#anyway respect fat women

[sisterjaniswilde]

I am dead fucking serious when I say I wish I saw more fat women in public. I want to see fat models. I want to see fat women in department stores getting absolutely HYPE when they find racks and racks of clothing in their size and sizes up, so they too can get the "oversized, baggy fit" like women who fit into smalls and mediums. I want to see fat women wearing crop tops proudly and rocking mad midriff. I want to see fat women trying on clothing for their friends and family and saying "look! it compliments my body shape! it's like it was made for me!" I want to see fat women with "cankles" wearing pretty jingling anklets skipping and jumping just to show them off. I want to see fat women on TV, in magazines, on billboards, in all manner of ads, and in online shop images because I want to see my fucking self and all the women I know who don't see enough of themselves. I want to see fat women living, loving, and being visibly proud of who they are because they are beautiful, WE are beautiful. I want to see fat women because fat women need to see other fat women.

[beaft]

today i went through my wardrobe in my childhood room and got rid of a bunch of clothes that i haven't worn for years. i used to dress very manic-pixie-dream-girl: lots of pastels and polka dots, glitter and sequins and ribbons and ruffles, babydoll dresses, rainbow knee socks, candy bracelets, trainers that lit up and flashed when i walked.

i got a little sad while i was bundling it all into boxes - i guess because a part of me still loves those clothes, even though they don't feel like me anymore. transition has been good for me and hard for me in equal measure, because it's forced me to examine who i am beyond my appearance. as a teenager, i was very wedded to the idea of being small and cute and elfin and non-threatening, and i got a lot of euphoria whenever people viewed or described me that way.

but was it a healthy sort of euphoria? some of it was connected to poor body image - i was terrified of being fat, terrified of looking ugly. i don't know if it's good to tie your identity and your happiness to something as ephemeral as prettiness. sometimes the things that make you happy aren't necessarily the things that are best for you. being told that i looked "fragile" made me happy once, but that doesn't mean it was good for me to hear.

when it comes down to it, i think my ultimate goal is to be myself, utterly myself, and for my sense of self-worth to be divorced from other people's opinions. i want to abandon my desire for the approval of strangers. it's the difference between an uncomfortable, itchy designer outfit that you only wear because it gets you compliments, and a boring, comfortable sweatshirt that smells like home.

[rinmemesuoka]

is dunmeshi fandom done with the Fat Bitches "joke" yet

[love-killed-the-superstar]

i need more of jiro in tlr2 because i think it would be good for uno to have a role model to show him how uncool it is to constantly pick on your brother

[specialagentartemis]

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

[fandom-puff]

Fulfilling Duty

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Reader

Warnings: smut, pinv sex, fingering, reference to pregnancy and childbirth, brief reference to death during childbirth, reference to prostitution, implied arranged marriage, breeding kink, body image issues, implied innocence kink, older man/younger woman.

Italics indicate flashback

Gif creds to owner

After nine long months of pregnancy and two gruelling days of labour, Tywin Lannister finally had the son he craved. Little Darrick was perfect in every way. At almost four months, he guzzled his milk the way King Robert his guzzled his wine; he roared like a lion when something was amiss, fat angry tears pouring down his reddened little face until his mother or father consoled him; his hair thickened and lightened every day, though he showed no trace of Lannister emerald eyes (much you your elation; he already looked so much like Tywin so it was nice to see a shred of yourself in your son’s face).

The birth of your son only strengthened Tywin’s… affection towards you. It was not love- not yet at least- but his respect and fondness certainly grew. During the home stretch of your labour he had barged into the birthing room after overhearing an outspoken courtier’s gossip.

Your labour had dragged on and almost two whole days had passed since you first started having pains. While you had started in relatively high spirits, as progress began to falter almost to a halt and ‘one more push’ became an empty promise, your resolve almost completely shattered.

What had started as determined groans and howls of pain turned into whimpers, and then sobs as you begged the maester to just, please, get it out of you.

It seemed Tywin hadn’t unclenched his jaw for days, and while he wanted to remain just a room away in his office should he be called into the room, the Seven Kingdoms would not stop for any infant, not even the son of the Hand.

He had been walking back from an audience with disgruntled artisans from the city when he overheard some courtiers.

“… glad she’s shut up with the screaming, could hardly sleep a wink last night…”

“… should just cut her open, drag the babe out and have done with it… wouldn’t be the first Lannister woman to die in childbed…”

“… he’ll want another off her, just in case… especially if she gives him a girl…”

Tywin’s nostrils flared with rage, and while he would have so dearly loved to confront the gossiping courtiers, he marched to the tower of the hand, entering your chamber to the shock of your midwives and maester.

“Milord! Women’s work is still happening! The baby ain’t here yet,” scolded Jeyne. She was the eldest of the flock midwives attending you and the most experienced too, and had been crucial in supporting you.

Tywin held up his hand, and jeyne pursed her lips, knowing she could not argue. “Fine. But you’re not to interfere down here, milord. We’re nearly there,”

“You said that- ah- last night,” you said weakly, your voice shaky. Tywin sighed softly and knelt at your side, pushing your hair away from your face. It was a surprisingly tender gesture, one that he had done when you consummated your marriage. “‘M sorry, m-my lord,” you whispered, unable to stop the tears from slipping down your already damp cheeks.

“You needn’t be,” he said lowly, speaking so only you could hear. “You are doing well, just a little longer,”

Although the midwives and maester had repeated the same words over and over again over the last day, Tywin’s firm, authoritative voice reassured you, renewing your determination.

Tywin’s eyes flicked sideways to you. It was the first public event you had attended since giving birth, and he had kept a close eye on you all day. He’d even insisted on your retiring to bed for several hours in between the joust and the feast (“fine, I’ll rest. But only because I didn’t want to watch the archery anyway,”).

If you were tired, it did not show. You looked radiant, smiling serenely as you clapped for the dancing. You had changed into a gown of soft pink brocade, and while he always preferred to have you on his arm in matching Lannister red, he had to admit that the muted pink suited you beautifully, and provided a fresh and youthful contrast to his daughter’s sour, almost vulgar even by his standards, display of power.

“If you continue to glance at me so, you will miss the dancing, husband,” you said out of the corner of your mouth, bemused at the almost uncharacteristic attentiveness of the Old Lion.

“Then I shall miss the dancing,” he said lowly, though he kept his eyes dutifully on the entertainments. “Are you sure you will not sit?”

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him fully. “No,” you said with exasperation. “I am well rested, I promise you, My Lord,” your lips quirked into a smirk. “I may even join in with the dancing,” you added.

Tywins jaw clenched as he looked down at his mischievous young wife. Your pregnancy and subsequent birthing of a viable heir for him had consolidated your power in court- and your worth in the marriage. “Then you shall dance only with me,” he said. “I will not have you jostled so,”

And so the Lord Paramount of the West took his wife by the hand and led her to the dance floor, lest she be manhandled by less careful members of court.

Grinning, you held onto his hand, beginning the steps that you had known since childhood. “I so love it when you give in to my whims, Lord Lannister,” you murmured, laughing lightly at his grumble of agreement. He supposed he owed you a fair bit, now that you had given him his heir.

“You are as stubborn as a mule when you want to be, wife,” he muttered, pulling you closer to his body by the waist as a drunken jester weaved through the crowd, his motley cap jingling. But despite his complaints, Tywin permitted you two more dances, before you retreated from the crowd- the bawdy songs had began, and he would not have his wife passed about like the maidens in the songs.

Instead of sitting back down, Tywin took you before the king, bowing and excusing the two of you. “We must retire for the night, your Grace. Lady Lannister is very tired,” he said shortly, bowing once more as the king waved you away.

You followed him, your face indignant, but you did not dare question him until you were out of earshot of any high lords. “I most certainly am not tired, My Lord,” you said, running a little to keep up with his long strides. “I do not need to be bundled off to bed like a child- again,”

Tywin ignored your complaints, only speaking once you arrived at the entrance to the Tower- and even then he only spoke to the guard at the door. “No one is to enter this tower until tomorrow,” he said lowly, before all but frog-marching you through the door and up the winding stairs.

“My lord?” You asked cautiously when you arrived at his chambers. “Have I displeased you?”

Tywin turned around to face you. “No, wife,” he murmured, stepping closer to you so that you had to look up at him. “You have not displeased me… exasperated, perhaps, but not displeased,” you smiled slightly, opening your mouth to speak, but Tywin cupped your head with both of his hands, his thumbs stroking your jaw. “I intend to bed you tonight, My Lady,” he said, voice gravelly. Your face heated, but you nodded slowly. “Your body should be ready to take me once more,” he continued. “That is if you are agreeable?” He added, raising a brow. He had laid out from the beginning that while he expected you to do your duty and provide him with a son, he would not have you in his bed unwilling.

Nodding slowly, eyes wide as you stared up at him, you let out a shaky breath. "I… yes. Please," you murmured your consent, following him out of the solar to his adjoining bedchamber, where the hearth was crackling and the luxurious bedsheets were already turned down. Tywin poured out a cup of wine, offering you it, nodding when you smiled at the vintage before finishing the cup for you.

“Do you think it will hurt?” You murmured out of the blue, taking your jewellery off and setting it on his dresser.

“It may be a little uncomfortable, perhaps. Not as painful as childbirth, I’m sure, nor breaking your maidenhead,” your eyes widened at his words and he smirked. He so loved to see you flustered. “Such an innocent, wife,” he said, stepping closer to you and undoing the pins in your hair. He nodded his approval when you unwound the braids, shaking out your hair.

“It has been a while…” you considered, looking up at him in the mirror as he stepped behind you, beginning to unlace your gown.

“It has,” he said in agreement.

“Will you be gentle with me?” You whispered, eyes widening as his hand slipped up your front, over your breasts, lightly squeezing your throat before he tilted your head to the side.

“Absolutely not,” he growled into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing there as your gown fell stiffly to the floor.

You made to turn to begin undressing him, but he lightly batted your hands away, continuing to strip you of your stays and chemise until you were bare before him.

