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enwifen · 1 day

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… 𝓚iss me ౨ৎ

🫧 𓂃 (추) kisses can be scary, especially when you have no idea how, but when your best friend offers to show you the ropes you wonder… how bad can it be?

a fic about jakey and kissing cause meife wants to be kissed (sigh)

warning: suggestive at most, making out wc. 1.8k

When Sim Jaeyun became friends with you, never in his life could he have imagined the current situation that the two of you were in.

A random episode of Friends plays on your tv acting as background noise. Closing your eyes, you attempt to stop the tornado of thoughts chaotically swirling in your mind. Jake eyes you curiously, noting the way your eyebrows pinch together slightly which was a telltale sign that something was bothering you.

“You okay?” Your eyes shoot open which startles him a little.

“Yeah, fine.”

Jake gives you a ‘I know you’re not fine so tell me what’s up’ look. “Seriously, I am.”

“Y/n.”

“What!”

Jake sighs softly “Tell me what’s wrong.” He can see all the emotions wash over you, your mouth opening and closes as you try and find the right way to voice your thoughts without sounding like a mess.

Sitting up from having your head in his lap, you switch to facing Jake sitting cross legged on the couch. “I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

Nodding slowly, confusion is evident on your friend’s face. “Right… what’s wrong with that? Plenty of people our age are in the same boat as you.”

“Well— yes but, I’m scared that when it comes to it, I’m gonna be an awful kisser.”

“You can’t be that bad, either way it’s expected since it’ll be your first, all first kisses are bad.”

“No they’re not.” Jake squints at you before laughing.

“Yeah? And how would you know?”

Realising the irony you quickly backpedal. “I meant I don’t want mine to be bad.” The corners of his lips turn downwards as he nods, understanding where you’re coming from. A small beat of silence passes.

“What was your first time like?”

A smirk makes its way onto Jake’s lips. “Woah are we still talking about kisses here— ow!”

Still armed with your weapon (a fluffy pillow) you flinch at him in an attempt to be threatening. “You know what I mean!”

“I do, I do, lemme think…” he trails off, looking up as his memory takes him back a few years. With Jake’s gaze averted, you’re able to admire him a little (platonically, of course). His fluffy bangs hide his brows that are bunched together in thought, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth — a bad habit you noticed he had. “Ah! I remember, it was about two years ago.”

The fluffy pillow serves as a source of comfort as you hug it to your chest. “You remember my ex, Ahrin, right?” Of course you did, you never really liked her all that much. She was whiny and took up all of Jake’s attention, the period of time that they were together was the longest you had went with seeing him so irregularly.

Not that you wanted to be in her position or anything. You just missed your bestie. So much so you lost sleep at night due to how much you would cry but, like, aren’t all friends like that?

Don’t all friends do that?

Don’t they repeatedly check their phone to see if the other had texted; typing and deleting hundreds of messages only for them to be left unsent? Even after the last time they had spoken was just a couple days ago?

Don’t they apologise for leaving you on delivered for so long and spend hours promising to make it up to you, calling you ‘baby’ and ‘love’ because they know you like it?

And don’t they come over the very next day because he couldn’t wait a day longer, hugging you as if his life depended on it.

Maybe they do all of that, maybe they don’t. You and Jake did though.

“…so yeah, I guess it wasn’t terrible but- are you even listening?” Jake asks in slight disbelief, finally glancing at you who seemed to be zoning out.

“Huh? Oh- yeah! Of course I was.”

“Repeat what I just said then.” He deadpans and you’re caught, slumping in defeat.

“Whatever- my first kiss was with Ahrin, it felt kinda good back then but looking back it wasn’t that special.” Jake shrugs though you sense there’s a little more to the story.

“So you didn’t… feel any fireworks?”

He snorts at that “you watch too many movies.”

“Is that a crime? Not my fault I enjoy romanticising things… especially firsts.”

“Romanticise all you want, as long as you know none of it’s real.”

You mimic Jake’s tone earlier “and how would you know? Have you kissed anyone besides Ahrin?” Jake shakes his head and for some reason that makes you happy.

“Did I manage to ease any of your worries with my story- well I guess you didn’t listen, huh.”

“I did!”

“Oh yeah? Where did we kiss then?”

You blush, immediately giving yourself away again as you name the first thing that comes to mind. “The school library…?”

“You really think I’m that much of a nerd?” Your silence makes Jake reach for the pillow in your lap to deliver a blow of Karma though you successfully manage to block it in time, letting out a squeal.

