#very important to point out this is tos

[fungi-maestro]

Questionable Images 2/2 - The Question #6 (1987)

[quantumfeat72]

for the past few years i’ve had a personal rule that i do not sign anything i haven’t read - mostly because i genuinely think it’s a good idea, but also as a kind of social experiment - and i wanna share some observations

when i worked at an amusement park, i was one of like two or three people in a group of around twenty young adults who read the employment contract

i gave up on reading every TOS and privacy policy early on - now i only read them if it’s a website or company i’ll be giving personal information to (and even then i only skim them) - but i’ve never found anything super suspect in one

i also have an exception for when i’m made to feel like i’d be an asshole for stopping to read something. notable examples of this going into effect include the patient-intake paperwork at the ER when i went in a few months ago. (i really wish i’d just gone ahead and been the asshole in that situation, even though i have no reason to think there was anything bad in it)

i think the only time i was the only one to read something that the people who gave it to us actually wanted us to read was the waiver at a cat café, which included a lot of safety information about how to interact with the cats

one time i was approached by a guy with a petition who told me it was an anti-fracking petition (which was a real petition that was going around at the time), but the paper he handed me was a petition to instate a “citizenship requirement” for voting. i pointed this out to him and he tried to convince me that even though that’s what it said, it’s not really what my signature meant, and then named the university he graduated from as though it gave him some level of extra credibility??

i have more than once been given a HIPPA form at a doctor’s office where my signature certifies that i’ve been offered a copy of their privacy practices, when i had not, in fact, been offered a copy of their privacy practices. the last time this happened, the receptionist didn’t actually have a copy of their privacy practices, and had to get me to me sign it several days later once she got a copy from her manager

99% of people are very accommodating when you tell them “i want to read this before i sign it,” but it’s never what they’re expecting

on a related note, if someone thinks it’s important that you know what’s in something they’re giving you to sign, they won’t wait for you to read it - they’ll go through, point to each section, and tell you what it says. this is what happened when i signed my lease, and it’s actually a pretty common instance of using my asshole exception, because then i feel like i’m calling the person a liar if i stop to read it myself

the moral of the story is... like... we treat a signature like it’s the absolute most surefire way of saying “yes i understand this and agree to it,” but in practice there’s not even a pretense that a signature means you’ve READ whatever you’re signing. in fact, handing someone a piece of paper and saying “sign here” is one of the LEAST effective ways to make sure they understand and agree to something, and PEOPLE KNOW THIS, and we do it ANYWAY because what else are we gonna do? notarize it??

i don’t have a solution but like. that’s kinda fucked up, you know?

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere! GILF Headcanons

Warnings: Implied Smut, Older Man/Younger Reader, Age Gap, Spanking, Jealous Dominic, Manipulation, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

♡ Hector had only loved once before meeting you. Likewise, he had only loved once after meeting you. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in you.

♡ On the contrary, when Dominic had pulled up to the sprawling manor Hector orchestrated, expecting to see Marilyn at his side yet seeing an unfamiliar face in her stead, his curiosity was, admittedly, peaked. No small achievement considering this man has done and seen everything this world has to offer.

♡ Dominic explained – in monotone French – that Marilyn was sick, hence she couldn’t come. He’d brought you – a family friend – in her place. You couldn’t ignore the waver in his voice, his pointed stare up at his father, who resided in an almost throne-like armchair behind a mahogany desk.

♡ Hector looked through Dominic and gazed at you. You could see now where Dominic’s predilection for sharp, underhanded stares originated; the founding father of Dominic’s cold architecture.

♡ You felt as if his eyes combed over your very being, unravelling all the tangles in your make-up and laying you down to your most base, threadbare foundations, seeing you for what you really were.

♡ “Very well,” the older man grumbled, only taking his eyes off you once Dominic cleared his throat. Beside you, his son’s fingers twitched. 

♡ You were excused shortly after with Dominic taking you outside, almost jogging down the steps with a haste you’d never witnessed before, and bringing you to a most isolated spot. You’d noticed a collection of staff – chefs, maids, caretakers, gardeners – crawling about the mansion. None of them resided near you now.

♡ “Don’t talk to him unless you’re with me,“ Dominic warned. In his eyes watched a man you’d never seen before. Something vaguely…human in the colour of his irises. Warm. Afraid.

♡ Interaction with Dominic’s father – Hector – was uncomfortable at first. You’d tried to juggle Hector’s hostile hospitality with Dominic’s warnings, ultimately toing and forming between the two since they never inhabited the same space for more than ten minutes whenever meals were served.

♡ One day, when Dominic had to leave the manor on important  business, unable to take you with him, he’d instructed you to stay in your room. He tried to smooth over the jagged brickwork of his command with a suave charm that could put the incarnation of panic at ease, but you could tell – for perhaps the first time – that it felt false.

♡ Dominic left. Hours passed. You grew bored.

♡ You left your room.

♡ And who did you happen to meet whilst trawling the halls, searching for any form of entertainment?

♡ Why, the very man Dominic had forbidden you from seeing.

♡ Hector came down the hall on certain footing, obviously having taken great care of his mobility in his younger years to be able to traverse the many staircases and rooms this residence held. So why did he have so many caretakers?

♡ You scarcely had time to wonder as, before you could hide, he spotted you. Ordered you to come to him. You did, hesitant. He gave you a monotone look.

♡ “You. Come with me.”

♡ You followed him to a door that felt familiar. Inside, his study. On his desk, a pre-set game of chess. He sat at his desk. He motioned for you to join him.

♡ You, with a pounding heart and a strong sense of being out of place, played chess. Hector taught you the best way to win – “For when you compete against Dominic.”

♡ You bantered, lethargic at first, until you found even footing on subjects that weren't just Hector’s only son.

♡ You wondered what it was about his father that Dominic was so keen to isolate you from, to conceal from you.

♡ Nothing you cared for, honestly. Especially when Hector showed you just how solid his sense of humour was, how intelligent he was. How lively he could be despite his initial coldness.

♡ Of course, he was still icy, very blunt most of the time. But you could tell it wasn’t his choice – he was made this way. By who or what, you couldn’t be sure. But what you did know was that you weren’t about to let Dominic’s personal vendetta ruin your budding friendship with his father.

♡ No longer did you hide from Hector’s judgement as you scampered back to your room, the shutting of the front door reverberating through the manor’s great walls; you sought refuge from Dominic’s as he came storming down the hallway, his footfalls faster than he’d have liked them to be as he rushed to check on your condition, to see you after being forced to leave you in his father’s un-care.

♡ After that, you made more of an effort to see Hector. Especially as you had few other people to talk to – Dominic especially as he seemed more and more swept up in sudden business meetings and last-minute supply chain issues.

♡ The longer you spent in Hector’s presence – in the garden, in the library, in his study for more games of chess – the more you began to see slivers of him in Dominic. Scratchings of silver beneath rock; the inclinations of a vein of purest ore.

♡ Though, that did not mean the metal that lay dormant beneath was pure in itself.

♡ On the contrary, when you weren’t around, Hector made full – and I mean full – use of the maids, caretakers and staff at his disposal. Anyone who bore a similar enough resemblance to you was subject to any manner of his objectification.

♡ Lasting stares, increasingly lewd requests, commands to snoop through the few personal belongings you’ve brought with you – the sort of thing any powerful older man will do for the object of their affections.

♡ Sexual matters aren’t off the table, either.

♡ Far from it. 

♡ In fact, it’s bent over the edge of Hector’s desk, whining and whimpering and at the mercy of a man far more experienced than his old age could belie.

♡ He’s so nasty with it, too. He knows his workers will do anything he asks of them – for the right price. And he’s got nothing but money to burn.

♡ God forbid his most recent toy talks back to him, lest they be subject to a thorough spanking by Hector’s belt.

♡ He’s still more than capable of getting himself off without the assistance of his employees, though. He just enjoys the power he has over them. Enjoys the taste of the influence he’ll have over you.

♡ Guy’s a wealthy man, he’s got cameras everywhere. And Dominic knows this. Hence he’s always around to cover you up when you’re getting changed – even if it makes him look somewhat questionable. 

♡ You’re for his eyes only, but he knows his father will find a way to try and sneak a peek of you – to show Dominic that, while in his house, you’re both under his rules.

♡ As was the case now as Hector requested for you come to his study for afternoon tea.

♡ While there, making light conversation, he dropped a question that hung, heavy, between you in a way you couldn’t quite describe/

♡ “Did I ever tell you,” began Hector, knowing full-well he’s not once recounted this tale to you. His old age will afford him the disguise of senility, if only for a short while. You’ll listen, politely.

♡ “About Dominic’s mother?”

♡ You tell him no, that not even Dominic has ever mentioned his mother – or his family – to you before. Hector hummed. Grumbled, more so.

♡ The void in his chest sank lower as he recalled to you the greatest love of his life.

♡ “Too good for this world,” he said, regaling her acts of altruism, of philanthropy. “Someone upstairs must’ve known it, too.”

♡ You had a feeling that ‘upstairs’ transcended far beyond the many dusty rooms Hector had advised you and Dominic not to go exploring during your time here.

♡ He told you, with practiced malcontent, how Dominic’s birth would be his mother’s un-birth; her escort from this life to the next. Hector sniffed, though not for tears. You still jolted forward to comfort him, though.

♡ And he wasn't one to reject your offer.

♡ The portrait of his wife – young and beautiful for a cruel infinity – watched over the two of you.

♡ “So you see,” he continued, “That’s why Dominic doesn’t visit – or I’m willing to guess, talk about – me as much as you perhaps do with your parents.”

♡ Of course, you understood perfectly where he was coming from. Something in him grinned at the idea of even a drop of a villainous hue staining Dominic’s curated disguise, making him scrub and scrub at the veneer until it wore away and revealed the corpse beneath piloted by parasites.

♡ You tell Hector that if he ever wants to talk, you’re always down to listen. Hector grants you a small smile. Artificial warmth. Gently, he slides his hand atop yours, pats it.

♡ You are the singular object his son desires. Hence, you are the object he shall steal from him, for there is no better form of discipline than loss.

♡ And Hector wants Dominic to know what it’s like to lose everything.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

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[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ginger Rogers (Swing Time, Top Hat)—Look I’ll level with you, I’ve never seen her in a musical and I know that she’s an amazing dancer and she’ll be even hotter when I finally watch Top Hat but I’m not submitting her as a dancer I’m submitting her as an ACTRESS. Her comic timing is impeccable!!!!! She’s full to bursting with life and in every role she seems to be having FUN, you can practically feel the twinkle in her eye. With her natural warmth it’s like she’s letting you in on the joke, y’all get to have this fun together! Making me laugh is hot!!! [If you'd like to see Ginger dance, videos below the cut]

Dorothy Lamour (The Jungle Princess, Road to… movies)—Ok, to be honest, I get if no one wants to vote for her--she's kind of like my ~problematic fave~ because she started in the Road (Singapore, Bali, Hong Kong, etc) movies with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, which are full of all sorts of exoticism tropes and usually have her playing very side-eye type roles..island princesses and things...yeah. also she banged J. Edgar Hoover. not very hot. but your honor i still think she's pretty despite all that she's pretty please look at her and tell me she's prettyyy

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Dorothy Lamour propaganda:

She started in jungle and South Seas movies and became famous in the Road series. She learned quickly to improvise when facing Bob and Bing. Road to Bali almost has her character marrying both of theirs, since she's island royalty and nobody had a problem with it - a nearly poly relationship, an epiphany for a viewer who didn't even know that that could happen! She was a popular pinup girl during World War 2, and was the first singer for the popular standard "It Could Happen to You". She sang often in her movies and has a lovely voice!

Ginger Rogers propaganda:

She needs no introduction! An undeniable powerhouse on the dancefloor, and no less talented an actress. I once watched a compilation of cinema's greatest dance scenes and one of her and Fred Astaire's dances was featured, and one of the talking heads said he pitied her for 'having to keep up with him' - or something to that effect. Bullshit, I cry. Ginger Rogers was his absolute equal, and underplaying her incredible skill is downright criminal. I want the 'Cheek to Cheek' sequence from Top Hat to be permanently burned into my memory.

"Backwards in high heels", as the saying goes (though the pedant in me must point out that she in fact spent her fair share of time leading or dancing side-by-side). One of the earliest twinkle-toed ladies of the silver screen, and in terms of acting/persona, her balance of wide-eyed cuteness and movie-star glamour has never quite been replicated.

we all know her beloved string of musicals with fred but ginger also has an extensive and varied non-fred filmography that she's great in! a few ginger moments that are important 2 me personally ginger singing “we’re in the money” in gold diggers of 1933, complete with a verse in pig latin bc this whole movie is kinda mocking the concept of anyone actually being in the money in 1933; ginger and una merkel singing a verse of “shuffle off to buffalo” in 42nd street, providing some statler & waldorf-esque commentary on newlyweds from the upper berth of a railway car (interesting that belly was apparently a risque word in 1933 - maybe its bc the lyric is innuendo-ing about out of wedlock pregnancies - and that panties was a term for men’s underthings!); a favorite fred & ginger number

Ginger Rogers could do everything! She could sing, dance and act. She was hilarious in comedies, moving in dramatic roles (she won an Oscar for Kitty Foyle in 1940) and absolutely gorgeous!

Listen, no shade to Fred Astaire at all, but she both kept up with him step for step and then later went on to WIN AN OSCAR FOR ACTING. (which he did not.) truly a double threat!!!

One of the best dancers in Hollywood! Her work with Fred Astaire is just incredible.

ONE LINE: "Everything Fred did, Ginger did backwards and in heels" AND THEYRE RIGHT! Rogers was a total dance badass, and a lot of movie buffs know the story, but the Never Gonna Dance number from Swing Time took almost 50 takes, and allegedly by the end of filming it her white shoes had been stained pink because her feet were bleeding. As a note, she looks crazy gorgeous in this number. Watching these two dance is insane. They match up to each other in a way my mom describes as "divine" and she's right. DANCE NUMBERS!

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off (Shall We Dance, 1937, dancing starts at 3:14, they're in ROLLERSKATES)

(Ginger Rogers is the hottest woman ever to live in this number. seeing this as a teenager altered my brain chemistry)

(also watch her feet and how she moves opposite Astaire in this one. We all know our boy Freddie had that precision demon but jesus christ Miss Rogers, let a girl live!)

Pick Yourself Up, Swing Time 1936 (Everyone's seen this one but by god you are going to see it AGAIN!)

Shall We Dance, 1937 (duet begins at 2:34)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, Roberta 1935 (There's just something about Ginger Rogers in a slick black dress man)

The Continental, The Gay Divorcee 1934 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cjv6nmF7wdk God she's MAGIC in this one.

Gay Divorcee's Ending Montage 1934The infamous table and chairs spin happens at about 0:49. Pay CLOSE attention to her in this bc it looks like witchcraft and I feel lightheaded whenever I watch this movie bc shes THAT awesome.

She is a miracle to watch. Sorry for the sheer amount of clips. My entire family is like madly in love with Ginger Rogers.