Eyes downcast, you made to wrap your arms around yourself; your pregnancy had left it’s mark on your body, your belly soft and marked with stretch marks, your breasts hanging heavier than they had when you first married. Tywin held your hands by your sides briefly, before his large hands claimed your hips, his thumbs massaging the softness of your belly. “I want another babe in your belly before year’s end,” he said lowly, making you shiver. “I want to watch you swell again with another of my heirs,”

“Yes, my lord,” you breathed, your breath hitching as he gripped your hips tighter, drawing your naked body to his, your skin hot against the cool metalwork of his belt and buttons. Slowly, he began to walk you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed, and he helped you up onto the mattress, his eyes blazing with lust. His green-gold eyes pierced you as he removed his chain of linked golden hands, his doublet, his boots and trousers too. Your eyes flicked down briefly as you admired your husband’s build; despite his age, Tywin was fit and strong, and your glance did not go unnoticed by him.

Tywin got up onto the bed, looking down at you as he came up between your legs, which fell apart willingly to allocate his breadth, to which he hummed with approval, his hands dragging up your thighs. You sighed softly as your body refamiliarised itself with the weight atop it, offering him a soft, shy smile. He returned it with a rare quirk of his lips, before his fingers teased closer to your exposed core, shushing you gently when you gasped. Whimpering, you arched your back as he dipped his fingers into your waiting wetness, body tense. “Are you in pain, wife?” He said lowly, his movements stilling.

“No…” you whispered, pushing your hips up to his hand as if to reassure him.

He nodded, looking down at you as his fingers worked you open for the first time in months, though he did not seem out of practice in the slightest. He watched intently as your face contorted, brow furrowing and mouth falling open, and your body twisted while you clenched around his fingers. When he felt the erotic spasming of your inner walls, he nodded and hummed with satisfaction, before withdrawing his fingers. You watched in awe as he used your release coating his fingers and dripping onto his palm to slick up his cock.

“You look as though you belong in a pleasure house in Lys, spread out like that,” he said, his voice gravelly with desire. And he had a point; your breasts rose and fell with shaky, heavy breaths; your eyes were now dark with lust, brow furrowed and lips plump as you stared down at him, propped up on the pillows with your hair splayed out.

“Are you calling me a whore, My Lord?” You questioned, pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“No,” he said, guiding his cock to you. “But if you were a whore, you would be mine alone,”

He grunted, pushing into your tightness. With a cry, you tossed your head back, your nails clawing into the Lion of Lannister’s muscled back and arms as you adjusted to his invasion. You hissed out a curse between your teeth, gasping as he stilled, smirking down at you. “Such deplorable language,” he said, and you could only whimper in response, gritting your teeth and scratching at his back. Despite his promise to not be gentle with you, he held you tight to his body by your thigh, massaging the quivering limb with his hand as you adjusted to the suffocating tightness of your union. With a needy whine, you rolled your hips experimentally, grinding your clit against his pubis. The resulting tightening of your channel had him hissing in pleasure, and with a low groan he began to move with slow deep thrusts that had your head spinning.

One hand still gripping his bicep like a vice, you trailed your other hand over his shoulder anchoring yourself as you made feeble attempts to meet his movements. Grunting, Tywin grasped onto your hips, before moving his grip to your thighs, holding them apart as he began to fuck you harder, faster. You cried out at the shift in pace, arching your back as Lord Tywin took his pleasure (though he gave just as much as he took). He let out a groan of pleasure as his own thighs trembled and his hips stuttered, and he emptied his seed into you.

Moaning lowly, you fell back into the pillows, panting. You felt the bed dip then settle as he withdrew from you and stood, and your eyes slipped shut as you heard him rustling about the room, the door slamming shut. You frowned. He must have dressed quickly. With a sigh, you stood up, albeit shakily and slipped your chemise back on. His thick seed seeped down your thigh as you stood before the mirror, combing out the tangles in your hair with your fingers.

The door opened, and Tywin stepped into the room, but before he acknowledged you, he turned to what you assumed was his squire. “Have the servants bring up two plates from the feast, and a flagon of Arbor Gold,” he said to the lad, who responded with a quiet ‘yes, My Lord.’ “And see to it that Lady Lannister’s handmaidens know to come here on the morrow with her gown and jewels. She will be staying here tonight,”

He dismissed the squire with a nod and shut the door, turning to you with raised eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to return to my own chambers, my Lord,” you murmured, finally able to smooth your hair down over your shoulders.

“Indeed not,” he said simply. “I was merely arranging some supper and wine,”

You crossed your arms. “And for my handmaidens to come here on the morrow?” You teased.

Tywin only smirked, prowling over to you. “Indeed,” he said. “It would seem, wife, that we must return to bed…” you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him curiously. “An heir will not find its way into your belly if my seed is dripping down your thighs, now, will it?”

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Gyomei X Chubby fem Reader~

Content: Fluff and smut <3

Himejime Gyomei is the type who finds plump women more attractive, their soft bodies incredibly soothing for his heightened senses to enjoy.

You might have gotten a comment or two from previous partners that you're too heavy to do couple things like being carried, or sitting on their laps, or even cuddling up against them which led you to have some insecurities about your body and how you shouldn't bother your partners. But when you and Gyomei started falling for each other, you couldn't even bring yourself to voice out these insecurities. Not because Gyomei wouldn't be respectful of them but because...well... it seemed silly when you were with him.

How could you worry about being 'too heavy' when you know there's nothing too heavy for this giant hunk of man? He can push boulders across villages with his bare hands- do you honestly believe your weight would be an issue? Being as tall and muscular as he is- well deserving of his title as the strongest Hashira- just being with him made all those insecurities vanish, or, at the very least, made them something you can laugh at. You love being with him as you can comfortably relax and not have to worry about your size. He can easily lift you up and carry you around with one hand, which he has done, multiple times.

His favorite way to spend time with you is to lounge around with you on his lap, holding your chubby, soft body against him as he rests his head against your own, humming in content as he listens to you talk about anything and everything. His big hands will squeeze at pockets of your body, his favorites being your plush thighs or your waist, smiling as he squeezes at your pudgy love handles. You could sit on his lap for hours and he wouldn't complain, asking you to continue sitting even if you suggested to move off.

(NSFW warning. 18+ Only)

But nothing beats making love to you. This was the only time Gyomei would curse at his blindness as he wishes he could see your beautiful body writhe in pleasure underneath him. Gyomei could be so gentle with you that it would make you cry or pound you so hard you...would cry anyway but for a different reason. His favorite way to take you would be missionary as it allows him to press his body flush against yours, feeling your softness against his own hard and toned body. He lowkey has a size kink, loving how your shorter, rounder body is such a contrast to his own hulking figure. His fat cock bullies its way into your pretty pussy, back bending so he could mouth at your supple breasts, all while your sweet moans echo through the room, his name like a prayer on your lips.

His other favorite way to take you is in a mating press, never able to deny the sensation of pushing your big thighs against your chest, the position making your tummy bulge out a bit which made his cock instantly hard and rearing to unload inside you. The clap of your body against his, the rippling of your ample flesh each time he fucks into you would have made him cum embarrassingly fast were it not for his impressive stamina due to his years of demon slaying.

So yeah. Gyomei is a sucker for cute, chubby girls~

[justwinginglife]

Can I please request the kafgang investigating a crankier than usual platoon leader reader? They assume its just a woman getting irritated because she looks like she's gaining weight but it's just her pregnancy belly showing with hoshina's baby...

Pregnancy hormones amirite? (I've never been pregnant before)

LOL I've also never been pregnant before but I love this prompt and I will do my best with it!

Soshiro loved that you were pregnant with his child. And not just because he'd done some delicious love making to get you pregnant, and not just because the idea of having tons of adorable little children running around was so precious to him, no- he loved that you were pregnant because he enjoyed all the ridiculous demands that you made.

Oh, today you wanted peanut butter on pickles? Sure, he could slather them up for you.

Oh, now you were crying because the sky was too blue today and it hurt your eyes? Alright, he could try a little rain dance to bring the clouds rolling in.

Oh, you didn't like the ending of a movie that was made decades ago and wanted him to fix it? Slightly more difficult, but he made bank as Vice Captain, he was sure he could hire a film crew and some actors and have that ready for you in a jiffy.

And then when the other officers started to pick up on your pregnancy-induced attitude, but didn't pick up on the pregnancy-induced part, he enjoyed it all the more. They figured you were just cranky because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or it was your time of the month, but when your belly started to show more proof of Soshiro's love, they attributed your irritation to gaining weight rather than gaining a child.

And you had no idea, because no one would dare tell a Platoon Leader they were getting fat. So instead you had to deal with random outbursts of "It's okay, Platoon Leader L/N, you're still beautiful as ever," or "I know this great workout if you're interested," or "Honestly, metabolism is overrated anyway."

It wasn't even the words that they said that bothered you as much as just the act of them talking at all, their voices sounded like nails on a chalkboard to you, it was like the pregnancy version of a hangover- you just wanted everyone to be quiet.

Soshiro caught on and he steered everyone away from you until you could tolerate noise again, but not before he'd had a good laugh. Of course, if anyone dared to mention aloud that you were gaining weight or you looked different, like you were letting yourself go, he'd shut it down in an instant- towering over them with a booming voice and a threatening glare. But it cracked him up to see how cute your little nose was when you scrunched it up, confused at their attempts to make conversation with you. And it cracked him up that you were so obviously pregnant in his eyes and yet no one else had drawn that conclusion yet. He wondered just how bulging your belly had to be for it to register.

He thought he might make a game out of it, creating a points system in his head for each officer and awarding them whenever one of them got even remotely close to guessing correctly.

Shinomiya noticed that your requests had been seemingly bizarre lately and as you were a woman that she respected very much for your skill and your intellect, she knew there had to be a better reason for the fog in your brain. Point for her.

Nakanoshima noticed you'd thrown up in a nearby vase and while the men attributed it to food poisoning, she'd pondered a little bit harder about when the last time you asked to borrow a tampon from her was. Point for her.

