so this is the best one out of all the ugly ones

What we really need is an adaptation of the original 1740 The Beauty and the Beast

So were you aware that the The Beauty and the Beast story we all know is a heavily abridged and rewritten version of a much longer novella by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve?  And that a lot of the plot holes existing in the current versions exist because the 1756 rewrite cut out the second half of the novella, which consisted entirely of the elaborate backstory that explains all the weird shit that happened before?  And that the elaborate backstory is presented in a way that’s kind of boring because the novel had only just been invented in 1740 and no one knew how they worked yet, but contains a bazillion awesome ideas that beg for a modern retelling?  And that you are probably not aware that the modern world needs this story like air but the modern world absolutely needs this story like air?  Allow me to explain:

The totally awesome elaborate backstory that explains Beauty and the Beast

  • Once upon a time there was a king, a queen, and their only son
  • But while the prince was still in his infancy, in a neat reversal of how these fairy tales usually go, the king tragically died, leaving his wife to act as Regent until their son reaches maturity
  • Unfortunately, the rulers of all the lands surrounding them go, “Hmm, the kingdom is ruled by a woman now, it must be weak, time for an invasion!”
  • And the Queen goes, “Well, if I let some general fight all these battles for me, he’ll totally amass enough fame and power to make a bid for the throne; if I want to protect my son’s crown, I have no choice but to take up arms and lead the troops myself!
  • (Btw, I want to stress that this woman is not Eowyn or Boudica and nothing in the way her story is presented suggests that she had any interest martial exploits before or in any way came to enjoy them during these battles.  This is a perfectly ordinary court lady who would much rather be embroidering altar covers for the royal chapel and playing with her child until necessity made her go, “Oh no, this sucks, I guess I have to become a Warrior Queen now” and she just happened to kick ass at it anyway.)
  • And the Queen totally kicked ass, but the whole “twice as good for half the credit” thing meant that no matter how many battles she won, potential enemies refused to take her and her army seriously until she had defeated them so no sooner would she fend off one invasion than another one would pop up on a different border.
  • So she spent the majority of her young son’s life away from the castle leading armies, but it was OK because she left him in the care of her two best friends, who just happen to be fairies!  This was an awesome idea because a) fairies have magic, and therefore are like the best people to protect the prince from any threats and b) fairies consider themselves to be so above humanity that the lowest fairy outranks the highest mortal, so they’d have no interest in taking a human throne.  Good thing they were both good fairies instead of one good and one evil one!
  • (Spoiler:  they were not both good fairies.)
  • So the two fairies basically take turns raising the prince until he’s old enough to rule.  And on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, the evil older one comes into the prince’s bedroom.
  • “So listen, kid.  You’re about to become king, your mother’s on her way home from the war to see you crowned, and I have a third piece of good news for you!  You see, I’ve actually been spending so much time here lately because Fairyland’s become a bit too hot to hold me for reasons totally not related to me being secretly evil.  And if I have to hang in the human world, I might as well reside in the upper echelons of it, so even though as a powerful fairy I completely eclipse your puny human status in a staggeringly unimaginable way, since you’re about to be king and since my premonition that I should stick this whole guardianship thing out because you would be hot one day has totally proved accurate (go me), I will graciously lower myself to allowing you to marry me.  Please feel free to grovel at my feet in gratitude.  (Btw, we can totally start the wedding night now, we’ll tell your mother about it when she arrives tomorrow.)”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

*shyly whispers* do u think u could do another Greek Mythology story~

“Your tapestries are so fine,” the merchant says in wonder, “that you must be blessed by the goddess Athena.”

Arachne tosses her head, braided hair falling over her shoulder like an obsidian waterfall, “What’s Athena got to do with it? My hands wove these, not hers.”

The merchant blanches and looks to the sky, as if expecting Zeus himself to smite them for blasphemy. Personally, she thinks the king of the gods has better thing to do with his time. “Ah,” he says weakly, “I suppose.”

He pays her for her wares and she leaves, almost immediately bumping into a hunched old woman with grey eyes. “Do you not owe Athena thanks for your talent?” she croaks, gnarled hands curled over a cane.

Arachne is not stupid, but she is foolish. They will tell tales of it. She looks into those grey eyes and declares, “Athena should thank me, since my talents earn her so much praise.”

She pushes past her and keeps walking, ignoring the goddess in humans skin as she disappears into the crowd.

They will tell tales of her hubris. They will all be true.

~

The next day she bumps into the same old woman at the market. Everything goes downhill from there.

“Know your place, mortal,” Athena says, grey eyes narrowed. There is a crowd around them, and Arachne could save herself, could walk away unscathed, and all she has to do is say her weaving is inferior to that of a goddess.

She will not lie.

“I do,” she says coolly, “and in this matter, it is above you.”

She is not honest as a virtue, but as a vice.

Athena challengers her to a weaving contest. She accepts.

~

Gods are not so hard to find, if you know where to look.

“It’s a volcano,” the baker repeats, looking down at her coins, as if he feels guilty for taking money from someone who’s clearly not all there.

She grabs her bag of sweet breads and adds it to her pack before swinging it over her shoulders, “Yes, I know. Half a day’s walk, you said?”

“A volcano,” he insists, as if she did not hear him perfectly well the first dozen times.

“Thank you for your help,” she says. He’s shaking his head at her, but she knows what she’s doing.

She walks. She grows hungry, but does not touch the bread she paid for, and walks some more. The sun’s begun to set by the time she makes it to the base of the volcano. It’s tall, impossibly large, and for a moment the promise of defeat threatens to overwhelm her.

But Arachne does not believe in defeat, in loss. They will tell tales of her hubris. Those tales will be true.

She ties a scarf around her braids then hikes her skirt up and ties the material so it falls only to her thighs. She fits work roughened hands into the divots of cooled magma and begins her slow ascent.

~

The muscles in her legs and arms shake, and her hunger pains are almost as distracting. Her once white dress is dirt smeared and torn and sweat makes her itch as it covers her body and drips down her back.

“What are you doing?”

Arachne turns her head and bites back a scream, looking into one giant eye. The cyclops holds easily to the volcano’s edges, even though her hands are torn and bleeding. She swallows and says, “I heard you like honeyed bread. Is it true?”

The creature tilts his head to the side, baring his long fanged teeth at her. She thinks he might be smiling. “You’ve been climbing for hours. What do you want?”

“Is it true?” she repeats, refusing to flinch.

“Yes,” he says, looking at her the same way the baker had, “it’s true.”

“There’s some sweet bread in my pack, baked this morning,” she says, “it should still be soft.”

His hands are big enough and strong enough that it could probably squeeze her head like a grape. Instead he gently undoes her pack and reaches inside. The honey buns look comically small in his large hands, and he swallows half of them in one bite. He licks his fingers clean when he’s done, and his smile is just as terrifying the second time around. “I am Brontes. Why are you climbing my master’s volcano?”

“I’m the weaver Arachne,” she takes a deep breath, “I need your master’s help.”

~

They tell tales of Hephaestus’s ugliness.

They are not true.

He’s got a broad, angular face and short brown hair. His eyes are like amber set into his face, and his arms are huge, and he’s rippling muscle from the waist up. He has legs only to his knees. From there down his legs are bronze gears and golden wire, replacements for the legs destroyed when Hera threw him from Mount Olympus.

“Had your look, girl?” he asks, voice rough like he’s always a moment away from breaking into a coughing fit.

“Yes,” she says, and doesn’t turn away, keeps looking.

His lips quirk up at the corners, so it was the right move. The heat is even more oppressive inside the volcano, and all around him cyclopses work, forging oddly shaped metal that she can’t hope to understand. “You’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble to find me, girl. What do you want?”

She slides her pack off her shoulders and holds it out to the god, “I have a gift for your wife. I have woven her a cloak.”

He raises an eyebrow and doesn’t reach for the bag, “You believe something made with mortal hands could be worthy of the goddess of beauty?”

They will tell tales of her hubris.

“Yes.”

They will all be true.

With a gust of wind the oppressive heat of the volcano is swept away, leaving her chilled. In its place stands a woman – more than a woman. Aphrodite has skin like the copper of her husband’s machines and hair dark and thick and long. Her eyes are deepest, richest brown, piercing in their intelligence. People don’t tell tales of Aphrodite’s cleverness. That is because people are stupid.

“Let’s see it then,” she says, reaching inside the pack and pulling the cloak from its depths.

It unrolls beautifully. It’s made from the finest silks, and it shimmers in the light from the forges. The hem of the cloak is sea foam, speaking of Aphrodite’s beginning, and up along the cloak is intricate patterns it tells of her life, of her marriage and her worshippers and escapades, all with the detail of the most experienced artist and the reverence of her most devoted followers.

Her lips part in surprise and she slides it on, twirling like a child. “Gorgeous,” Hephaestus says, though Arachne knows he does not speak of the cloak. She doesn’t take offense.

The goddess smiles and Arachne’s heart pounds in her chest. She does her best to ignore it – Aphrodite is the goddess of love, after all. It is only expected. “Very well,” the goddess says, “you have my attention.”

Arachne swallows. Aphrodite’s attention is a heavy thing. “I have offended Athena,” she says, “She has challenged me to a weaving contest.”

Their faces somber. Hephaestus rubs the edge of a sleeve between his fingers and says, “Athena will lose such a contest, if judged fairly. She does not take loss well.”

“I know,” she says, “you are friendly with Hades, are you not?”

There are no tales of their friendship. But she’s staking her life on its existence, because why wouldn’t it exist – both of them even tempered, both shunned by Olympus, both happily married.

Gods hate being made to feel lesser. It is why they say Persephone was kidnapped, why they say Aphrodite cheats with Ares. It is why Athena will crush her when Arachne wins the weaving contest.

“Clever girl,” Hephaestus says, smiling.

Aphrodite stares at her reflection in a convenient piece of polished silver. Arachne assumes Hephaestus left if lying there for that express purpose. “Very well!” the goddess says, not looking at her, “when Athena sends you to the underworld, we will entrench upon our uncle for your release.” She turns on her heel and points a finger at her. Arachne blushes for no reason she can think of. “In return, you will weave me a gown, one equal to my own beauty.”

A gown as exquisite as the goddess of beauty. An impossible task.

They will tell tales of her hubris.

“I accept.”

They will all be true.

~

The contest goes as expected. Athena’s tapestry is lovely, but Arachne’s is lovelier.

The goddess’s face goes red in rage, and her grey eyes narrow. Arachne stands tall, ready to accept the death blow coming for her.

The blow comes.

Death does not.

~

She is an insect. Even if she can make it back to Hephaestus’s volcano, even if they can help her, they will not know it is her. She has no hope left, no course of action, she should just give up. But –

She doesn’t believe in defeat, in loss.

It was a terribly long journey on foot, that first time. It is even longer this time, although now she has eight legs instead of two. She makes it to the volcano, and creeps in between crevices, until she finds out a hollowed room, one with a sliver of sunlight and plenty of bugs to keep her fed.

Athena’s cruel joke of allowing her to weave will be her downfall. Her silk comes out a golden yellow color – it will look exquisite against Aphrodite’s copper skin.

~

It takes seven years for her to complete it. She hasn’t left this room in the volcano in all that time, and as soon as it’s done she scurries out back toward the village. She’s a large insect, but not that large.

She arrives just as the sun begins to rise, and leaves before the first rays have even touched the earth, her prize tied to her back with her own silk.

Arachne doesn’t return to her room. Instead she goes to the more popular parts of the volcano, hurries and runs around terrifying stomping feet until she finds who she’s looking for and scurries up his leg and onto his shoulder.

“Huh,” Brontes looks onto his shoulder and blinks. “What on earth are you?”

She cautiously skitters down his arm, waiting. He bends closer and lightly touches her back. “Is – is that a piece of a honey bun?”

She looks up at him, waiting. It’s her only chance, if he doesn’t remember, if he doesn’t understand –

His face slowly fills with a cautious kind of wonder. “Arachne?”  She jumps in place, being unable to nod, and Brontes cautiously cradles her in his massive hands, “We must find the Master immediately!”