[xkaidaxxxx]

Fake love.

Hawks x reader

mentions: Angst, Pregnancy, Baby girl.

1.3k words

“ Keigo you don’t love me.” you said. “ I do love you more than anything,” he replied. “No you don’t…I see the way you look at Macy.” you replied. In this situation you are correct. Macy is one of his sidekicks. She’s so beautiful. She looks like she came out of a princess movie. Her hair flows amazingly. Her laughter is contagious and when she smiles she makes someone else’s day better. She has her own faults. Everyone does but she’s such a wonderful match for Hawks. When he comes home from work he somehow manages to bring her up in a conversation and praise her, even during important events where heroes and their loved ones are invited. There was a specific night that embarrassed you and made you cry like there was no tomorrow. “ Hey Hawks, it's been awhile. This must be your wife?” Macy questions smiling at you. “ No she’s my girlfriend.” he corrected her. “ Hi I’m Y/n. It’s very nice to meet you, Hawks mentions you all the time.” You said and the paparazzi showed up at just the right time to hear what you said. Cameras start flashing, voice records out, and notepads. 

“ Hawks, are you dating Macy?”

“ How long has your relationship been going?” 

“ Is there a proposal coming up?” 

“ Do you work with her because you two are dating” 

“ Give us some updates Hawks.”

“ Macy, do you love him?” 

“ Macy, what type of dates have you gone on with him?” 

And many more questions. 

He didn’t even deny it. Not even Macy. She smiled and walked inside in a hurry. You were pushed to the back by the paparazzi. 

“ You all are not allowed out here. Please leave. I don’t want to call the police here and have you all arrested.” he said. 

“You are in love with her!” 

“ You want her out of harm's way!” 

“ Hawks, are you planning to retire to marry her and have children?” 

He walked inside slamming the door forgetting you. 

You cried hailing a taxi to go home. When you walked inside you slammed the door shut and locked it. “ How did he forget about me? Why didn’t he say he’s with someone else..with me? Why have we been dating for 3 ½  years and he hasn’t asked me to marry me? Am I not giving him what he needs? Am I not good enough?” you asked those heartbreaking questions. “ I am good for him. I give him all my love and support. I love him. I cook and clean and always make sure he’s healing well when he has injuries. I wake up in the middle of the night to make sure he isn’t bleeding when he has cuts. I give him all I have to offer and that’s not enough. He doesn’t appreciate me. He doesn’t love me.” you said. That night and almost all the time your bed felt cold regardless if he was there. You knew that the relationship was loveless so why did you stay?

A week later you were tangled in between the sheets with him feeling happy. Happy because he showed you a bit of love. He was being so gentle and kind. He did start paying attention to you but to him it was almost a job. A task that reminds himself to do. It’s not a natural thing like in any relationship. You picked up on it and it made you feel like a burden. Gave you mixed feelings.

Happy he’s putting in effort and hurting because it’s almost a job instead of being a good boyfriend .

“ I’ll be home early today sweetheart.” Keigo said ruffling his wings. You think it’s cute when he does that “ Okay my love. See you soon.” You replied holding his hand to help you balance has you tip toed to peck his cheek. “ nice energy boost sweetheart.” He said flying away. You closed the door.

You guys are playing house at this point.

2 players

You’re the sad housewife

He’s the breadwinner

You prepared dinner and served it, waiting at the table reading the message that he’s close on by.

5 minutes turn to 15 minutes.

15 minutes to 36 minutes.

The food is obviously gone cold.

Eventually it hit 2am, he showed up drunk. You opened the door and saw his hero friends holding him up.

“ Do you need help taking him upstairs?” Best Jeanist asked. “ No sir. Thank you all for bringing him home.” You replied taking him and closing the door.

“Keigo get up. Now!” You ordered. He stood up leaning against the countertop. “I’m s’hungry. Dinner?” He said seeing the cold food.

You didn’t even bother to talk to him. You simply went upstairs to sleep.

This happened a least 5 times. When he was brought home..each time the guys would ask if you needed help. If you were okay. After all, heroes save people. Each time you said you’re good.

He did suddenly change. He did give you more attention. He’s doing it as a routine. Not out of love but out of pity. Out of guilt .

————————————————————————

Things he’d say to himself:

-Okay remember ask her about her day.

-watch her as she gets ready for bed and give her a kiss here and there

-don’t forget it’s date night

-Make sure to buy gifts

-never cause something to upset her

————————————————————————

4 months went on by.

“ You’re joking. False positive. It’s a false positive.” You said and decided to take another test. Minutes went on by. “ Definitely Positive.” You spoke trying to calm yourself down. You threw away the pregnancy tests. “ I’m pregnant. I need to set up and appointment.” You said. You were thinking about abortion but you’re creating a baby. A life. That’s something you shouldn’t take away. You decided to keep it.

You were 1 1/2 months along. You were getting signs a week ago. Now you’re showing a bit of a bump.

You’re so nervous and excited to have a baby. You thought Keigo will be overjoyed. You were working on a way to tell him about it.

Tshirt?

Straight up test in his face?

You chose to sit him down, saying you have a gift and hand him a pregnancy test.

The day finally came an you were glowing! You changed into something cute and did you make up. You wore the jewelry he had recently bought you. “Sit down very quickly. I have news for you!” You said jumping up and down. “Hey I’ll be away for about a year on hero work. The United States is waiting for me. I leave in 3 hours..endeavor is waiting for me outside..I’ll keep you updated. Tell me about your news later or I’ll be late.”he said leaving a peck on your cheek. “ Don’t promise that you’re going to write or call…you’ll be busy and I’ll only be worried if you don’t respond soon.I love you so much Keigo” you said. “ I’m still going to call. I love you princess. I’ll try and get home early.”he said leaving. As soon as you were about to tell him you're 2 months pregnant this man is saying his goodbyes and leaving“ God, Keigo, just please remember we had it all. I gave you absolutely everything I had to offer you.”You said. “Time for a fresh start.” with that you went on about your day. It took about 2 months to find a new place to live. You now live about 2 hours away from the countryside of Japan. It was peaceful. The neighborhood held a welcome party for you. When you went to your monthly check ups the woman would feel bad for you. You had no husband, not even a boyfriend that could accompany you. “ It’s a girl!” the gynecologist said happily. You looked at the screen with tears slipping. “ She’s going to be such a cutie pie.” you said giggling. When you hit 7 months It was even harder. You struggled washing your clothes, picking up things from the floor, you couldn’t put on shoes, so you wore slippers all the time. You’d have sleepless nights when your baby girl kicked and moved around a lot and when you craved something, you’d have to drive yourself to the store. 

Miu decided to come two weeks early. If Keigo stayed by your side during your pregnancy you wouldn’t have struggled much. He’d be taking you to the hospital, not the ambulance. Miu’s dada wasn’t there to see her be born. Wasn’t there to hold your hand, wipe your tears and sweat away as you pushed. It was only the nurses and the doctor. After the birth of your daughter you still gave her , her fathers last name. 

The worst part of all of it is that you’re young. 19 having a child with a 23 year old man. Not a huge age gap,but you are barely starting your life. Soon after your daughter turned 4, you moved back to get her a better education and you a better job. $9,500 yen an hour isn’t bad for a beautiful home and to raise Miu. Everything is good for you and little Miu. You both had each other and that’s all that mattered.

————————————————————————

love yall

<3

[anewstartrekfan]

Why I like Kirk so much and why I think he didn’t resonate as much with general audiences as Spock did

I think what Gene Roddenberry and the rest of the tos crew underestimated is how powerful knowledge of a character can be when they thought Kirk would be popular over Spock. As season 1 progresses while you do get information about both Kirk and Spock peppered through out, how much and how it’s conveyed is important.

Spock is Stoic yes, but surprisingly he talks about his past and what it means to be Vulcan a lot. And other characters comment on Vulcans too like McCoy describing where a Vulcan heart is. Even moving onto season 2, when Spock truly, desperately, does not want to explain what Pon Farr is or that Sarek is his father, he admits these things under pressure. And all of this information is what’s gives the audience an idea of what informs his actions.

Jim Kirk however, despite being very outgoing and charismatic, very rarely talks about himself. With few exceptions, every time you do learn something about his past it’s because someone else explains it or points it out. You’ve got where no man has gone before where Gary talked about their academy days, The naked time while Spock talked about his regrets, Kirk vents that he wants a personal connection and then is literally the only person who is able to will the virus to stop effecting him (on his own I mean) just long enough for McCoy to give him the cure.

The Android copy of Kirk tells us about Kirk’s brother Sam, in Conscience of the king literally everyone except Kirk explains his tragic tarsus iv backstory, we never find out who the Ruth girl is in shore leave, and it’s Bones that brings up Sam lives on Deneva. Even in season 2 in the worst episode ever, the deadly years, when Kirk is in a room alone with his ex fiancé, she explains their history. Not Kirk.

This man is allergic to talking about himself I love it.

Edit: Whenever Jim does even sorta talk about his past, it’s always in the context of what the other people he’s talking to know about it. Take Tarsus IV. Spock tells Jim that he checked the same library records. So when Jim finally opens up at the end of the conversation, it’s information Spock and Bones already know. “I saw him [Kodos] once, 20 years ago.” Then about 10 minutes later when he’s talking with Kodos and trying to get proof, he gives Kodos a copy of the speech Jim heard him read 20 years ago. Saying that he memorized the words. Again, these are things only the two of them would know about. It’s not something Jim exclusively went through.

Then later in Obsession when Jim is talking about his prior experience with the fog, everything he references was in the report he made after the Farragut disaster that he knows Spock and Bones read. There is no new information he reveals about what happened to him or even how he felt about it. Bones has to be the one to say Jim was wrecked with guilt because at the end of the day, Jim will never willingly talk about his past without knowing or thinking the other person he’s talking to has the same information. He will not reveal anything new 95% of the time.

Anyway back to the old blog.

While I’d argue conscience of the king does most of the work you would ever need to explain why Kirk is the way he is, the fact is we don’t learn much about his past through him. Instead it’s Kirk’s actions that inform our understanding of him. Which on some level I like a lot. It’s rare that a tv series doesn’t lean heavily into some tragic backstory explaining why a character acts the way they do. But it isn’t just he doesn’t have multiple tragic backstories. It’s what we know nothing about his past in general. Ffs we didn’t learn he grew up in Iowa until Star Trek IV. It might not even be Riverside! That town just claimed it for themselves and everyone rolled with it.

Edit: SNW did confirm after almost 40 years that riverside is Kirk’s birthplace.

The audience never truly closes the gap with Kirk because he never willingly opens up (at least where I am in the show idk maybe the movies change this) So comparatively Spock just had more going on.

[hijackalx]

ASTARION NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

hes such a dick if ur a one night stand LMAO understandably tho. understandably..... but yeah if hes not really feeling u he just kind of dips out after coming up with some wack ass rehearsed excuse to protect ur feelings. totally different story if he loves u though. i feel like he gets sooo lovey-dovey post nut OMG like soo much praise and so many kisses. post nut clarity with his S/O consists of him enjoying the many wonders of the world 😭😭  that shit will have him watching the sunset

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

i think he likes his hands. i mean its one of the things he can see so like. but they are really nice. long and nimble fingers and smooth palms. his hands look like poetry lowkey. anyway if ur AFAB he loves titties. any titty. loves to mark them up and watch them bounce while u ride him. if ur AMAB its ur shoulder/collarbone area especially if its dainty and delicate looking but regardless he wants to bite around there. youll see him looking at them a lot

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he wants to come on ur face or inside u. his two go-tos. if hes about to nut he'll ask u really quick which u want and u have like 3 seconds to answer LMAO. takes a while to get to that point tho so u have some time to think about it beforehand 😭😭

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he got hard asf the first time u let him drink from u LMAOO he walked away and jerked off IMMEDIATELY

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

hundreds of years of experience is enough for me yeah

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

oooooooooooo gurl. ugh hold on theres so many it could be. ok so theres two. 1. he likes to sit u in his lap (the back of ur head on his shoulder or maybe even sitting sideways with ur legs off the side ??? idk however yall want) and finger/jerk u off. it makes him feel sooo in control 🤤 and 2. he lovesss eye contact so any positions where he can stare into ur soul 👁️👁️ yall why am i only seeing missionary rn...... or planking i guess lol

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i think hes pretty serious. he might even get pissed off if u start acting too goofy lol like hes playful but not going to start cracking jokes 😹😹

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

this pains me to say...... but i dont think elves get body hair if any (like canonically)....... but i think its weird to be completely bald so im going to say hes got a little bit of pubic hair, armpit hair, and of course leg/arm hair. its just not very long or thick. he basically never has to trim or anything

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

my boy is a romantic at heart yall. will kiss u a lot and hold u very close. i think its rlly important for him to have some sort of emotional connection thru sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

honestly dont feel like he ever does normally LMAO when u reject him or push him away during the first romance scene and he says he'll go beat off i think hes just saying that to make u feel bad 😹😭  when u let him drink from u it was probably the first time he jerked off in a longggg time. i can see him thinking hes above doing something like that lol so its an ego thing

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

ok did u guys see the little church looking building at the first campsite in act 3??? i think if yall were to smash there he'd never forget it. like something about that turns him on so much. probably bent u over the altar. even after u guys are long gone he still thinks abt it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

suck on his fingers omg. but also really likes to use sex to put u in ur place so if u guys argue or just dont get along at some point he will use that as a build up to sex. so he will purposely push ur buttons A LOT. cuz its like, how dare u raise ur voice at him ?? 😤

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

if u dont go along with what he wants to do he kind of gets pissy after a while. he only ever really wants to be in control and thats it. also wont do anything extreme or ridiculous either 😭😭 anything that makes him feel humiliated is a big no

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

for AFAB like ive said before he is the self-proclaimed coochie eating champion of faerun. sooooo good at it its not funny. will also kiss it and leave more kisses/bites on ur thighs. makes u feel like ur coochie is the most divine coochie in the world LMAO omg also will want to eat u out every time ur on ur period......... i think thats like one thing he will absolutely beg for OOP

if ur AMAB its basically the same just with a dick lol

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he can do both. probably likes to be a little rougher than most people though

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

yeah if hes in the mood i can see him scouting the area for a place to smash LMAO which probably happens pretty often. doesnt mind giving up the romantic aspect as long as yall still fuck for real every once in a while.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

i think he would need to be convinced. willing to hear u out at least

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

TOO LONG. HE LASTS WAY TOO LONG. i mean after u been suckin and fuckin for that many years how do u not take forever to nut 😭😭  u will get urs tho dont worry. also perfect situation for u to have multiple orgasms so dont get discouraged besties 🤘🏻

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

allllll the timeeeee. he wants u to need him more than anything else before he fucks u. u need to need this man like u need oxygen. like a fish needs water. like a plant needs the sun. like a

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

grunts and groans but when he gets closer to finishing he'll start moaning. he doesnt make an effort to stay quiet but also wont do anything embarrassing 😹

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

emmmmm i wanna say he can go a pretty long time without sex. but if he has a partner he is sexually attracted to his libido can be pretty high. but lets remember he is getting into his erectile dysfunction years ☝🏻 JOKINGGGG LMAO

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

well he meditates technically. but he gets into that lil meditation pose fast as fuck boy 🧘 do not interrupt him either he'll be grumpy 😭

[holly-the-trash-writer]

Safest Place in the Universe

Eleventh Doctor x Fem! Reader

Written for an Annonymous ask

Synopsis: Y/n wakes up to find that the Doctor fell asleep on her. Which would be normal if Time Lords slept. Upon waking the Doctor explains just how much she means to him.