Minase noticed (shyly) that your boobs were looking a little more rounded and plump than they usually did, and made a comment that maybe pregnancy would aid her flat chest as well. Double points for her.

Really at this point, it seemed the women were catching on faster than the men. Soshiro was suddenly embarrassed of his own gender when he had this realization.

He thought he might just break one day, screaming "I FUCKED A BABY INTO HER BELLY YA IDIOTS!!!"

But he didn't have to do that. Because one day, you'd strolled in while everyone was training and snorted loudly, saying "Wow, I could beat the entire sorry lot of you all at once even pregnant. Laps around the perimeter people!"

Everyone's eyes widened and their jaws dropped (the women a little less so than the men).

They'd barely had time to process this new information when you'd repeated in a louder tone, "Did I stutter? LAPS AROUND THE PERIMETER!"

And then they ran off, terrified at the thought of just how much torture one pregnant lady could dole out.

And Soshiro smirked again, amused as ever.

"Ahh, that's my baby. Almost makes me want to fill you up again."

[sychik]

ANCIENT ROMAN NECESSITIES. PART 1: WOMEN

I know, it's very unexpected. I've been having lots of fun with the Test of Time challenge, and then I got to Ancient Rome… and the fun ended :/ enormous respect to all creators who have made cc for that era, but it's just not enough. I hereby present to you the results of my latest hyperfixation.

the meshes are my own, frankenmeshed from maxis meshes and modified. no need to fret about violating my TOU, because I don't care. use, modify, recolor, include. they all should have fat and pregnancy (tf-af) morphs.

1) long-sleeved, low-waist tunic. because of… common sense reasons, it's suited best for women who are more well-off. tf-ef, 28 swatches. DOWNLOAD

2) tunic with a stola; again. tf-ef, 73 swatches… I am sorry. I went ham. the actual Romans probably weren't THAT fun with their color combinations, anyway, but my sims Romans will be. they all have pretty borders, for the sake of consistency. DOWNLOAD

3) simple shorter tunic for working class women. tf-ef, 20 swatches, no fancy dyes or borders. DOWNLOAD

4) girls: shorter basic tunic and longer fancy one. those aren't as different, I guess. DOWNLOAD SHORT | DOWNLOAD LONG

that was a lot. if you encounter any issues, don't hesitate to contact me! also, my post-creation aversion is kicking in, so I hope you'll enjoy this more than I do :D

[emojellyace08]

Lookism Men x Female Reader "Their types on a woman" (J-High Main boys)

A/N: Hi fellow human! Sorry if I hadn't made any posts this past few weeks, I was taking a break and my laptop isn't working properly. Anyway, the important thing is I'm back making more Lookism (especially Danny content), so enjoi! :) Genre: Fluff☁️and slight angst? (for everyone) Warnings: NONE! just pure cuteness and sweetness I guess? Add in!: this post is also inspired by another Lookism Men (J-High boys) with a female reader. Though I can't really remember the acc or post so I'll just paste it in here incase I find it :) I'll probably make a part 2 about this

Daniel Park (Park Hyung Seok)

This man will be the biggest simp in the whole world. Will always look at you with that puppy eyes like 🥺👉👈 halk;hkld;ahfkl;ahf I love him so much

It's canon (kind of) that Daniel doesn't give a damn about how you look like for the most part. What matters to him most is that you respect everybody and treat them equally. But since the incident with Yui kind of traumatized him from finding true love, it also left and taught him a good and knowledgeable lesson. Since Danny went through lots of character development, he learned to himself that he can't just trust someone who acts nice and that he needs to know someone better if he really likes someone.

If you already interacted with his main body and haven't judge him for his looks just like a normal person would do or if you met this cinnamon roll on middle school when he's still being bullied by that fucker Logan, if you had the balls to save him from that mf congratulations! You made him interested in you!

If you also helped him in his homework or if you insists to spend some time with him like going out to the mall, patching his bruises when the bullies beat him up or if he gets in trouble with the gangs, and helping him out like giving him advices on his worst days even on the tiny things, he'll be head over heels for you (though he stills feel guilty that you're spending your money on him but you keep reassuring him that is fine) But if you're also the broke girl he can empathize more since he also faces this issues like his mom forcing herself to work just for him. Rich or not, fat or slim, girly or tomboyish, if you're overall kind, unjudgmental yet completely honest, and generous not just to him (in both of his bodies of course) but also to everybody without wanting anything in return, then you earned this man's respect and heart ;). I also headcannon that he's more into quiet and calm women since he's easily overwhelmed by noisy people and places. But even if you're the type of extroverted woman or the introverted type, as long you're nice and helpful then you'll catch his attention.

I feel like after having his second body he'll start to have the confidence to befriend you. At first he wouldn't make things obvious since he's still shy about his feelings for you since he wants to know you even more as you show your true colors. He'll also probably going to ask some advice on Jace and Zack about approaching you since he doesn't have that much of a romantic experience xD. Since you always treat him, he'll ask you to hang out with him like going to the mall to watch movies or going to the park and eating on every food truck or stand you see but he'll bring some of your friends too like Zack, Jay, Mira, Zoe, even Vasco to hang out so things won't be obvious.

If he enjoys your company and the energy you have, he'll ask you out more but this time is just the two of you (if he has the budget). Or if you're in the same class/school as you, he'll always ask you out to eat with him on lunch too making all his fangirls jealous lol. "You want a piggyback? No problem! Need help from your homework? I'll help you out!" Or even if you don't study at the same school, he'll still ask you out privately and if you accept it Daniel would be the happiest man alive and him just being here for you every time even if he's broke or mentally unstable too lol like how you company him too. Overall just him being there for you and ready to help while being sweet (please I just need a Danny in my life lmao).

And since he's a really shy and introverted person, he's afraid of opening up about his issues and insecurities. But knowing that you're a sweet person yet you don't sugar-coat things (no pun intended), he will probably talk about it with you even when he's still afraid of him being a burden to you. But if you reached out to him first if you noticed when he's acting down and strange, he'll appreciate and love you even more. An example of this when he writes a letter to you when he ran away. Since he can't express his self with words, he decides to write his thoughts on a piece of paper while confessing his problems and probably his true feelings to you. "Y/N I don't know how to tell my thoughts in the first place but seeing Logan back when I try to run away from my problems just kills me inside. It may sound selfish to you but I felt like a burden for you and especially my mom. But I thank you for being there for me in my darkest times, when you help me out from those bullies and you don't judge me by my looks. Though I just need time for myself now. Please don't look for me. You're really a sweet and honest person and that's why I love you, and I mean it and not just for being a friend. Though I don't expect you to reciprocate my feelings it back. The larva that waits for years to be reborn as a cicada decides to return back to it's shell and to not spread it's wings. I'm sorry". You'll definitely going to cry while reading the letters and words written on the wrinkly paper if you're really close to him. As the time he returns back home just imagine hugging him and scolding him for running away. "JESUS CHRIST DANIEL! DON'T RUN AWAY LIKE THAT AGAIN YOU'RE SCARING ME!" you hugged his small and chubby form while you stain his clothes with your tears. "Y-Y/N I don't know what I was thinking. I-I'm sorry I won't do it again".

Just be a green flag in general to him whether size, shape or form he's in. And bonus points for you if you treat his mom well ;).

Zack Lee (Lee Jin Sung)

Another approved simp here lol. Like this man is fine tf, ehem excuse me back to the topic

I feel like this man is insecure deep inside his tough shell. He really worked hard for his strength and in boxing to protect his friends like Mira and Johan since the cult incident. So he wouldn't be different with you if he sees you as a valuable and good person.

And remember when he's still a notorious bully and many people were afraid of him? (tbh I really hate him before when he beat Little Daniel before) I headcannon that no matter how hard he tries to be ignorant from other's comments about him he actually feels bad about the horrible things he have done yet he's still hesitant at first to change since he felt vulnerable if he listens to other people's gossip about him. Why is this so angst this is supposed to be fluff :(.

So if you tried to approach him when you noticed Zack's face had a bruise he didn't even know he has when he got into a fight, he'll be annoyed by you at first as why your talking to him. Do you know that his heart is only devoted to Mira? (Not that you're aware of so calm down boy). "Who the hell are you? Do you know that I only love Mira! She's the most beautiful person on Earth and I just can't hit on you sorry!" He continues to ramble that he likes someone else until he became speechless as you patch him with the extra band aid that you have on your pocket, you tip-toeing to reach his height as your warm and soft hands make contact with his open wounds while he froze. "I'm just trying to help and clean off your wound y'know. Don't worry I'm not hitting on you" you replied coldly yet with the same sweet tone on your voice that just makes him melt. This can't be happening, he likes Mira! She's been his crush since childhood! So why is he feelings butterflies in his stomach whenever you're near him??? (I love Mira so much but ahhhhh) Are you not scared of him? He's literally a bully in your school yet you chose to help him.

The thing is just like Daniel's preferences, what he likes about you is that you're free-spirited, you're a sweet and gentle person, honest and you're willing to help others. You also help him out with his ego-issues while giving him some constructive criticisms to work on himself. It may be a little bit hurtful on his part but he knows deep inside that you're expressing your thoughts that others can't tell to him because they're scared that he'll misunderstood it and beat them. But coming those constructive criticisms from your soft voice calms him even more and you want to bring out the best of him on his attitude. It may look like he's not listening, but trust me if he really likes you he'll lend his ears and mind for you.

Like Daniel, he'll be hesitant about his feelings first about you. Not because his insecure about himself but because he's insecure about it. He may look like a bad person on other people's eyes, he's DEFINETLY NOT THE TYPE to double-time two women. He likes Mira. Yet when he sees you eating lunch alone or just sitting on your desk on class and being quiet and minding your own business, he wants to approach and talk to you. "Wait is Mira absent? I guess sitting with Y/N in lunch won't be a bad idea." And he'll probably talk about his feelings for you to her. He's scared that if he confessed to him and you don't like like him back and that he's also going to hurt the other girl's feelings. That's why he'll conversate with the brunette. And despite liking Zack too Mira will definitely try to understand on what he's trying to say and will 100% support both of you. And Zack will also dress to impress xD. He'll flex his accomplishments to you "Y/N do you know that I'm a professional boxer? I won lots of boxing competitions y'know" he boastfully said while winking at you and being proud of himself. "But I thought you lost to Johan Seo-" "SHUT UP JIHO!" And will take you on "friendly dates" and will try to change his bad habits for him to be a good influence to you (though he will beat the sh*t out of everyone who ever tries to mess with you, not caring if you'll lecture him later).

