#they both have their own assets

[dawns-beauty]

The problem with making mods is that it feels like you have to make mods for your mods and then mods for those mods sometimes.

[cryptiduni]

signature skills

[beeapocalypse]

DOWNRIGHT APALLING. WHAT THE HELL

[luckquartzed]

Which Symbolic Fruit Are You?

Kakavasha~

Clementine

In Chinese culture , clementines , known for their bright orange , waxy exterior , were symbolic of gold , & by extension , wealth , good fortune & abundance . Trees that bear clementines ( or mandarins , as they're also known as ) are often used to decorate the thresholds of Chinese households as a sign of good luck & prosperity .

As lucky as Clementines may be , so are you & those around you . With a sunny disposition , & a knack for seeing the best in everyone , & the good in the world around you , you’re someone who believes that the glass is always half full . Things can always be worse , & they will always get better , one way or another ! Like the vibrant clementines , you're known for bringing light to those who need it , & always bringing laughter to your friend group . However , such a bright exterior can sometimes hide a deep & lingering sadness . Remember : even the light sometimes has to dim , & even the sun has to set . Don't worry ; it'll always come back .

Aventurine~

Pomegranate

The pomegranate is most famously attributed to the Greek goddess , Persephone . Though versions of the story differ : with some of them saying that Persephone was tricked into eating the pomegranate seeds , in order for her to become trapped in the underworld , & some saying she willingly chose to eat the seeds .

Pomegranate's have a hard exterior that is tough to crack . Your hard shell is a natural protectant & keeps you safe from those that only wish to use you . Internally you are rich with bounties . You believe in living your life passionately & vibrantly . The idea of surrendering to a fate of being confined to anything , whether it be a relationship , a job , or family dynamic where you are not happy & lack agency is a terrifying prospect . It is fears like this which also prevent you from opening up & showing vulnerability to those around you . However , like the pomegranate whose seeds sparkle like gemstones , you hide inside you incredible beauty that only the most worthy deserve to see .

Tagged by: @gemkun ( TY! ♥️ )

Tagging: Anyone who hasn’t done this yet since I rolled up late to the party lol.

[icewindandboringhorror]

me everytime I am preparing a meal with multiple elements I have to balance so they all finish cooking at the same time: Wow this is just like the 2009 hit Nintendo Wii game 'Food Network: Cook Or Be Cooked'

[narwhalandchill]

ANYWAY now that ive gotten my firefly rant off my chest and on a more positive note about the story overall; i Really liked it!!!! and character-wise specifically the biggest surprise for me in a huge W way was actually acheron??

& given i was actually somewhat committed to pulling her anyway (well. initially as kafka replacement to pull my first lightning carry after losing 50-50 but. Well. she had mercy on me at the v last moment thank goodness 😭😭) so actually ending up liking her character this much just cemented that resolve for good too. cant wait for her!!! like i am still meh on her base design not bc its that bad by itself but simply bc seeles existence just cheapens it so much like. Why are they so similar. but its not bad lmao

anyway to her actual characterization. first of all. the VAs delivery omg yall beidous english voice is already one of my all time favorites in genshin and shes doing an amazing job as acheron like. she started talking and im just INSTANTLY warmed up to her just from that KDJSKDKJK i love love love her attitude and energy!!!!!

n personality wise too??? like ive seen others mention a similar sentiment but its just the way how. even after getting the warnings from now Two separate characters that shes up to no good. im just like. "nah id win" abt it SHSKDKSI like throughout the story she comes off as so damn likeable and grounded and realistically friendly (as in not like. too open n aligned w the player from the get-go to feel believable for the character as opposed to a plot contrivance) that i just. even if shes bad news im team acheron truly.

she has genuinely funny one liners too ??? like not necessarily jokes outright but the kinda comments she says are just . very realistic in that dry witty way that comes off as natural and entertaining shes so charming!!! i love her. the more contemplative stuff she says too

but also like. girl whats up w the ominous red text ily but are we cool 😭😭 and the whole shredding us into thin slices on first encounter in the dreamscape like. Ok uhhhhhhhh ik i said nah id win and team acheron forever but this is kinda. worrisome

BUT that just means im so fucking excited to see her go apeshit too lmao like. oh shes an emanator here to do murder and spread death? COOL i hope she has fun!!