She jumps down, landing in front of him and running forward. “Wait!” he calls, and she makes sure he’s running after her before skittering back to her corner of the cave. It’s almost too small for him to enter but he squeezes inside and breathes, “Oh.” He stares for several moments, and Arachne climbs her web and waits. Brontes shakes himself out of his reverie and uses his powerful wings to bellow, “MISTRESS APHRODITE!”

There’s that same breeze and she’s in the crevice with them, “What was so important, Brontes, that you had to yell?”

Arachne sees the exact moment that the goddess sees the gown, golden yellow and glimmering, made entirely of spider silk. “Beautiful,” she says, reaching out a hand to brush down the bodice. Her head then snaps up, “Brontes, where’s Arachne?”

She warms at that, that Aphrodite knew it was her weaving even though she hasn’t been seen in seven years.

They’ve told tales of her hubris.

They are all true.

Brontes points at the web, and Aphrodite steps over and holds out her hands. Arachne crawls onto the goddess’s palms. “Athena is more powerful than I am, I cannot undo her work,” she says, “but I know someone who can.”

Then they are in front of a river. A handsome young man stands there waiting with a boat. “Goddess Aphrodite,” he says, “we weren’t expecting you.”

“Thanatos,” she returns, “I need to see Persephone.”

The man’s face stays cool, and for a moment Arachne fears they will be refused and she will be stuck in this form forever. Then he smiles and says, “My lady is of course available for her favored niece.” He holds out a hand to help her onto the boat, “Please come with me.”

~

Arachne weaves a dress for Hades’s wife as a thank you, and returns to her volcano.

“I can take you somewhere else,” Aphrodite says, “you don’t have to hide here.”

Arachne pauses at her loom. She has lived in this volcano for seven years. It’s her home. “Would you like me to leave?” she asks instead.

Aphrodite scoffs, “Of course not! How could I dress myself without you here?” She’s wearing the spider silk dress Arachne spun for her, and she’s working on another for the goddess now. Aphrodite runs a gentle finger down Arachne’s cheek and for a moment she forgets to breathe. “You are the finest weaver to ever exist.”

She looks up at the goddess, “Then as the god of crafts and goddess of beautiful things, where else would I belong besides with you and Hephaestus?”

To declare your company equal to that of gods is the height of arrogance and blasphemy.

They tell tales of her hubris.

“An excellent point,” Aphrodite murmurs, and tucks a stray braid behind Arachne’s ear.

They are all true.

gods and monsters series part iii

The 3 Elements of a FLAWED Character

You know that moment when you find an old notebook, and you start reading the story you were writing years ago, and after about one page…  

And then after a few more paragraphs … 

This has happened to me several times. On every occasion I want to curl up in a small box and wait until everyone forgets I was ever a writer. And every time, no matter which old story it is, what sends me crawling into that box is the same thing: the main character. Even after I had learned to incorporate empathetic qualities into my heroes (as listed in the last post), my protagonists were still deeply annoying – if not more unbearable than before. 

Why? What made them this way? They had winningly empathetic traits! Were they terrible people still? No, and that was the problem. They were perfect. Smart. Noble. Brave. They had dazzling martial arts skills. They loved people and people loved them. They were Chosen in some way and destined for greatness. Angst-plagued though, of course. They were tragic little heroes, misunderstood and abused, driven by the desire to vanquish all who caused them suffering.  

I could’ve composed a Gaston-like song enumerating their virtues and sorrows. 

And the only thing that would’ve made them more punchable is if they did use antlers in all of their decorating.

Characters can’t be completely likable. Yes, they must possess strengths that win the reader’s empathy, but without an equal amount of flaws … they can’t function. If they’re not flawed, they shouldn’t be the main character. Story is about someone changing, for better or worse. Under the surface, all good stories are about this process of human growth or decline. So if a hero is perfect from the beginning, there’s nowhere they need to go. And consequently, there’s no reason for a reader to follow. 

The inclination to follow a story is begun with interest in the premise, of course – but it is locked in when empathy occurs, when we begin to care – the moment the reader transposes their own external and internal lives onto a character’s life. A process which starts when a reader recognizes a shared something between themselves and the hero. Sometimes, this is a goal or strength or situation. And sometimes, it’s a flaw. We meet a character that is weak in the same way we are, and a strong internal connection is born between the reader’s life and the life on the page. On a deep level we’re thinking “This person is like me. What happens to them? How do they deal with it?” And because of this connection based on what is lacking in our lives, we want to live the story, see how it ends, and find out how the main character – who is just like us – reached that ending. Because it’s our lives we’re reading about, and if we play it out in advance, maybe we can reach a positive ending too. 

So! In what way should a main character be FLAWED? 

1) Weak in a way that only hurts themselves. 

Let’s call these MIND.

2) Flawed in a way that hurts others. 

Let’s call these MORAL.

The most realistic – and most compelling – characters have both types.  

And if a character has these flaws, the story must be steering them towards what they NEED to overcome them. The main character needs to learn something, a truth, a new way to live. This is the theme of the story. Theme is a statement the story seeks to prove, to the main character and the reader, about how to live a better life. It’s the solution to whatever moral and mental conundrum they’re facing. So … 

3) The SOLUTION to their moral and mental weaknesses. 

How does that work? To illustrate, let’s look at Stitch and Alexander Hamilton. (What a combination.) 

STITCH

Moral: He’s destructive. Violent. Rude. Vindictive.  Manipulative. Enjoys the suffering of his enemies.

 And in general, pushes everyone and everything away.  

Mind: Despite his violent ways, he yearns to belong, and senses that he can’t.

He believes he’s alone, he’s unlovable, he’s monstrous, he’s never had a family and never will – he’s lost, like the Ugly Duckling. He’s missing a family he’s never had.  

Solution: He just needs to start treating people like family to be accepted into one. 

HAMILTON

Moral: He’s selfish. (“Be careful with that one love, he will do what it takes to survive.”) He’s arrogant. He’s self-centered. (Think of the entirety of Burn.) And in his obsessive journey to succeed, he pushes everyone out of his path.  

Mind: He has a fixation on death, on time running out, which drives his manic desire to achieve. (“I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory.) He’s insecure. ("Graduate in two and join the revolution. He looked at me like I was stupid. I’m not stupid.”) 

Solution: Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story? Eliza tells his story. Hamilton’s goal throughout the story is a legacy; he strives to achieve this immortality in any way possible, even if it means neglecting his loved ones, or even ruining their lives. He needs to learn that his loved ones are enough. Eliza is enough. And through her, he will live on. 

What would have happened if they weren’t flawed? The stories would have been boring. What would have happened if their flaws had been treated like attributes that didn’t have to change? The stories would have ceased to be. Progress couldn’t happen, because by accepting the status quo of their mental and moral states, we’re refusing the call to adventure outright. They’d just exist in the same state they were in the setup, stagnant, somewhat lifeless. Flawed characters must motor towards that NEED, or solution, that will save their lives. 

(I realize this “need” element is rather vague, so it’ll get its own post.)  

But in conclusion, this balance of strengths and flaws – and how this fictional person deals with the adventure they’re thrown into – is what makes a main character compelling, empathetic, and real. 

So when I unearth a notebook years in the future, containing one of stories I’m writing now, maybe the main character won’t make me feel like this:

Maybe it’ll even be like this: 

And best of all, maybe one of those characters will make a reader somewhere feel understood and helped and not alone. Wow. That would be amazing.

Well, there’s my writing motivation for today. I’m going to go make my main character more of a lovable jerk.

How I see kpop groups and their traits

Exo: referred to as gods by the future generation; they could release an album full of high pitched screaming and still would make the best selling kpop album; china line who?; we are 1 what?; korean members with chinese stage names; don’t let the satan near you; yehet, kkaebsong; give Sehun lines

Bts: from nowhere to everywhere; hyperactive kids making good music; kids with mental health issues doing vanalism; they look at you - you faint;  shit down, beach - bitch?, ikskjuz miii; zoo; give Jin lines

Ikon: B.I, Bobby and friends; favoritism by yg; “the next bigbang”, but yg seems to forget about them so does the crowd; being hyped up then ending up disappointed; capable of doing good music but refuses to; give chanwoo lines

Got7: no mvs in the future just videos of them dabbing; b side tracks always better than the titles; acrobatics until their neck breaks; not so creative fandom name; bamx2 is big; jaCSon, hard carry by Monsta x

Winner: searching for them - error404: nowhere to be found; somewhere in the yg building; Taehyun had enough shit, wants his own band, searching for members through tumblr; capable of being unique, yg aint letting them; let them break out   

Day6: now 5live, nope, day8, members: sungjin, wonpil, dowoon, youngk, jae, chicken little, brian, younghyun; the one who has a stage name but seems like everyone is forgetting about it; dancing king; hashtag king; let dowoon sing

Astro: too much sugar in my eyes i can’t see; too pure for you; won’t ever do other than cute concepts;  michael jackson; giant maknae; voice cracks for life; new generation of flower boys

Seventeen: too many; pledis has a thing for girly boys; pledis’ only income; leg breaking choreos; adore u remakes as title tracks; no dark concepts in the future; sebeuntin; carrots, mounteen; slipping here and there; dino nugu aegi; thughao, 10:10; divaboo; noone looks like suga; jeongcheol, meanie; give china line lines

Vixx: concept kings but kinda ran out of concepts; oldschool kpop feel; from vixx ravi to solo ravi - full upgrade; one of the prettiest fandom names; endless leader bullying; serial killer; let the maknae line sing

Shinee: going strong since 2008; people seem to pay less attention to them; taemin upgraded; weird fashion taste - key; cola cola; don’t sleep on them

Infinite: dope intros - give you chills; old kpop sound, unique sound; scorpion dance, live singing + synchronized choreos; dinosaur who’s laugh can be heard without a mic; endless leader and maknae bullying; saved woollim; give sungyeol and sungjong lines

Monsta x: future strippers; stuck between hiphop and sexy concepts; wtf is going on here mvs, gay mvs; cringiest fandom name; weird noises by the rapper; damn daniel; how to learn hungarian by changkyun; abs, memes; ten years later: waiting for their first win; mosta x, moista x, monster x;  give hyungwon lines; 

Bigbang: legends; noone can dance, too lazy to dance; fashionistas; min hyorin; yg = bigbang

B.a.p: started to rise - shit happened - nobody cares about them anymore; getting killed or killing others in mvs; unappreciated dancers and rappers; high notes for life; actual meaningful lyrics

Block b: zico and the boys; biggest weirdos of them all; no friendship just business; give jaehyo lines

Nct: taeyong and the boys; pouring salt at the wounds; mess of a noise music; rotating as much that i can already see the tornado; dozens of units; horrible fashion; unnecessary ps; damn hoverboard skills; great vocals being hidden; johnny somehow managed to get out; let hansol free; give lines to everyone

Pentagon: putting them through an unnecessary scripted survival show to make people foget about some disbanded groups (4minute); sm and yg let some gems slip out from their hands, at least they are not in the dungeon; giants and dwarfs; ugly crying; lame jokes; ultrasound screams; nudity; wooyu; yutoda; give shinwon lines

Btob: being forgotten by cube; weird, extra; slowly turning into a ballad group; is minhyuk a rapper?; give peniel lines

Beast: what is happening with u cube? shit happened; new name - bea5t?;  lost their spirit after shit happned; great lives 

Suju: waiting for ot15; shit still happening; growing out of kpop; concepts don’t match their age; still waiting for kibum; don’t forget about zhoumi & henry; diaries of a married man; being succesful in the military

Nu’est: best debut song ever; had the most potential as a rookie group; pledis messed up; now they’re popular anywhere besides korea; getting worse and worse title songs; aesthetic mvs; creative fandom name; again pledis has a thing for girly boys

Ft Island: hongki and the others; awesome dope music (let’s not count puppy here); people don’t appreciate quality music anymore; this gem is lost in the ocean of cute, badass & hiphop concepts; pretty fandom name

Cnblue: another gem; better japanese releases; boring new songs because they have to fit into the kpop standard; yonghwa’s unique teeth; visuals; let the others sing

SF9: another group coming from a survival show; covering their seniors’ songs so they can’t even recognize them; thumbs up for the K.O choreography; don’t go with them to amusement parks; deep af voice maknae; park jimin 2.0; hwiyoung got them lines in roar

KNK: a bunch of idiots - literally; tall af; models af; old school kpop feels; if you hear someone laugh hysterically from afar it’s probably them; falling dramatically to the floor while doing so; choking sounds; don’t let them feed you; horlolololo; astro x knk; bullying sanha

2PM: definition of men; hella hot bodies; starting to be unknown; when was their latest first win?; manly concepts; awesome vocals; the rap is still meh; go crazy is a jam y’all; great actors

U-Kiss: so many member changes; lit songs, but not getting appreciation; don’t complain about your faves not getting 1st place like 2 months after debut - it took for them years; the first kpop fathers; they need a comeback soon

B1A4: great vocals again; don’t let them being forgotten; cnu just rocks the short hair admit it; baby i’m sorry is one of the best kpop songs; but great ballads as well

Teen top: they need to go back to their previous style; cap rocking them tattoos; hilariously funny group - watch their weekly idol; promoting as five now - anticipate their comeback

Everyone please note that i dont mean to offend neither the groups neither the fans. its just for fun and me being 100% sarcastic by these statements. i love and respect these groups with all my heart!
sorry, its a bit long.

episode one :: Yuuri Katsuki is the most beautiful disaster that Victor has ever met in his entire life, and Victor has built his empire on beautiful disasters.