Overall be nice, patient, be honest and understanding to him. And also take care of Zacky and he'll reciprocate it back :).

Vasco (Lee Euntae)

If the other two are simps, this man will follow you like a lost puppy lol

You know Vasco is innocent despite his gangster-looking body and face. This boy likes animals especially puppies! This man will also get superrrr excited when he sees you walking on the park with your dog (Will 100% approach you with a cute smile even if he doesn't know you lmao. It may freak you out but I told you Eun Tae is innocent so be patient about it). "Hello! Is this your dog? He looks so cute!" "Oh yeah he's a golden retriever." "Like a chihuahua?" "Oh no. Chihuahua is smaller than a golden retriever" you chuckled lightly at the tattooed male while his eyes sparkled even more as he bended down to reach the dog's height while apologizing to you about his mistake which you shrugged it off saying that it's okay. "Hi little dog, oh I mean woof woof!" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Since this man has zero percent romantic experience, he's literally going to fall fast for you. He will also introduce himself to you if you're not classmates or study at the same school since he's excited to have a girl friend (ehem) that likes animals too! If you also find him interesting and you gave him his number, he will tell everything to Jace and the other Burn Knuckles members about you all the time. "JACE! I TALKED TO A GIRL TODAY HER NAME IS Y/N!" "Vasco keep your voice do- wait. WHAT! YOU TALKED TO A GIRL!!!"

If he also notices about how you're a gentle and caring person and also likes helping others without wanting anything in return, he'll literally catch a crush on you. Being an animal lover will definitely makes you and Vasco make less tense with each other and have a very special connection with each other.

And if you also taught him to understood things in his surroundings, he'll definitely appreciate your help! You know how this man isn't really conscious on almost everything even on the little dirty things so when he doesn't know what he's doing wrong. So he'll really listen to you if you explain it to him in a detailed yet understandable statement! You don't have to be completely smart but you're intellectual thinking can also help him understand you way better. He'll also let you call him by his real name if you're really close to him. (Also I can imagine the Burn Knuckles crying and cheering when you and Vasco became a thing. Y'know the FBI cheering meme? And yes they will do the Invisible Charlotte on you lmao).

And you know how his sense of justice and helping people can also get him through hard situations sometimes? Yeah it makes you worried when his hero complex gets him in trouble despite just wanting to help others who can't defend themselves.

So imagine just patching and treating his wounds while lecturing him. "EUNTAE! YOU CAN'T JUST BE INVOLVED WITH FIGHTS EVERYDAY!" you scolded him while he tries to hold back him crying. He doesn't even know if he's going to burst down into tears because you're angry at him or because of the sting and pain he feels when the soft cotton made contact on his wounded skin. "S-So you-you're telling me that I can't defend the weak? They're literally getting bullied Y/N". you sighed as he misunderstood on what you're trying to imply while he sniffs as he can't control the liquid pouring out from his brown-colored orbs. You sat beside him as you made eye contact on his sad ones. "You know Euntae, I understood you. It's okay to help others but you can't just always get into fights with everybody. I'm worried for you y'know". "But the bad guys won't stop hurting the innocent if I don't stop them" he replied while feeling wretched. "Because that's the sad truth. But evilness has a reason to spread". "Why?" he asks innocently. "Because the world wouldn't be balanced if we don't make mistakes. We will be perfect like Gods but emotionless like robots. And the reason why evil is taking all over us is to open the eyes of others on how our own world and our own kind has become corrupted and to solve it is to help others. I have no problems of you helping out Vasco. But it makes me worried on what is going to happen to you." "That's why I'm trying to be stronger!" he cheered and stood up while his warm tears are still rolling down on his face. "It's to protect others and to protect you too Y/N!" you smiled at his optimistic thinking as you ruffled his hair making his heart skip a beat. "And that's what I like about you Lee Euntae".

Jay Hong (Hong Jae Yol)

A mixture of a simp and a puppy lmao.

I feel like he doesn't really fall in love so easily (unless it's Daniel lol)

Since Jay is also a quiet person (who literally doesn't talk), so I bet he can't stand whiny and noisy girls (lmao pls don't attack me). I think he prefers women (if it's women ;) who leans more on the quiet and gentle side yet is still fun to talk and be around with. Video games on his apartment, hanging out in the mall or talking about fashion styles and brands are his way to go dates.

It's canon that he buys expensive gifts and brands for someone he likes so just expect him to just gave you 4 bags full of clothes and jewelry that almost anybody can't touch and buy for themselves. But despite him buying you everything that you want, he still hopes that you just don't like him because he's hot, mysterious and rich. He really wants someone who values him not just by his looks and social status. But if simple signs of helpful gestures is enough for you like him helping you out on your homeworks when you're in struggle or if you need a shoulder to cry on then Jay will be available 100%.

If you decided to approach Jay first, it's completely normal for him to be a bit shy and tense in front of you. He can really caught the attention of many women because of his beautiful features and good taste on fashion style while the other dudes just stare at him with envy. But if you really want to make friends with anybody, talking to Jay can be a challenge. Not only is that he don't literally open his mouth, he can't help but to feel nervous when a girl or literally anybody who approaches him since he's not used to it. Though after befriending him out of pure innocence and not wanting anything from him, he'll start to be more open about his interests and Jay will start to be more caring about you and just be himself in front of you and everybody else.

Just like the rest of the dudes, your sweet and warm personality can break the ice between the two of you and if he's starting to like you even more than just a friend, his affection would be more and more obvious. He will also patch you up and clean your wounds when you get hurt and he'll beat the sh*t out of everyone who tries to mess and hurt you (just like the other three boys). But he won't let you know why your bullies/enemies look like they've been used as a punching bag. He's also willing to give you his whole wallet full of cash if you can't buy your lunch (he'll still force you to take it especially if he knows you're the broke type lol).

Will probably start to learn sign language and Morse code with you so you can understood each other more lol (and talk about dumb shit a lot that only the two of you will understand lmao). But if you can already comprehend on what he's trying to express, he'll appreciate it and fall for you more considering how his close friends and family are the only ones who at least understand on what he's trying to pick up. And listen to him when he's ranting about his problems even though there are no words coming out of his mouth. He might even let out a sad whimper and a huff when he tries to suppress his feelings since he doesn't want to be seen as a burden especially in front of someone whom he really cherishes.

Just be a green flag. Don't just use him as a sugar daddy or he won't be returning the sweet treatment and attitude back at you. Actions speak louder than words after all.

A/N: my first ever fluff to be written about and yeah sorry if this sucks.

[somedaylazysomeday]

A Grand Deception - Part One

As a seamstress, you know your way around a ballgown. A ballroom is a different story, but you are determined to experience it for yourself.

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Personal Disclaimer: I wrote this having only watched the Bridgerton tv show. About a week ago, I discovered that Benedict's book-canon love story shares some similarities with my fic. These similarities are coincidental. After posting a poll about the topic, I decided to share this work anyway. Please know I am aware of the situation!

Rating: Mature. Minors, do not interact

Word Count: 5,200

Warnings: A lot of backstory, trespassing, lying about identity, alcohol consumption, flirting, references to Regency-era values. Author played fast and loose with rules of Regency dining etiquette.

Next | Masterlist

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It was of some comfort to you that - when the situation inevitably unraveled - you could not claim to have invented the idea yourself. 

You were hardly the first seamstress who used her skills to disguise herself. Nor were you the first to use her overheard knowledge to learn who may be hosting a masquerade ball so she could attend. 

To that end, Madame Delacroix had told you of her own experience infiltrating the ton’s events. You had learned well, but you were merely another follower, not a visionary. The penalty for your transgression would not change, but your conscience would be eased slightly with the knowledge. 

The single inspiration you could claim as entirely your own was that of your shop. You purchased gowns at the end of every season, researched coming trends for the next season, and altered the gowns to fit. 

Ladies of rich and respectable families were willing to part with gowns for a relative pittance, but most of your gowns were from society matrons. When their time playing chaperone to some wide-eyed miss had ended in a successful engagement, the lucky matron retired to a comfortable life in the countryside. What use did she have for extravagant society gowns there? And, with the style of gathers and ruffles for married women, you could easily fashion multiple gowns from one matronly dress. 

Your shop was hardly the most popular one in London, but you ran a brisk enough business. There were no investors to keep fat with your profits, and you poured most of your money back into the materials and help you hired. It could tax the nerves to operate with such a small amount of money in your coffers, but such was the nature of the business. The lead-in to a season was incredibly busy and profitable, but the off season could ruin you.

But you were happy. Your work was varied and interesting. You worked with sumptuous fabrics in the richest colors. It was a necessity to keep abreast of the latest fashion trends. You truly could not have imagined a better life for yourself. 

And yet… you were unbearably curious about how it would feel to wear one of your creations. You were occasionally hired to style a hopeful debutante, but you handed her off to a chaperone before she walked out through the front door of her own home. You witnessed all of the preparations and you had been party to the aftermath, but you had never had the opportunity to attend a ball. 

It was a silly dream. You were the daughter of a tailor, and not one who served the upper echelons of London society. Your mother spent her time running the household herself - a necessity, as your family could not afford to keep servants. Your brother worked at a newspaper, operating the printing presses. Your sister had married well, wedding a butcher who lived above his shop in a respectable section of the city. 

You had already achieved one silly dream when you had opened your own shop. Rather than satisfying you, that achievement only convinced you that you were capable of incredible things. Why should a ball be the exception?

Fortunately, the ton was an uninspired thing and thus wholly predictable. At least once every season, at least one family believed themselves to be the most creative souls and hosted a masquerade. 