(and ik i said firefly rant over but. what the actual hell is that post firefly merk dialogue option where the games like very heavy handedly implying ur supposed to be blaming ACHERON for "letting it happen" in some emotional frenzy???? bro what 💀💀 0/5 moment i would never. n even if she plausibly did im just. dude her being cold towards firefly is just a plus for me when the narrative has just railroaded the TB into being sooo charmed by her magical presence lmao i Liked that acheron was suspicious n cold)

overall Definitely wasnt expecting acheron to establish herself as such an instant favorite for sure but. shes here now and im v happy abt it im super looking forward to seeing those more dubious goals of her come to the forefront in the future like. im so curious about whats up w her and her memory and that red text and everything

[illwriteatragedy]

The absolute horror that Roman could be if he was evil

[yinyuexuelei]

life’s been hectic lately and idk when i’m gonna have the time to really sit down and do art... but here’s a set of wips that i’ll hopefully finish someday lol

to everyone who followed me after the ghostxian post, i’m sorry i have posted zero art since then and hope that i’ll be able to give y’all something again someday _(:3」∠)_

[nevsky]

Ivan was the first to ‘grit his teeth and clench his fists’ at the beauty and interconnectedness with others existence will have over humanity, and it was and will always remain as such, and that love was everywhere he went, and that it was its intent to be meaningless, to be free in its acknowledgement of rationality but to love either way.

[wrecking]

i'm already so busy creatively but i need to be busier

[roseband]

...

[six-of-ravens]

sure you might have had a stupid moment, but at least you're not my 3rd(?) cousin who joined a cult, quit his job, refused to pay taxes for 3 years, and just lost the farm that's been in his family for generations.

[thetriumphantpanda]

baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

[angelfrombeneth]

HAVENT I MADE IT OBVIOUS? - T . NOTT

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: *REQUESTED* Reader and Theodore are best friends. Reader gets wrapped up in her first love scandal and Theodore cant handle it. He cant cope that its not him.

Warnings: Angst, Slight Fluff, The most heart warming love confession ever. Mentions of sex but hardly.

A/N: The request wasn't super specific so I decided to go with something like this.No smut, because I have a really similar request which specifically asks for smut so that one will have smut.

"Teddy don't be a twat" You smacked his head as you sat beside him.

"What! Its not my fault the instructions were unclear" He scoffed.

You and Theo both were sat in potions as you both were paired up for a task. Theo thought he was being funny reading the ingredients not in the correct order and ultimately fucking up the mixture.

"This is why I hate pairing up with you in class" You groaned.

"Hey Y/N!" You looked up to see Cedric leaning against the front of your workbench.

"Oh, Hey Cedric" You smiled.

"I was wondering" He smiled at you, his eyes flickering to the side for a moment for placing a hand ontop if yours. "Would you wanna go out sometime? Maybe for a meal or something?" He grinned.

You smiled as you sat up in your seat. "I'd love that"

"Ill meet you at 6, outside your commonroom on Friday?"

You nodded as he smiled, caressing your hand before walking back to his seat.

You heard a scoff beside you, your neck cracked to look at Theo, who had a huge scowl on his face. "Your going on a date with him? He's such a prick"

"Oh fuck off Theo" You rolled your eyes as you stood up gathering your books before exiting the class.

Theo caught up with you, walking beside you. "No seriously, he's such a priss. Why's you wanna date.. that" You scoffed at his statement before scaling the stairs down to the Slytherin Commonroom.

"Theo shut up-" You turn to see Pansy. "Oh my god! Pans!" You squealed as you ran at her.

You felt Theo's moody presence slip away with Draco and Mattheo who walked over to him as soon as you ran to Pansy.

"Cedric asked me on a date!" You squealed.

