabe intellectual type I still see plenty of possibilities in speculative fiction, not so much with Romance in comparison-or at least most Romance novels, there are some LGBTQ titles out there, but are they mainstream?. I tend to see Romance as a genre as something that needs to end, because its not too different than cynically marketed “for women” crap out there. I can’t be fair until it is replaced with something better.

angelskittle  asked:

28 or 23 with ford and any character of choice, please :D

28. “I thought you loved me” I’ll do Stan and Ford.

“Please. Just listen to me.”

“Why would I want to listen to anything you have to say?! I can’t trust you anymore!”

“I know, but please just listen to what I have to say-”

“I thought you loved me!”

“I do! I do love you! You know that!”

“What are you watching?”

Stan jumped and the remote resting on the armchair tumbled to the floor. He swore under his breath. 

“A drama romance,” he replied, reaching to pick up the remote.

“A drama romance,” Ford repeated.


“I didn’t take you for the type to be interested in this type of genre.”

“I didn’t either. It’s actually good, besides the mushy, awkward parts.”


“How about you pull up a chair and I’ll tell ya about it.”

Ford scoffed. “No thanks. Not really my type of thing.”

“Ah c’mon, Sixer! The drama is really intense in this one! You missed 45 minutes of it but it’s only going to get worse. It’ll be great! It’s more drama than romance.”

“Alright then.” Ford pulled up a chair next to Stan.” Humor me.”

“So it’s called Her Husband and-”

“Wow. A great name.”

“Okay so the name is terrible. Anyway. The wife, Clara, has the perfect life. At least that’s what she thinks. Unknown to her, her husband has a dark secret.”

“A dark secret, huh?” Ford replied sarcastically.

Stan rolled his eyes. “Okay so this movie sounds clichéd.”

“Very. Tell me again how this is so appealing?”

“I’m getting to it. Yeesh. As I was saying, the husband has been going away at night when she’s sleeping and doing who knows what? Even I’m not too sure. One of Clara’s friends suspects her husband of going out at night but Clara doesn’t believe her until she finally places a hidden camera. She catches him in the act and demands why he’s been going out at night. She assumes he’s been cheating on her and now she’s been blowing up at him.”

“So I presume all this yelling is what’s so good about this movie?”

“Okay, mister sarcasm. It’s only been 45 minutes, you know how slow things get. It’ll only get better. I can tell. I bet she has some twisted backstory or something.”

“Guess the only way one of finding out is watching the whole thing.” 

Stan clapped Ford’s back.“I knew you would be interested! Ooh! Did you see that slap she threw at him?”

Water Death

To make up for that stressed rant I just posted, have my favorite Uchiha cinnamon roll. 

It’s almost impossible for the body to allow itself to drown. The mouth stays closed, what little air there is trapped and greedily held until the brain is just about to shut down, until all the eyes can see is darkness and only then—

One last breath, one final gasp of denial, and everything ends.

Shisui has watched people drown before. He’s ANBU—it’s a convenient way to get rid of bodies, or at least delay them being found. He’s seen the desperate struggle not to breathe, the fury and terror and then the inevitable surrender. It was one of the reasons he picked the method of death he did; drowning was hardly peaceful, was a fight against an unbeatable enemy, but Shisui has always had a bit of a dramatic streak to him. He’d liked the metaphor of it, the symbolism, and it simultaneously managed to be eminently practical. Even Itachi couldn’t complain.

He’d felt it. He knows the Nakano was the death of him, knows it as well as he knows his own name—another irony, another bit of an inside joke carefully concealed from Itachi, whose sense of humor is underdeveloped at best and who has never, ever appreciated Shisui’s gallows humor, no matter the circumstances. He jumped, and fell, and hit the water, and then the bitter current swept him under, pulled him in and—

One last breath, held until his mind is spinning and his entire chest is burning and then—

His head breaks the surface.

He wakes blind and battered and aching right down to his bones, so much so that he can’t pick out where one pain starts and another begins. There’s water all around him, beneath him, cradling and carrying him, but it isn’t the headlong heedless rush of the Nakano in early spring. This river is smoother, shallower. His feet scrape over a sandy, silty riverbed, and though he can’t see the bank to judge his speed, it definitely seems slower than what he last remembers, that final glimpse he sneaked before he gouged out his own eye for his best friend.

Automatically, he lashes out, seeking something—anything—to grab ahold of, to brace himself with, but comes up with naught. His hands splash futilely through the water, skimming nothing, and Shisui wants to curse. He’s been a shinobi all his life, has worked with more handicaps than this in worse situations, but between the pain and the blindness and the echoing quiet that’s all he can hear beyond the river’s flow, this isn’t looking hopeful.