Your ability to foresee the trend had allowed you to plan far in advance. After the last season had ended and you made your purchases, you had bought just enough fabric to fashion yourself a dress. The material was simple, but of high quality, and you had embroidered beading and embellishment enough to allot the finished product an artistic simplicity rather than leaving it painfully plain. 

The mask you had chosen only assisted the illusion of being understatedly gilded. It was a shining silver - not a true metallic mask, but a close enough facsimile that it seemed to be a choice due to the weight rather than the price of the silver. There was a delicate tracery over your brow and along the swells where the mask arched over your cheekbones. 

The effect of the outfit was far from dramatic, especially when you very well knew the sort of dresses that the young ladies of the ton would be wearing at the ball, but you had been purposeful about it. You were trying to fade into the background, and it seemed likely that you would succeed. 

One of your more clever ideas had been to cut the dress as a matronly garment rather than a daring one meant for a debutante. Doing so would relegate you to the realm of mamas, chaperones, and spinsters. Few bothered to steal a second glance at that foreboding cloud of judgment, disapproval, and eager plotting. You were too pragmatic to think your plan foolproof, but you had taken as many precautions as you could imagine.

The Lawsons had been the ones to secure a masquerade theme for the season, and you strategically arrived at the home at eleven, a full hour after the ball had begun. It was a simple thing to slip around the corner of the great manor house, entering through a side corridor. When you passed any of the house’s servants, you ducked your head and nervously arranged your hair. 

With that attitude and countenance, they would likely believe you were returning from some secret tryst in a private place, not attempting to sneak in entirely. Servants were paid for their discretion - at least, in the eyes of the ton - so your exploits would not be disseminated until the following morning at the earliest. 

Your matron-styled dress allowed for a more flexible corset than the most fashionable styles, but you still found that your breath was short as you reached the ballroom. You were thankful for the music, as it gave you a better idea of where your ultimate goal was. 

The room was cavernous, yet filled to the brim with intricate details. A second-story balcony curved around the majority of the room, rather like the opera house you’d had the privilege to visit once. A grand staircase descended from the middle of that balcony, and it was full of still-arriving debutantes and their chaperones. 

The orchestra was sat on the balcony along either side of the staircase, and you noted the way each instrument seemed to take precedence in turn as you walked along the length of the floor. They were playing a quadrille at the moment, and the dancing couples seemed as enamored by the music as much as by each other.  

Above and all around, candles glowed and flickered, casting small pools of light across every surface. A chandelier hung overhead, eye-catching in its size and brightness. The crystals set among the candles sent tiny reflected rainbows dancing across the crowd beneath. The reflectors behind the candles on the main floor helped catch the brightness that would otherwise be wasted on the walls, throwing it out into the room until it looked near daylight. The effect was multiplied by an array of mirrors set around the room, refracting both light and the furor of activity in the ballroom. 

Conversations filled any spaces left in the music. Everywhere, men and women chatted, laughed, and told stories. They were eye-catching with their grand gestures, only made more fascinating with their ornate clothing. You longed for a scrap of paper so you could make note of the styles of this season, and how they might be adapted to meet the styles of the next. 

A table at one side of the room was manned by a servant offering refreshments. You knew from the stories you had heard that a supper would be served at one, but there were beverages for any guest or dancer who may need one. You accepted a glass of iced punch with a grateful nod to the servant. It was remarkably hot in the room, especially compared to the chill of the January evening. 

Sipping the strong punch - and abruptly understanding the wisdom of such small glasses - you ventured forth to find a vantage point for observing the crowd. 

You found one buried in the crowd of matrons and chaperones. They were watching the dance floor with great interest, speculating about matches and comparing notes on how the gentlemen and young ladies had been occupying themselves during the season thus far. It was the perfect location - a view of everything and in earshot of all the information you could possibly desire. Some of the information was likely to be nothing more than rumor, but you cared little. It was entertaining enough to compensate for a lack of veracity. 

“Benedict!” one woman called. She was a handsome woman, dark hair perfectly coiffed to match her elegant dress. You recognized her even from behind as the widowed Lady Bridgerton. 

A man separated from a group of other young men and approached, smiling expectantly. He bore a strong resemblance to Lady Bridgerton, and was wearing the simple black mask that seemed popular among the men of the ballroom. “Yes, Mother?” 

“Do dance with Miss Harper this evening,” Lady Bridgerton instructed. “She needs cheering after the loss of her uncle. And she would be quite an excellent match for you.” 

You wrinkled your nose. Arranged marriages were less common than they had been when you were a child, but the aristocracy still tended to take a heavy hand in deciding their children’s future spouses.

Unfortunately, the young Bridgerton glanced over his mother’s shoulder and took in your expression. You hurriedly glanced down at your glass, as if your face had been a reaction to the strong punch, then applied yourself to staring around the room. 

“I will take that under advisement, Mother,” Benedict said. Your wayward glance prevented you from seeing his face, but his voice was filled with laughter. “If you’ll excuse me?” 

He departed then, retreating back across the ballroom. However, you were far from unobservant, and you counted the multiple times he noted your position from among the group of laughing gentlemen. You did your utmost to ignore him, taking solace in the knowledge that your mask protected your identity from whatever scrutiny he may choose to apply. 

You could hardly pretend surprise when you found him standing beside you scarcely an hour after you had overheard the conversation between Lady Bridgerton and her son. He was facing quite the opposite direction, but you could not fail to miss the way he inched closer every time you took a step away. 

At long last, he bumped into you with his broad shoulder, sloshing your punch onto the floor and still refusing to acknowledge you. 

“And to think Bridgertons are said to be well-mannered,” you snipped waspishly. 

He glanced back at you, eyes bright. “I beg your pardon, miss. I did not see you. Allow me to fetch you a new glass of punch in recompense for my rudeness.”

“No, thank you,” you said, the coldness in your voice detracting from the politeness of your words. “I would not take the risk of another incident.” 

“Did it stain your gown?” he asked, taking your elbow and looking you up and down. However solicitous it may have seemed at first, the mischief in his expression belied the gesture. 

You glared at him until he dropped your arm. “You need not feign concern, Lord Bridgerton. You have apologized, I have accepted it, and my gown escaped the incident unscathed. There is no need to continue our acquaintance.” 

With a final frown for good measure, you turned away. Benedict seemed undaunted, keeping step with you as you found a servant to take your near-empty glass. 

“May I ask your name, then?” Benedict asked, for all the world like you had not dismissed him. 

“Lady Sharp.” 

It was a falsehood you had planned well in advance. The Sharps were one of the largest families in London, some branches so far-flung that no one seemed capable of remembering who was who. 

Despite your confidence in your assumed identity, Benedict paused for a moment and your heart stuttered. At long last, he smiled. “Is that so?” 

“Yes.” 

Perhaps if you continued to be short with him, Benedict would understand that he should leave you well enough alone. 

And yet… The young Bridgerton continued to stay close as you watched the dancers, interrupting your overheard bits of gossip with remarks of his own. His commentary was amusing, but you continued to be irked by his presence. He was drawing attention by standing with the chaperones, dowagers, and doting mothers, and some of that attention was reflected onto you by virtue of proximity. 

“You need not remain close as some form of apology, Lord Bridgerton,” you informed him at last. “You have more than adequately apologized for your earlier misstep, and I would rather not be on the receiving end of your mother’s scorn if you miss your dance with Miss Harper.”

Benedict shrugged. “Miss Harper is occupied well enough with other partners. It is my duty to see to it that every lady may dance if she chooses. Shall we?” 

You frowned deeply, staring from his face to his proffered arm and back. “I do not dance.” 

He paused at that. “Surely you are simply being modest…” 

“I assure you, I mean what I say,” you told him, voice appalled, “I do not dance. If you feel a particular urge toward the dance floor, I urge you heed it and find a suitable partner before they have all been otherwise engaged.”

Benedict turned slightly, his gaze traveling from one end of the crowded ballroom to the other. When he had completed the visual circuit, he faced you, grinning engagingly once more. “I appreciate your concern, but I would rather continue our conversation.” 

Your mouth fell inelegantly open. Thankfully, the room was called to attention before you could loose a scathing comment about your time together.

Lady Lawson stood at the bottom of her grand staircase, Lord Lawson standing attentively to her left. A servant you recognized as their butler announced in a booming - yet not abrasive - voice, “Lord and Lady Lawson invite you to adjourn to the dining rooms.”

To your dismay, the men and women of the ballroom paired together. The crowd moved steadily in the direction indicated by the butler. 

Benedict offered his arm once more. “May I escort you to the dining room, Lady Sharp?” 

You paused, frantically searching for a reason you might excuse yourself. If the Lawsons had arranged for their guests to sit in predetermined places, your presence would not only be marked, but commented upon and questioned. And yet, the gathered crowd meant that slipping away would be nigh impossible. 

“Lady Sharp?” Benedict asked again, pulling you from your thoughts. “You are attending dinner, are you not?”

“Yes… yes, of course,” you said, immediately belied by your trembling voice. From a sheer lack of options, you accepted Benedict’s arm. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton.”

He inclined his head as if to silently acknowledge your thanks and steered you into the dining room. 

Truly, there was far more than one room in which to dine. There seemed to be at least three hosting tables set with full arrays of silver plates and utensils. The dining areas seemed far less brightly lit than the ballroom was, the low lighting offering a soft intimacy that made the surrounding couples perk with excitement. Clearly, the flirtations of the dance floor would not be suspended due to a simple supper. 

“May I help you find your seats, sir?” 

You had been too entranced by your own thoughts - the sudden appearance of the servant made you start like a spooked horse. Benedict patted your hand. The gesture was a bit condescending, but you found it oddly soothing. Far more worrisome, however, was the sight of small name cards resting at every place setting on the tables.

“Benedict Bridgerton,” he said. “I believe I was to be seated with my family a few tables behind you. This is Lady Sharp. I will dine with her this evening.”

“But sir…” The servant looked bemused, white brows drawing together. “Lady Lawson was informed that the Sharps would not be in London for this year’s season. Lady Sharp reported that Miss Rosalie Sharp was far too ill to be moved out of her confinement in the countryside.” 