Victor isn’t sure he knows what he’s doing anymore by the time casting rolls around for season 22 of The Bachelor.  Okay, he knows what he’s doing, but it’s all autopilot.  He’s got a dossier of Chip Vanderbones and Tad Hardbeefs to look at, but is almost resigned enough to just give into Lilia and Yakov’s suggestion to cast Georgi Popovich, notorious histrionic Bachelorette season 10 runner-up, as this season’s lead out of sheer notgivingafuckness.  At this point Victor isn’t even sure whether he really wants to be in this game at all anymore, but what the hell else he would do besides sleep for a thousand years if he retired before thirty?  

And then Phichit Chulanont comes into his office to distract him during a conference call with Yakov to tell him a story about his friend who just crashed and burned at the Figure Skating Grand Prix Finals, and everything click click clicks into place: redemption narrative.  Twenty young men are going for the gold, but only one can win the heart of Yuuri Katsuki– he can hear the promos, see the character arcs unfold, and the narratives rush through him like they’ve always lived inside him and it feels–exciting.  

“Phichit,” Victor says suddenly, interrupting Phichit and grabbing him from across his desk.  “We have to get him.  He’s our next bachelor.”

“Oh my God,” Phichit replies, eyes widening, and then again, “Oh my God.

“Do you think you could get him?” Victor asks.  He’s seeing figure skating dates, thematic destination shoots in Chile and Finland and Iceland, “The Bachelor: Love on Ice” title screen flashing over two champagne glasses on the lip of an outdoor hot tub.  

“Do I think I can get him,” Phichit repeats dismissively, looking the closest to offended that Victor has ever seen him.  “What do you think you hired me for, Nikiforov.”

Keep reading

Pepero Day (M)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Smut, Bestfriend!Yoongi, Valentine’s Day themed

Word count: 5.7k

warnings: Rated M, language, graphic sexual descriptions

A/N: This was meant to be a valentine’s day fic, but it’s a day late, rip. I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Keep reading

I have some opinions/thoughts that I’d really love to get off my chest even if other people think I’m completely wrong.

Gaston did not deserve to die, Gaston was hardly a bad person, Gaston was basically forced into being the villian of this story.

[I’m referring to the 2017 remake of BATB rather than the original animation.]

Let’s point out some difference between the 1991 Gaston and 2017 Gaston
-2017 Gaston was not a misogynist
-did not abuse Lefou
-even verbally
-Like for fucksakes, the friendship between Lefou and Gaston was so genuine. I’m frequently seeing these things around Gafou is an abusive ship, buts it’s really not? He tells Lefou ‘thank you’ says ‘you’re the best Lefou’ sincerely asks ‘how has no woman snatched you up?’, messes around with Lefou like buds (wrestling bite marks, picking him up to demonstrate strength, gets on the table and dances with him), let’s Lefou calm him down and boop his nose, and not once does he insult or hurt even when it seemed like he would (after Lefou wrapped his arms around him, or when he couldn’t spell his name, when he said ‘who needs her when you’ve got us’, etc). They’re sincerely good, close friends, but don’t worry I’m not ignoring all the shitty things Gaston did to Lefou I will get to that in a second.
-I said he’s not a misogynist, right? Cause that’s important. Big step away from the OG.
-Doesn’t insult Belle for reading
-Instead he feigns interest in the book because he knows it’s her interest
-even brings her flowers, whataguy
-Has manners (“excuse me, please let me through” going through the crowd, didn’t push everyone out of his way)
-Goes to her rescue when the town’s people are being mean (sure this is because he wanted to be the hero to seduce her, but seriously he was one of the few people who didn’t harass or bully Belle for being different)
-Doesn’t call Maurice crazy and instead offers his help to soothe the men (again, seduction, but seriously he’s still being polite and helping the underdog unlike the OG)

I’ll probably think of more things to add to this Gaston-wasnt-an-asshole list but I think this basically gets the point across that, well, Gaston wasn’t an asshole. He was immensely vain, yes, but that doesn’t mean he was a bad person.
Cus ya know who else started out incredibly vain but still managed to be the fucking prince in this story?
Yep, the Beast/Adam of course.

Time to do some comparing of the prince and the villian because spoiler alert, they basically parallel each other.

I’ll begin this part with Belle’s comment of, “No one can change THAT much, Gaston”
Ahem

LITERALLY SHUT THE FUCK UP ARE YOU SERIOUS
This line pissed me off immensely, because that’s literally Adam’s entire character arc, changing himself completely, literally and figuratively.

Like I’m sorry you wanna do a repeat of the song “Something there” aka the song where the lyrics are basically “he was an asshole brute who I hated but now he’s c h a n g e d”
Literally so pissed off at that all.

But as I was saying, Gaston basically mirrors Adam’s arc, meaning to say they’re practically the same character things going on but sorta reversed.

Like okay
-Upon first meeting Belle, the Beast locks her father then her in a tower and is a huge dick but then they bond over books and he gives her flowers and he’s nice to her.
-Upon first interacting with Belle, Gaston is nice to her, gives her flowers, tries to bond over books, but then he’s a huge dick and locks her father and then her in a cart.

Do you see what I did there? Literally the same actions, but backwards.

Let’s do some more comparing.
-They both have terrible, terrible tempers.
But you know what? The Beasts is definitely a lot worse than Gaston’s.

Let’s review how both Gaston and Adam dealt with Belle’s dinner rejection
-Beast: literally motherfucking demands she has dinner with him, bangs his paws on the door, scrEAMS at her, and then announces she can starve if she won’t eat with him
-Gaston: [not direct quotes, can’t remember exact words but basically what he says] “oh, busy?” nope “okay, then some other time?” boom that’s that. Yeah he still is persistent on winning her over even after this rejection but the man handled it a lot better then Adam (and he brought flowers for her dinner table).

I’m about to move on from Adam and start talking about how Gaston treated Lefou in a sec, but I would just really really really like to put some emphasis on the fact that both Adam and Gaston were incredibly narcissistic men. The amount of self pride and conceded they have is in the beginning is completely parallel and it leads to both of their unfortunate fates. The point in this, is Gaston is not a bad guy just because he loves himself a bit much, just as the Beast was not a bad guy for loving himself too much. Like, the way Adam turns down Agatha for being ugly seems exactly like something Gaston would do, so why does the movie end with Gaston dying while the Beast learns his lesson and gets his happily ever after?
Because, the OG Gaston was truly an asshole who deserved to die and this 2017 remake of course had to stay true to the story. Even though this Gaston really wasn’t a true villian and didn’t deserve to die – rather he deserves a redemption arc just as Adam was given – he died anyway because that’s how the story goes.

Anyway, I’ll get on with this and bring back Lefou.

Some of you have probably been reading this while thinking “But Marley [das my name], Gaston was a shitty person, he wasn’t a good friend to Lefou at all because he manipulated him, let him get punched in the face, didn’t protect him at all, and threatened to lock him up. Plus, he was only into Belle because she’s pretty.”

Alright alright alright: Lefou.
He’s an exceedingly important character as he gives us insight to Gaston’s character.
Two crucial things he reveals about Gaston … .

-Gaston has anger issues. My father has anger issues, and so do I, and we both are on meds for it. Let me say, having anger management problems and getting angry are very different things. It’s just like he having anxiety and getting nervous are very different things. I think most of you can probably relate or understand anxiety more then anger issues, so just put yourself in Gaston’s shoes with that in mind. Anyway, back to Lefou. He shows us that Gaston has anger issues when he rushes to Gaston’s aid by saying “deep breathes” and then “think about the war”. He tells us that Gaston has coping mechanisms for when he gets like this. Does it matter if Gaston has anger problems? Does it make him less of a dick? Like, seriously Marley, does this information really make up for any of the things he did? Yes, yes it does matter. It’s like when you/someone your love is having an anxiety attack, or when you fall into a depressive episode, or when a loved one acts out of PTSD [which Gaston could totally completely have], or when someone with schizophrenia or delusions starts having episodes, it’s basically exactly like whenever anyone’s mental illness starts to act up. You don’t feel like yourself and you don’t so things you would normally​ do. This is definitely the case for Gaston; he acts out of character when he gets angry like this. And that’s my second point that Lefou proves in this movie.

-Gaston is not being himself when he starts doing all that terrible shit that leads him to his demise. Lefou makes it fairly obvious that that is not how Gaston usually acts. He does this in numerous ways which I will quickly try to summarize and go through:
1) Questions Gaston. Obviously if Gaston often tied up old men to trees or in general left people to die, Lefou would have just went with it instead of going “are you sure?”
2) doesn’t immediately lie to save Gaston’s ass. Again, if Gaston frequently had Lefou lie for him, then it would have came to Lefou like second nature and he wouldn’t have hesitated.
3) Once more, questioning Gaston. The scene I’m about to refer to is when Gaston locks Belle and her father in the carriage. Lefou grabs Gaston’s arm and goes to question him again, but before he can Gaston threatens to lock him up as well. Dick move on Gastons end, no? But this isn’t something he would normally do or say to Lefou, for if it was Lefou wouldn’t have bothered speaking up because he would have known what Gaston’s reaction would be. Instead, Lefou is used to being able to talk sense into Gaston and reason with him (refer back to nose boop scene).
4) Running to Gaston’s side for protection during the fight [castle scene]. Lefou is probably used to having Gaston protect him during fights (war time) and obviously didn’t expect Gaston to throw him to the enemy. Like, yous guys heard him shriek Gaston’s name before the piano fell on him, right? He was obviously expecting Gaston to rescue him. Even after he’s trapped under the piano, he still reaches and calls out for Gaston. The way Gaston is acting is not the Gaston he knows.
5?) “I was on Gaston’s side, but we are so in a bad place right now” [however he says it you know the line I’m referring to]. Aight I think this is the one line that really captures the point I’m trying to make. Lefou has switched sides because Gaston is being a major douchebag and Lefou’s not having it. Lefou doesn’t put up with being treated like shit [MrsPotts saying he deserves better and Lefou agreeing]. So o b v i o u s l y Lefou is not used to Gaston being so cruel and angry. If Gaston treated Lefou like this all the time, then Lefou wouldn’t be by his side [because he left his side once he started acting like this]. Lefou knows how he should be treated, and how he’s being treated is not what he’s used to.
You dig what I’m saying? I’m kinda rushing through these points because I’m getting tired of this.