Shisui takes a breath, chokes on a mouthful of muddy water as a wavelet slaps him in the face, and then fights himself back under control and focuses on his surroundings as best he can. The flow of the river is easy enough to judge, and Shisui kicks out, swimming crosswise to it for what he hopes is the bank with all of his quickly fading strength. There’s no echo around him to suggest a ravine or a canyon, no birdsong or wind-rustled leaf noises to hint at a rocky forest riverbank, and Shisui can only hope that the shore isn’t completely sheer or covered in treacherous loose rock.

But his fingers close on grass, long and sodden and slippery, and then dig into firm clay. Shisui gasps and scrabbles for purchase and breath in equal measure, tries with all his might to drag himself out of the insistent current, and for an endless, breathless moment he thinks he won’t, that he’s going to be pulled away to who knows where. One more wavelet knocks him under, and he comes up sputtering and choking on the taste of river-weed and mud, half of his brain shrieking about infection and diseases and open wounds, god, his eyes

A tree root, thick and trailing, and Shisui grabs it, winds his arm around it and hauls himself forward, towards where the current slides away into nothing more than a gentle tug at his sodden clothes. Another foot further and there’s solid ground beneath his feet, slick and sliding and apparently more silt than clay, but it’s enough. Shisui staggers, off balance and unable to care just for the moment, almost falling as his upper body finally clears the water. He’s heavy, the all-over throb changing to something sharper, angrier as he pushes himself forward, hands reaching blindly. Grass beneath his hands again, but dry this time, the tips bone-brittle and breaking as he seizes fistfuls of it and uses it to pull himself the last few feet out of the water.

There is no thought in him for dignity—not that there ever is, because that’s Itachi’s shtick and Shisui has always been quite happy to be the slightly goofy, easily distracted one of their clique—or even the possible danger of his surroundings. Shisui sucks in his first dry breath, smelling sun-browned grasses and warm summer air, and lets himself fall face-first onto the bank, his feet still dangling in the water and his hands gripping the grass blades without any intention of letting go.

A breath, another. Shisui thinks of drowning, thinks of opening his mouth for that final inhalation of cold, cruel water, and can’t fight the shudder of pure, icy horror that racks his body.

One breath, the sun warm-hot on his face and the river tugging greedily at his toes, and Shisui lets out a long, slow sigh and allows himself to drift.

The darkness, when it comes, is finally, blissfully warm.

Because Shisui’s life has never even remotely resembled a romance novel—except, perhaps, for the dramatic failed suicide attempt in the name of the greater good, but Shisui is trying his best not to think of that—there is no beautiful, kindhearted maiden or brave, strapping hero leaning over him when he comes to. There’s only the cheerful babble of the river as it swirls past his toes, the whisper of wind across short grass and the bone-meltingly sweet heat of the sun against his skin.

And pain, still, from where his eyes were ripped out, from where his body hit the water and was slammed into rocks beneath the treacherous surface, from a fight that never should have happened with a man who should have been an ally. But if nothing else, Shisui is used to pain. His tolerance for it has always been higher than normal, even for a shinobi, and so he pushes it down, shuts it away and focuses on his surroundings instead.

He isn’t in Konoha; that much is immediately apparent. There’s a certain sharp tang to the air that speaks of the sea, even though he can’t hear it, and the sunlight falls unimpeded by Konoha’s towering trees. It’s hardly dead—there are birds around, filling the air with sudden cries and startling bursts of wingbeats as they rise, but they’re grassland birds, swift starlings and light-voiced larks. Shisui knows their cries and calls, but only vaguely, not enough to positively identify where he is from that alone.

Nowhere near Konoha, he’s certain. Nowhere near the Nakano that should have borne him to his watery grave.

But Shisui is a shinobi, has been for over a decade, and he doesn’t waste time with disbelief or directionless worrying about how he got where he is. Instead, he pulls himself to his feet, toeing off his waterlogged sandals as he staggers upright, and listens.

Birdsong and water rushing and a whisper of wind among the grasses. No people. No chakra either, from what he can sense—muted, impossibly weak, those senses, when he’s so used to the Sharingan, to being able to pick out every nuance and spark from half a league away.

(Being blind, he thinks, is quite possibly one of the worst fates an Uchiha could suffer. No matter what power the Mangekyo grants, surely it isn’t worth it.)