Word Count: 1,240

A/N: Taking requests for all your Eleven fics!!

Amy had walked into her living room and stopped dead. Her jaw dropped open as she took in the sight in front of her. 

Rory. She had to get Rory. 

She tip-toed back out the door and sprinted upstairs to their bedroom, “Rory!” She hissed. 

“Ah!” Rory tumbled out of bed before jumping up to his feet, “What? What’s happened?” 

Amy squealed, “You really need to see this.” She grabbed his hand and started dragging him down the stairs. 

“Is this really so important that I couldn’t put on trousers?” 

“Yes. Now shush!” She placed a finger to his lips before slowing her steps when they reached the bottom of the stairs. 

The two crept towards the door to the living room and Amy grinned as she pointed around the corner. 

The two peaked around the corner and Rory blinked... and blinked... and blinked. But the view never changed. 

He pulled back and grabbed Amy’s arm, “Is he... sleeping?” 

Amy nodded, “The Doctor. The Doctor, the man who told us that he doesn’t need sleep, is now sleeping. Sleeping on top of Y/n! They’re- They’re-” 

Rory yawned, Cuddling. Which is what we should be doing.” 

“Rory! This is huge! When have we ever seen the Doctor sleep?” 

“Never.” Rory placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her towards the stairs, “Which is why we should leave him alone.” 

“But-” 

Rory chuckled, “We’re not staying down here so you can watch them sleep.” 

Amy huffed before taking his hands and the two walked back upstairs again. 

- 

Y/n blinked as noise from the hallway started to wake her up. The sound of hushed conversation had filtered in the door and then two sets of steps going back up the stairs. 

Squinting at the brightness of the room, she tried to take in her surroundings. 

Amy and Rory’s house.  Amy and Rory’s living room.  Amy and Rory’s sofa. 

She had fallen asleep on her left arm which was resting on the arm of the sofa. She remembered the Doctor rambling about using wires from different household appliances to do... something to the internet? 

Where was the Doctor? 

She couldn’t see him in the room so she went to get up to look for him. She tried to shift her legs but couldn’t move due to a heavy weight pinning her down. Looking down she saw the exact alien that she was looking for. The Doctor, who was still tangled up in wires, was lying on top of her. Literally. The back of his head was resting against her chest, his right hand had her right hand in a comforting grip at his shoulder while his left arm dangled off the side. His upper body was on top of her legs while his own long legs were dangling off the opposite arm of the sofa. 

At first, she thought he was just thinking but he wasn’t moving and his breathing was even. 

He was sleeping. 

On top of her. 

The Doctor was sleeping while leaning on her. 

Once she realised what she was looking at she relaxed, leaning her head back on her left arm as she smiled down at him. 

Y/n remembered the time he told her that Time Lord’s don’t need as much sleep as humans do. Something about a meditative state for twenty minutes is like an eight-hour sleep for him. Yet, when she looks down at him, he looks like he’s been asleep for a while. Like, proper, human sleep. 

She craned her neck to look down at his face. He looked... peaceful. Which is a word not normally associated with the Doctor. The Doctor always has a permanent crease in his forehead. 

Yet, right now. His face was crease free. He looked just like a regular young man in his twenties. She’s never seen him be so still for so long either. 

Very slowly she moved her left arm and ran her fingers through the Doctor’s hair. Unbelievably soft. He didn’t wake at her actions and she couldn’t help herself but to run her fingers across his forehead. 

He shifted slightly before his eyes snapped open and he startled that much he rolled onto the floor. 

“Doctor?!” Y/n gasped as she leaned forward to look at him sprawled across the floor, “Are you okay?” 

The Doctor’s eyes darted around the room as he tried to figure out where he was. When he realised Y/n was looking down at him he jumped up, “Fine? Of course, I’m fine. I am Mister Fine.” Thinking over that for a second, he shook his head, “No, forget I said that.” 

Y/n couldn’t help but ask, “I thought you said Time Lords don’t sleep.” 

The Doctor didn’t look at her as he starting gathering all the wires and figuring out where the ends were, “We don’t.” 

“But you were.” 

The Doctor sighed and rubbed a hand across his face, trying to wake up. 

Y/n frowned at his reaction, “There’s nothing wrong with sleeping you know.” 

He turned around and gave her a small smile before gently lifting her legs and falling heavily into the seat beside her, placing her legs on his lap. 

Y/n’s eyes widened at his actions, “Doctor?” 

“Time Lord’s don’t sleep, Y/n. But they can.” He smiled as he patted your leg, “When a feeling of absolute safety is over us, we can sleep for hours.” 

He looked at Y/n’s face, she was nodding but she wasn’t fully understanding what he was saying, “Y/n, I haven’t slept in the presence of another person in decades. A possible millennium or two.” 

The realisation of what he meant dawned over her. 

“You- You feel safe here?” 

The Doctor chuckled, “With you.”  

“Me?” 

“Of course, you. Who could I trust more than you?” 

Y/n was speechless so the Doctor continued. 

He gestures to her body, “Your single heartbeat reminds me of and old Gallifreyan lullaby.” 

Y/n smiled and shifted in her seat so she could hold his hand, “Oh? How does it go?” 

The Doctor stared off into the distance as he patted Y/n’s hand, “It’s not one that is sung.” 

“Okay... so what’s it about?” Y/n rests her head against the pillow, waiting for the Doctor’s response. 

“It’s about finding the safest place in the Universe.” 

Y/n played with the Doctor’s fingers, “Okay. Where is it?” 

The Doctor smiled, lifting up his arm so Y/n could switch positions and curl up into him, putting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his middle under his jacket. 

“It says that there is one heart out there for everyone.” 

Y/n giggled and nudged him, “Or two in some cases.” 

The Doctor chuckled, “The hearts are drawn to each other. Always trying to find each other. When you come together the connection will be so strong that you’ll wonder if you ever really loved before them. They don’t conform to the rules of time or space and in their arms, you will find the safest place in the universe.” 

Y/n unwrapped herself out of the Doctor’s arms so she could sit up and look at his face. 

“I never found my safest place until now." He grinned at her before pulling her into his chest for a hug, wrapping one arm securely around her back and his other hand wrapped into her hair, pushing his face into her shoulder he took a deep breath before whispering, "I found it with you.” 

[bajuuuu]

Rewatching some favourite TOS episodes of mine. And this thing at the end of The return of the archons (s1,e22) stuck out to me. This whole episode is about how a computer can’t run a society even if programmed by a human. Because it’s missing something… innate… human. A “soul” Jim calls it.

The episode ends with Jim talking the computer into self destructing (as usual) stating that it has no creativity, that it’s killing the humans it’s designed to protect. This isn’t the only time Jim makes a computer realise that it is and never will be a human and is therefore lesser than the human which created it.

But after that. After they return to the ship Jim and Spock have the classic end of the episode conversation. “I prefer the concrete, the graspable, provable.” Spock says after Jim brings up the soul argument. “You’d make a splendid computer, mister Spock” Jim replies with a smile. He means it well. Spock raises an eyebrow at the remark and thanks his captain for the compliment. ”That is very kind of you captain.”

Kind. In the episode where a computer is talked into subordination, told that it is lesser than humans. It is kind of Jim to call Spock a computer. I can’t be the only one seeing this irony.

Do you think that any time Spock gets compared to a machine, he thinks back to this moment? Do you think that any time he is asked to do some computations instead of asking the computer (because said machine is unavailable) he compares himself to the machine he is substituting?

Spock gets called many quite ugly things throughout the series, some of them are reprimanded (the episode where an ensign is made to leave the bridge after not trusting Spock with a decision because he’s a Vulcan). Some go unnoticed or are ignored due to the episode plot being more important (The Galileo 5 where he has to constantly prove himself to be capable of doing his damn job even though he’s the superior officer). And then some are played off for a laugh, a joke and harmless little quarrel (any time Bones and Spock are on screen tbh).

There’s also The day of the dove. An episode where Scotty (influenced by an alien but still) tells Spock to “keep his Vulcan hands off of him. Just keep away. […] you green blooded half-breed”. Spock (also influenced by an alien) goes to punch Scotty in the face (which… fair) but the way Jim stops Spock (only Spock not Scotty who started the whole thing) from doing so is by yelling “you’re half human”. Which does the trick by the way. Later on he goes directly to Spock, lays his hands on his shoulders and asks him and no one else “Have we committed race hatred against the Klingons?” He asks Spock because at least unconsciously he knows that Spock is the one who would notice. Who would know.

I just wonder, how many times can you be called a pointy eared bastard, a devil, a computer, an alien before you start to believe it. Before you start changing yourself to be more human. To fit in. Because Spock does change throughout the seasons, he becomes more open, allows himself to be both human and Vulcan at the same time. And of course he does, he is surrounded by people! Of course it will rub off. Especially if these humans continuously tell you that you will never feel love (a very human emotion in Bonse’s opinion) because it isn’t written in your inheritance (The paradise syndrome).

He changes, I just wonder if it is for the better. Or if.. perhaps. The first thing he does after the 5 years on the Enterprise is go back to his home world and tries to purge himself of all emotion. To kill off this human thing in him that his friends tried to cherish.

Does this have a point? No? Not really? Just… thoughts.

[theflyindutchwoman]

You can choose to see that tattoo as your greatest failure. But I see it as proof that you're a survivor. It wasn't your day of death, Officer Chen. It was the first day, of the rest of your life. And no one can take that away from you.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 2.12 - Now and Then

This has to be my favourite moment, along with Lucy making an audiobook for Tim… Maybe it is because these two scenes have a very similar vibe… both of them taking place in the gym… with both Tim and Lucy working through their frustration in the same fashion… and making the other feel more empowered… Back then, she was fiercely telling him that his 'learning disability' was nothing to be ashamed of, and instead, was a strength… And here he is, saying something akin, just as passionately : that her tattoo isn't a sign of weakness or failure on her part, but one of strength. Of resilience. It's more than just reassurance : it's really about empowering the other… And this is genuinely a beautiful and powerful message, that epitomises their relationship perfectly...

The way the camera focuses on Lucy's DOD tattoo, with Tim appearing in the background, before he fully comes into focus, is brilliant. Him looking away, pretending he hasn't seen it, out of respect for her and complimenting her instead, is such a simple, but meaningful thing. Just like how he refuses to take any credit for the way she is. The reverence and pride in his voice are all for her. He's trying to drive his point home, but Lucy is not hearing him. Or at least, not entirely. He's about to leave before changing his mind. You can see the moment he decides to go for it and really talk to her. Something he has been trying to do already, like after he heard she was involved in a shooting : only, he kept it light in that moment, not daring pushing her out of her comfort zone. But his conversation with Nolan made him reconsider his approach, once he realised that her friends were too focused on her tattoo, treating its removal as a magical cure to her emotional wounds. No matter how well intended they are, it doesn't work like that. Something he knows all too well.

So instead, Tim opens up about his own traumatic experiences, share his own history and scars to help her… And this is huge for him. Lucy might have known about Isabel, but this is the first time he mentions his childhood and his dad to her (at least, as far as we know : he did it once while playing football with AJ, but she wasn't around). It's a very personal and intimate topic and the fact that he willingly shares this vulnerable part of himself with her says a lot on how much he trusts her. And it also feels natural : they were already getting closer, but regardless, this is the same man who opened up about his personal life on her second day. He has seen how she was there for him time and time again, with Isabel of course, but even recently, with how she made him feel safe after discovering he was a kinesthetic learner. So now, this is his turn to do the same for her, to respond in kind. And it parallels what Nyla was trying to do with Lucy when she shared her very own experience in the shop… and with Tim when she shared pieces of it in order to convince him to let her ride with Lucy for the day. He took a page from Harper's playbook, understanding that it might help Lucy more.

But unlike Nyla, Tim goes a step further. The reason why Lucy wasn't quite as receptive with her is that she needed more than empathy. It helped her of course, but what she requires even more is seeing her trauma in a different perspective. To see it through someone else's eyes. Tim's eyes. They already have a special bond and his opinion matter a lot to her. She can get through to him like no one else and so can he. But this is even more important since they haven't been able to ride together since that fateful day. She thought at first that the change in TOs for the day was a Tim Test. So it is primordial that she knows he doesn't think less of her. Just like he probably also doesn't want someone else he cares about to believe they're not living up to his standards… And at first, Lucy was getting frustrated with him as well. Even angry that he wasn't getting it. Until he started to emphasise on the fact that she didn't die, that she's still very much alive and therefore won, just like she defiantly warned Caleb in her last words to him. He's trying to get her to focus on that victory. That what she sees as a sign of failure, is instead a sign of resilience. Of her own strength. And I absolutely love how going forward, she will rub her tattoo whenever she's getting nervous, as a reminder of this. Because this is such an earnest and powerful message. At no point does he tell her what to do with this or how to feel about it - which was inadvertently what Jackson and Nolan were doing. It's simply about pushing her to see things under a different prism so she can make an informed decision. One that will bring her peace. To help her see herself the way he does : as a survivor, as someone who saved herself. Not a victim. It's about her retaking some control of her own story. And this time, she gets his message… The way she is clearly moved by his words, tearing up, just shows how much she needed to hear these words. Especially from him.

The tone of the scene instantly changes after that, becoming much lighter… Without undermining the core message either. This is a much needed respite, after that intense conversation. Tim looks so self-conscious and bashful when Lucy thanks him, like he's suddenly feeling under the spotlight. His whole demeanor - hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet, asking her if she's riding with him - feels very much like a teenage boy asking the girl he has a crush on to go on a date with him, while trying to be nonchalant about it. His beaming smile when she agrees is adorable. Her laughter as well… It's clear he has missed riding with her. They both have.

And that leads us to that last part : Tim giving Lucy back her ring. The one she left behind for him to find… There are so many symbols here… Like the fact that he had it in his pocket the whole time, even though he was about to leave her alone at first… The implication that he kept it with him, that he hung on to it, as a reminder that she was safe now, that he found her… It's how he's playing with it as well, as if a part of him is a bit reluctant to part with it… It's the way they don't even need words : they both understand the underlying message… It's in his smile before he leaves, the admiration he feels for her shining bright in his eyes… Or her surprise and delight when she catches her ring, having the confirmation that she was right to have so much faith in him… And how overwhelmed she is, to know that this tiny piece of jewellery, thrown as a last-ditch effort, saved her… That she saved herself. This moment encapsulates everything he has previously said in a very poetic manner… It was the perfect conclusion. Melissa deserves all the credit here for pitching this idea to the showrunners and writers, who, then, turned it into this wonderful scene. And hopefully, there will be a follow up one day on this...