*deep breathe* Alright, last point, as I mentioned above, ‘Gaston only wanted Belle because she was beautiful’ Alright alright alright I’m not even going to talk about the Gaston in this point, I’m just going to talk about the huge flaw that is Beauty and the Beast.

Adam is turned into the Beast because he needs to learn to not judge people by how they look, he needs to learn that it’s what’s on the inside that matters.
Right.
So why is Belle the one that learns this lesson?
Adam falls in love with a gorgeous girl, meanwhile Belle falls in love with a hideous monster who turns into a nice dude on the inside.
Belle is the character who learned to not judge a book by its cover [cover being a monsterous beast but inside he is a gorgeous prince].
As soon as Belle walked into the castle, all the furniture was like “yooooo she could be the one, master hit her up” and instantly Adam’s like “well I need a girl to fall in love with to break my curse and she cute yeah let’s do it”. Like of course there’s more to our then this, but what I’m trying to say is Adam had already planned to try to charm Belle before he knew what kind of person he was because he was desperate to break the curse.
So he and everyone in the castle just saw her and was like “she was a girl, he was a boy, can I make it anymore obvious?”
So anyway anyway anyway, Gaston was only interested in Belle because she was beautiful and he wanted a wife, but Beast was only interested in Belle because she was beautiful and could break the spell. See the parallels again? Like, Beast later fell in love with Belle for who she was and she made him a better person, Gaston could have totally done the same thing.
And okay, there’s no proof Beast cared that Belle was beautiful or not, but yo, Disney definitely should have made Belle ugly af so when Adam met her the snob in him would have been “ew she’s ugly, next” and then Lumiere and Mrs. Potts woulda been like “boi Imma whoop yo ass if you don’t give that girl a try, I don’t care how fucked up her teeth are smfh” and then Adam would have learned the lesson that the enchantress was trying to school him about in the first place [this applies to the 1991 animated film, not directly at the 2017 btw]

Well I was trying to keep this professional and moreso eloquently written but you can tell I’m coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine gotta gotta be down because I want it all

Okay okay okay
Okay okay
Okay

I believe we’re nearing the end. I believe I’ve said all I needed to say made all the points I could [honestly definitely not because I’m constantly thinking about this and arguing with no one in my head, I have a lot to say and later I’ll be making toast and be like “anD ONE MORE THING”]

I’m very upset Gaston died because he wasn’t a terrible enough character to deserve death.

So Dear Disney, either make Gaston more of a shitty person, or bring him back to life. I’ll be waiting for an apology letter until this is done.

Of course I’m kidding.

I just have such a love and passion for Gaston and I’m truly sick of hearing people tell me that Gafou is an abusive ship and Gaston is a villian.

And if you refuse to see that Gaston wasn’t a bad guy but still believe that Adam is such a prince than you’re insanely hypocritical.

People just see what they want to see.

Also I’m terribly sorry for making this so diddly damn long, I honestly have no idea how to do the cutoff “Show more” thing, I’m on mobile. So sorry if you’re trying to rapidly scroll past all of this and it’s taking forever.

But honestly fuck you don’t scroll past my argument.

And also if you legit read all this then motherfucking congratulations to you. Like I don’t even want to read all of this shit to edit it.

Thanks for the attention. Marley OUTT
7 Reasons Why

So…. I am currently watching the new tv show “13 Reasons Why” and my mind decided to make a tragically-beautiful connection tooooo can you guess what?? YUP LANCE!! So here are my thoughts once again… hope you enjoy and feel free to comment any other ideas!!
*NOTE* I’m lowkey crying as I’m writing this. My heart isn’t okay. I’m not okay, okay?? *MORE NOTES* So this came out kinda different than the show/book but i hope yall kinda get the idea

  • Lance was dead. Had committed suicide to be exact. And he left his story behind.
  • The tapes appeared from nowhere. No one knew where they came from or where they disappeared to. No one knew that the tapes contained so much in such a small amount of time. No one knew that these tapes would become an ugly part of them.
  • “Hello space pals and gals. Lance McClain (KINDA LOVE THIS LAST NAME) here. Live and in stereo.”
  • Lance starts off by explaining his “7 Reasons Why” (hahaha get it? Cuz he’s the seventh wheel?? *cries*) he committed suicide and his two rules.
    • “Rule number one. You must listen to the tapes. I’m not gonna lie. This is going to be hard to do but you MUST LISTEN.”
    • “Rule number two. When you are done, you must leave them where you found them. And if you, oh lets say, decide to throw them away, tsk tsk tsk…. bad things will happen.”
  • “First and foremost, our mighty and heroic leader, Shiro.”
    • “I wasn’t good enought to be praised by you.” Lance explains that Shiro was a good leader, a great leader one might say. Unreplacable, “unlike me.” So why was it that he never told Lance “great job” or “thanks for the help.” Why did he alway care so much for Keith? Told him “great job out there” and patted him on the back after every battle. Why did he always take his side even when he was in the wrong? Why did he treat Pidge like a little sister? Always taking care of them and making sure they were getting enough sleep. Always being so nice and caring to both. “You were always my hero but why did you not act like it?” He never payed attention when Lance didnt get enough sleep or didnt eat or was sick. Always making him work and train. Always pointing out his flaws without helping him improve them. “Why, Shiro, did you not care for me?”
  • “Can you guess our number two?? Well, I’ll give you a hint. It’s not me this time. *laughs* First time being number two, our excellent number one paladin, Keith!”
    • “Keith my man, I loved you.” (Klangst? WHY TF NOT?!?) Lance always loved Keith, always looked up to him too. He loved to joke around with him, loved to rile him up, loved to bicker with him because thats how he got to talk to him. He knew that they were playing around so why did it hurt so much? “Why Keith, did you always tell me I wasn’t good enough?” Always telling him to leave you alone, always “you’re annoying me” and never “please stay.” Keith always reminded Lance that he was never good enough, never up to his level, never realizing how lance felt. But how could Lance blame him? However, sometimes Keith, you, took it to far to the point where my heart was too broken to put back together. “I’ve always loved you but you made it so easy to hate you, too.”
  • “My favorite green paladin, my little space sister (female pronouns for this), my gaming buddy, Pidge.”
    • “Pidge, did you even ever realize that I saw you as my sister?” Lance saw his little sister in Pidge. He always, like Shiro, did his best to make sure they stayed healthy. He was always fussing over her eating and sleeping habits. So why did she never appreciate him? “Pidge, you never even said thanks you.” Lance just wanted to be a brother to her. So why did she make him a disposable replacement for her missing brother? Always using him when necessary and then throwing him away when it got too much for her? “Leave me alone Lance. Im working.” Pidge sometimes said really hurtful comments to Lance and she never let him help her because why would she let someone “annoying” help? In, reality Pidge was his sister but according to Pidge, “You are not my brother, Lance. Matt is.”
  • “Hunk, my precious beautiful friend. You did nothing wrong but you also did nothing at all.”
    • “Where to start?” Hunk had always been Lance’s best friend but after Voltron things changed. “I noticed that you and Pidge would hang out together, without me.” Lance just wants to be part of their group again. He tried so hard so join, to contribute, to help. But all he got was “you’re distracting us.” Although they didn’t hang out as much, Hunk was the first one to realize that something was wrong with Lance. “You left me alone.” Hunk saw him getting worse and changing throughout the days. He saw but didn’t do anything. “Hunk, why did you not do anything, if you noticed?” Lance wondered why Hunk left him by himself, why he didn’t try to reach out to him, why he didn’t invite him over, why didn’t he? “You could have helped but you didn’t.”
  • “Our beautiful space princess who will save the universe without moi, Allura.”
    • “Sometimes, your pushing for perfection was too much, not just for me but for everyone.” Lance always felt like the odd one out. Everyone was good at something but he never had a “thing” and Allura’s nagging didn’t help. “Keep up Lance!” Keep up with Keith in the training stimulator. Keep up with Pidge’s new machinery. Keep up with Shiro’s battle plans. Keep up with Hunk’s nee inventions. Keep up. “Again.” No matter how hard Lance tried, Allura was never satisfied. Never complementing him, never saying “good job,” never letting him rest, never telling he was good enough. “Why, Allura, did you never see how hard I was trying?”
  • “Lets talk about our seventh wheel, our number one *snickers* sharpshooter, Me! Lance!”
    • “In my opinion, I was the number one at fault for this occurrence.” Lance hated himself. He hated himself for feeling jealous, angry, sad, homesick, depressed. “I just wanted to be like the rest of you all.” Lance wanted to be as good as Keith and as strong as Shiro. He wanted to be as nice and comforting as Hunk. Wanted to be as smart as Pidge and as powerful as Allura. “I wish I wasn’t so selfish.” Lance thought he was selfish. He wished to get “thanks you’s” from the rest. Wished he get praised from Shiro and Allura. Wished Keith would feel the same way. Wished he was home with his famiy. He wished and wished and he hated it. “I wished I was home.”
  • “My favorite alien, Coran, the one who took care of me and who noticed me struggling. Yes, he tried to help but I guess it wasn’t enough since I’m dead now.”
    • “You let me walk away.” Coran tried helping Lance in his own way. But how could an alien understand some Earthly emotions? “We talked but sometimes it was just you talking.” Coran tried to get Lance to open up to him but failed. He always cut off Lance with his own stories so he never let Lance say what was bothering him. “Coran, you were like an uncle to me.” Coran reminded Lance of his uncle and it kinda hurt him. He was constantly reminded of his family whenever he was with Coran. This made his emotions even worse when he talked to Coran because sometimes Coran didn’t understand him. The day Lance died, Coran had told him to just “move on.” Lance just got up and left but he secretly hoped that Coran would come after him. He didn’t. “You wanted me to move on from this and I did.”
  • “I’m sorry.”
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! 

anonymous asked:

I'm sorry to bother you, but do things really get better? I'm 16 right now and everything I know is sadness and exhaustion and anger and then I talk to my parents and they just complain about adult life... is it worth it to go on?

oh gosh, i promise, it’s worth waiting, buddy. i know there are a lot of people who say, oh it gets better. and it does in some ways, but what it really gets is different. the people who are angry and mean and horrible often stay that way. the people who cut you off or who flip you off or who piss you off often are the same people at 16 as at 26. 

i think i hated people telling me “it gets better” because what could get better about being a mentally ill queer cuban girl in a world that wanted to eat me. i got spat out. my writing isn’t published because i’ve been rejected so many times i don’t even notice anymore. i was told a few times “make it less obviously homosexual”. what is going to get better about that, i said to myself. the memory of it will never be a nice one.

things got different slowly. like i didn’t realize until i was far on the other side of it. i wasn’t kidding in that last post when i said today i read my writing at 15 and it was painfully obvious how depressed i was. i didn’t have a diagnosis. like you, all i knew was that i was exhausted and angry and sad all the time and when i talked about it, i was told “everyone feels that way sometimes.” i felt that way all the time. in this story, i don’t suddenly wake up after turning 18 and have a magical life where it is all bunnies and flowers and loving. it took me 3 years of trying before i finally managed to quit self-harm completely. my eating disorder and i are still not on speaking terms, luckily. i’m slowly getting a handle on my ocd. i didn’t realize that the biggest thing that was changing was me.

yeah. being out of the house made it easier. away from where people knew me as a certain person. being someone new or being who i was or being in a room full of people who didn’t care how gay i was. being in control made it better. finding real and true friends made it better. being able to make my own plans and choose my own story and do more than just wait until i was old enough to be taken seriously - it got better.

but honestly it’s me. i learned how to shake hands with depression, he and i are such good old buddies i sometimes see him before he’s even coming. and i’ve gotten so good at getting out of his embrace, because practice makes perfect, same as anything. and i’ve learned things about myself i had no idea about at 16. i didn’t even realize i’m funny. i had never been skinny dipping. my only kiss had been sort of an accident. there was a lot i cared about then that i don’t care about now, because in my new world outside of that, the people i surround myself with don’t care either. i’ve worn a dinosaur onesie pajama set to eight parties now when 19 year old me wouldn’t be seen without her makeup. i wear glasses in public even though i’m nervous they make me look like a bug. i have tattoos and new piercings and a bank account (and no money) and i have love. and i don’t mean with a partner, although i’m blessed enough to say i have that as well - i mean. i just found it. i taught myself how to look for it. i figured - listen, i’m here still, so i might as well, like, try to enjoy it. and it wasn’t overnight. it still goes away sometimes. but i love so much and so easily now. i laugh more because of it. i let myself love dogs and movies and silly things. and this love sort of … makes things better. because it reflects off of everything into you. like a mirror.