The susurration of the grasses breaks briefly to his left, then starts up again a few meters on. Shisui listens carefully, head tilted slightly to hear more clearly. A road, he thinks. Too wide to be a path, and it can’t be a dry riverbed when the river runs to his right. He steps towards it, careful and deliberate, bare feet feeling out the space before they settle. Three short, hesitant steps and the grass gives way to packed earth, rutted and worn almost smooth with small patches of stone peeking through here and there. Shisui doesn’t quite allow himself to sigh in relief, but the thought is certainly there.

Fire Country—Konoha—lies west of the ocean. There are border patrols along the north and northwest borders, and couriers constantly moving to and from the west. If Shisui can figure out the directions and make his way there, he’ll likely be found soon, if he keeps his chakra visible and doesn’t try to hide.


But the reasons for his attempted suicide haven’t been negated by his miraculous (ridiculous) survival. The Uchiha can’t know of Danzo’s actions. They can’t know that Itachi is a double agent, and that Shisui was as well. Shisui can’t take that risk. There’s an entire clan at stake, if he goes back and not enough time has passed. Families and children and Konoha’s fragile peace, and Shisui won’t be the one responsible for upsetting that. Even if Itachi—

Shisui takes a shuddering breath, picks the direction he thinks is east, and starts walking.

It’s hard. The first few steps feel like drowning all over again, his toes scraping the sandy bottom of a river unable to get a grip. Like grasping for a hold and feeling it slip like sodden-slick grass between his fingers. Like one last breath of air that isn’t enough and can’t last. There’s nothing around to steady him, to orient him. Only darkness and a clawing, tearing sort of desperation. Shisui stumbles the way he hasn’t in years, more than a full decade, but his reflexes are enough to catch him even without eyes, and he steadies. One step, another, one foot in front of the other until he’s caught the rhythm of it. His body doesn’t need to see—he’s trained in the darkness a thousand times before, has made himself go without sight because he’s well aware of the Uchiha clan’s almost crippling reliance on their eyes.

But it’s still a shock, suddenly finding himself without. He hadn’t expected to survive his leap into the Nakano—had planned to the contrary, even. One last play to protect Konoha, even if no one besides Itachi ever knows. Because Shisui isn’t a hero, and never has been. He’s an assassin, a killer, has murdered dozens of people and fought in a war and gone on some of ANBU’s darkest missions. But he’s done it all for the good of his village, and that’s what matters. That’s the only thing that counts, in the end.

Danzo… Shisui might not respect the man himself, but he can admire his willingness, his lack of hesitation to dirty his hands in the name of protecting Konoha. Even though Danzo stole his eye, tore it from him and betrayed him, he’s sure that Danzo thought he was doing the best thing for the village. Danzo has never trusted the Uchiha, and apparently with good reason, going by recent events. He has his own beliefs, and he acted on them in the name of keeping Konoha strong.

Shisui won’t aid him, maybe, but he won’t hinder him either.

And he won’t let something as small as a lack of sight stop him from moving forward, now that he’s somehow survived.

nejiten is a shitship because you’re all really transparent in the way tenten becomes a self insert. you take her lack of development and warp her personality into someone remotely interested in romance. she deserves better than that. leave her alone.


     as  i  touched  upon  earlier,   bex  has   a   deep   set   fear  of  intimacy.   nearly  all  of  the  relationships  in  her  life  have  been  platonic  (  cammie,  liz,   macey  )   and   the  only  REMOTE    indication   of   romance    was   Grant,   Zach’s   friend  from  Blackthorne.   Even  then,   that  entire  relationship   lasted    a   few  mentions  /   didn’t really   progress   into  anything   big.

   BEX  IS  AFRAID.    she  never  wants  to   appear  weak  at   all,   she’s  terrified  of  having  someone  close  to  her  be  in   trouble   (  see:  out of sight out of mind  )  and  she knows  that loving /  even trusting  anyone.   she  worries  that   they   will  use  her  (  an ordeal  all  too common  in  her  line  of  profession )   and  she  worries  that  if  she  loves   someone,   something  bad  will happen  to  them  because   of   her.   