[end-otw-racism]

2023 Board Candidates

We have taken time to go over the bios and platforms presented by the current candidates, and will here present our thoughts for each on how we feel they align with our campaign's goals at this stage. We are particularly concerned with how willing and capable we feel they would be in helping the OTW meet its commitment towards developing anti-racist policies and practices.

We encourage everyone to read the platforms for themselves, and we look forward to getting to know each candidate more during the question-and-answer period. 

Anh P.

Gave no pronouns, the bio uses they/them.

Anh P. identifies the OTW's lack of transparency as a direct symptom of its current structure and human resource management not being up to the task of managing its 900+ volunteers, but does not offer solutions in their platform at this time. Their main focus seems to be reaching out towards new fans, particularly in non-English-language fandoms, for which their international, non-Anglo background and perspective are well-suited. However, they do not specifically acknowledge racism as a distinct problem nor do they indicate that they would prioritize anti-racist goals. They do not mention the Terms of Service (TOS), Policy and Abuse Committee (PAC), or their position on a Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) consultant, nor do they state a position on using funds towards hiring anyone for that position. 

Audrey R.

Gave no pronouns, the bio uses she/her.

Audrey R. has experience within the organization and has a background in policy and nonprofit work, which could translate well to the Board. The work she has done has been on the Strategic Planning committee, which has worked at a particularly slow pace (6 years for implementation of the strategic plan), which she acknowledges “does little to address immediate needs.” Her stated primary reason for running is to protect fandom from AI which, while admirable and important, is not our focus – and to that end, she does not mention racism or harassment at all. She expresses willingness to have paid employees and calls for a conflict resolution management system for volunteers.

Jennifer H.

Pronouns: she/they.

Jennifer H. specifically addresses the importance of communication with the OTW’s user base. She also speaks to the need for complete structural reform. Her platform indicates an experienced perspective on what she can accomplish as a Board member and a willingness to do the hard work to make things better. We find their platform promising in that they are directly addressing issues we have raised, show these issues to be a priority, and express an understanding of the difficulty of the road ahead, but a willingness to do the hard work anyway. She seems to have a bit less experience working for the org, having only joined in 2022, but that is not necessarily a point against them. 

Kathryn S.

Gave no pronouns, the bio uses she/her.

Kathryn S. has experience in non-profit work and community activism, implementing DEI efforts and Human Resources (HR) experience which seem to make her a good fit for the Board and realizing our goals. She explicitly prioritizes the hiring of a DEI consultant along with an HR position. She does mention “recent controversies” in her platform, though she does not specify which ones. Her experience with the OTW is significant, at 9 years. 

Qiao C.

Pronouns: she/her.

Qiao C also brings an international fandom perspective and focuses primarily on the importance of communication inside and outside the organization. She makes a very brief mention of updating the TOS. She does indicate she would like to hire an HR professional, but her platform – while it mentions the recent protests and spends time discussing diversity issues – makes no explicit mention of racial issues outside bringing in more diverse volunteers. We do feel that more diverse voices within the OTW are important, though diversity alone is not going to solve the issue of racist harassment currently allowed in the OTW’s policies and enforcement practices. There is nothing else in her platform that speaks to dealing with racist harassment, updates to the TOS, or hiring a DEI consultant. 

Zixin Z.

Gave no pronouns but the bio uses she/her.

Zixin Z would also bring an international presence to the board. She mentions the need for structural change, paid positions, and increased documentation to prevent the loss of institutional knowledge. She also mentions the need for outreach towards non-English-speaking fans and has a desire to provide support to volunteers from minority groups. She does not mention racism, racist harassment, or hiring a DEI consultant in her platform, so outside the outreach and support she mentions, there is not enough for us to conclude that these would be priorities for her.

[Edited July 10,2023. Revised Zixin Z.'s position on outreach to be "towards non-English speaking fans and has a desire to provide support to volunteers from minority groups" and add "outside the outreach and support she mentions" to the subsequent sentence. Original stated the outreach would be towards "Chinese-speaking fans". ]

[Post updated with explanation of the scope of these summaries. Please reblog the completed version if doing so]

[heliza24]

Wilhelm, The Look (™), and Endings

The recent poll on the confessions blog about the ideal end of the series (King Wilhelm vs leaving the line of succession vs the end of the monarchy) got me thinking about endings. In trying to think of what my own answer to this question was, I ended up reflecting on the way that Season 1 and 2 end, and that got me thinking about the infamous straight-to-camera Wilhelm looks that bookend each season. I’ve always loved those moments and found them crucial to the visual language of the show, but I don’t think I’ve ever really stopped to analyze why. But if I’m trying to decide how I feel about the possible endings of season 3, I should probably stop and figure out why I feel the way I do about the ending (and beginning) shots of season 1 and 2, right? So let’s take a minute and talk through these shots, and what I think they do for story structure and Wilhelm’s character.

I think the main thing those glances to camera do are establish Wilhelm as a protagonist with agency. Just for a second, he’s aware that he’s being watched, and that awareness means that he’s going to make active choices about what happens during his story. I think this makes sense when we realize that the first look to camera happens when Wilhelm is giving his first press interview. Wilhelm has always been in the public eye as a member of the royal family, But this is the first time that the attention of the press has been directed directly at him. It’s the first time that he has been asked to answer for his actions, and the first time he’s had to take responsibility for something like an adult. The camera catches him right as he makes his first decision: to follow his parents’ wishes, do the press conference, and go to Hillerska. It’s not a look of rebellion so much as it is a look of acceptance. All the growth that comes after as part of season 1 comes as a result of the awareness that starts in that moment. I think it’s significant that the gaze at the end of season 1 comes right after Wilhelm has made a very similar decision to the one he made in episode 1. Once again he has obeyed his parents, given the statement to the press that he was supposed to give, and toed the party line. It’s only in the fourth wall break that we know that something is different. We see all the rage and disappointment and heartbreak he has in that look, and we know that moving forward something is going to be different. But the season ends simply on this promise, and doesn’t let us see the payoff. Before we knew whether or not we were getting a season 2, I remember thinking that season 1 felt like a complete story (if not a happy one) but I would be mad if we never got to see all that Wilhelm was promising us come to fruition. 

I think the gazes in season 2 function in much the same way– they emphasize Wilhelm’s agency and show us how much he changes over the course of the season. At the beginning of the season Wilhelm is literally ready to burn it all down, as he stares at us in the mirror as he burns August’s photo. But the look we get at the end of episode 6 is much more calm and confident. He’s taken the rage that fueled his initial revenge quest against August and turned it into the bravery he needs to tell the truth on his own terms. This last look once again acts as a promise; Wilhelm is swearing that he will live authentically, no matter the consequences. But once again the season ends before we have a chance to see him follow through. We know that there will be a whole host of difficulties that arise from his confession, and that last look gives us the confidence that Wilhelm will rise to meet them. But we don’t see any of that, or at least we won’t until season 3. The fact that the season ends here really emphasizes that what was most important about the season was Wilhelm’s growth. The fact that he grew to a point where he could give the speech and stare down the barrel of the camera with confidence meant that the story the season was trying to tell was complete, even though we might expect a longer denouement. I know it’s common fandom knowledge that there was at least one additional shot filmed, of Simon and Wilhelm walking away together. So I think it’s significant that in the edit Lisa and Co decided to end on The Look (™) instead. I don’t want to suggest that the Wilmon relationship isn’t hugely significant to the show, its ending, or to Wilhelm. It is, and I think that’s represented when they lock eyes right before Wilhelm’s final look to camera. But there’s something about Wilhelm growing just enough to tell the truth in front of everyone that means that this chapter of the story is now closed, with no additional Wilmon scene needed.

The other thing that first glance does of course is establish us, the audience, as part of the public that is watching and judging Wilhelm. We’re in the audience for the press conference he gives at the beginning of season 1, and we’re in the stands watching him give the speech at the end of season 2. The relationship this creates between Wilhelm and the audience is really charged. Those looks create an intimacy which makes us care about Wilhelm as a character. But they also implicate us as part of the reason why Wilhelm is always being observed. We’re part of the oppressive force Wilhelm has to deny in order to live truthfully and claim his agency.  When Wilhelm looks into the camera he’s defying *us*. He’s daring us to stop him from getting revenge on August, or disobeying his mom, or telling the truth about the video. We’re brought in as co-conspirators in the same moment that we’re sized up as an enemy. 

Circling back to thinking about season 3, I think it’s a fair guess to assume that the season will begin and end with The Looks (™). I also expect that the last moments of season 3 won’t tie up every single loose end, much like the end of season 2 didn’t address the fallout from Wilhelm’s speech. I expect that last look to feel like a promise, like Wilhelm saying “I’ve got it from here.” 

In general I’m not huge on making super specific predictions. But if I were to guess how season 3 will end, I would predict that any questions about the larger fate of the monarchy will not be answered fully by the show, and will instead be covered by The Look (™). I think this holds true whether or not Wilhelm decides to remain in the line of succession, but that his character arc will feel most complete if he makes the decision to leave.  

If Wilhelm does make the decision to leave the line of succession and this does have national implications, I don’t imagine that we’ll see them fully play out. Wilhelm growing enough to leave will mean that the story that Young Royals is telling is complete. After a lot of consideration, I think this is my desired outcome for the show and my best shot at predicting the general shape of the season 3 finale. I want Wilhelm to grow enough to leave (with Simon) and I want the show to end with us confident that he’ll be able to handle the consequences of that decision, even if we don’t see them all play out.

[seasonsbloom]

baby, let's play house. rooster (part 2)

part 1

pairing ; bradley bradshaw x female!reader

synopsis ; marriage of convenience. you got yourself in trouble. bradley has a bit of a savior complex. together, you come up with what could potentially be the worst idea in the longstanding and illustrious history of bad ideas.

wc ; 6k

warnings ; angst; explicit language; explicit sexual content in later parts; pregnancy; mentions of Tom Cruise; unhealthy family dynamics

note: jesus this is so late... and it's so short.... I'm so sorry y'all???

Two weeks later, you marry Bradley Bradshaw.

The Miramar City Hall is a horrible building, all the worst aspects of suburban SoCal architecture wrapped into one. It looks like Disneyland trying to do stately, with the walls painted an indefinable color somewhere between salmon and eggshell. Massive white pillars protrude from the facade, and through the square windows, you can see rows of underpaid clerks poring over documents, computer screens, or jelly donuts. A long fountain stretches in front of the stairs, water bubbling forth in steady streams.

You stand under the sloping canopy of the front entrance, feet aching in the heels you dug out of the depths of your closet, seven out of ten nails bitten down to the beds, heart fluttering in your throat as the panic swallows you whole, and wait.

Bradley offered to pick you up, but you declined politely but firmly, insisting instead on driving yourself. Some weird, last stand for your independence, maybe. Or you had just needed the fifteen-minute drive to calm down, to let the wind whistling in through the rolled-down windows whip some sense back into you, to listen to the same song on loop until the routine of the rhythm, the repetition of the notes, lulled you into a false sense of security—either which.

All that forced calm is gone the minute Bradley climbs the last step and smiles at you. Behind that smile, though, barely concealed by a thin veneer of cheer, in his eyes, you can see his tension clear as day.

He’s in his dress whites, cap and all, and for some reason, that makes you want to cry. With the added breadth of the shoulder boards, he looks even broader than usual. You can’t stop staring at the ribbons pinned to his chest.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “You look beautiful.”

It dumbfounds you. You glance down at the dress you panic-bought using your nest egg last week, at the open-toed sandals you got on sale for your senior prom. It’s hardly Vera Wang, hardly what you imagined for yourself.

Part of you feels sad for having missed out on the Say Yes to The Dress moment, on the champagne and the entourage and the lace and veil. Part of you wonders why you even care when there are so many more important things going on.

“Thanks,” you mumble, even though you’re pretty confident he’s lying. “You look handsome.”

Bradley acknowledges that with a twitch of his mustache. Then he turns and points at the man behind him.

“This is Mav. I don’t know if you guys have met….”

Mav is just as dressed up for the occasion as Bradley is, and you almost feel bad. With how focused you were on Bradley and the dread of the impending nuptials, you didn’t even notice him.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Mav says, a wistful smile on his face as he leans forward to offer you his hand. You’ve seen Pete Mitchell around the Hard Deck pretty frequently since Penny and he started dating, have poured him the occasional drink. You get the feeling he used to be the kind of handsome hotshot aviator Hangman fancies himself to be these days, but to you, he’s always looked a little too much like Tom Cruise for comfort. “I’ll be your witness today.”

“Oh.” You shake his hand in a daze. Somehow, you’d expected Bradley to bring someone else. Anybody else. You didn’t even know these two had any ties except for their military ones, but now you can see the tether of familiarity between them. It’s glaringly obvious, and it makes you uncomfortable for reasons you can’t explain. “Thanks for that. It’s very nice of you.”

Pete chuckles. “No worries at all. Happy to be here. It’s not every day you get to watch a boy you’ve known since he was born getting married, can you?”

It’s light-hearted, affectionate, but it hits you like a fist to the stomach. You can barely breathe.

Oh God, you think. Oh God, what am I doing?

Suddenly, you feel so alone it builds like a lump in your throat. 

“You ready to go?” Bradley asks, and you wonder if he can sense your profound discomfort or if he’s just eager to get this over with and continue with the rest of his day.

“Sure,” you say, fingers tangling in the straps of your purse. “Yeah.”

The city hall is cooled down to arctic temperatures. Outside the office, waiting your turn, you clench your jaw to the point of pain to keep your teeth from chattering. Covertly, you try scooting closer toward Bradley on the rickety chairs. The man radiates heat like a furnace.

Pete excuses himself to find some water after a while, but you suspect he might just be trying to give you and Bradley some space.

“You okay?” Bradley asks the moment you’re alone, twisting sideways in his chair to get a better look at you.

You don’t want to lie to him, but you also don’t want to tell him the truth: That you’re miserable. That nausea kept you up all night, ripped you out of bed at three am every day the past week. That you can’t sleep anymore. That your legs ache and cramp. That the guilt and the worrying are making you dizzy. That you’re fraying at the seams, unspooling, coming apart like an old sweater.

So you just shrug without looking at him, which isn’t an answer at all, and say, “And you?”

“I’m fine.” Bradley is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Do you still want to do this?”

His voice is neutral, a blank slate, but you know what he means without saying it. If you want to call this off, I won’t be mad. 

Maybe he’d be relieved, actually, some masochistic part of you thinks. Relieved to get away from you and all your chaos.

At least he should be if he is even half as smart as you suspect.

It makes you wonder how he would react if you actually were to leave him at the metaphorical altar. If you were to release your inner Julia Roberts right now and book it out of here runaway bride style.

Not that you could. These shoes definitely weren’t made for running.