at sixteen… at sixteen i was very suicidal. i didn’t know that it applied to me, because i thought i was just annoying and lazy. looking back now i always pull a face at how obvious it was, and how close i got to walking myself into a grave. it was more than a close call. death, like, waved. i actually believed i wouldn’t make it past 18. what was the point? what was the point of anything? i think if i’d told myself then, “it gets better”, i would have laughed. “maybe for you!” i would have said, “you have money and a life and you’re not like this.” but it did get better. in inches. stick around to see it. stick around to see everything wonderful that’s waiting in the wings for you. that knows your name. a fate of beautiful moments that are small and precious, like butterflies landing on fingers or snowflakes on tongues, or just sitting with a good book during the rainfall. hell, stick around to write the book, because (trust me), if you believe in your art and yourself - it can be done.

stick around most of all because what gets better is you fall in love with yourself. the world doesn’t become suddenly sickeningly sweet, even if the people around you become better and you’re given more opportunity. that’s wonderful too but… what happens is that over time, the stuff they told you stops sticking. you realize that just because your nose is crooked it doesn’t even matter because it doesn’t stop you from being the best dang ping pong player in your family. you realize you have a family, even if they’re not blood. you realize you are your own family. and you learn to take care of yourself and yes, it gets ugly at times, but you manage. and inside of managing there’s all these wonderful successes like mac and cheese and getting the bills done and the smell of clean laundry and friends that make you laugh so hard you almost pee and an apartment with plants in every corner and a hairless cat in sweaters or a dog with a bowtie or both and watching movies and reading books and seeing art, all of which haven’t been created yet, and possibly you’re the one who makes them. and managing … managing doesn’t have to be big. sometimes it’s just making a small difference. and sometimes the person you make a difference to is yourself. and that’s amazing.

stick around because, trust me, somewhere in there, you meet your younger self in your dreams and you tell her - oh gosh, i promise, it’s worth waiting, buddy.

YOI Skaters As Things I Have Done
  • Viktor: Collapsed in the hallway because my friend wasn't paying enough attention to me, spent hundreds of dollars on a gift for same friend, and pissed off a bunch of my other friends by declaring said friend as my favorite
  • Yurio: Accidentally kicked one of my friends in the head, then laughing when she got pissed
  • Yuuri: Woke my mom up at 2am because of all the racket I was making in the kitchen while stress baking cookies
  • Christophe: Showing my friends photos of my boobs because "don't they look so good in this photo?" and getting the response "your boobs are fantastic"
  • Phichit: Keeping a folder of all the ugly selfies my best friend has ever sent me to give to her future boyfriend
  • Mila: Picked up friend and ran to PE because "your legs are too short to keep up with mine, either buy roller skates and hold onto my sleeve or let me carry you, we don't have all day"
  • Georgi: Sent my girlfriend at the time 500 seconds of snapchats in under 10 minutes before she woke up and then continued to send more after she woke up
  • Sara: Gave an hour long lecture to one of my best friends who I consider to be family on gender roles and why I generally dislike men who aren't fictional that some how turned into me listing reasons why girls are beautiful and I Love them
  • Michele: Have given the same two pieces of dating advice to one of my friends for years, "dump him" or "give me your phone, I'm going to fight him"
  • Emil: Hugged one of my best friends for over an hour, actually it was closer to two, I only let go when I fell asleep
  • JJ: Talked for a full hour about how hot I am to one of my friends and then after a few minutes of silence, whispered "oh god, I really hate myself" and then curled up into a ball and cried
  • Minami: Consistently terrifies friends with shrieking flying tackle hugs from behind, screams of terror usually ensue
  • Seung-gil: Robotically wrote the Bee Movie Script on the classroom board when we had a sub, "Do you have work you are supposed to be doing?" "Yes." "Is this it?" "No, do you have any more questions?" "I- uh, no, I guess not."
  • Guang Hong: Texted someone that if they messed with my best friend I would brutally murder them and then followed up with blushing emojis and flower emojis
  • Leo: Listened to the same song on repeat 12 hours a day, for over a week, until I could hear the song playing in my dreams
  • Bonus, Coaches + Teachers:
  • Yakov: Some how became the mom friend despite the fact that I can't even take care of myself, "I swear to god if you skip physics oNE MORE TIME", "Do your homework, I know where you sleep", "Oh for fuck's sake, come over to my house, I'm not going to listen to you bitch for weeks because you didn't want to disinfect your cuts"
  • Minako: Was running a high fever during my physics final to the point where I was fading in and out of consciousness, and aced it
  • Lilia: Developed a reputation for having terrifying kicks after I realized that the men in my karate class couldn't hold back their punches if they were too busy avoiding getting nailed in the balls
  • Celestino: Refused to stop smiling and laughing for a full day, actually got kicked out of class because I laughed so much
Massages

4.2k of smut, I’m not even sorry

‘OUCH! Stop, st- STOP IT PANSY! Argh, fuck, I think I broke a rib.’ Draco sat down on his bed, a painful expression on his face which was paler than usual.

‘You’re an ungrateful bastard’ Pansy flopped beside him, pouting ‘the whole Slytherin house knows I’m the best on giving massage’

‘Well, I better look for someone from other houses then’ Draco made another pained expression as he got up. ‘I can’t, I can’t walk. Argh, fuck!’ He laid down slowly. Pansy only stared at him from the door, the look on her a face a mixture of pity and remorse.

‘I’ll get someone. Even though you were a little bitch just now.’ She glared at him before leaving.

It’d started three days before then. He was getting ready on Wednesday morning to practice quidditch. Everything was fine when he bent down to tie his shoelaces, but the second he straightened his back an acute pain hit him on his hips. It’d gotten worse the past two days to the point now he couldn’t even sit properly without feeling it.

He laid there, thinking maybe he would have to look for Madam Pomfrey after all. But fuck, those potions always messed up with his stomach, he’d do anything to avoid taking them even if it meant asking for someone he didn’t know to give him a massage. Pansy had told him she knew what she was doing but at the end it’d only worsened it.

***

'It’s for a friend, you see. He’s in a lot of pain at the moment and I was hoping you knew someone good on giving massages’ Pansy flopped down on a chair at the eighth year common room.

'Well,’ Hermione started, closing her arithmancy book. 'I do, but… who exactly is this friend of yours?’ She gave Pansy a look that could be translated as 'Are-we-talking-about-who-i-think-we-are-talking-about?’

'Draco’ Pansy sighed, predicting the other’s answer. 'But… I swear he’ll behave. And you owe me this one, right? After I brought you those French hair products’ Pansy smirked.

'You really are a Slytherin’ Hermione sighed 'but they were actually amazing. I’ll help you with this one but I can’t guarantee it’ll go well.’

Pansy gave her a quick hug, grinning. 'Who is it then?’

'Harry’ Hermione murmured to herself.

Pansy gasped and then laughed until tears were streaming down her face.

'Holy. Shit. Are you sure he’ll want to do it?’

Hermione gave her a little smile.

'He owes he a favor’

Pansy’s giggling was catching the attention of everyone around them.

'Who’s the Slytherin one now?’

***

'Tell me how amazing I am’

The girl bursted inside his dorm an hour after she’d left to find Draco in the same position.

'You found someone?’ He got up, regretting the decision immediately. 'Ah, shit! Are they outside? Please tell me they’re outside’

'They’ll be here in ten’ Pany sat by his side and poked his cheek 'go on, tell me how amazing I am’

'You’re amazing’ he grunted. When he looked at his friend, though, she wasn’t paying attention, busy with a little pink bag Draco hadn’t noticed she’d brought before. 'What-’

'Oils. For the massage’ she smirked and Draco felt blood going to his cheeks.

'There’s no need for that’

'They have properties. They could help’ she started to take the little flasks with different colors out of the bag and pile them on Draco’s bed.

A light knock on the door told them Pansy’s friends had arrived.

'C'mon in!’

'I just don’t understand why… No. No fucking way.’

'Harry, please, Pansy said-’

'What the actual fuck, Pansy!’ Draco started talking at the same time Hermione tried to stop Harry from leaving the room. 'This is… ah, shit shit- ARGH!’ Draco’s attempt to get up brought back the striking pain on his lower back and he felt his knees failing. The next second he was tumbling to the ground with a loud thud. Tears came uninvited to his eyes and he bit his lips as hard as he could to stop from screaming.

Draco didn’t look up to see who it was that was trying to help him get up. A firm hand went on the underside of his thigh as the other grabbed his shoulder firmly, pushing him to his feet just long enough for him to get to his bed. When he collapsed on his bed, flushed cheeks and tears still streaming down his face, everything he could think about was that maybe his time had come. Die would be better than suffer so much humiliation in front of Saint Potter, who was panting by his side.

Harry stared down at the boy in front of him, Malfoy’s face twisted in an ugly expression. It was like he was trying to sneer at Harry but the pain was too much even for that. Harry sighed and turned to see he was left alone in the room with an incapacitated Malfoy. Well, shit, that was just great. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone? Peace, it was all he was asking for after everything. But, oh no, he had to have asked Hermione for help with his potions homework the week before, and now he owed her this. Harry wouldn’t have denied giving a massage to any of his friends if they’d asked him. He’d helped Hermione, Ginny and even Luna in the past. But Malfoy? Give Malfoy a massage, after everything, almost sounded funny.

Except it wasn’t because Harry had a hero complex and he knew Malfoy wouldn’t ask for such a thing if he wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t even Malfoy who came looking for Hermione, it was Pansy, which meant he probably was in a lot of pain. He couldn’t walk, from what Harry could see.

Small flasks caught his attention, all of them pilled up beside Malfoy.

'What’s this?’ He grabbed one and put it against the light. The liquid inside was thicker than water.

'Oils. Pansy brought them. She said they could help. Not like you need to know this anyway since you won’t use them.’ Malfoy spoke through gritted teeth, facing the wall opposite to where Harry stood. So he was expecting him to leave, that cocky bastard.

'Take off your shirt then’ Harry levitated all the tiny flasks to the ground and picked up one randomly. When he opened it the smell of cinnamon filled the room. Malfoy stared at him like he’d gone insane.

'What do you think you’re doing?’ he asked slowly.

'Well, maybe a massage since that’s what Hermione asked me to do and I can’t have a fucking moment of peace in this castle. And since you seem to be unable to even walk I advise you shut the fuck up and take off your shirt so I can see what’s wrong and finish in time for dinner’ Harry looked up to find Malfoy gaping at him.

'Do you even-’

'Yes, I do know how to do it, you prick. And I’m using this one, so take off your shirt’ Harry signaled to the open flask in his hands as he sat down on the far end of the bed.

He didn’t quite know how the oil would help since he’d never used them when he gave massages before. He liked the smell of it, that was all.

Malfoy struggled to sit down. He undid his tie, opened every button and started to take it off, really slowly trying not to move too much, wincing everytime he did. He folded his shirt and put it on the chair beside the bed. Harry couldn’t help staring at the huge scars on his chest he knew he was responsible for. Guilt settled on his stomach as he tore his gaze away.

'Lay down on your stomach’ Harry got up and sat beside Malfoy’s body as close as he could without brushing their thighs. It was ridiculous, he knew, since he would be touching him quite soon. Malfoy did as he was told and stilled, realising what that meant.

And what it meant was that, like that, he was completely vulnerable. He turned his face to Potter’s side and searched the other boy’s face for any sign of danger but all he could see was a frown as Harry dripped the oil in his fingers. Draco felt his cheeks heat up for some reason he didn’t understand.