   BEX  HAS   A   FEAR  OF  COMMITMENT.    she  doesn’t  want  to  settle.   she   doesn’t  want   to  make  the  wrong  mistake   and   end  up  with  someone  she  doesn’t   like.   fear  of commitment   has  been  evident  in  all her  life,  as  she  has   seen  loyalty   turn  people  into  monsters   (   ex:   catherine  goode )   and  that   affects   all her  relationships.  she  won’t  ever  date  someone   she  thinks  she’ll  have   a   serious   relationship  with  (   she’ll  always   date  people   she  can  leave )

ROMANTIC  ATTRACTION.       bex    is   often   “aesthetically”   attracted  to   certain  people.  she’s   more   in  love  with  the  idea  of   love   as   a  concept  than  an   actual  practice  she’ll engage  in.    she’s   attracted   to   all genders   (  she  doesn’t  let   attraction   hold  anything  back  )     the   only   people   bex   could   actually   realistically  “end  up”   are  people  that   she  has   developed   an    intense   platonic   relationship   with   at   first,   because   to  her  she   needs   to  know   that  its  not  just   her   “aesthetic attraction”  but  an  actual relationship. 

BEX IN  A  RELATIONSHIP.    bex   adores   any  partner   she  has.   it  would  be  a  relationship  full   of   teasing,   sarcasm,   and   “adventures”   she’s  also  prone   to  try   and  “fix”   her  partner, i.e.   convince  him/her   to  be  healthier /   act   as   a   therapist   and  so  much  more.   in   regards   to  having  sex,   bex   RARELY   DOES   IT.   it’s  not  important  to  her,   and she’s  not  one  for  close  physical  contact  either.   for   her,  emotional connections  will  always  be   more   important   than  physical contact. 

ON  SHIPPING  WITH  BEX.    i   obviously   want   to   create   long  lasting  ships   with  bex,   but  !   there    are   many  things   that   factor  into  that.   i   have   a  cap  on shipping  with  bex   (  that  will be  lifted but  at  the  moment  is  around  5   muses ! )   and  i’m  ALWAYS   ship   exclusive.   if  you  want  to   ever  ship  with  me  and bex,  we’d   definitely  have  to  talk   about  it   (  honestly ? just  ask  me  and we can talk it  out )     <3

anonymous asked:

Imagine Fenris disliking any of the romance series Varric writes. It's not that they're bad or, to the point, cheesy, but he can't seem to relate to any of the situations in them. In a way, as far as he's known or even remembered, his only romantic experience is with Hawke. Thus, the history he shared with Hawke and their romance is something he understands, and finds difficulty in seeing or relating to one straight from a book.

I think the IDEA of romance as its traditionally represented would be foreign as hell to Fenris. Like he came from somewhere where slaves were not permitted to marry so like, growing up he wouldn’t be introduced to a version of romance that could include him since he was a slave. 

And from how the romance with Hawke goes, he is so frightened by his feelings and the potential of a romance (and the thought of losing it I bet) that he ends things prematurely while saying that he was being foolish to think he could have something like that and be happy. And then when they do get back together Fenris’ expressions of love and passion and romance are very…. to the point. And imo a lot of his language and expression of it seems to have a lot of call back to his previous life, what with the “I’m yours” and the undying devotion and the following Hawke no matter where he goes. I mean, the closest thing he knew to anything remotely like romance or love was Danarius since he was so devoted to him and the fucking asshole was the center of his world. I actually think it makes the romance with him even sweeter cause like, all he has known is terrible fucking abuse in these intimate situations and yet as a free man who is undoubtably in love he chooses to throw that devotion and intensity into it without feeling vulnerable by it?

Oh man I am RAMBLING

But yes yes yes I totally dig, I feel like he can objectively understand where the ideas in teh books come from but his experiences are so different and specific that it all kinda comes across as shallow or incorrect to him. 

Preference #19--All night long

Riker: The two of you have a newborn baby. She’s only been home for a couple of days and is sleeping a bassinet in the master bedroom.
It was bedtime for your daughter and she kept her eyes wide open.
Riker sat on the edge of your bed with the infant in his arms.
Riker: “Go to sleep baby girl. Go to sleep.” He begged.
This begging went on until midnight. Then he gave up begging and you and he both tried to tire the baby out by talking, singing, playing music, but she stayed up. Not crying, very content, but awake.
All night long.

Ellington: You had both been out for a night on the town. It’s his day off from tour and you’re with him in New York City.
The two of you had been out since five o'clock, you got dinner, and then began to hit the clubs.
In everyone, a few things went the same:
He bought you a drink and one for himself
After drinking it, you would hit the dance floor
You made fun of some people around you
Made out in the bathroom
Went to the next club.
All night long.

Rocky: You and your fiancé were back together after you had taken a week to fly home and visit your family to go to a dress shop.
When you walked in the door, Rocky almost attacked you and pinned you against the wall.
His skilled fingers moved up, tickling your thighs, and then he began rubbing your clit though your silk pantries.
Rocky: “I missed you so much” he whispered against your lips before pushing his against them.
The two of you had the hottest sex of your lives.
All night long.