Part of you wants to, though - just get the hell out of here. Leave this whole thing behind and never think of it again. Maybe it would be doing you both a favor.

But then you think of the baby. You think of free healthcare, of a house with a separate nursery, of the trust fund. You think of waking up in the mornings and not being alone.

Voice halting, words slow, you say, “Yeah. Do you?”

Bradley doesn’t hesitate. “I do,” he says, and then he’s reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. “Hey, I got something for you.”

It’s a ring. A simple silver band with a little diamond, nothing flashy, nothing big. Classic. Reliable. So Bradley Bradshaw it would make you laugh if this whole thing weren’t so goddamn sad.

Stunned, you stare at it for a moment, and then you say, “You… you bought a real one?”

Figuring that he might actually end up needing them, you’d given Bradley back his dog tags the night he proposed, and you hadn’t even considered the issue of a ring again. It was such a stupidly trivial thing in the face of everything else that’s been going on, the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. 

Now, looking at it, it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s a beautiful ring, inconspicuous but lovely. Exactly the kind of thing you would have picked out for yourself if the situation had been different. If everything had been different. 

“No, I… I had this at home.”

Confusion sets in. “What, you just have wedding rings lying around your place? Do you propose to girls a lot? Are you like… a habitual proposer?”

Bradley laughs and shakes his head. “Nah, I…” Then he’s clearing his throat, and he’s shifting in his seat, and your heart is racing. “It was my Mom’s.”

The panic ignites like a forest fire. You feel it everywhere, tingling in your fingers, snapping in your bones.

“No,” you say immediately, trying to push it back into his hands as you shake your head. “You can’t give this to me, Bradley, no, I.….”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts you. He’s smiling. “You can just give it back to me… after.”

After the divorce, your brain supplies helpfully, filling in the blanks he left in that sentence.

It feels like you can’t breathe. Your hands and feet are numb. The telltale burn of tears sears behind your eyes.

“Bradley,” you whisper, “this was your Mom’s.”

And it sounds like a plea. Like you’re begging. Like you’re saying, Please, don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me even worse of a person than I already am.

But Bradley’s still smiling. A soft, genuine smile as he closes your fingers around the ring. You feel the cold, circular shape of it against your palm. 

“It’s fine,” he repeats, and he’s so calm about it all. How can he be so goddamn calm? “We want it to look real, right? No way I wouldn’t give this to my wife.”

And then you don’t know what else to say. Don’t know how to argue with him. Not when he’s the one pushing the whole thing.

So you give in. Nod. Hope that maybe, in some strange way, this will make him feel better. Even if it settles like a stone in your stomach, stacking on top of all the others. 

You offer it to him on your open palm. “Maybe you should give it to me inside there, then.”

Bradley laughs, the sound a little sheepish, and accepts the ring back. “Right,” he says, “good thinking.”

Bradley is too nice for his own good, that’s what you’ve determined so far. Even if this might be a mutually beneficial agreement, you know he’s getting the short end of the stick. After all, you’re the one bringing all the baggage here.

A thought crosses your mind belatedly. “Does your Mom… not need it anymore?”

Almost imperceptibly, Bradley stiffens next to you, and you know right away that you’ve made some mistake, some miscalculation, even if you can’t tell exactly what it is. 

Without looking at you, he says, “No. She’s dead.”

You open your mouth to say something, to apologize, to quell that horrible, sinking feeling in your stomach, but you’ve barely made it past a choked Bradley when Pete comes back, handing you a small paper cup.

“Here,” he says, “you should have some water. You look like you’re about to throw up.”

The smile he gives you is so warm it makes you want to scream. Can’t you see? you want to ask. Can’t you see I don’t deserve your kindness? Can’t you see I’m ruining Bradley’s life?

Instead, you accept the cup, nod, force an answering smile, and say, “Thank you.”

“Wedding jitters?” Pete asks as he sits down next to Bradley again, elbows braced on his knees to look at you. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No…” you begin to protest, but Pete is already pushing on.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he jokes, grinning at Bradley. The kind of mischief on his face could put the fear of god in women stronger than you. “This one is a handful. You know, when he was twelve, he….”

“Mav,” Bradley interrupts, tone somewhere between long-suffering, warning, and affectionate.

You never do get to hear the story because the door opens and your names are called.

Everything happens very fast after that. Your officiant is a bored-looking woman in her forties who manages a well-practiced but pleasant smile throughout the vows. You stand facing each other in a lackluster room with a painting of palm trees on one wall, with no one in the rows of wooden chairs but Pete Mitchell, a man you barely even know. Bradley won’t take his eyes off you, and you can’t look at him without feeling the guilt overwhelm you.

It should be a happy day, but it reads an awful lot like a tragedy.

You both say I do, Bradley slips the ring on your finger, and then the officiant is saying, “Congratulations. You may now kiss the bride.”

It’s lightning fast. Bradley leans over, leans into your space, leans so close you can see the streaks of gold in his facial hair, can see the apology flickering in his eyes, and then his lips meet yours. It’s the softest pressure, like the brush of a butterfly’s wings. It’s the coarse hairs of his mustache tickling your skin, the warmth of his mouth against your own. It’s the fluttering of your heart, your hands clenching into fists, your stomach swooping.

For a moment, time is frozen, suspended, moot.

Then Bradley’s pulling away, a shy smile crossing his face, and you’re dizzy, you’re spinning, you’re falling. You want to cry.

And that’s how you marry Bradley Bradshaw: In a city hall on a Tuesday morning, with something in your chest that feels suspiciously like foreboding.

+

“I promise I didn’t know about this,” Bradley whispers into your ear half an hour later. One of his hands hovers above the small of your back, and though he doesn’t touch you, the phantom pressure of it sends shivers down your spine. His breath traces over your exposed shoulders.

You let your eyes wander over the Hard Deck, only half full and populated with people from Bradley’s life: His old squadron, friends from the Naval Academy, a few from back when he apparently attended UVA. (You still don’t understand his CV one bit and decide to ask him about it later. These are the things you should probably know about your husband. These are the things you would know about your husband if any of this were real.) Everybody’s smiling and congratulating you, and a banner strung from the ceiling, dangling between the models of airplanes, between the beer jugs, spells out CONGRATULATIONS! in big, colorful letters.

It’s obvious, it’s glaring, it’s so visible it blooms a shame somewhere in your belly - that they’re all here for Bradley. Your parents didn’t make it to California on such short notice, and there hadn’t been anybody else to invite. The only people one could count as your side if they were being especially generous would be your co-workers from the Hard Deck, standing behind the bar and looking out of place.

The whole day is a stark reminder of it all. Of your loneliness, of your solitude. Lonely enough that you had no one to invite to that ceremony at the city hall. Lonely enough you agreed to marry a stranger.

“That’s okay,” you tell Bradley, and it’s only a little lie. “It’ll be fine.”

You don’t know what you expected to happen after the wedding. Maybe to get fast food from whatever drive-through you passed first and then spend the rest of the night curled up in your bed, trying to forget what you just forced Bradley to do. Maybe just to get out of these heels. Certainly not for Penny to discover her inner event planner and throw you a surprise party.

But there was something on Penny’s face as she went to embrace you, something about the way she looked when you told her you were getting married to Bradley. An expression she was trying to hide. A flash of hurt, maybe, or a trickle of frustration. You chalked it up to her being upset that a guy she’s known since his teens didn’t tell her about his relationship with her employee, but that reasoning seems threadbare now.

Phoenix wears a broad smile, warm, her hair for once out of the army-commissioned coil and spilling dark and glossy over her shoulders. She’s out of the usual uniform and slipped into a blouse and pants for the occasion. The whole picture of her as anything other than the put-together pilot you see usually unsettles you a little.

“Congratulations,” she says, moving to give you a hug. Then she leans back to look at you. “Or should I say condolences? I can’t believe you married Rooster. Poor girl.”

You force a laugh, but you wish she’d step away a little. Up this close, she might be able to see the shame. It must be written all over your face.

Penny starts handing out shots. The tequila rushes from the bottle into the glasses in a stream of clear liquid, splashes of it landing on the bartop. You stare at the lime wedges, the salt shaker, stare at everybody lining up shoulder to shoulder, and the panic flares in your chest.

“I have to pee,” you announce to no one in particular, and then you’re slipping toward the bathroom, pretending you don’t feel Bradley’s eyes on you.

When the door falls shut behind you, you turn the key in the lock and lean your forehead against the wood. The material is cold against your skin, and you blink at the patterns, at the stains running through the dark oak like veins. Press your finger to one, and your eyes closed.

With your heart racing, your hands shaking, you stand like that for a moment, bracing yourself. You hadn’t expected all the attention, all the pretending, and you feel drained before any of it has even begun. You’re not sure if you can really pull this off. Maybe you’ll just crumble under the weight.

What a mess, you think to yourself, rubbing the heels of your hands over your eyes, then panic when you remember the mascara you painted on earlier. You check yourself over in the mirror, reapply your lip gloss and smooth down some flyaways. 

You remember staring at yourself in this very same mirror two weeks ago, the day you did the test. You remember thinking how strange it was that you still looked the same even after your entire world had changed. How the outside did not reflect the inside at all.

You still don’t look any different. But it seems to you you’ve gone from nothing to something by virtue of association - now you’re someone’s mother, someone’s wife.

Then why am I still here, in this bathroom, alone? The thought comes with a bitter taste spreading on your tongue, like blackcurrants bursting in your mouth.

Bradshaw, you think, and then you say it out loud, “I’m Bradley Bradshaw’s wife.”

You feel the shape of the words, feel as your tongue forms them, bounces them off the roof of your mouth, and then past your lips. Hear them echoing off the walls. Watch yourself in the mirror, the muscles of your face flexing and relaxing, your lips meeting to dispatch the bs.

And still. None of it feels real.

The room smells freshly cleaned, astringent in its intensity. Your nose tingles like you’re going to sneeze. Carefully, you slide the wedding ring off, put it on the side of the sink, place it with the quiet plink of silver meeting porcelain, and then you wash your hands three times. Just last month, you went to Costco with Penny and picked up a 20-pack of orange blossom-scented soap, and now you watch it lather to a foam, the water so hot steam rises off it, and your fingers burn. Watch as it spirals down into the drain, bubbles popping.

It shifts reality back into focus. You turn off the faucet, use a few paper towels to dry your hands, put the ring back on, and then you step back into the din of the crowd, where even friends suddenly look like strangers, and you don’t look into the mirror again.

Bradley is waiting in front of the bathroom, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and his head turned toward the ground. When you open the door, he snaps up immediately, unfolding himself from where he was leaning against the wall. His hands dangle uselessly by his hips.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you echo. You don’t meet his eyes.

“I was wondering….” He trails off. You focus on his shoes - they’re shiny, shiny enough the light bounces off them, and you wonder distantly if he cleaned them for the occasion. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you say and try to smile, but with your face still turned down, the effect is lost. Might be for the better, too - you have no idea what you look like. Your face is numb.

“I…” You glance at Bradley, at his furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw. For a moment, it looks like he wants to say something stern, something probing, but then he changes course at the last moment. “Should I carry your bag?”

Instinctively, your fingers go to the strap of your crossbody bag. You rush, “No, that’s fine. It’s not heavy. I can…”

“Please,” Bradley says, reaching for the bag but not touching you. Leaving his hands hovering in the open air. “Let me do this for you.”

You want to tell him he’s done enough for you. You want to tell him he’s the only person, in a very, very long time, who’s done anything for you. You want to tell him that you’re sorry, that you’ll never forgive yourself, that maybe this was a mistake, maybe…

Some guy you don’t know squeezes past you and into the bathroom, winking at you and slapping Bradley’s shoulder as he passes, hooting something about wedding nights. Beer sloshes over the rim of his bottle and splashes to the floor.

When he’s gone, the moment has passed, and the need to tell him anything has been snuffed out by your own embarrassment. You slip off the bag and hand it over, watch as Bradley slides it over his shoulder. It’s a ridiculous sight: The dainty thing juxtaposed to his uniform.

It makes you smile.

“Thanks,” you say and mean it.

Bradley shrugs, but you catch sight of his expression before he turns toward the bar room again, and you think he looks pleased.

A few of his friends whisk him away as soon as you step back into the party. Somebody has turned on the overhead fans, and stale air circulates into a cool breeze. There’s a speaker system set up on the bar for once, playing more modern music than what the Jukebox has to offer, and out of the fog of your memory, of the whirlwind, haphazard thicket of the past few weeks, rises a single moment. Penny leaning across the bar, hand outstretched, saying, Let me have a look at your Spotify. I’m getting some inspiration for a musical update.

Suddenly, you feel warm all over.

Hangman finds you by the bar, grinning ear to ear. There’s always been something wolfish to his grin, but you don’t fall for it. As much as Hangman likes to pretend the opposite, play up his flirting and his taunting and his casual cruelty, when it comes down to it, he’s harmless. A sheep in wolf’s clothing through and through.

“Honestly,” he says in lieu of a greeting or even congratulations. “You could’ve told me about this. Would have spared me a lot of trouble.”

“Hello to you, too, Jake.”

He dismisses that with a wave of his hand and places his glass on the bar top. Condensation drips off the sides, pools in a puddle on the wood as the ice melts, and the lime goes sliding away from the center. “You gotta admit it wasn’t entirely fair.”

You sigh and decide to indulge him and his games. “What wasn’t?”

Jake points a finger between you and him. “This. You’re breaking my heart, sugar.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, frowning.

“I’ve been flirting with you every time I came down to Fightertown,” Jake says. “A whole year, sugar! You could have told me that all this time you were dating goddamn Rooster of all people.”

“Flirting,” you repeat, dumbfounded, at the same time as another voice says, “Don’t start harassing my wife, Seresin.”

Hearing it out loud pulls the rug right from under you. Bradley’s hand lands on your elbow - neutral territory, you think, inoffensive, harmless - and his mouth is twisted into a jovial smile, even as his gaze flickers over you like he’s looking for something. You blink down at your shoes.

“I’m not harassing her, Bradshaw. I’m flirting with her, not that you’ve ever heard of that.”

Bradley shrugs. “Aren’t they the same thing with you?”

Between their banter, you feel decidedly out of place. Just another reminder that you don’t belong into Bradley’s world.

“Anyway.” Hangman sighs, leans back against the bar and crosses his arms over his chest. For a moment, he glances between you and Bradley, prompting you to shift your weight, to step a little closer into the open fan of your newly-anointed husband’s arm. If you want to tell this story, you’re going to have to start selling it. Hangman’s mouth curls into a grin. “Jesus,” he says finally, “I can’t believe you knocked a girl up before I did, Rooster.” 

The words run through you like lightning. If you had any liquid in your mouth, you’d spit it out right now. To your right, Bradley stiffens, his hand tightening around your elbow, then loosening again. 

“What?” he asks, and his voice sounds like something got stuck in his throat. You can’t look at him.

Hangman’s grin remains firmly in place. “That’s why you guys did it, right?” Then he mimics somebody loading a shotgun, complete with sound effects. “Her dad’s got tone on you?”