'I’m going to start’ Potter’s voice was low when he spoke. Before Draco could say anything Potter’s hands were on his shoulders, placed at the same distance from the centre of his back. They were warmer than Draco’s skin, soft and sticky with oil. His breath got stuck on his throat  when Potter squeezed and, even though his lower back still hurt, Draco felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He exaled, relaxing into the matress.

Harry maintained the rhythm for a while, squeazing and releasing Malfoy’s shoulders, his thumbs pressing small circles on the other’s neck as he did. Harry, then, started to let his hands go lower, maintaining the pressing of his thumbs as he did until he reached the high of Malfoy’s kidneys. He stopped there to smear his hands with more oil.

'Where did the pain start?’ Harry found his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

'Hm… my hips’ Malfoy sounded sleepy when he spoke. He was so relaxed Harry had to hold back a giggle. He must really be great at giving massage if it meant even Malfoy was enjoying it.

He stopped shortly.

'Your hips?’ Shit, he wasn’t expecting that. 'Er… okay. I’ll- I’ll need you to lower you trousers a bit.  

'What?’ Draco opened his eyes, snapping out of his daze. What did Potter just say?

'So I can reach your hips. I can’t do much with them in the way’ he said slowly, almost like he expected Draco to start yelling at him.

'So you want me to take off my pants?’ Draco couldn’s believe what the fuck was going on.

'No! Just- Just open it, okay? I can do the rest…’ Draco stopped for a second. He reached for his buttons, opened them and laid down again. He turned his face the other way since he was pretty sure he was blushing. Shit, Potter better know what he was doing.

Harry exhaled gradually. He most definitely didn’t know what he was doing. Well, he did, but he shouldn         ’t be doing this. He should’ve stopped, told Malfoy to go look for Pomfrey and got out of there.

Instead he placed his hands on Malfoy’s lower back again. He rubbed his thumbs in circles there, with less pressure this time, and started to press lower as he did. He reached his trousers but since the buttons were open it hang loose on Malfoy’s hips. Harry let his thumbs go under the waist and Malfoy froze.

Harry exhaled again. 'This will probably hurt but if it doesn’t work I’ll know what I have to do, okay?’ He pulled his trousers lower until he could see the other’s boxers. They were black, just like his trousers. Harry could see the fine blond hair that covered his lower back was up.

'Just don’t break my bones’ His tone was sarcastic.

Harry had his weigh on one knee which was pressed against the matress, both hands on Malfoy’s hips.

'Inhale’ Harry instructed. 'Hold’ Malfoy did as he was told.

'Exhale’ he pushed all his weight on his hands as quickly as he could. Malfoy screamed and Harry cursed. They were panting, Malfoy still too shocked to say anything.

'It won’t work, not like this’ Harry got off the bed to take off his shoes. When he looked back Malfoy was staring at him with a strange expression on his face, fear mixed with something else. Was it anticipation?

'This will work’ Harry got on the bed again and before malfoy could say anything he passed one of his legs over the blond’s body, straddling him. Harry sat on Malfoys thighs, trapping him so he couldn’t turn around.

'WHAT THE FUCK, POTTER?’ Malfoy tried to free himself but Harry pinned both Draco’s hands above his head in a strong grip.

'I’m telling you this will work! Stop fidgeting and shut up!’

But focusing on Potter’s words was hard since all he could sense was the warmth and pressure on his thighs, so close to his ass. He’d never felt anything like that before, something disturbingly intimate and his whole body was reacting as if it was. He closed his eyes, cursing inside his head as blood rushed into his cock. Fuck fuck fuck, this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be…

'Inhale’ Potter’s words resonated closer to his ear than before. He shivered, inhaling as deep as he could. 'You need to relax’ Potter’s voice came out hoarse, his thumbs still tracing circles on his hips. Draco shuddered but felt his shoulders lose tension again.

'Inhale’, Harry repetead. 'Hold’ And Draco did.

Potter shifted on his thighs and Draco almost forgot what he was supposed to do.

'Exhale’ he did it again, placing all his weight in his hands, his thighs pressing hard against Malfoy’s as he did. A loud crack made Harry smile and Draco scream.

And then Malfoy let out a loud moan and Harry lost his train of thought.

Suddenly all the blood in his brain was going down, making his pants too tight. His ears felt like they were full of water when he heard Malfoy hum against the pillow.

'It worked’ Draco breathed, lifting his hips a bit to check if the pain was still there. The motion caused his ass to rub against something hard.

Draco gasped.

Harry moaned low.

Draco’s hips rose up again, higher, rubbing harder against what he knew was Potter and fuck, he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. And then Potter pressed down, literally pressed against Draco’s ass so he could feel it, the whole length even through the fabric. Potter was hard, really hard and Draco felt his own cock twitching at that.

Draco moaned, the sound ringing in Harry’s ears. He should go, he knew he should, but Malfoy was panting, and lifting that roundy ass for him, to rub against him, and Harry saw his face when he turned his head to the side. His cheeks were flushed and lips parted.

Harry pressed again, leaning forward until his mouth was just above Malfoy’s left ear.

'Do you want me to go?’ He needed to be sure, to be certain he wasn’t imagining all that.

Malfoy gasped, his eyes tightly shut. 'No’ He lifted his arm, grabbing Harry’s thigh and craving his nails on it. Harry bit his earlobe, went for his jaw and started sucking there.

Draco’s cock was throbbing beneath him, so hard he was sure he might faint any second.

The next minute the pressure against his ass was gone making a small cry escape his lips. Fuck fuck, Potter must have come to his senses before he did…

His pants were suddenly yanked down to his knees, his boxers with them. The sudden movement ccreating friction against his cock, now leaking on the matress. Draco was sure he couldn’t blush any harder but it didn’t stop him from moaning when hands grabbed his arse cheeks. How come he didn’t know he could get pleasure from there? Potter’s hands were everywhere, squeezing, pinching, scratching the soft skin.

Harry opened his cheeks, exposing his hole and run his thumb there tentatively.

'Ah- ha fuck…’ Draco buried his face in the pillow again. This wasn’t right, this was so fucking wrong, what was he doing moaning for…

'I wanna eat you up’ Harry didn’t mean to let the words escape his lips. His gaze was fixed on Malfoy’s pink hole and when it contracted under his thumb the thought of licking there, fucking him with his tongue, assaulted his mind immediately. Malfoy shivered under him.

'Wh-What are you saying?’ the tips of his ears were even redder from where Harry could see them.

Harry got off of Malfoy’s thighs and pushed them apart. He grabbed Malfoy’s hips again, pulling his ass up a bit. He could see the blond’s cock was hard and swollen, rubbing against the matress. Harry got on his elbows, squeezed Draco’s arse again and bit the already marked skin.

Draco gasped, his head jerking to the side so he could get a glimpse of Potter between his legs. Potter was sucking him at the spot he’d bitten before, his hands massaging the place where his thighs met his ass. He run his fingers there, grabbed his arse cheeks and pulled them apart. Draco drew a sharp breath.

He could hear Harry fidgeting with his own pants followed by the sound of clothes hitting the ground. Draco waved his hand towards the door, a click signalling it was now locked. He couldn’t even begin to think what would happen if anyone decided to come in.

Draco felt something wet, warm and firm press against his hole.

'Fuck fuck, you can’t- ah… ahhhh P-Potter this is…’ he gave a choking moan when Harry began to lick him relentlessly, his own moans reverberating in Draco’s skin.

Harry licked, savoured until his tongue got past the tight ring, and then he was fucking Draco, fucking him with wet and hot thrusts of his tongue. Draco kept pushing  back, gasping as he did, completely out of control.

Harry had never done that before but the sencond he laid eyes on Draco’s ass, naked before him all he could thing about was opening him, filing him up to get all those delicious sounds out of him.

Draco moaned, and moaned, louder each time. The words that came out of his mouth were incoherent, interrupted by sharp intakes of air.

'Yes… This- fuck Potter… I-deep-deeper’

Deeper, he wanted it deeper. Harry grasped the tiny flask he’d left on the ground and smeared his fingers with the oil again. He retreated his tongue earning a whimper from Malfoy that turned into a sob the second Harry’s middle finger replaced his tongue, getting in smoothly. Draco gasped, shivering uncontrollably and Harry just stayed there, mouth hanging open at the view. His finger disappeared and reappeared, Malfoy sucking him in while rutting against the matress. Harry curled his finger experimentally getting Malfoy to jolt and scream, throwing his head back. Harry caressed his thigh marked with purple bruises, another finger going inside his hole. The blond hissed but didn’t tell Harry to stop so he thrusted them to the base.

Draco’s brain was shutting down. The lewd sounds filling the room paired with the smell of cinnamon overstimulating his whole body. He wanted more heat, more pressure, more skin against his but the words kept getting lost in his throat everytime he tried to voice his needs. And Potter, fuck, he knew what to do with his hands, with his mouth. That fucking tongue worked like magic inside him. Potter was moving his fingers inside him in a way Draco didn’t even know was possible, scissoring them, thrusting them to the base.

The fingers were suddenly gone. Draco inhalled sharply but before he could complain Potter grabbed his shoulders and turned him around. He laid there on his back, legs spread open, cock dripping with pre come. And Harry stared him down, took in every inch of his light skin shamelessly. Draco felt exposed even though they were both naked. His hole twitched, stretched and leaking all the oil Potter had rubbed inside him and Potter stared. He fucking stared, jerking himself as he did.

Draco grabbed his own cock and began to do the same. It was unfair, having to do it all by himself after all Potter did, that bastard. The gesture caught the Golden Boys’s attention, though, and Draco smirked.

'i want,’ Harry bent down, their chests flushed against each other, his mouth whispering in Draco’s lips. 'I want to put it in you’ he sucked Draco’s lower lip. Holy fuck, he was on the edge already. Potter moved his lips to Draco’s ear and shifted, the head of his cock now poking Draco’s entrance. Draco felt it tingle as Potter cast a protective spell. 'I want to fill you up’ he whispered against his ear.

'Fuck, fuck…’

'Has anyone ever done that?’ he nuzzled Draco’s temple, his glans rubbing against his hole. 'I’m going to take you’ Harry hold his cock steadily as he pushed an inch, stretching Malfoy for him. The blond was panting on his cheek, small sobs inbetween gasps for air.

Harry’s ability to dirty talk, even as his own mind wasn’t working properly was something he didn’t know he could do. He was blushing, panting, but the possessivness he felt made him talk. Malfoy was his, all his, he just never thought that that anger, the rush of adrenaline he felt every time they were close could be hiding something else. He always thought Malfoy was his to take down, to fight against. But he also was his to consume, to bury himself into.

Harry thrust slowly, taking in the tightness, the heat engulfing him. Malfoy was fisting his cock under him, eyes tightly shut and mouth hanging open. Harry stopped Malfoy’s hand with his own and, with a tight grip, trapped them both above his head. Malfoy opened his eyes, his grey irisis thin rings around blown pupils.

'Touch my cock’ he whispered against Harry’s lips, more a command than a pleading. Harry smashed their mouths together instead, refusing to let go of his grip. Draco shivered under him, opened his mouth, let Potter invade his mouth with that tongue. Fuck, that tongue that’d fucked him just minutes ago. And Harry kissed him, his cock deep buried to the hilt inside him. He was full, so fucking full he felt his whole body collapse when Potter started to pull back.

He thrust again, the friction, the pressure, sending shocks of pleasure to Draco’s cock, up his spine, everywhere. Through half opened eyes Draco saw Harry gazing at him, his glasses gone, his lips red, parted as puffs of air escaped them. Harry thrust hard when he realized Draco was staring back. His complex changed immediately.

'I-yes fuck ahh-ah…’ Draco’s whole body was trembling, his ass thrusting back against Harry’s cock, trying to get him to go deeper.

Harry released Draco’s hands, grabbed his thighs instead and lifted them, shoving in until his fingers were numb from the tight grip. He’d leave marks there, crimson lines, and the thought made him moan. Harry bent down again, his mouth reaching Draco’s neck. He sucked him there while he fucked hard and fast. Draco fisted his cock with one hand while the other scratched Harry’s back repeatedly.