"No way- Oh my god, this will be so good" Pansy smiled, grabbing your hand. "You can test the waters before the date at the party tonight!"

"Party?" And with that Pansy yanked you to your feet and you scrambled up the stairs being dragged behind her as the next 4 hours entailed getting ready for the party.

Slytherin parties were always off the chain. Every other house could party for sure, but the amount of shit Slytherin would gather for the party. All the alcohol and drugs like it was some free tester aisle of a muggle store. It would always end very heated whether everyone was hooking up or someone started a fight. It was always the same old shit.

You decided on a basic little black dress, you can never go wrong. The dress was short and frilled. To be fair it looked more like one of those frilly tops that remind you of a dress. Your assets were out on display, but it was a party why not.

"Girl, that dress is definitely not your size but it's so cute!" She chuckled as you spun around. You fixed the top, making sure there will be no nipple slips. "You have literally the perfect body; tits, ass and thighs. I'm so jealous"

"Pans shut up, you are so hot I won't even leave for the party we can have our own" You both giggled as you leaned forward kissing her cheek before grabbing her eyeliner and finishing up your makeup.

By now the party was in full swing for atleast an hour and you two were only just getting done. You held hands as you exited Pansy's dorm and skipped downstairs giggling. Not to mention the two if you had pregamed before.

You two did you rounds round the party greeting everyone and stealing shots from groups. You both got to your friends on the couch in the back corner as you stood like bambi, struggling to stand straight in your heels from how fucked you were.

"Woah- Careful" You heard as you felt a hand snake around your waist steadying you. You look up to the side and catch Theo's dark eyes staring down at you.

"Thanks" You giggled leaning into his chest, pulling his arms over your shoulder, holding his hands as you looked to the group. Pansy situated herself on Enzo's lap the two of them giggling at you and Theo.

"So Y/N, any updates with Mr Badger? I was told about your date" Mattheo smirked, he wasnt trying to wind Theo up, he didnt know but Theo still got pissed.

You felt Theo tense behind you but you didn't take notice of it as you continued to okay with the rings on his hands. "We haven't been on the date yet, but he seems nice"

You heard Theo scoff as you turned to look up at him. "Nice my ass" He mumbled. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to argue as you continued conversation with your friends.

Theo was enjoying the company, enjoying the feeling of your body snuggled against him as you played with his rings. God, he was falling, quick. He was too busy daydreaming to even notice you had sauntered away to the other side of the room.

"Ced~" You smiled as you stood beside him.

"Hey Y/N- You look gorgeous tonight" He chuckled, taking your hand and pulling you to stand between his legs. His hands gripping your thighs, dangerously close to your ass.

"So do you" You smiled, running your hand softly up and down his chest. "M' excited for our date" You giggled.

"Me too.. Its not everyday you get to be in the presence of a goddess" He licked his lips.

"Stop it you!" You chuckled, hitting his shoulder.

"Cant help myself" His hands threatening to touch the curve of your ass.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, chuckling down at him as he pulled you closer by your thighs, placing his lips onto yours as he kissed you softly.

It was needy, very needy. He gripped your ass as you leaned over kissing him more passionately as you say on his knee.

Third POV

Theo couldn't cope at the sight. The second Pansy pointed it out, his hand tightened around his bottle. Anger filling his body as he watched another man kiss you. Another man touch you. That should be him. Not Cedric. Him. Jealously bubbled inside of him, very quickly.

Theo was too focused on the scene that the glass bottle shattered at the pressure. All his friends turned to look at the sound and him. He looked down at his bloody hand as he wiped it on his shirt, before groaning and turning to push through the crowd.

Everyone was confused by the sudden action by Theo, they had no clue what caused it, or even a smidge of knowledge how much Theo loved you.

Theo rushed away, pushing through people trying to get further and further away from the hurt. His hand covered in blood and throbbing as he stopped at the stairs. Turning to look in your direction, noticing your still with him. He bit his lip, holding in any emotion as he continued up the stairs.