“I…” Bradley’s sentence trails off like he ran out of steam. Whitney Houston bellows about wanting to dance with somebody from the speakers. Glasses clink, people laugh, cues hit eight balls. The sound of your own heartbeat in your ears is deafening.

Hangman laughs. “I’m messing with ya,” he says, clapping Bradley on the shoulder and giving you a smile that seems uncharacteristically soft. “You guys have been disgustingly in love with each other since you met. The baby on board is just the cherry on top of the perfect peanut butter chocolate sundae, right?”

“That’s not true!” you protest, and then promptly want to slap yourself. Somebody says you’ve been in love with the guy you just fake married and that’s the part you want to deny?

Laughing, Hangman shrugs and downs a tequila shot. “Keep telling yourself that, sugar,” he says, bending down to press a quick, sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Whatever. Congratulations to you two.”

He disappears into the mess of the night, whistling a tune, beelining toward a pretty, single girl at the back of the room. Bradley, stoic and silent and unmoving at your side, says nothing.

You watch the people, their easy joy, their thoughtless happiness. The way they smile without caveat, enjoy themselves without footnotes or guilt. 

“Well…” Bradley clears his throat, but you don’t care to look at him. “I never would have predicted Hangman would be the first one to figure it out, right?”

“I guess so,” you agree, even though you think he’s wrong. Hangman is as perceptive as any Navy pilot has to be, quick on his feet and good at reading situations, people, lies. Even if you were never particularly close with him, you can tell this much.

“Is… are you okay?”

You shrug, shake your head before you can think better of it, then nod out of instinct. “Sure,” you whisper. In the breeze of an air vent, you shiver, moving to rub one hand up your bare arm.

Bradley springs into action immediately, moving your purse to one arm, unbuttoning his jacket and slipping out of it. “You’re cold,” he’s saying, obviously relieved to have found something to do, “here, take my jacket…”

“Stop!” Your voice is much too loud. Several heads turn in your direction and you duck your head, feeling the blood rushing into your cheeks, the wetness into your eyes, the blood in your ears. Everything feels shaky, like you’re on deck in a rough sea. Your hands twist into the fabric of your dress and you watch as you crumple it between your fingers. “Just… stop being so nice to me, Bradley. Just stop it. Please.”

From the corner of your eye, you watch as Bradley’s arm drops uselessly to his side, the jacket dangling from between his fingers. His feet shuffle along the hardwood floors. “Oh,” he says, the word soft and airy and so full of something like hurt that you bite the inside of your cheek bloody. “Well. I’m sorry.”

Another beat passes. You should say something, you think. Apologize or thank him or tell him that you’re stupid and mean and ungrateful and you don’t deserve someone as nice as him. But no words come. You’re completely empty, drained. You’re so tired and so confused and you don’t get it. You don’t get what’s happening here and what Bradley is getting out of it and how you even ended up here in the first place.

Tomorrow, Bradley is going to drive a U-Haul truck to your shitty apartment where your life has been shoved into boxes. You’re going to move out of your own space and into a house with a man you don’t know and you don’t love but whose ring you wear. You’re going to wait for a baby you never wanted, and you’re going to watch as your dreams and your plans wash away like water down a drain. You’re going to give up the person you used to be, shove her into the very back of your sock drawer, something to be marveled at only in private, only on rainy Sunday mornings, only when nobody else is looking. Tomorrow, you think, in a way, your life will stop being your own and start being somebody else’s.

So what you want right now then, more than anything, is to be alone.

Bradley says nothing else. You hear as he leaves, as he follows after Hangman, moving away from you, but you don’t turn to look. You stay staring into nothing, your heart in your mouth, a ring on your finger, a baby in your belly, and your life in shards on the floor.

Careful where you tread, you think, dumbly, you might be treading on my soul.

+

The first thing Bradley Bradshaw - your husband, you have to remind yourself, your actual, real-life husband - says to you in your new house is this: “I’m sorry about last night.”

He’s sitting cross-legged on the carpet in the living room, clutching a bottle of beer like a lifeline. The television is on to provide background noise, some talk show you’ve never seen before where twins separated at birth are currently being reunited. You sit curled-up in an armchair Bradley brought, knees up at your chin, hands on your ankles. A pizza box is unfolded on the coffee table, steam still rising off the sizzling cheese. Your mouth waters at the scent, but you’re strangely shy about taking a slice. Like tearing into this pizza is going to be the straw that finally breaks the camel’s back on this strained truce Bradley and you seem to have entered into.

“No,” you say, fingers tightening around your ankles. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Bradley looks relaxed from his position, his back leaning against the couch. At home, here in this house for which he provided 90 percent of the furniture, 100 of the artwork. Mostly weird watercolor landscapes and one or two Hitchcock film posters you’d rather not ask him about. “I was being… overbearing.”

The thing is this: Bradley did help move your stuff into this new house. He loaded the U-haul and he lugged your meager belongings up to your room. He didn’t say anything about the water-stained mattress or the lack of a bedframe, about the peeling paint on your desk, the squeaking office chair. He hung the curtains you wanted and gave you a string of fairy lights to climb up one wall. This is your home now, you’d told yourself up in that room, staring at the powder blue walls, the floral bed sheets, the potted plant. This is it. 

And still. It feels like you’re sitting in a stranger’s house, visiting from out of town.

“You weren’t,” you tell him, and you mean the words. “You… you’ve done so much for me, Bradley, and I…” 

“It was nothing,” Bradley cuts you off. “None of… it’s fine. I’m not… I wanted to help, okay? So stop… stop thanking me or feeling indebted to me or like… I don’t know. Have a slice of pizza, okay?”

He hands you one before you can say anything, and you hold the scalding dough in your hand, watch as he bites into his own slice. A bit of cheese gets caught in his mustache. His throat moves as he swallows.

Out of nowhere, suddenly, without warning, you ask, “If I followed you on Instagram… would you follow me back?”

It’s juvenile. It’s stupid, it’s so dumb, and you have no idea where it even comes from, but you have to ask, feel it like a need that burns through you. You just want to know.

If Bradley is confused by the sudden change of topic, he doesn’t let it on. Instead, gaze still on his pizza, he says, “I already follow you.”

“You… you do?”

He shrugs. “You probably didn’t recognize me. I don’t think I’ve ever posted on there.”

“What, you don’t have a profile pic?”

Now he has the audacity to blush and you hate the way it makes you feel, hate that something in you twists at the sight. “No, I do, just… I’m not in it.”

“Who is, then?”

He opens his mouth, closes it again, and turns half away from you, like he’s trying to hide his face. You frown.

“Bradley?”

“It’s…” He sighs, curses, licks the cheese off his mustache and runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck it,” he mumbles. “It’s my Bronco. I have a picture of my car as my profile pic.”

A beat passes, and then, miraculously, you’re laughing. Actual, real laughter that bursts from you like water from a pipe. “Oh,” you choke out. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Bradley grumbles, but you see the tentative smile stretching his face, the probing, searching look thrown your way. “I’m a grandpa. At least I know what Instagram is.”

“Do you use the premade insta filters?” He doesn’t answer. “Oh my god, you do!”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” Then he leans forward and deposits another slice of pizza on the one you haven’t even eaten. Grease stains your fingers. “Here. You’re eating for two.”

He turns to stare at the TV, a furrow of concentration carved between his eyebrows, and in this living room, in this house, with him on the floor and you in the armchair, with pizza steaming between you and your things upstairs and his things everywhere, for a moment, just a moment, you think that maybe, after all, things might turn out okay.

[neesieiumz]

mellisonant - (adj) pleasant to the ear ————— | kento nanami |

Synopsis: he loves to take care of you, and loves to grant every wish you have, so when you ask to take him to a country club? How could he say no?

warnings: smut. 18+. semi-public sex. black-coded reader. possessiveness. praise kink. degradation. sir kink. kento is in his late thirties and early fourties. reader is in her late twenties.

ac: this the second time I’m posting this cause it flopped last time 😔. Hopefully y’all like it this time. I’m uploading Tokyo style after this one!

word count: 6.1k

-----

Kento doesn’t really remember how the two of you met, he recalls a restaurant, someone spilling something on someone, and the rest was history. At first, it started with small things, jewelry, packages sent to your address, and what-not. He loved it when you would wear them at your “meet-ups”, from the single charm ones to those of more refined taste, laid with jaded emeralds or ethereal sapphires. He would pay for your hair and nails, in exchange for choosing it every time of course, but he never left you high and dry with something you’d hate. You were a part of his life that he adores, despite his very… dreary life as a CEO. 

So when he had seen you come to him, crying about how your apartment was ruined, and all the gifts he had given you were gone or destroyed. All of your important things were torn up by a robber breaking in, he had no problem with immediately relocating you, having no thought about not paying for everything. He wanted to move you into your own house, but you compromised from a penthouse. Since then, your life has been nothing but luxury and high life, to the point when you even quit your job. The money he gave you was well enough to sustain you. 

“Kento!”

He turned around, seeing you walk down the penthouse stairs, seeing your bright smile along with your outfit. It was a vintage floral bustier blouse, paired with a long silk skirt and clear open-toed heels that showed off your new pedicure, provided by him truly. Your hair was up, having long wavy braids in a high ponytail tied with a ribbon that matched the color of your skirt as well. You were smiling wide, reaching out your hands to wrap in a close hug. His hands slid down your waist while yours went up to his back, pulling each other in. He took in a deep breath, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume. He pulled you away slightly, to be able to look into your eyes before pulling you into a deep kiss. Moaning slightly, his braids hands slid down your waist, easily cupping your behind and giving it a squeeze. 

“Kento, fuck, we’re gonna be late, fuck,” you let out breathily, despite your body grinding on him. 

He just chuckled, before letting your body go, but moving his hand towards yours. He held it, pulling you back into his body, face right near your cheek. You smiled, giggling as he left kisses along your cheek, slowly trailing them towards your neck/. He could feel wanting to pull away, so he let go, reluctantly he may add. He kept his hands on you somehow, resting them on your waist, still dangerously close to your pelvis. 

“Kento I know you missed me, but I really want to go to this,” your voice had a whiny edge to it, but you still had a wide smile on your face.

“Let’s go then,” he whispered against your ear, before leading and guiding you out of the penthouse. 

The two of you walked to the private elevator, going down to the private parking lot. Kento opened the passenger side of his luxury car, giving you a soft smile. The ride was smooth, he delved into the boring details about his recent business trip. Well, you didn’t think it was boring, it was as boring as what you would do (which is basically nothing.) He would soon drive on a private path, surrounded by trees and sunlight before revealing a wide vast land. At the end of the road, was the country club. A huge building, as if it was pulled out of Italy’s finest.

Imported palm trees from Peru, and the building looked exactly as you saw it on the website. Your eyes shined as you looked onto the building as it got closer and closer, bigger and bigger. You smiled over at Kento who was face forward, pulling up to the valet right outside of the steps to the building. There was a man, wearing a red vest that had a cursive label indicating "valet", giving a customer service smile as Kento pulled up. He parked, and unlocked the door, allowing the man to open your door for you. You smiled at him, taking his hand and thanking him. You waited as Kento handed him his keys, and was given a valet tag. Kento then took you in his arms, one hand around your waist while he tucked in his pocket as you both walked up the cobblestone stairs into the lavish building. The inside was quite different from the outside, with much more obvious renovations, giving it a more modern look. The two of you walked towards the reception area, where the lady looked up from her computer and immediately smiled in your direction. 

“Mr. Nanami, it has been a while. Will you be joining Mr. Gojo for his tennis matches?”

Stifling a giggle, you turned away as Kento’s face twisted with contempt. A bit of a funny sight to you. You heard of “Gojo” before but had never seen him. All you know is that Nanami trusts him as a business partner but hates his personality so much. 

“Are those today?” He asked the lady, pulling out some kind of card and giving it to her. 

She nodded her head, taking the card and scanning it, “yes, both he and Mr. Geto are currently enjoying our facilities as well. I’m sure they’d love the extra company.”

“No, I don’t think I will, is there space in the greenhouse? We want to be able to enjoy the flora today,” he tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you closer. 

The lady giggled a bit, before nodding her head, “there is always room for you sir.”

You opted to ignore the added saccharine to her tone, too invested in the scenery around you. You kept your long gazes to a minimum, not wanting to seem like a child clinging onto Kento. He simply thanked the receptionist one more time before pulling you to the right, taking you down one of the many hallways connecting all throughout the recitation hall. The hall was lowly lit, the beige walls decorated with different paintings, each having its own spotlight on them. One of the paintings was labeled to be a self-portrait. The woman was staring straight out at the painting, her deep brown eyes holding a multitude of emotions. Her hair was a fluffy brown, going with her deep olive-brown skin. It was long, going past her collarbone and into the loose wrappings of the dress she was wearing. SHe had a thin veil laid loosely on her head, most of her hair hiding it, and her face held a slight smile upon her plump lips. 

Kento noticed your vested interest in the painting, making a small mental note before tugging on your hand. 

“Come on, let’s go.”

You nodded, allowing him to continue to lead you towards the greenhouse area. You could see the light seeping through a glass door, and you could see bits and pieces of the scenery. Closer and closer you got, and soon enough Kento pushed open the door, revealing the beautiful scenery. The entire area was made of glass, allowing the sun to provide its natural light to illuminate everywhere. All over on the walls were different vines and flora, plants and trees all around, giving it a verdure look. The air smelled of lightly breezed jasmine and amber. You gaped at the area, looking all around it. Kento looked over at you, relishing in the spaced-out look in your eyes. He never misses out on that, which is why he loves to take you to places, and show you new things you never even dreamed of looking at. 

“Table for two?” You heard a waitress call out, breaking you out of your slight trance. 

“Yes please, and a table near the glass walls if you could, please?” Kento answered for the two of you. 

You gave him a glossy smile, while the waitress simply nodded, grabbing two menus before leading the two of you towards a seat. As you walked, you took in the scenery more, loving it more and more. She gestured towards a table with a perfect view of the outside gardens, along with the scenery of the greenhouse all around. He pulled out your chair, much like the gentleman he is, gesturing for you to sit down. You thanked him, sitting down with a wide smile. Once he was seated, the two of you opened the menu, slightly discussing what was on the menu. A waitress comes by and takes your order, you get a cajun shrimp alfredo while Kento gets a well-done steak with some sides. He also orders a bottle of expensive white wine, with water of course. 

“White wine…? What’s the occasion?” You gave him a smile as you handed the waitress the menus, placing your arms on your table, leaning forwards, and resting your chest upon them. 

Kento just gave you a slight smirk, leaning forwards as well, “can’t I just want to celebrate being back in your presence after so long?”

You laughed a bit at that, “you were only away for two weeks.”

“And you’re telling me you didn't miss me during that time, those late-night phone calls say different things.”