You stammered weak protests, but Benedict smoothly interrupted. “Surely Lady Lawson is aware that Lady Clara Sharp decided to winter in London this year. The physician said that a change of scenery would be good after leaving a confinement of her own.”

“A confinement of her-?” The servant shook his head. “My mistress said nothing of this when she was preparing the ball.” 

You gathered your nerve. If your ruse were to fall apart, it would not be at the hand of an overly curious servant. You drew yourself up to your full height, giving your best steely-eyed, matronly disapproval. “I had assumed that my lack of an invitation was no more than an ignorant oversight. However, I begin to suspect that it was something far more intentional. Perhaps it would be best if I departed…” 

“My apologies, Lady Sharp,” the servant hurried to say. “Please, allow me to find a place for you.” 

You inclined your head in the shallowest nod you could muster, watching imperiously as he rushed off to find a place setting for the fictitious Lady Clara Sharp. 

“These events are growing less organized by the day,” Benedict confided, shaking his head in mock despair. 

The servant returned, sparing you the effort of inventing a response. “I will guide you to your seat, Lady Sharp. Lord Bridgerton, you requested your seat moved beside Lady Sharp’s, did you not?” 

“Yes, I believe I should like to dine with Lady Sharp,” Benedict said amiably. 

“Very good, sir,” the servant said. “This way.” 

You did not particularly enjoy the tone with which Benedict said ‘Lady Sharp’. In his voice, it sounded less like a title and more like a private sort of jest. 

Fortunately, your arrival in a far dining room provided a much-needed distraction. This was clearly the last table to have been filled, and as such was seated with an interesting amalgamation of people. 

A timid-looking young lady sat nervously adjusting and readjusting the skirt of her dress. Her watchful chaperone eyed the process with fascination and concern. Seated at the chaperone’s other side was an older gentleman who seemed to have overindulged in punch, if you were to guess from his flushed face and exaggerated gestures. 

On the other side of the table was a young man who kept glancing at the young lady and pretending that it had been accidental any time he was caught at it. Beside him were two place settings. From the lack of name cards above the plates, you assumed they were meant for you and Benedict.

Abruptly, a wave of vertigo washed over you. You had accomplished so much to be here, yet how many accomplishments were too many? It was as if you had climbed something terribly tall - every time you moved upward, it only left you with further to fall. And if you were to be discovered during this dinner? You would have very far to fall indeed.

“Are you well?” Benedict asked. 

You blinked. The servant was holding your chair, waiting to help you be seated. You weren’t hungry in the least, but there was no way to excuse yourself that would not draw more attention than was wise. The only way to return to safety was to continue on as if nothing were amiss. 

“Yes, thank you,” you demurred, moving to your seat. 

When the skirt of your dress was safely tucked under the table, the servant offered a slight bow and moved away. The first course was laid out on the table, a manservant lingering nearby incase someone required a dish from a different part of the table. 

“What may I tempt you with?” Benedict asked. His smile was a touch too wide for the question to be entirely innocent. Before you could say something harsh, he half-stood, fork extended toward a dish holding chilled cuts of meat. 

You took a moment to study everything. “Roast chicken, please. And perhaps a few prawns.” 

Benedict took your plate and began transferring the items you had requested. “Soup as well?” 

“Perhaps a little.” 

You eyed the women across the table. The young lady was picking delicately at a few scraps of meat and you were concerned by the quantity of the choices you had made, but her chaperone was tucking into a plate piled high. 

Benedict placed your dishes back in front of you and gathered his own selections. When you were both seated again, you cut a piece of chicken and ate it as delicately as you could manage. It was delicious and you congratulated yourself once more on choosing to attend the ball dressed as a chaperone rather than a debutante. 

“So, a Sharp in London,” Benedict mused. “I rather believed you all traveled together. Like a herd or a pack.” 

You gave him an unamused look at the animal references. “And you pretended to know all of my family’s concerns when we were finding our seats. Do you always lie to achieve your own ends?” 

He gave a wince, but it was decidedly playful. “‘Lie’ is such a harsh word, Lady Sharp. I simply choose the path most likely to lead to my destination and follow it.” 

“By lying?” 

“And I suppose you are a paragon of virtue?” he asked, and you fell silent. It would be rather paradoxical for you to blame him for a lie when you were currently lying to an entire ballroom of people. 

“That was not an admonishment,” he clarified after a moment. “Nor was it a bid to halt our conversation. I was enjoying myself.”

“From what I have gathered of your temperament, I doubt you often suffer from the lack of enjoyment,” you snipped. “You seem to find infinite amusement in everything surrounding you.” 

Benedict’s eyes widened. “I… am flattered, truly, that you’ve taken such pains to truly detail my character. Perhaps I should return the favor.” 

“Do not.” You regretted the warning a moment after you had issued it. Rather than looking dissuaded, Benedict seemed intrigued.

“Indeed, I may be unable to help myself,” he mused. “Your motivations are fascinating, and they would be even more so if you turned out not to be Lady Sharp after all.”

“I am Lady Sharp,” you insisted stubbornly. 

“Of course you are,” he agreed easily. “But imagine if you were not. Why would you pretend to be?” 

Your mind halted abruptly when faced with the task of imagining your own motivations as if they belonged to another. What should you say? What could you say? For all of his casually friendly demeanor, Benedict was not stupid. It was possible that your false theories of your own motivations would provide him with proof that you were the very person you pretended to understand.

But still, the rules of polite conversation required that you provide some sort of an answer. Your voice was slow as you asked, “Who can begin to guess at the motivations of the poor?” 

It was more harsh than you had imagined it would sound, but Benedict did not recoil. Instead, he replied, “Motivations are mysterious, those of the poor and the nobility alike.”

The answer was vague, but you understood why - his eyes were fixed on the young lady at the end of the table and the young man seated across from her. 

“Miss Barrett, I found the most interesting flower in the park yesterday afternoon-” he started. 

He had the young lady’s attention immediately, a shy smile on her thin face, but her chaperone pointedly cleared her throat before the young lady could reply. “Elisa, it is not proper for you to answer him without being formally introduced.” 

“Finnie and I have been friends since before we could walk!” Elisa argued.

“His name is Lord Finlay Spencer,” the chaperone corrected. “And your childhood acquaintanceship does not matter. You have not been officially introduced in the time since he returned to London.” 

The young pair fumed silently, with nothing more than frustrated glances shared between them.

“Lady Barrett,” Benedict said abruptly, drawing the attention of everyone who longed to be distracted from the tension. “I understand you are a most loyal patron of the arts. Is that so?” 

“It is so, Lord Bridgerton,” Lady Barrett confirmed. “I believe in the importance of preserving artwork for years to come.” 

“As do I.” Benedict smiled at her… and at the red-faced man seated to her right. “And our sentiments are shared by our companion, Lord Hopkins. He has recently donated a number of works to your preferred museum. I believe they are to name a wing in his honor.” 

Lady Barrett turned to Lord Hopkins, an expression of mingled surprise and admiration. “I recently took in the Hopkins collection. Most impressive, Lord Hopkins.” 

Lord Hopkins blinked rapidly, clearly attempting to gather himself. He made an admirable effort as he returned her smile. “You are too kind, Lady Barrett. I mourn the loss of those works, yet they were wasted with only my family to appreciate them. And, if you will pardon my directness, I believe I may have been the only one of the Hopkins family to truly appreciate them.” 

“I am certain the Hopkins family has an interest in art ,” Lady Barrett demurred, “though I understand the sense that one has a keener appreciation for art than those around oneself.” 

With such a topic brought up, the pair slipped into conversation. Lord Finlay Spencer and Lady Elisa Barrett cast grateful glances in Benedict’s direction and began to speak in softened tones to avoid drawing the attention of the elder Lady Barrett.

“Neatly done,” you complimented lowly. “Yet it prompts me to wonder how often you concern yourself in the affairs of others.” 

Benedict shrugged. “I simply enjoy pulling strings to see what unravels. Perhaps that is why I find you so interesting.” 

You arched your brows. “And precisely what string of mine do you believe yourself to be pulling?” 

“That you are not Lady Sharp, of course.” 

He took a sip of wine as you fought to control your expression, and his utter lack of concern was infuriating. 

“Are we to continue this thought experiment, then?” you asked at last. “In truth, I am beginning to find it tiresome.”

“I do not need you to confirm my theory,” Benedict told you. “I have gathered proof enough of my own since we met.” 

“Proof?” you asked, attempting to sound skeptical rather than afraid. 

“You did not wait for an introduction, you claim not to dance, and you did not shyly simper away when I touched your arm,” he listed. “You are no more a lady than I.” 

These arguments were presented without censure, but you loosed an inelegant snort regardless. It was foolish and you knew it, but you could not prevent yourself from showing your own powers of observation: “You are wearing a fine silk shirt, a perfectly pressed cravat, and more perfume than anyone else in the room. I am a lady, so it follows that you may be one as well.” 

Benedict - unbelievably - grinned at your insults, his eyes crinkling at the edges. You fought not to return the expression, though you found it remarkably contagious. “I believe it is called ‘cologne’ when it is worn by a man. I confess, I’ve never quite understood the difference myself.”

“If you believe I am a fraud, why have you kept me company all evening?” you asked. It was not a confirmation of his suspicions, but it was close enough to make your heart race.

“You are interesting,” he countered. “Certainly the most interesting person here, and among the most interesting people I have ever met.” 

You would have found a reason to cut the conversation short if Benedict had pressed for any further information, but he did not. Instead, you continued speaking plainly together through the remaining courses. He wanted to learn your opinions on all manner of things, from politics to the latest fashions. 

When the time came to return to the dance floor, he stayed close. He was charming and amusing, but refused to be parted from your side. It could have been cloying, but you privately thought him akin to a particularly amiable sort of burr.

After a few dances had passed, Lady Bridgerton approached, nodding to you with an assessing sort of look. However, she spoke to her son rather than question you. You were grateful for the slight. “Benedict, I believe I asked you to dance with Miss Harper.”