Your POV

A many days later, after the party, you and Cedric went on your date. It was lovely, he was very attentive which you loved. You didn't see him much the few days after but chalked it up to him being busy.

It wasn't till it was 4 days after your date with Cedric you noticed the boy was still yet to talk to you. It left a sour taste in your mouth and you wanted to confront him. Why was he ignoring you.

Suddenly someone bumped into you, quickly apologising as they sprinted down the hall. Curious you followed them, it was a first year probably not a huge deal

You had no expectation for the kid, but it wasn't what he was running to caught your eye. It was down a dark corridor you turned to see Cedric and Theodore.. talking? Before you could even call at them, Theo pounces on Cedric. Your eyes wide as you froze. You were too far down the hall to do anything but noticed Mattheo, Draco, Enzo and Blaise all struggling to pull Theo off Cedric. Cedrics friends yelling as Cedric was frankly getting battered.

You sprinted down the hall towards them, aa they got ripped apart as you approached. Cedric and Theo's face all bloody.

"What the fuck is wrong with you??" You screamed as you looked at Theo.

He looked shocked, taken back. "Me?? He started it!"

"Sock it Theo, there was no need" You helped Cedric to his feet. "Let me take you to the hospital wing" And with that the two of you left.

Third POV:

"Shut up Nott, you're so up her ass. Don't be mad she hasn't put out for you yet. It's a long list. She's just a hole to fill. You'll have your turn " Cedric laughed.

Theo doesn't know how he got in this situation, he was just walking then saw Cedric and now he was ontop of the boy pummelling his face in. He was talking shit about you, lying about you. He was horrible.

But the worse thing for Theo was when he saw you. Saw your face when you looked between the two of them. His heart broke when you reached for Cedric, cheking if he was OK and whisking him away.

Theo was going insane.

Your POV:

It had been a day since the fight. Both boys were in the hospital wing but you refused to see Theo why would he do that. He was your bestfriend, and Cedric was just.. a guy. A guy that made you happy. Its like Theo was punishing you for being happy.

You were sat in potions noticing Theo hadn't show up, and you were pissed. He was being selfish, this was a group project.

You go to the hospital wing to find Theo, but Madame Pomfrey told you he was dismissed last night but Cedric was still there. You looked over at Ced, noticing his curtain was shut, I guess he had company, you thought and just walked out. If Theo wasn't in class then there's only one placed he'd be.

You scaled the stairs to the Astronomy reaching the top as you took a moment to get your breath. You noticed Theo by the railing and you sigh.

"Theo you can't skip class"

He turned to look at you, inhaling the smoke from his cigarette as he looked at you. "Well I am so it doesn't fucking matter. Don't you have a baby to coddle?"

"Fuck off Theo, don't be a prick" You scoffed

"He's a bad person Y/N. Why won't you fucking listen to me"

"BECAUSE YOUR CHATTING SHIT NOTT" You yell at him.

"You don't even know what he said about you. He called you a slut. Your nothing but a hole to fill" He sneered.

"What the fuck is wrong with you! Are you jealous I'm happy?" You laughed at him, distressed with the situation.

"You aren't happy" He snapped.

"How do you know? How do you know what's good for me!" You stare at his back, rage building up inside of you as you yelled out at him.

"BECAUSE IM GOOD FOR YOU.." Theo yelled. He turned to look at you, his breath erratic. "I know whats good for you and its me.. not him, no one else. Its me, it'll always be me" His teeth are gritted as he looked as you as you stand in shock. "I love you Y/N! It's always been you. Every fucking waking moment I think about you, your fucking stupid coconut smelling hair! The way your lip dimple shows when you smile a certain way. I spend every waking moment thinking about you. I live and breathe for you Y/N."

You stand there stunned as you look down at him.

"Haven't I made it fucking obvious? I fought the fucking freak for you! Yes initially he did nothing but.. He called you horrible things.. I can't bare to see you with another man that isn't me. I think about you so much bella.. Morning, noon and fucking night, I think about you.." His voice cracked as he stared down at you before he took your hand, kneeling down infront of you holding your hand. "It'll always be you.." He softly kissed your hand.