If you could blush, you’d be beet red but you could still feel the heat of the moment burn through your cheeks, looking away coyly. The waitress interrupted the moment the two of you had, brought over the white wine Kento ordered, and placed the waters each in front of you. You thanked her, and watched Kento as he poured the both of you a glass. He handed it to you, and together you gave gaslight toast, before taking sips of it. The conversation between the two of you was light, easy-going as it usually is, finding yourself in easy territory. The food arrived thirty minutes into the conversation, the conversation soon ceasing to allow the two of you to eat in peace. Kento didn’t like when people ate while speaking so it was constantly quiet between you during this time. 

You enjoyed the hum of the people conversing all around you, all different people from different high-paying careers all within one place. The food in front of you was amazing, enjoyed the nicely-seasoned shrimp, which left a kick in your throat. You cooled it down with a sip of your wine, before turning your focus towards Kento. His sleeves were rolled up, as he cut into his steak, eating it piece by piece. Your eyes followed the piece of meat between the sprung of his fork, him placing it in his mouth and chewing away at it. You couldn’t keep your eyes off his tongue that came out, wiping away the juices that dribbled on his lips. Squirming in your seat, and crossing your legs caused Kento to look up at you, noticing your behavior. He just smirked, gave you a look, and was about to go back to his food when suddenly, 

“NANAMIN!!”

The two of you jumped simultaneously, turning towards the sudden call of Kento’s last name. You could hear Kento curse under his breath as a man, sweaty and wearing a white collared shirt and shirt while holding a tennis racket. He had white spiky hair and had a sweatband holding it up, with black shades hovering under his eyes. He had a huge smile on his face as he approached your table. You looked over at Kento who had just placed his hands on his temples, rubbing away at them. You held back your giggles at his expression, as the man stopped right in front of your table, hovering over the blonde man. 

“Aww, look at you overcome with joy at seeing me that you can’t even speak!!”

You couldn't hold back your laughter as you threw your head back at the man using his hips to nudge Kento, who was easily gaining a migraine with every noise. 

“Gojo… what are you doing here…? Wait, that’s a stupid question, how did you know I was here?”

The man simply just smirked down at Nanami, before telling how the receptionist off-handily mentioned it, before shutting up and realizing her mistake but of course but it was too late. So immediately, he made his way over here to come and bother him of course. You just sat back, enjoying the banter between the two men. Before something caught your eyes. Standing a couple of feet away from him, was a woman, also dressed up in a white-collar shirt and skirt, holding her own tennis racket as well. Her deep tan skin had freckles along her body and face, and her red bushy hair was held up in a high ponytail, with a visor on top of her. A necklace dangled from her neck, gold with the initials S.G on them. She must have noticed eyes on her because she looked towards you. You flinched a bit from the sudden eye contact but still, gave her a slight smile, and a wave. She blinked at this, but waved back, giving you a small smile as well. 

“Anyways, why didn't you join me for tennis, you know I would have enjoyed your company!”

Kento simply rolled his eyes, “I’d rather not join you for your or Geto’s games. I have better things to do.”

Gojo didn't let that deter him, looking away from Kento for a moment, and looking at his table which in turn made him look at you for what seemed to be his first time. He looked down at the table before looking back towards you, before giving you a smirk. 

“Oh, better things to do indeed.”

Kento groaned a bit at his teasing words, making Gojoj laugh aloud, slapping him on the back with each loud chuckle. At this point, the entire room was looking over at you subtly, and you knew their conversations had shifted towards what was happening at the table. You looked back at Kento, reaching over to the table and placing your hand over his. He looked up at you, as you gave him a cautious smile. 

Gojo must have caught the looks between the two of you. Chase stood up straight, grabbing his tennis racket on the way up. 

“I’ll leave you to it, Nanamin, have fun.”

With that, he left, the woman joining him right away. Gojo wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. You turned your head, simply ignoring the way his hands slipped into her skirt as the two of them walked out of the greenhouse. You stared at Kento, waiting for him to say something. 

“Sometimes I wish I never met that man,” he sighed, pulling himself back into his seat. 

“He’s just… eccentric, he seems nice enough,” you smiled at him, placing your fork down on your now empty plate. 

“Nice way of saying pain in my ass.”

Kento took some time to finish his food, before placing his fork down and waving down your waitress who immediately took your plates, placing them on a cart before pulling out sleek smaller menus. Your eyes lit up, seeing the menu placed in front of the both of you. You saw all kinds of different treats you wanted, from sticky cinnamon rolls to squishy sponge cakes, it was all so good. Kento’s own countenance brightened at the sight of yours.

“Would you like to see the desserts today?”

You looked over at Kento, “can I get it to go, I don’t think I can take another bit.”

He smiled at you, before nodding his head, your eyes lightened up at his assurance, before using your manicured finger to guide your eyes as to what caught your eyes the most. 

“Can I get a slice of black cherry cake, the red velvet mini cakes, and the pull-apart cinnamon rolls to go please?”

----

You giggled, walking along the cobblestone paths through the huge private gardens and forest. Holding your box of deserts close to you, the light breeze blew into the trees, cooling you down slightly from the heat. Kento trailed behind you slightly, smiling at the way you enjoyed the environment. Turning around, you looked at Kento who was looking at you. You gave him a smile, before turning back to your surroundings. The grove of Sakura trees lined the main pathway, leaving breaks for the smaller pathways that lead deeper into the club’s forests. The sun peeked through above the branches, often trees, shining through the baby pink leaves. There were  some leaves on the ground, not as much as one would expect. According to Kento, they get cleaned up every three hours, to provide a “clean” experience. Gojo’s words, not his, Kento said. The air smelled slightly sweet, mostly due to the cherry blossom trees you were just ogling at. 

“Baby,” you hear Kento call out to you, causing you to turn towards him. 

He stopped near the entrance of another trail, one hand in his pocket. The other was out, two fingers slowly gesturing for you to come close to him, which you immediately followed. You held your box of sweets close as you stepped right in front of him, bending your neck back to look into his deep brown eyes. For a moment, the two of you were silent a bit, the language of the winds and nature speaking in between you. Soon after that, you could feel his free hand up and cup the side of your face, caressing and holding it gently. 

“Kento?” You whispered against his hand, ever so gently, nuzzling into it. 

You could feel his thumb move over your lips, pulling down the bottom one ever so slightly, revealing some of your bottom teeth. He didn't mind the lip gloss staining his finger, ignoring the shining spot as he moved his hand from your face to your hands. He slowly took the box from your hands, holding it in one hand before taking your other, leading down the smaller private path. The sun slowly hid behind the sun of the much taller, thicker trees. The area became darker and darker as the two of you went further and further into the miniature forest. 

“Kento,” you couldn't hold back your giggles, “where are we going?”

All you got was a look and a smile that showed rays of that hidden mischievousness he would show ever so often. He continued leading you down until you got to a clear patch, the tree lined so rays of sunlight would peak out perfect for you to be able to see the wooden bench someone had clearly put there. Your smile beamed as he led you to the bench, placing your box down before sitting down and pulling you down right into his lap. 

You laughed at the feeling of his breath near your neck, the feeling tickling you as you could feel his hands caressing your lower back, rubbing circles into it. Your hands slid up his body, feeling his muscles underneath his shirt, before wrapping your hands around his neck, pulling his head towards your own. You licked your lips, the taste of your strawberry lip gloss tainting your lips before feeling Kento's own lips encapture your own. The kiss quickly became ravenous, much like he was right before you left for the country club. You could hold back the moan that fell from your lips, Kento’s hands went from your lower back to your thighs, hands digging under your skirt and slowly lifting the silk garment up. His fingers thumbed at the thong you were wearing, lifting it up ever-so-slightly before letting it go, snapping against your skin. 

You gasped into the kiss, letting go and hissing in pleasure at the twitch of pain. He smirked, lifting his hands up to rest them right on your plump bottom. 

“Kento,” you let out a breathy moan, “K-kento, fuck we're in public, we shouldn’t do this here.”

You could feel his wet lips lay kisses align your neck, the toe-curling feeling making you squirm within his hold. 

“Mmm, you telling me you don’t like the way you're feeling? Because I can stop right now.”

You could feel his movements slowing down and before you knew it, your hands flew up to his shoulders, your sharp nails gripping his shoulders. Your hips moved, grinding again this hard-on threatening to break his zipper and button. Kento smirked against your necks, before continuing his ministrations against you, having a good grip on your ass. 

“Kento,” you dragged out his name, whining, hoping, and begging he would stop teasing you. 

You could hear him chuckle against you, relishing in the way you squirmed against him. Your skirt was bunched around your waist, ass shown to the depths of nature. You could feel your braids grazing against your bare skin, the chirping of the birds in the distance, the silver ray of sun hitting your skin just right. Everything around you was heightened as you took in Kento’s actions. Your pussy was drenched at this point, leaving stains upon his dark pants. Kento groaned against your body, his dick twitching against its confines. Your hands moved back down, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, only getting a couple off revealing part of his toned chest. 

“Kent--, sir, oh sir,” you moaned out loud as you could feel his hand move from your bottom to your wet cunt. 

His fingers skilly fully moved past the string covering your entrance, one of his thick, long fingers entered inside you while another rubbed away at your clit. You gasped at the euphoric feel, head thrown back and keening at the rush flowing through veins from your lower abdomen. His pace quickened, and your pussy only dropped even more, possibly coating his hands at this point. Despite all your writhing, Kento had a good grip on you, with one hand only. That realization only made your body willing and long for him more. Yout out a scream, legs twisting in anticipation as you could feel your first climax building up, so quick like a hasty bomb ready to explode. 

“Sir, I’m gonna cum, “ you let out a high pitched scream, and before you knew it, clear liquid came out, making a mess all over your thighs and Nanami’s shirt and clothes. 

You let out deep heavy breaths, spit and drool dripping down your lips and against your chin. You were a mess, eyes dripping tears, slightly dark from the mascara and eyeliner you wore today. Kento relished in the way you looked, good despite all appearances, and how much he loved to see you smile, he loved to see you cry and beg for him more. To know that he has you crying out for him, to forget all morals that you had for yourself. To let him break you down each time you fucked him, or rather he fucked you. Suddenly tasting pennies, Nanami glanced down to find his lip broken open from him biting his lips too hard. Look at him, it seems he got a bit carried away. 

Your sobs had quieted down a little, but he could still hear you as you spoke, whined really, begging for “sir to fuck you.” His debauched little slut, oh how he wished he could spend time forever floating with nothing but the two of you. That, however, requires a deeper conversation that both of you are willing to avoid, so rather he’ll take what he can get, or rather what you can give him until the both of you are ready. 

Kento moved the thin strap to the side once again, before whispering to your ear, “pull my cock out sweetie.”

His sudden command shook you out of your trance, but immediately you nodded your head. Your hands flew down to his pants, fumbling and hitting the button cause it was slightly slippery with your juices, but you got it off and you unzipped his pants. Only pulling down his boxers slightly, you gasped slightly as his dick basically flew out, making you jump slightly in his lap. The usually punk tip was an angry red, and it was slick with pre-cum, it was thick and throbbing in your hands. With every movement you made, you could feel him move, hear him hiss slightly, and groan. Slowly you moved your hands up and down, the pad of your thumb pressing against the very tip of his cock. 

“Fuck, Princess stop teasing me,” you smirked slightly as he groaned out, before gasping at the sudden smack he left on your bottom. 

Slowly, he held you underneath your bottom, lifting you up before placing you right over his cock. Slowly, you could feel pressure, choking on your spit as he slowly entered inside of you. You could feel your excitement tingling underneath your skin. The stretch felt so good, the pain making you yelp as you went lower and lower against him. Sweat dripped down your back, the same for Kento’s face and chest as you held him by the back of his head. His hands held a tight grip on your ass, as you gasped, the full feeling slowly etched itself into your veins. The smell of his musky cologne, the hint of vanilla, and the strong smoky smell of cardamom. You couldn’t help but clench around his length, pulling yourself close to him as he grunted. He was breathing heavily underneath you as he took in your wetness, placing a kiss along the side of your head, right near your ears. 

“So big,” you are your head back in complete ecstasy, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

All of this immense pleasure had you forgetting you were even outside, you were lucky that Kento even took you someplace with a bit more privacy, but honestly, at this moment, you could not give a damn. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you stuttered out curses as you slowly lift your hips, your body still getting used to his size. 

Kento took your slow pace, allowing you to take control as best as you could. With every movement, you could feel him twitch and move within you. You could feel your wetness dripping all over him, allowing you to move more and more rapidly. Kento’s head was spinning, moving his arms up and down to help stabilize you as you rode him faster and faster. Your moans and screams echoed throughout the forest, and underneath he knew no one would come and disturb you. Your fingers weaved themselves with his short blonde hair, messing up the slicked-back style he had this morning. One of Kento’s hands moved from where he placed them, to the back of your neck, pulling your head even closer before swallowing your lips into a rough kiss, almost bruising your lips. Kento leg’s spread, making your own spread as well. He stabilized his feet, and before you knew it, he had started thrusting his hips into you, outpacing your now-medium one. 

“Oh fuck!” The sudden change of pace had you muffling your screams into his mouth, legs trembling and shaking. 

“God,” Kento grunted in your ear, “I can't get enough of you.” He whispered in your ear, as he let go of your lips, swollen from the harsh and intense kiss. 

“So full,” you babbled, “fuck you make me feel so full, sir,” you spewed out curses as Kento behind huff and puffing. 

“Hmm, I do, huh?” His teasing voices caused an almost visceral reaction within you, your body involuntary thrashing within his hold. 

“Yes sir,” you keened in his hold once again, feeling a pool of heat and pressure build-up within yourself. 

“All out in the open, all for me right?” His teasing tone took on a more slightly possessive one as he continued to ramble on, a signal that he was soon reaching his climax. 

You could only hum out confirmations, too tongued at this point to even speak. He continued to speak in your ear, getting more and more talkative by the second. You couldn't concentrate on his words, anymore, your ears filling with cotton with every second.

“So sweet and all for me, right. No one can fuck you like I can, isn't that right.”

You couldn't even respond to him, your moans going higher and higher in octaves as your hands moved from his hands to his shoulders, gripping onto him tightly as you dug your face into the base of his neck. A sudden smack to your ass jolted you out of your trance. 

“Fucking answer me.”

You squealed, “M’sorry sir!”

He smirked at that, that final “sir” sending him over the edge, and it seemed you had reached that same peak. With a few more hasty and uneven thrusts, he came right inside of you, with no intentions of ever pulling out of you, that’s what he put you on birth control for right. At the same time, you let out a final squeal, your nails dragging themselves into his shirt to the point where they tore through, allowing them to leave a few things all scratched on his skin. He hissed slightly at the pain, however it didn't deter him as you planted your lips on his once again. This time the kiss was softer and sweeter, allowing the two of you to ride out your sudden climaxes. Slowly he released his hold on you, allowing you to move around him just a bit, your joints cracking a bit. 