His moans were louder now, loud enough Harry was sure people could hear them from outside the dorm. Draco didn’t seem to care, or even realize he was making those sounds.

The next moment Draco was contracting around him, trembling violently and coming on their stomachs. The pressure was enough to send Harry over the edge, his thrusts erratic as he came deep inside Draco.

Draco moaned again when he felt something hot filling him up, Harry’s last thrusts too much to handle.

Harry flopped beside him, his limbs drained of strengh.

'Merlin’ he whispered to himself.

'Yeah’

'That was…’

'Yeah’

They didn’t speak for the next couple of minutes. When Harry got up to leave, though, Draco reached for his arm.

'You could… we- uh… we could…’

Harry kissed him softly, almost clumsily before speaking 'Yeah, I- I’d like that’

***

Draco sat down that evening with Pansy and Blaise at their common room to warm themselves in front of the fire. He couldn’t help wincing a bit when he did.

'What’s wrong? I thought Potter had fixed you back’

Draco felt his face flushing immediately.

'He did! I just…’

'I’m sure he did. Just remember to go somewhere else with thicker walls next time you call him to fix your back’ Blaise didn’t even care to lift his eyes from the book he had in hands.

His cheeks were in flames and the expression on Pansy’s face wasn’t helping.

‘You owe me two favours now!’ She smirked, leaning against the couch like she’d won a bet.

‘What- Why two?’ Draco shifted and winced again at the new burning ache.

‘Because,’ She stuck up a finger like she needed to count all the favours Draco owned her. ‘I found someone to fix your back’ She lifted another finger. ‘And,’

Right that second Potter walked through the portrait followed by Granger and Weasley. He spotted Draco immediately and, well wasn’t that great, strode towards him, leaving Weasley with a confused look and Granger with a knowing one. He glanced at Pancy and saw her waving at the Gryffindor girl. Fucking amazing.

‘Hey,’ Potter stood awkwardly there before sitting on the arm of Draco’s chair. Draco knew his cheeks were already flushed but when Potter bent down and whispered in his ear he was sure he probably looked like a tomatoe. ‘Fancy a game of Wizard’s chess later?’

Pansy was shaking trying to keep herself from bursting out laughing.

‘Your dorm?’ Draco found himself playing with the hem of Potter’s hoody. The bastard blushed at Draco’s words, but nodded with a smile on his face.

He’d barely turned his back when Draco heard Pansy’s voice loud and clear.

‘And, I got you a cute boyfriend. Two favours!’

***

Ao3 

anonymous asked:

Yo could you share some of your headcanons for the deh kiddos :O ?! I'm really curious!!

*cracks knuckles* HEADCANONS UNDER THE CUT (these are generally feel-good and going off of a Connor Lived And Everything Gets Better AU set of ten [+ one extra] headcanons for the kids where they’re all friends)

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Call me terrible, but aces who like and seek out sex make me, a sex repulsed ace, feel invalid. They are almost no different from anyone else, yet they ace like they're so ace. How can their asexuality be so important if it hides under how they're "normal"? Why are we so protective of these aces when they're at best almost allos(I don't mean to insult allos in any way), or at worst exclusionists? It just appalls me how we act like they're hated when really, they're treated so normally.

I really debated just deleting this and blocking the sender because it is so utterly antithetical to everything this blog stands for, but I think it needs to be addressed, because attitudes like this are a warning sign to me that history may be poised to repeat itself, and that will happen over my dead body.

I’ve been around a long time. Like, before tumblr, before AVEN, before aces had anything like the community we have today, before we even had a consistent word for ourselves. That means I remember some of the early politics that Kids These Days weren’t around for, have no way of really knowing–including the downright ugly fights that dominated the mailing list days about how to define asexuality. There was a contingent of people, you see, that held that the only way to be Truly Asexual was to completely lack any sort of libido, and to abstain from sex entirely. These people were. Not nice people. They were the exclusionists of their time, and I mean that very seriously. Nearly every hateful, cruel, and self-spiting tactic you see in REGs on tumblr today was also levied by nonlibidoists and antisexuals at the time. They were absolutely vicious toward not only anybody within ace circles who wanted a broader definition of asexuality [the one we use today, eventually] but also toward non-aces or anyone who wasn’t celibate by choice, which resulted, among other things, in exactly the sort of homophobia and sex shaming that REGs accuse us of to this day.

We, as a community, fought tooth and nail against defining ourselves in this way, and against both the ugly infighting it produced and the abhorrent behaviour it encouraged. We have been fighting tooth and nail ever since to move past that stain on our history, to define ourselves in a way that is safe and welcoming to all aces, and to ensure that we conduct ourselves in a way that aligns with the ethics of the communities we ally ourselves with, and to what we have decided is the ethical core of our own community. It sickens me to the core to be hearing views like this espoused again from inside our community. I will not stand for it. We will not stand for it. We didn’t then, and we won’t now. 

There is no right way to be asexual. There is no wrong way to be asexual. There is nothing at all wrong with aces who have, want, or seek out sex. There is nothing wrong with aces who are so repulsed by sex that they can’t even think about it. There is nothing wrong with aces who have no feelings about sex whatsoever. There is nothing wrong with aces who never have or will feel attraction. There is nothing wrong with aces who do occasionally feel attraction but still feel that ace identities best represent their experiences or that the ace community best addresses their needs. Asexuality is not behaviour. Asexuality cannot be hidden under behaviour, or opted out of through behaviour, and if some people feel like they need to try to do that, that is a reflection of an aphobic society pressuring people into closeting or otherwise denying themselves in an attempt to escape that oppression, not proof that they’re “normal” [also, feel free to never juxtapose “ace” and “normal” again, that’s gross].

And, finally, this frankly drips of exactly the kind of sex-shaming we’re so often accused of, no matter how hard you try to hide it behind “no insult to allos.” It’s gross. Don’t do it. 

This is one of the most unsavoury asks I have seen in my time on this blog. Everything about this sentiment is unwelcome on this blog; keep it out of our inbox and keep it out of our community. Our gates are open. Our arms are open. Every ace is welcome, every ace is valid, every ace experience is a genuine ace experience, one worthy of consideration, protection, and acknowledgement. We have worked hard to build this community into what it is today. The gatekeepers of the past removed themselves from the rest of us and faded into oblivion and that is where I want their sentiments to stay.

I’m not going to call you terrible, because I stand for a community where every ace is welcome and finds the resources they need to navigate their life and identity. But that cannot, will not, come at the expense of others.

-Dew

season 3 of skam was the most authentic, well-written piece of media i’ve seen probably ever. experiencing it in real time was like reading your favourite book, one you didn’t want to put down the first time you read; one you’ve re-read countless times and dog-eared, highlited, and scribbled in so much it’s almost intelligible. 

season 3 taught me what it was like to see myself in someone else’s eyes through mainstream television. being gay is one of the hardest struggles i’ve ever faced, doubled with the burden of being trans. whilst season 3 doesn’t necessarily touch basis on the aforementioned, it sheds light on the lgbtq+ community as a whole, something we can all take from, straight or queer.

being pansexual and seeing straight cis boys discussing my sexuality like it’s not some made up, tumblr bullshit thing is so rewarding. hearing about bipolar disorder and how ugly it can be, how love doesn’t save you but the promise of a future certainly will is so rewarding. how depression isn’t fun or pretty and often leaves a sour taste in your mouth, something your lover will never rescue you from is so rewarding. seeing that, so raw and tender laid out in front of me, is something i’ll never forget, near into the future. mania is scary. mania is awful and ugly and pulses through your veins and bruises your skin. mania is manageable, though, and i never thought i’d see such split open love for queer, mentally ill people.

season 3 of skam was a ride. one that made my stomach sink and my heart twist and bend. one i didn’t want to get off of. the acting was the most phenomenal display of tangible emotion, and i quickly got addicted and sucked into it. 

isak valtersen is one of the most developed characters i’ve had the pleasure of seeing. he’s flawed and ripped at the edges, but he’s also kind and caring and loyal. watching him go from a snotty, slightly misogynistic 15 year old boy blinded by love for his best friend to an out 17 year old living with his boyfriend and tackling the future for himself, his partner, and his friends was a wonderful experience.

gullruten or not, tarjei sandvik moe and his character isak valtersen are everything in my eyes.

i need me some jealous kara in my life, so of course i did what any person would’ve done and came with a bunch of headcanons to satisfy my own needs because that’s what self care is all about.

  • it all starts one afternoon, they’re downtown in one of lena’s favorite restaurants and kara’s talking excitedly about the new article she’s writing when lena’s phone goes off. usually when they’re together lena ignores it, she always says it’s business associates and insists they can wait but this time lena sees the name on the screen and smiles widely, “oh it’ll be just a minute kara, sorry” kara nods, motions her to go ahead and tries to focus on her pasta until she hears lena giggling “i can’t wait to see you! it’s been, what? six years?” something inside kara twitches. who is she talking to? most importantly who is making her smile like that?! that’s usually her thing. lena keeps talking to whoever is at the other end of the line as if she’s not there, beaming, chuckling… kara’s always believed herself to be someone non violent (for most the time) but she’s now wishing she could grab lena’s phone, throw it to the ground and break it.
  • turns out, lena says to her when they’re on the car ride back to l–corp, that one of her dearest friends from boarding school is planning a visit to national city and called her to see if they could get together, “her name is molly, we were together on science club and we hit it off right away,” kara knows it’s irrational to feel so… heated at the thought of lena hanging out with someone else because damn, she’s her own person and she’s allowed to have as many friends as she’d like but… it makes her extremely uncomfortable to think about lena laughing with someone that is not her. “i have to admit i had a little bit of a crush on her when we were younger,” and kara doesn’t know molly, has never seen her and certainly has no interest in doing it so but she already hates her.
  • “and then she said,” it’s game night, james and winn have paused mortal kombat to listen to her angry rant and alex is staring at her with wide eyes, beer in hand. “oh i used to have a crush on her, as if it’s the most trivial thing on the universe, did you know she was supposed to come tonight? i promised i would let her win at mario kart, but no! molly’s plane lands today and she called to say—i’m so sorry kara, i can’t make it, i’m gonna go pick her up, maybe some other time? can’t molly call herself an uber? does she really need to have lena’s attention all to herself? gosh it makes me so upset someone would be so selfish.” winn opens and closes his mouth a few times, not sure if he should say anything about the whole situation, james and alex are looking at each other, silently deciding on who should be the first to talk until finally alex breaks the silence. “kara… you don’t even know this molly person, didn’t you also say her and lena hand’t seen each other for years? it’s normal that they want to spend time with each other, catch up with what’s been going on in their lives.” kara crosses her arms over her chest and angrily stares out the window, she wants to bury her face on ice cream because though she knows alex is right she still wants to deck molly in the face.
  • lena is never late, if anything she’s always early to arrive to their lunch dates, but for the first time in months, lena luthor is fifteen minutes late and kara’s getting impatient, maybe she got caught up on work and didn’t see the hour, maybe she had to sign some contracts before leaving, maybe… maybe… she tries and call her twice but she doesn’t answer and that’s when kara gets worried, what if something happened to her? what if while she was on her way someone stopped her and hurt her? she’s tempted to alert the deo, tell them to search for lena’s location when she enters the restaurant a little breathless and with her hair disheveled. “kara i am sorry!” she sits down across from her and takes out her coat, “molly came over to my office and we started to talk, i didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” kara’s face goes dark. it’s wednesday, this is supposed to be their day, their afternoon, their time to be with one another without people interrupting and of course molly had to come and ruin it. “did you know molly has a motorbike? she dropped me off!” oh amazing, molly owes a motorbike, so does half the population of national city, she’s nothing especial. kara doesn’t feel like eating anymore and ends up leaving early. 
  • she’s punching one of the walls at the deo repeatedly, each punch harsher than the last. her knuckles feel on fire but it’s working wonders to get her mind off lena and her new best friend molly whom today decided to invite her to the beach. “what is wrong with her?” winn whispers to alex almost scared of kara’s sudden display of anger, alex shrugs and tell him she has no idea since kara refuses to talk with anyone about it. “she’s jealous,” j’onn says without looking up from the file he’s holding and both of them open their mouths in surprise. “psychic, remember?” 
  • “have i done something to upset you?” lena asks with her cheeks red in embarrassement and her voice breaking, “you’ve been avoiding me for weeks, yesterday you cancelled our lunch date because you said you had a lot of stuff to do but then you uploaded a picture on instagram with james in your pajamas eating popcorn. look kara, i know we all need our space sometimes but i’d rather hear the truth than finding out via social media that you’re lying to me.” she sounds so hurt and she’s almost on the verge of tears, kara feels awful she didn’t mean to make her feel bad, she was just tired of hearing her talk about molly and how amazing she was every single time they got together. “you want the truth?” lena nods eagerly and kara tries, she does, to keep her composure when she catches the necklace lena’s wearing… gold with rose pendant. “that is pretty,” she points to it and lena grabs it between her hands, “thank you! molly gave it to me yesterday.” kara feels her fist tighten. 
  • “well the truth is that molly is annoying,” she says standing up from her place and lena’s eyes widen. “yes, she’s annoying and she’s keeping you all to herself. it’s almost as she’s holding you captive! she’s taking you to the beach and to that art gallery i was going to take you, you are eating potstickers with her, lena, that’s our thing!” there’s no going back now… “and she’s… she’ probably ugly too—oh she has a motorcycle, how original! you know what lena, i can fly! i could fly you from here to paris in less than an hour, i bet molly can’t do that. you know what else i can do? lift you up, with one finger probably, can molly lift you up? no i don’t think she can. does she let you win at mario kart?! she doesn’t, huh, does she even know how to play mario kart, does she?!” 
  • lena looks at her in disbelief before she bursts out laughing and kara lets out a groan, “it’s not funny lena! i am much more interesting that molly will ever be and i’m—mphm!” lena’s kissing her, her cold hands are tangling themselves in her hair and she’s pulling her impossibly close and kara feels like she’s floating. for the first three seconds she doesn’t respond, but as soon as lena slips a warm tongue into her mouth her body reacts and she’s grabbing her everywhere. her face, her neck, her waist, her ass, lena gasps and they break apart. “sorry, i didn’t mean to… i just wanted to… you see this wasn’t what i had planned,” kara looks to the ground but it’s not for long because lena is grabbing her chin, making her look into her eyes and she melts. 
  • “love… i can’t believe you were jealous of molly.” kara clicks her tongue almost offended, she was not jealous of molly, she’s about to say it, to assure lena she doesn’t feel such childish emotion when lena gives her a small peck on the lips and her train of thought is stopped. “she’s married… and has two kids!” kara wants to hide under lena’s desk for the rest of the evening.
LGBT+ Alliance 101