“You did, Mother,” Benedict agreed, “but Lady Sharp and I are speaking of important matters. I could not possibly tear myself away.” 

Lady Bridgerton gave him a look filled with motherly disapproval and you cleared your throat. “Lord Bridgerton, we may speak at another time. The number of dances at this ball is limited and the hour grows late. I fear Miss Harper will be fully occupied if you delay longer.” 

Lady Bridgerton turned, triumphant, to her son. Benedict sighed and bowed shallowly in your direction. “I beg your pardon, Lady Sharp. I look forward to continuing our conversation after this dance.” 

He wove his way through the crowd, presumably in the direction of Miss Harper. Lady Bridgerton remained by your side, and you glanced at her in the silence. She met your gaze, tilting her head curiously in a manner that reminded you of her son. “I do not believe we have met, Lady Sharp. I am Lady Violet Bridgerton.” 

You returned her nod with one of your own. “Lady Clara Sharp. Lovely to meet you.” 

“I was unaware that any of the Sharp family were in London this season-” she started. Thankfully, she was interrupted by the arrival of a dark-haired young lady.

“Mama, I need to speak with you-” 

“Eloise, I am not-” 

“Mama, please!” the girl insisted, tugging at her mother’s elbow. Lady Bridgerton studied you for another moment before giving an apologetic smile and allowing her daughter to pull her away. 

As cues went, it was a fairly clear one. You steadily worked your way through the crowd until you could slip into an unguarded hall. From there, it was a simple thing to leave the Lawson house, find the cloak you had stored in a disused shed, and travel back to your shop. 

When you had removed the mask and the dress, you took careful stock of the evening. The dress and mask would need to be destroyed, and you regretted not bidding a true farewell to Benedict Bridgerton, but you considered the endeavor a success. 

One that could never be repeated.

---

Author's Note - As usual with Fanfic February fics, this is a two-parter. Tomorrow's chapter will have spice in it, so please be warned.

Thanks for reading!

[the5thcellar]

The only reason why people are against the perspective of Luke and Nicola having it, it's the internal fat phobia for me. Same thing for the group 'no chemistry' in the series. Anons wouldn't say all that shit about one sided crush from her, if she was indeed a woman with a skinny body, not a mid size one. The thing is she doesn't need it, cause she is ethereal and perfect in her way. She is a beautiful woman. She is gorgeous, while people project much of their own insecurities on her. Luke, though, is just the other typical male celebrity. If they'll ever jump on the train, it will certainly be him asking her out, not her following him. I don't see this woman in her golden retriever stage for anyone. She knows her worth and is sure to be aware of impulsive decisions of his.

OH CLOCK IT OMGGGGGGG. 193829293912% !!!!!!!!!!

I would like this post a hundred times if I could. I've been pretty much silent about the issue of fatphobia in the fandom because the arguments I've witnessed / been involved in on twitter ALWAYS get the same dead end responses - "not everything is fatphobia they just have no chemistry" / "you have to admit that Nicola isn't that attractive it has nothing to do with her weight".

It's LITERALLY fatphobia. Most of the times it's not even internalised - people are literally saying the quiet part out loud by insisting Nicola doesn't look good enough to warrant attraction from a "hot guy" like Luke.

LIKE BE SO FUCKING FR RN OMG ??? I've had to sit through people shipping SO many weird ass pairings that I personally felt were completely absurd - pairings that the mainstream audience ate up just because it was a skinny girl with a hot guy.

(Truth be told - and on a more relevant note - I literally felt like Phoebe and Regé had no chemistry. both of them were so absolutely compelling and gorgeous as individual characters but they didn't work together for me)

Isn't it strange how no one really said much about the previous two Bridgerton pairings where aesthetics were concerned... and were lauding the couples for all having such GREAT chemistry with one another ... but when it came to Luke and Nicola they were all suddenly so insistent that there was no chemistry at all and that their views are completely objective? Nah. Pack it the fuck up. All these people are fatphobic as hell.

What's made it worse is the bloody ozempic obsession that has swept over Hollywood in the past year. Suddenly celebs who used to advocate for body positivity are all skinny - doing a hypocritical 180 on the self love ethos they were preaching.

But anyway that's diving more into social commentary and I don't want to veer too far from the original content on this post.

So 100% yes - a HEFTY MAJORITY of polin antis and lukola antis are blatantly fatphobic. If you cannot imagine Luke Newton can EVER have feelings for Nicola but think him and A are obviously a great fit - you're fatphobic. You can pretend you're objective all you want ... but think about why you're so FUCKING QUICK to defend Antonia and say she'll be together with Luke forever / she's totally his type when 1) she's barely been in the spotlight - she's done no interviews or anything for y'all to even get enough of an idea of her personality to stan her or bat for her 2) y'all don't fucking KNOW his type you just assume it's skinny women because his celeb crush is dua lipa and everyone loves hot and skinny women right? newsflash guys my celeb crushes are Zac Efron and Mads Mikkelsen and HELL YEAH I'd fall over myself to date either of them... but in a fuck marry kill contest I'd still choose to marry Jack Black.

What you think is attractive as a fantasy is not always what you find attractive in a long term partner.

You're here on my page defending Antonia and insisting she's a better fit for Luke not because you know her, or like her, or even because you respect Luke. You're here on my page because you're using her as an excuse to come for Lukola. You're here on my page because you cannot imagine that a fat girl can be together with a "hot man."

Now check that.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

Saw your Neil Gaiman post and as someone that found comfort in Good Omens (and got hyperfixated on it), I'm finally glad that some people are finally talking about how he isn't that great.

Even as a Fan, GOmens fandom is so...weird. See, in other fandoms people won't give much of a flying f/ck about the authors besides some mild respect or praise, but GOmens praise Neil SO HARD, despite giving off some iffy vibes (that now I understand why, after that big post) Never liked how almost every single POC character in GO has such a minimal role, same with women characters, the fact he's been caught (and that can be easily checked) lying about his ideas surrounding GOmens, the way he went from "Is not a romance, but it can be if you want to" -> "i always wrote it as a love story" also how he went from "There won't be another season because of Terry and because the ideas for the next book were incorporated in the show" -> "It was in 2019 when I finished writing S2 with the ideas I discussed with Terry before he died" and like seriously no one never noticed how much of a clown he his lying and backpedalling all over again again? Then there's how bad rep for fat people Sandman was and instead of accepting criticism he just keeps giving some "vague intelligent answer" and sits and waits for his legion of fans with a parasocial relationship to defend him. But somehow he's treated as a world treasure and a genius with a big brain. And this is less problematic and more petty but I'll be honest. He isn't that much of a good writer anyway? The prose is okay is good, but the worldbuilding and lore and characters is mostly edgy and lacks deepness. His fans seriously want to make a sea out of muddle puddles,,, and that's fair! Is such a big part of fan culture to dig into the smallests of things and make an universe out of a cardbox background character, but please, don't give Neil the credit that he doesn't deserve. And what proves more to me that he isn't that good of a writer, is just...take a look at that mess of a S2 of Good Omens, it was so bad that some people had to THEORIZE that it was bad on purpose. I have such a beef with S2, characters like Muriel, Saraqael and Michael and Maggie and Nina were so heavily promoted and of course everyone was hyped, finally more POC, more disabled characters, and yay, women! And they're lesbians! And and...and hold on, how it is that Muriel didn't do that much at all? How it is that Saraqael after being so hyped BARELY had almost nothing to do, is really that all the disabled rep we got? How is it that Michael and Uriel barely had anything to do and were just background characters again? It just angers me with how with so many fem-presenting characters, and POC and disabled persons cast, they literally add nothing to the series, AND NO ONE EVER TALKS ABOUT IT. Is just this endless praise for Neil and his oh big brain. All praise Neil Gaiman, our lord and saviour of queer people. HOW IT IS, THAT THE TWO LESBIANS HYPED ROMANCE WAS ALL RELATED TO AZIRAPHALE MEDDLING WITH THEM TRYING TO SHIP THEM? And it also was bad, very badly done, is really this the women representation we got, seriously??? Talking about misleading advertising.

S2 was such such a mess, it just shows how much Good Omens needed Terry to be, well, Good Omens. I really suspect Neil stole ideas from the fandom because S2 was just a trainwreck of all the fanfic tropes you could find in GO fandom and is almost disrespectful to Terry's work in Good Omens, and I don't care for how much Neil makes his friendship with Terry as a pity party and as a "it gives me so much joy, Terry would be so happy", because seriously it's almost manipulative. Talking about Manipulative. His meddling with fandom is starting to feel unprofessional, but this ask is already long... Sorry lmao, something on me snapped after getting finally the solid evidence that Neil .Is. Not. Great

Oh he’s always been completely unprofessional but since he types in a mixture of corporate-speak and “cool dad” talk his fanbase doesn’t notice.

Here’s the thing about Neil, he’s both petty and extremely insincere. People criticized lolicon sin his presence and he was so offended on the behalf of weirdos who pleasure themselves to Hentai depicting child molestation that he wrote a several paragraph long response dismissing simulated child pornography as simply being “icky speech” that should be protected by the sacred American constitution despite, you know, the fact he’s not even American so his weird obsession with the first amendment and only ever really bringing it up to defend simulated child porn is and always has been suspicious.

As for his backpedalling, the man sees $$$$ and just goes for anything he can find to make more. People love to say “oh but he donates tens of thousands to charity!” yeah, usually to HIS charity for bailing out pedophiles. With funds typically out of the wallets of his fans due to fundraising it rather than coming out of his own checkbook so it’s not exactly a charitable action as much as it’s an empty gesture. And frankly he almost certainly just does it for tax benefits if we’re going to be honest here. He continued good omens because it would make money and generate more attention towards him and he’d be the brave hero who brought back show that did well. That’s it.

He’s just discount, off-brand Elon. Rich white man who thinks he’s gods gift to man despite bumbling through even the most basic concepts because his fans would walk into traffic blindfolded to defend him from even the mildest of criticism.

People on here just like him because they’re starstruck that a creator of a popular IP is active on this site and because he produces media that’s adapted with white middle aged twinks who are dubiously romantically affiliated.