He let you release the kick, sitting up a bit as you moved around, grimacing at the wet sounds. Your bustier top had fallen due to the pressure, hand moving to your breast to push the top back up. He placed a kiss on your temple, before helping you up and off of him. You squealed at the sudden empty feeling, a mixture of both you and his cum dripping down the sides of your thighs. 

“I’m gonna get all sticky,” you whined, looking down at the juices slowly sliding down your skin. 

You moved your skirt back to its original position, but you knew that wouldn’t help the situation any better. Kento chuckled slightly at your situation, pulling his boxers back over himself before zipping and buttoning up his pants. Once situated, he stood up straight just as you were pulling down your skirt which was wrinkled to the extreme. You couldn't see yourself but you knew that your makeup was ruined. Kento could feel a cool breeze enter through the rips you made into his shirt as he approached you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, slightly grinding himself on you. 

“Don’t rile me up again, Kento. I’m already sticky and dirty,” but you couldn't hold back your giggles as your body followed along with his own. 

He simply smiled, giving you a peck on your lips before letting go of you, grabbing you by your hand before pulling you back down the path. On the way, he bent back down on the bench, picking up your box of sweets before going back the way you came. You soon made it back to the main path when you realized that Kento was leading you back to the country club building. Quickly, you pulled out your phone, realizing your intuition was right about your appearance. 

“Wait Kento, I can't go back there looking like this?!”

He looked over at you, tilting his head a bit before turning back towards the path. You tried to fight him every step of the way, but he just continued you on. You could see the tennis court up ahead, Gojo and his black-haired companion along with those girls no longer there. You tried to speak up again but then Kneto went off the main path again, this time leading to another one that led to the side of the building. There was an armored door, and on the side, you could see a card swipe mechanism. Kento went into his wallet, pulling out the same card the receptionist had scanned, and swiping it. Immediately the door had beeped a bright sound, the red light in the machine turned green and you could hear the door unlocking. Kento reached past you, going for the door and pulling it open, and gesturing for you to go inside. 

Immediately, you found yourself in a dimmed hallway, all with doors, all closed. As you took a couple of steps down, you looked at the door to your left and found the black door had its own card swipe locking machine, and there was a name plaque a few feet above it. You looked around and saw the different doors all looked the same, a black door with a card swipe machine but a different name on the plaque above. Kento got in front of you, leading you down a few doors, before stopping right in front of one. You peeked from behind just as he was unlocking the door, looking at the name plaque near the door. 

Nanami Kento.

The door unlocked, revealing a dark room at first, Kento had leaned over, turning on the lights revealing a well-decorated room, reminding you of the living room at Kento’s Osaka mansion. The room was mostly tan and beige, with wooden floors to align with it. In the middle of the room was a sunken circular sofa much like the mansion this area reminded you of. You took a few steps in before Kento grabbed you by the arm, leading you down throughout the room before arriving at another door. He opened it this time, revealing a smaller room. One look around has you realizing that this was a closet filled with Kento’s clothes. 

You turned towards him, eyes filled with stupor, “how-- how long have you had this place?”

He gave you a look, not even saying a word before going to another door that was connected to the closet. You stammered and sputtered, going after him about to give him a piece of your mind when you joined him in the other room you were looking at him and stopped right in your tracks. 

It was another closet, but this one was filled with… dresses and other outfits. You took even more steps inside, going to one of the racks connected to the many drawers and tall dressers. You pulled one of the dresses off the rack, before placing it right in front of your body, turning up to the overarching mirror on the walls. The dress was see-through and sleeveless, silver and shimmering with the design of a butterfly wing as the main design. It was short and asymmetrical, one side longer than the other, imitating a slit. There was one chain going from the neckline that seemed to wrap around your neck. You grabbed at the tag within the inside of the dress, seeing that it was exactly your size.

You turned towards Kento who was simply smirking at your reaction leaving against the doorframe. 

“The moment you asked about coming here. I had a simple membership before, but upgraded to the one that gives me my own private room.”

He stood up straight, reaching in his pocket and pulling out his wallet, before pulling out a card. Kento handed it to you, and you looked at it, eyes widening at what was on it. It was a membership card, allowing you complete access. You looked back up at him, eyes wide once again, before looking down at it. 

“This is for me?” Your voice was small, uncertain as to what was in front of you.

He confirmed it, using one of his fingers to push your head up to look at him, and a soft smile on his face. You broke out into a big smile, dropping the dress and wrapping your arms around him, squealing. Kento immediately responded, wrapping his arms around you, before hoisting you up. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled against his lips, right before he encaptured them into a deep kiss. 

Kento stumbled back into the wall near the door, holding you by the waist. Your hands trailed down his ruined shirt, fiddling with buttons once again. Breaking off the kiss, a sliver of spit connecting your lips, you gave Kento a devious look. 

“How about we,” you ground against his hips, feeling that familiar length rising up, “break in the new room?”

He looked down at you, giving you a slight smirk before immediately swishing and carrying you out of the room, making you laugh out loud, the joyous sound echoing all throughout the private room. 

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ruby Myers (Typist Girl, Cinema Queen)— I just recently saw a documentary about her and thought that besides being really pretty, she had a very interesting life. She was born in the early 1900s in India to a Baghdadi Jewish family, and became the first woman to act in an Indian silent film. In the 1930s she started her own film production house, Rubi Pics, way before most female producers in Hollywood broke through. More info can be found in this Golden Globes webpage on her life [link]

Ginger Rogers (Swing Time, Top Hat)—Look I’ll level with you, I’ve never seen her in a musical and I know that she’s an amazing dancer and she’ll be even hotter when I finally watch Top Hat but I’m not submitting her as a dancer I’m submitting her as an ACTRESS. Her comic timing is impeccable!!!!! She’s full to bursting with life and in every role she seems to be having FUN, you can practically feel the twinkle in her eye. With her natural warmth it’s like she’s letting you in on the joke, y’all get to have this fun together! Making me laugh is hot!!! [If you'd like to see Ginger dance, videos below the cut]

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ruby Myers:

Ginger Rogers propaganda:

She needs no introduction! An undeniable powerhouse on the dancefloor, and no less talented an actress. I once watched a compilation of cinema's greatest dance scenes and one of her and Fred Astaire's dances was featured, and one of the talking heads said he pitied her for 'having to keep up with him' - or something to that effect. Bullshit, I cry. Ginger Rogers was his absolute equal, and underplaying her incredible skill is downright criminal. I want the 'Cheek to Cheek' sequence from Top Hat to be permanently burned into my memory.

"Backwards in high heels", as the saying goes (though the pedant in me must point out that she in fact spent her fair share of time leading or dancing side-by-side). One of the earliest twinkle-toed ladies of the silver screen, and in terms of acting/persona, her balance of wide-eyed cuteness and movie-star glamour has never quite been replicated.

we all know her beloved string of musicals with fred but ginger also has an extensive and varied non-fred filmography that she's great in! a few ginger moments that are important 2 me personally ginger singing “we’re in the money” in gold diggers of 1933, complete with a verse in pig latin bc this whole movie is kinda mocking the concept of anyone actually being in the money in 1933; ginger and una merkel singing a verse of “shuffle off to buffalo” in 42nd street, providing some statler & waldorf-esque commentary on newlyweds from the upper berth of a railway car (interesting that belly was apparently a risque word in 1933 - maybe its bc the lyric is innuendo-ing about out of wedlock pregnancies - and that panties was a term for men’s underthings!); a favorite fred & ginger number

Ginger Rogers could do everything! She could sing, dance and act. She was hilarious in comedies, moving in dramatic roles (she won an Oscar for Kitty Foyle in 1940) and absolutely gorgeous!

Listen, no shade to Fred Astaire at all, but she both kept up with him step for step and then later went on to WIN AN OSCAR FOR ACTING. (which he did not.) truly a double threat!!!

One of the best dancers in Hollywood! Her work with Fred Astaire is just incredible.

ONE LINE: "Everything Fred did, Ginger did backwards and in heels" AND THEYRE RIGHT! Rogers was a total dance badass, and a lot of movie buffs know the story, but the Never Gonna Dance number from Swing Time took almost 50 takes, and allegedly by the end of filming it her white shoes had been stained pink because her feet were bleeding. As a note, she looks crazy gorgeous in this number. Watching these two dance is insane. They match up to each other in a way my mom describes as "divine" and she's right. DANCE NUMBERS!

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off (Shall We Dance, 1937, dancing starts at 3:14, they're in ROLLERSKATES)

(Ginger Rogers is the hottest woman ever to live in this number. seeing this as a teenager altered my brain chemistry)

(also watch her feet and how she moves opposite Astaire in this one. We all know our boy Freddie had that precision demon but jesus christ Miss Rogers, let a girl live!)

Pick Yourself Up, Swing Time 1936 (Everyone's seen this one but by god you are going to see it AGAIN!)

Shall We Dance, 1937 (duet begins at 2:34)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, Roberta 1935 (There's just something about Ginger Rogers in a slick black dress man)

The Continental, The Gay Divorcee 1934

God she's MAGIC in this one.

Gay Divorcee's Ending Montage 1934The infamous table and chairs spin happens at about 0:49. Pay CLOSE attention to her in this bc it looks like witchcraft and I feel lightheaded whenever I watch this movie bc shes THAT awesome.

She is a miracle to watch. Sorry for the sheer amount of clips. My entire family is like madly in love with Ginger Rogers.

[xkaidaxxxx]

Azula x Female Reader

Mentions: little angst, fluff, Lesbians

Sorry for any errors

Azula x Female Reader

“ No one has ever had to hide the way that we do Azula. I’m afraid they won’t accept us.” You said with tears slipping down your cheeks. “ Just because this stupid and horrible world judges us and says that we can be nothing that won’t stop us. I love you baby girl more than anything. I want you to be happy and enjoy every moment we have together.” Azula said. She wiped your tears. You girls loved each other but loving the same sex was seen as disgusting and almost like it’s forbidden. You and Azula met about 4 years after Zuko became the next Fire Lord. You lived in the palace due to being Mai’s long distant friend. 

How you two met was a bit wild. You were out and about outside the Fire Nation. You decided to travel to Kyoshi Island and visit Ty Lee. Mai said she’d greet you with open arms. Along the way you needed to stop at a Hotel and eventually found one. It was large,beautiful and expensive, it almost looked like a section of the palace.. Perfect for Azula. She knew how to survive. She’s strong, smart, beautiful and wild. On the way inside you bumped into a group of men. They looked very important. “Watch where you are going, you insolent girl.” one of the men said, shoving you away. You landed on your side. You had a bit of a spicy side of yourself. Standing up you turned your water into ice cutting cheek.“ You’re not a gentleman at all you asshole.” Azula walked over. “You’re making a scene outside my Hotel. You stupid guys run along before I kill you myself.” Her face confirmed her words. As she turned to look at you her heart skipped a beat. You were wearing some short tights with a short blue and white skirt over it. Your shirt was white with blue snowflake prints. Your shoes were cute as well. The way you wore your hair showed your wonderful facial features. Azula was checking you out. You cleared your throat. “I’d like a room please.” you also checked her out as you walked behind her into the Hotel. Azula was highly aware of it. She saw the mirror. “ What are you doing traveling alone?” Azula asked, grabbing a key and showing you to your room. “I’m on my way to visit a friend.” you replied feeling a bit lonely. “You sound lonely. I’ll keep you company since midday. I’ll show you around. Come on, pretty lady.” Azula said grabbing you and all day you went around town having fun. You thought you’d stay longer. Longer meaning about 6 months and along the way you fell in love. One day you were at a temple confessing what you were feeling. An old lady overheard you. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of loving someone so dearly and passionately. Don’t ignore your feelings otherwise you’ll regret it later on.” you smiled and ran back to Azula. The sun went down by then. As Azula was about to get ready you walked into her room. “Oh hey y/n. Is everything alright? Do you need something?”She asked and stepped forward as you started crying. You didn’t even know it was happening. This was your chance and you took it. You went up to her tipped toed and gave her a loving kiss. She was shocked at first but relaxed and kissed back. It got heated to the point where she hovered over you on the bed. You blushed. “I love you.” you spoke playing with the necklace you had on. “ I love you too.” Azula replied. 

After that it was history. 

“ If Mai and Zuko reject us..it’s fine but are you sure?” Azula asked. “Yes Azula..I want to live a normal life here without being attacked.” You replied. Azula waited at the balcony as you went to see Zuko and Mai. “ FireLord Zuko. Thank you for making time to see me..I have a request.” You said formally. Zuko stood up and walked over. He smiled and smacked your arm. “y/n. Don’t treat me like we don’t know each other idiot.” He replied. You smiled and giggled with Mai. “Now what’s your request?” he asked. “I would like to live here in the Fire Nation permanently..I swear I won’t cause any trouble and I will use my Water bending only for good like I always have.” you replied playing with your necklace. “Yeah you’re my friend and Mai’s basically sister.” He replied, rubbing your arm. “I want to live with my other half.” you said and Mai squealed. Odd of her to do. “You never told me you had a boyfriend!!” you looked away. “I love that person more than anything..outside..I would like you to meet.” you walked over to the balcony. Azula turned around. She went and kneeled down. “Its an honor to see you FireLord Zuko.” She said, looking at him. It wasn’t Mai she was worried about but her brother. The one she has hurt her entire life. The person she tried to kill. “Get up.” Zuko ordered. She obeyed. “ This is my girlfriend Azula.” You said. You were confused on why Zuko and Mai were upset. “What’s going on?” you asked. “ She’s Zuko’s little sister. Azula. She is a monster. How the hell did you fall in love with someone who has killed people and tried killing her own brother?” Mai said she was upset for sure but she also felt betrayed. “I’ve changed. I love y/n. I am happy with her. After the war it took some time for me to open my eyes and heart but I did. I met y/n only 6 months ago. We want to start a new life here. Please..if you wont accept me..at least allow her to live here peacefully.” Azula said. Her heart was aching on how they reacted but she expected that. How could she not. “ Zuko..Mai, I’m in love with Azula. I want to grow old with her. She’s my life and world. Please consider it.” You cried. They just stood there without saying a word. Azula held you close. She did that because she felt like it would be the last time she’d ever see you before they’d take and lock her up, for all the pain, suffering she committed and war crimes. Zuko saw how much they truly love each other. How you were certain she was the one for you. “Look you know what..We don’t care if you don’t accept our relationship but I love her and we think we start-” You were cut off by Zuko. “You can live here..only in the palace. That way I can keep a close eye on Azula. The world doesn’t need to suffer again. Azula..you are my little sister…so I’m giving you a chance..I don’t trust you yet..You better love Y/n to death. Do not hurt her in any way. If you do, you'll regret it.” He replied walking away getting your room ready. Azula carried you and spun you around. You giggled then kissed her as she set you down. Mai coughed. You two stopped. “Right s-sorry.” Azula said. “You girls will have a room to have fun.” Mai said. You blushed and your cheeks felt hot. “Mai!!” you yelled. Azula looked at her and smirked. You girls couldn’t help but laugh loudly. Zuko heard you all laughing and he smiled. "I'm glad she found someone. Azula you got blessed." He spoke.