Your eyes slightly glassy from the confession as you stand speechless.

"Please say something bella.." Theo looked up at you, his hands grasping yours.

You burst out into tears, ripping your hand away from him as you cover your face. "You are so annoying Theo- I- I didn't know you felt like this" You sobbed as you wiped your eyes. Your mascara smudged all over your face.

Theo stood up, cupping your face between his hands as he wiped your tears with his thumbs as he chuckled, a tear rolling down his eye.

"I guess we are both stupid.." He chuckled lightly.

"You're such an asshole" You hit his chest playfully, laughing slightly through the sobs. His hand catching yours as you hit his chest, before his lips crashed against yours.

The pair of you finally became one.

[sunderwight]

It's so good when Shen Qingqiu takes care of Luo Binghe. In canon and also in fics. I especially am in love with when he does his hair or helps him dress, it's just so pleasantly domestic. Also endearing whenever SQQ gets a bit fanboy-ish about it, because that's Luo Binghe and SQQ can dress him up in every cool or sexy outfit he has a face thick enough to pay someone to actually make!

I wonder if he ever shares this wisdom with Shang Qinghua. Like at some bitching session or other SQH is sighing a bit about how MBJ always wears like the same three outfits, and don't get him wrong they're all great outfits, but he noticed Luo Binghe flaunting yet another fresh look the other day and part of him really wants to see Mobei Jun in something different...

And then Shen Qingqiu is just like, you're the Lord of An Ding Peak, you handle the basic wardrobe necessities for an entire sect? Go pay someone to make cool/sexy outfits and literally put them on Mobei Jun yourself! You're married to the guy, aren't you?

Shang Qinghua is like "wait you can do that? I can do that? that's a thing that's allowed?" and Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes and calls him a dumbass and points out that Airplane himself wrote about the intimacy of Luo Binghe's harem members dressing him and it being an even bigger deal for demons than humans, and Shang Qinghua cannot for the life of him remember this but it does sound sort of familiar. So off he goes to nervously sketch out some ideas for outfits, and then get told off by the seamstress he tries to commission for not having realistic ideas about how fabric works. But he does have Mobei Jun's measurements and after some discussion he gets a bunch of stuff that looks even better than his initial ideas, eventually, and then he just has to... give them to his king...

Shang Qinghua awkwardly presenting the topic to Mobei Jun like he's expecting to get a hard "no", but he blinks and his king is naked and standing expectantly in front of his fancy full-length mirror. Shang Qinghua has only ever helped Mobei Jun get dressed when he was injured in the past, and then usually only just putting his arms through some sleeves on an outer robe. They've undressed each other for sex, but putting the clothes on really is a different kind of intimacy. Especially an outfit that Shang Qinghua had specially made to suit Mobei Jun, to highlight the features he likes best about him. Striking blue and icy-white, with hints of An Ding's colors as accents, showing off his build to full effect, etc etc. Shang Qinghua layers each piece on and then does Mobei Jun's hair too, muttering quiet approval for how the look comes together while Mobei Jun preens under all the attention.

Of course, afterwards Mobei wants Shang Qinghua to dress him every day, which isn't always logistically feasible, and MBJ also intends to return the gesture.

Luo Binghe dresses Shen Qingqiu too of course, but Luo Binghe is aware both that other guys want his husband and also that Shen Qingqiu will refuse to go out in public if Binghe dresses him in anything revealing, even if he still lets him put it on, plus Luo Binghe was raised with human sensibilities about modesty. So all in all any "sexy" outfits are reserved for private time at home, and what he puts Shen Qingqiu in for daily wear is all stuff that is perfectly befitting a Qing Jing Peak Lord and scholar.

Mobei Jun doesn't have human modesty sensibilities and also doesn't see any reason why Qinghua shouldn't show off his own best assets while he's going about his day, so, Shang Qinghua is about to rue the hell out of a lot fashion-related world-building decisions he made a lifetime ago...