[crit20art]

[ID: a traditional sketch of Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood from The Magnus Archives as they might appear as a woman and as a non-binary butch, respectively. Jon is a small, thin British-Pakistani woman with short curly hair. She wears a large cardigan with a cami and business casual capris. Martin is a tall, fat Vietnamese-Polish person with glasses, many freckles, and short hair with an undercut. They wear a tank top, leather jacket, and jeans with a carabiner clipped to their belt loop. Martin stands with one hand in their pocket and one hand on Jon’s shoulder, smiling fondly at her. Jon rests her hand on Martin’s at her shoulder and cuts her eyes back at them with a loving expression. End ID]

uhhh @tdogkarate said the words “butch lesbian Martin” and i blacked out and this happened. it’s v messy and i won’t vouch for the proportions but im sharing cause it made me happy and also filled me w So Much Gender

honestly this would change very little about them (including names i love them being girlies named Jon n Martin…) but here are some lil headcanons:

they/them lesbian Martin (yeah we’re openly projecting now what of it!!!!!)

Jon n Georgie started transitioning at the same time at uni and when Jon felt like she had to change her name, it was Georgie who assured her that it was ok to remain Jon

HRT did not affect The Voice much for Jon but she owns it and it’s sooooo sexy it’s fucking insane bonkers gorgeous. Martin has written no less than four poems about it (finding one of these in s2 may or may not have greatly softened Jon’s opinion of Martin)

Jon is hit a bit harder by concerns about her appearance after the coma, bc her head got shaved (goodbye beautiful gender-affirming hair) and she’s lost a lot of the weight that defined her figure. She gets angry at herself for even caring and it snowballs into her snapping at Martin at some point, but Martin, who’s Been There w body issues, reassures her as much as they can and takes her on a very nice trip down to Aberdeen to get some clothes other than Basira’s old athleisure wear. and after several hours of Jon being stared at starry-eyed by Martin and being told with soft awe “yeah you look incredible in that” like 500 times, she feels a lot better

anyway jonmartin rights in every universe forever i love them sm. also i love you women i love you butches i’m frankly feeling a bit insane abt it all right now

[bonefall]

Obviously nobody should be talking poorly about any of Bumble's competitors but it's insane how people voting for Alex are going 'its a CAT'. Like, okay and? Alex Dewitt is ink on paper and we rightfully take issue with her writing to the point of making it a term, so why is it any different when a fictional cat has misogynistic writing? And these are cats with a society, laws, religion, and understanding of (herbal) medicine. They are on par with people. And, it's a YA series. Shouldn't people take the message "fat, abused women dying isn't a problem because they can't contribute ackshually, and if we acknowledge it is how can the goodboy main character stop licking his brother's kitty boots if he's a bad person :(" as a red flag in any series? Let alone one for kids? Like, did everyone outside of the fandom miss the Ashfur defense? Because I was there for it and it was pretty clear a LOT of impressionable children genuinely believed the "he only loved too much" excuse hook line and sinker, and blamed Squirrelflight for everything. There were so many fans genuinely believing that I literally remember seeing hate art and fanfics portraying Squirrelflight as a horrible person just for asking to stay friends. That alone was a testament to how harmful Warriors can be, all because of that one scene of Ashfur being spotted in StarClan.

And with that fiasco in mind, how can anyone trivialize it to Bumble being 'just a cat'? Especially when kids are reading this, and could really take the harmful message Gray Wing the """Wise""" has for them that if you have nothing to contribute to the people you desperately need help from, you are stupid for trying to ask for it. I was lucky to not take any of the really harmful portrayals relationships in Warriors to heart, but not everyone will be. People should support Alex all they want, she deserves it! But downplaying what happened to Bumble because she's a cat is harmful :(

Alex DeWitt's story is so shocking and straightforward that you're able to sum it up with a single word; "Fridging." It's become the touchstone for a wider discussion about misogyny in media because it is so evocative and so easy to explain as an example.

That IS important. That IS a legacy.

But somehow, if you try to explain how EARLY misogyny in media starts, and how pervasive it is even in "less respectable" mediums like YA xenofiction, they lose their fucking minds. People who refuse to read anything at all going, "what could possibly have happened to a cat?"

You know what, though? I'm GLAD Bumble is winning, and I'm proud of this fandom and our campaigning. I think we actually deserve to be a little smug about this after all the damn "justa cat" comments. Bumble doesn't HAVE a legacy. The book doesn't VALUE HER LIFE AT ALL! "It's so sad Clear Sky is going to have his reputation ruined for killing this useless woman. I never liked Bumble anyway, what matters about this is my poor brother :("

The runner of the Canon Misogyny Tournament mentioned in passing how they kinda take issue with the idea of quantifying misogyny based on suffering because of how it oversimplifies the insidious ways it can express in a narrative, and I've thought a lot about that a lot. They're right.

And Alex is THE posterchild of this because her death is ghoulish. We needed what happened to her as a simple, evocative term, to advance the conversation around media misogyny and get it through people's skulls. But, she has become the conclusion of a sentiment that the more gruesome the death is, the more misogynist that makes it.

but. The fridge was not the misogynistic part of what happened to Alex. THE FACT SHE WAS ONLY INVENTED TO DIE FOR THE PAIN OF A MAN IS. THAT is what the term "fridging" is supposed to point out; The absolute LACK of interest in her as a 3-dimensional character, in women as people, to the point where the writer chose to send Alex out in a gorey, disrespectful way solely as a motivator for her boyfriend. THAT is the bad part.

But instead people have latched onto the fridge half. More violent = more misogyny.

There's a lot of ways for a narrative to be misogynist, though. To downplay the lives, emotions, or contributions of women characters, and to reinforce real-world bigotry.

Warrior Cats does a LOT of this, blaming bad mothers who didn't shut up and accept their 'purpose in life' for Brokenstar's tyranny, making it a TRAGIC thing that Clear Sky is being held accountable for murdering women because his man pain makes it ok, and even blaming Squirrelflight for rejecting Ashfur's advances which caused him to go "crazy" and attempt to murder her children (until, of course, the welcomed retcon of TBC).

Bumble's death, because she is a fat woman, is treated as unavoidable. It's not a terrible thing she died, Gray Wing never really liked her anyway, what REALLY "matters" is that now no one likes her murderer.

She was stupid and selfish to even ask for help, because she is so fat and weak. To be upset at all that her only friend watched her get dragged back to her abuser. Even as she bleeds out, she gets to listen to Turtle Tail making up excuses and wishing she "could have found happiness."

All while Tom the Wifebeater, the fat man who physically assaulted two women, gets a big cutesy redemption death and honored and beloved by everyone and even gets to "lose weight and that's so good :)". Because the books value the lives of men more than the lives of women, plain and simple.

Bumble wasn't just fridged. It's worse than that. Her life doesn't even have enough value to get Clear Sky held accountable for murdering her, because beloved writer favorite Gray Wing hated her for being friends with his wife and doesn't want anyone to hate his poor, innocent big brother :(

Like you said, you can ask anyone in this fandom and they'll tell you about the impressionable kid they were, or have MET, who was badly influenced by the constant misogyny of these books. People who defend Bramblestar tooth and nail as he abuses his wife, the screeds against both Leafpool and Nightcloud for making Crowfeather sad, and the absolutely radioactive Ashfur Defenders who have thankfully died down since TBC's welcome retcons.

It doesn't just end with annoying internet comments. Those kids carry that kind of message with them. It reinforces existing biases and causes them to downplay abused women and toxic men in their real lives.

But sure, "just a cat." Cool way to downplay the 20-year-old bestselling YA fantasy series that is still ongoing but ok. 50000 Bumblesweeps upon ye.

(though i do also have to say, since I started speaking more about it today, I'm seeing more non-wc fans push back against the 'just a cat' comments. Sincerely, thanks guys. It's not every DC fan or Alex voter, just a very vocal section of sore losers willing to downplay misogyny because they're angry.)

[hostilemuppet]

I feel like this has definitely been asked before but how does trolls reproduction work?! Or more specifically in the tdau?

Are they like seahorses where the men carry? But viva was with an egg so clearly woman can have eggs too

Both Floyd and creek were mpreg at one point but they both got fat hogs so like

Is it like an omega verse situation? They got like a uterus in their ass?

And if they do have a uterus does that mean before creek got snipped did their cycles ever sync up? Cause that would have just been a mess

I’m losing my mind over the trolls reproduction system

Its incredible how this ask got better and better with every paragraph. Anyway I haven't really discussed this with Alex but from brainstorming on my own (and "helpful" insight from you guys) this is generally how I think it works in the tdau:

Trolls are assigned genders based on genitals but genitals are mostly cosmetic (and. You know. For pleasure) and which set you have doesn't affect how you can conceive a kid

Babies are conceived sexually, but instead of it being strictly physical it is a magical process triggered by sex, which is why the egg ends up in the hair and not, yknow, uterus region. Because it is magic, two cis men or two cis women can conceive. Or a cis man and his trans woman fwb. Or a trans man and his trans wife of a different species that by all accounts should not be able to crossbreed with trolls. Because its magic, it is probably possible for a threesome to result in a child that has three genetic parents.

Every troll has the ability to give an egg or receive an egg. They have procedures to prohibit both, but you don't have to get both if, for example, you're fine giving someone else an egg but don't want to receive one. I imagine jd got this after his unfortunately canonical miscarriage. Creek, as we've established, got both so he is completely sterile. Whoever gets the egg is not dependent on sexual position and is basically completely random.

Identical twins would be in the same egg, and that in itself is very rare, but one troll getting more than one egg from the same encounter is even rarer. Both parents getting an egg at the same time from the same encounter is basically unheard of. Brangelina are miracle babies

I dont think they get periods, since chickens dont, but also for chickens the unfertilised eggs we eat kind of ARE their period if you think about it. I dont remember where I was going with this but I dont think they menstrate

And, finally, it is established in the tdau that Floyd does NOT have a fat hog. His hog is on the smaller side. And he is very insecure about the size of his hog, please be respectful