So you’re a straight cisgendered person and you consider yourself an ally to the LGBT+ community. But are you, really?? Well, if you commit any of the following cardinal sins, then I would say that’s a definite “NO.” Some of these sins, if you commit them, actually make you an asshole. But you don’t wanna be seen in that light by LGBT+ folk, right?? Well, I’m gonna outline to you some very simple instructions to help clean up your act.

1. Don’t go around telling your gay friend’s sexuality/gender to everyone you know.

I already discussed this earlier. It isn’t your place to be releasing that type of information, even if they told you themselves. And there’s always the off chance that you could be telling someone who’s VERY homophobic. Just let them come out on their own terms.

2. Don’t make LGBT+ people the butt of your jokes.

We already have a tough time in this society with all the hate and violence we receive. Last thing we need is someone making fun of us. And an “ally” joining in (or initiating the joke) is adding insult to injury. And majority of the jokes made by straight people promote harmful and false stereotypes about us. If you’re serious about helping us, don’t be that person. Just don’t.

3. DON’T! LECTURE! US! On how to respond to oppression!!!

We know FULL WELL what we go through and what society thinks of us. If anything, we clearly have a better idea of how we want society to accept us than straight people. So don’t tell us how to act or respond in the face of hate. You are an outsider to the community, and this isn’t something you gotta deal with every day.

4. Don’t fetishize us.

We are normal people just like you. We are not anyone’s circus or zoo, and we DAMN SURE ain’t here to be anyone’s kink. Fetishizing mlm, wlw, or trans people isn’t “being an ally.”  It’s gross. It’s dehumanizing. It’s turning normal people into sex objects. Looking right at you, Yaoi and Yuri shippers.

5. Don’t stereotype us.

We aren’t here to serve the “Gay Best Friend” archetype. All we want is to be treated like normal people.

6. RESPECT TRANS/NON-BINARY PEOPLE’S IDENTITY!

Don’t be the asshole that keeps mis-gendering them on purpose based on what YOU think they are. If they say they are different gender than what was assigned to them, then THAT’S WHAT THEY ARE. Respect it!

7. Don’t make jokes about how a Trans person looks better than you, a cis person.

Y’know, the one where you go “Wow, you look so hot for a trans person, and I’m cis and I look ugly lol.” By saying that, you’re implying that all trans people are supposed to be uglier than cis people. Your statement is actually a veiled transphobic insult. A simple “You’re beautiful” will suffice.

8. DON’T ask a trans person what genitalia they have.

Regardless of if they fully transitioned or not, it’s none of your business.

9. Don’t ask gay people about their sex lives.

Don’t go up to a gay person and ask them “Are you a top or a bottom?”, “Who’s the man and the woman in the relationship?”, or “What’s gay sex like?” Our sex lives are none of your business. We are under no obligation to tell you intimate stuff like that.

10. Don’t sit there idly while we are under attack.

If you see a queer person getting harassed, either verbally or physically, DON’T JUST STAND THERE. DO SOMETHING!!!! SAVE THEM! The situation is only gonna get worse. Silence perpetuates violence.

So yeah, those are the Ten Commandments of being an Ally. But one could also sum up these Commandments as simply this: JUST DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE.

Imagine

Here’s my meta about the last clip of episode 5.

  • Our intro shot of the karaoke bar introduces our players. I’m especially interested in how we see Mari and Sara twice each (and sharing one shot).
  • May I just say: I am glad my son Eskild is alive and Extra.
  • We have Chris talking to Sara (we don’t see Sara’s face but it’s her jumper) 👀
  • In general we have a big focus on couples (including Evak) and russebussen people. Showing, again, this season’s themes (love and identities/belongings).
  • We have some Chris and Eva talking about wiring money, which seems like foreshadowing to the russebuss contract and payment.
  • Even is about to sing and no one ships Evak more than Magnus.
  • @newlevelofdesperate​ wrote a great meta about Even singing “Imagine” by John Lennon. I agree with most of it.
    I’ll just add that the song is ironic, just like “I’m Not In Love” in s3e5. “Imagine all the people living life in peace.” Sana is feeling the song at the moment. She feels that everything came together, finally. But it’s not true. She wished she could create world peace (if you gave her the power to do so she would, she really would). But she can’t. Some things are beyond her reach and she still hasn’t managed to reconcile her two identities (Norwegian & Muslim).
    Also, I think the song is as much an Even song as a Sana one. Once again.
  • We barely see Mikael walk in, and Elias and the gang look around. Yousef seems to be looking in the crowd for Sana. 
  • No shot of the squad until we get a shot of Even seeing them. Then Magnus and Jonas turn to see where Even is looking (not Isak or Mahdi) and we get another shot of balloon squad: no Mikael. Adam and Mutta seem unconcerned. Elias though sees Even and is not smiling (but he’s not looking mad either).
    He grabs Yousef who was smiling towards Sana and…the smile falters.

[this is getting long so I’m adding a “read more”]

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some ladynoir stuff
  • chat noir will drape himself over ladybug’s lap during the downtime on their nightly patrols and moan about how awful plagg is just for some head scratches from ladybug (let’s be honest, plagg taught the kitty well; complain and receive cheese/ladybug)
  • they once spent an afternoon atop the notre dame after an akuma attack critiquing civilian’s fashion choices. both learned that their partner has excellent taste in fashion.
    • ladybug: “oh my god is that a man bun? those things should be burned.”
    • chat noir: “who the hell wears crocs anymore? they look like shit, and they make your feel smell. god, shoes have three deciding factors: quality, price, and style. crocs have the rare combination of being expensive, poor quality, and being ugly. it’s quite a feat for one shoe to suck this much. i will judge anyone who wears crocs.”
  • ladybug uses chat noir as a mannequin to measure some of her designs during their downtime. 
  • there are frequent arguments over akuma names because some are too stupid to say aloud. ladybug believes in creativity and free will and vows to let the akumas keep the names they declare themselves with. chat noir files petitions to change many of them because he absolutely refuses to admit he nearly got beat by a Mr. Pigeon.
  • if ladybug and chat noir are literally anywhere together outside in public without an akuma, someone’ll always ask, “are you two together? are you on a date?”. chat has to hold ladybug back from clobbering them.
  • during their stakeouts, chat noir sings “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” and has gotten to 1 before, even though it usually ends up with him getting pitched off a roof.
  • one early morning, there was an akuma battle, and chat noir learned that ladybug has bad bed head. he makes sure to keep a comb in his pocket now at all times for whenever there’s an early battle, and ladybug doesn’t have time to fix her hair before going to school. she doesn’t say it, but she’s really thankful. (also really jealous because tikki, pockets, give me pockets, god fucking damn it)
  •  one time there was a mermaid akuma in the seine and chat noir fell in the water and revealed he couldn’t swim. ladybug saved him and made him take swimming lessons. nothing beats coming to sunday morning swimming lessons and finding one of paris’s famous superheros with floaties and a kick board.
    • you can bet your ass that ladybug constantly makes “a cat to water” jokes every second she can.
  • ladybug keeps a tally of how many puns chat noir makes. his gets to 162 in one night before she sets a limit of 10 puns per day. he breaks it all the time and has to wear the Collar of Shame™ for the rest of the day, which is black collar with a huge pink bow. (ladybug thinks he secretly likes it).
  • chat noir actually hates ladybug’s puns and buys her the “Punning for Dummies” book for Christmas.
    • she gets him “31 Ways Not To Be A Douchebag”.
  •  ladybug doesn’t actually know how to use a real yo-yo. chat noir laughs for two weeks.
  •  ladybug and chat noir regularly attend movies as themselves because no one really knows why the superheroes are going to the movies, but it probably means there’s an akuma or something equally bad so let’s just not go. it just means they get the best seats every time.
  • sometimes when they’re really tired and stressed out, and ladybug is being bossy and chat noir is fed up with hearing it, he’ll say, “okay, deborah” which causes her to pitch him off the eiffel tower.
  • chat noir can never get into a hammock. he always flips over every time he tries to get on one.
  • one time ladybug flubbed a back handspring, and the news stations got it live. chat noir plays it on repeat for a week.
playing with fire (m.) | 01

After an ugly breakup between you and your boyfriend of nearly one year, Jimin – you’re not only heartbroken, but absolutely irate at the things discovered after the two of you split up. One night while under the influence of pure unadulterated anger and alcohol, you and your best friend come up with the perfect plan to get back at him. Because, after all, you do know what they say, right?

If he breaks your heart, you fuck his best friend.

…Even if he has six.

cr.

pairing: hoseok x reader

word count: 4.2k

collaboration with: @blushoseoks

genre: smut  |  angst  |  fuckboy!hoseok

warning: wall sex  |  oral  |  dirty talk  |  demeaning names  |  cheating

masterlist | emna’s masterlist




The gentle click of heels against the linoleum floor - almost drowned out by the muffled music coming from the end of the corridor. A cracked door, the only light source in a space that had no windows. When Jeongyeon had told you that Hoseok would be practicing late, you almost didn’t believe her. You and he had never been close. The only time you ever spoke was when Jimin would bring you over to the frat house and most of the time Hoseok would be making out with his girlfriend or fucking her loud enough that when she would leave his room - dazed with messy lipstick and a bubbly expression on her face, the boys would tease her nonstop until a blush rose on her cheeks.


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