Ross: It had been a long and stressful week at work, and taking care of your kids. But, tonight, the grandparents had yours and Ross’s kids.
Normally being home alone would mean sex but, this week you were both too tired to do that.
The two of you climbed into bed and got under the comforter.
He wrapped you in his arms as hitting the play button on the remote.
You watched romance comedies and cuddled.
All night long.

Ryland: it had been the Super Bowl and unfortunately, there had been a concert that night.
Your boyfriend invited you to sleepover and watch the game on DVR with him. You agreed.
When you got home he went and for changed into some clothes with his team on them. You put on one of his sweatshirts as a nightgown.
The two of you sat on the couch and he held your hand as the game played.
He was cheering for his team and caressing your skin
All night long.

Keep sending in requests lovelies!

anonymous asked:

The reblog just now about queer characters... forgive my ignorance but any elaboration? What difference? What should we watch out for/aim for? I am finding it hard to understand without any answer given there, not because I'm against queer characters (or indeed people) but because its outside my personal experience.

I assume you’re referring to this post, which says: 

There is a difference between:

a queer character whose story doesn’t revolve around them being queer


a queer character whose story completely ignores the fact that they are queer

Now, I’m not OP, but let me lay down my personal interpretation for you: 

Something that people sometimes say about a piece of media is that they like how it ‘has a queer character whose story doesn’t revolve around them being queer’. Now, is there anything wrong with queer characters whose stories revolve around them being queer? Nope. However, when your only options are stories with queer characters that revolve around them being queer, it gets old! And gives the impression that the only stories that queer people have are about their queerness, which is peculiar and also dangerous. 

'A story about a queer character that doesn’t revolve around them being queer’ basically means: This character has various adventures and is queer. 

'A story about a queer character whose story completely ignores the fact that they are queer’: This character has various adventures. 

Let me try some examples- let me know if I’m totally off the mark.

Queer character whose story does not revolve around them being queer:
Samantha needs to save the world from rabid space penguins. She has a month in which to defeat them, or the earth will fall. She battles the penguins in awesome intergalactic space fights in a seal-shaped battleship. However, she’s not allowed to tell anyone about this- including her crush, Jules (the fact that she has a crush on Jules is also secret). How many secrets can she keep? How many penguins can she slay??

Queer character whose story completely ignores the fact that they are queer: 
Samantha needs to save the world from rabid space penguins. She has a month in which to defeat them, or the earth will fall. She battles the penguins in awesome intergalactic space fights in a seal-shaped battleship. Also apparently the author says that Samantha is bisexual but literally there is no mention of it in the book ever I mean you cannot just tell us now after thirty-one chapters spread out over three books? You said that she was too busy for romance which is understandable I guess but c'mon she was too busy for it to come up? At all?? Author no please stop. 

(Does it have to be romance? Not remotely.)

Basically: Ignoring the fact that a character is queer is like making it an informed trait (ie if I tell you in the narrative that Samantha is short-tempered but I never or very rarely show her getting angry) rather than a part of the story (Samantha looses her temper twice which goes badly). Should you use stereotypes or cliché to establish that a character is queer? No! Is there a 'way that queer people act’? no. Is a character’s queerness something that you should just sweep under the proverbial rug in your story? NO. 

I’m curious about how all of you interpreted that post, so please do reblog with your thoughts, and send any corrections to me. 


anonymous asked:

Hi Layne! I wanted to know your thoughts on something related to everything that has been happening regarding Clarke and Lexa. You said that this is just the beginning, but do you really believe that anything remotely close to 'romance' can still happen between them after what Lexa did? I'm sure she knew Clarke wouldn't be able to beat the MM, especially without the grounders. She also knew that Clarke would never give up without a fight. In summary, she pretty much left Clarke for dead.. TIA!

Yeah, I do believe that romance can still happen because I believe that Lexa made it clear, when she said that she was thinking with her head, not her heart, that her heart would be with Clarke. The choice she would make would protect Clarke and Clarke’s people but she can’t make that choice. I think Clarke understands that. An interesting element about Lexa is that their feelings for one another do and can exist outside of the things that war will have them to against each other. 

  • SEBASTIAN: I am 95% sure I will fall asleep shortly but this is my formal warning that I reserve the right to marry you and cheat on you with strangers in the distant future when it becomes more clear that I, Sebastian Smythe, am not cut out for anything remotely resembling romance.
  • SEBASTIAN: PS. I refuse to make any children at this time, but this could change depending on how badly the world needs another me.