“I surrender!” Jake grins and puts the pillow down.

“Anyway, like I said, don’t work yourself up so much about first kisses… you could always redeem yourself with the second.”

Biting your lip in thought, you nod “I guess you’re right…”

“You’re still worried about it, aren’t you?”

Guilty again, you nod.

“Babe, I promise it’s not that deep- I could even help you out if you wanted.”

You blink once. Twice. Three times for good measure.

What did he just say?

Chuckling softly at your reaction, Jake repeats himself. “I said that I could help you out… if you wanted, like, teach you how to kiss or whatever.” He adds, trying to seem completely casual as if he didn’t just basically ask to blur the already fuzzy lines between you two.

An itch in your throat causes you to swallow, trying to digest your best friend’s proposal.

He was someone you trusted a lot, Jake wasn’t some mediocre looking guy either — he was attractive, and you’d be damned to turn down the opportunity to have your first kiss with him.

“Okay.” Jake looks surprised for a moment but his shock is quickly replaced by a warm smile. Just that alone is enough to comfort you, easing the nerves that had begun to make your body feel like it was vibrating.

He shifts a little on the couch to sit more comfortably before patting his lap, gesturing for you to sit. It’s not like this would be the first time but, now with the given circumstances everything felt different. The poor pillow is tossed aside as you climb into Jake’s lap, rough denim of his cargos brushing against your thighs.

Anxiously you look up at him, clutching the fabric of his sweatshirt. He smiles again, reassuring you with his warm hands gliding up and down your sides in a comforting manner.

“We’ll start off slow, okay?”

“Okay- wait.”

“Hm?”

You reach back into your pocket and pull out a small tube of watermelon flavoured chapstick. Sure this was just practice but the next worse thing after being a bad kisser was having chapped lips. Jake watches, amused until you tuck the tube away. “Good to go?” You exhale.

“Yeah.” Jake advises you to take a few deep breaths before starting. He gives you as much time as you need, even breathing with you because, frankly, he’s kinda nervous too. Not so much about kissing but more, wanting to make sure to give you the experience that you wanted. Yes it was ‘just practice’ but this was also literally your first kiss so, Jake had to take this seriously.

“First, try leaning into me.” Slowly you do, now close enough to where your foreheads are touching. As pretty as Jake’s hair was, it was a little itchy- but not uncomfortable, maybe ticklish? Focus!

Jake chuckles a little deeper than usual. “I can practically hear you overthinking, relax.”

“I’m trying.”

“We’ll try harder.”

Worry evaporates as you get used to being so close, reminding yourself that it was just Jake, just Jake who was inches away from your lips, just the same, good old bestie Jake.

You rub your lips together in anticipation, eager to progress onto the next step. Jake initiates the kiss, tilting his bed to leave a soft peck on your lips. It was barely there, barely even lasted a second but you still felt it and boy did it leave you buzzing. Like a bee to a flower, eager for more pollen.

“You try.” He whispers, licking his lips. Greeted with the sweet yet artificial taste of your chapstick. Jake is patient, not commenting on the long pause until you finally close the gap between you two. Yours was definitely longer than Jake’s, maybe lasting .5 more seconds.

“Sorry…” Jake smiles wide with a slight shake of his head.

“No, no, you’re good… how.. how did that feel?”

“Nice..” you mutter, shy. You’re rarely ever shy in front of Jake — this guy had practically seen all sides of you but now? You guess he was bringing out a new side of you even you didn’t know existed.

“Good, that’s good.” He mumbles. Time seems to tick away impossibly slowly. The room is silent except for your breaths, Netflix questioning whether or not anybody was still watching when the only thing you were watching was Jake and vice versa.

“Now try doing what you just did but longer.” You oblige, pressing your lips to his again. Plump and pillowy would be the right way to describe Jake’s lips, plump, pillowy and red, most likely from how often he bites them.

This time you only pull away once you need a breath but two fingers grabbing your chin gently pull you in again and you can’t find it in you to stop him. It’s now that you realise kissing isn’t as complicated as you had thought, following Jake’s lead of some sort of pattern.

One long kiss, pull away, a few shorter kisses, pull away and… that’s it, you’re kissing him.

Somewhere along the way you grew even more comfortable, arms now wrapped around his neck whilst one of Jake’s encircle your waist, his other up as his hand cups your cheek. How long you’ve been like this you don’t know but you’re certainly not complaining.

There were tons of other kisses out there but you were perfectly content with these ones for now. Safe and comforting — not at all intimidating like you had previously thought.

After a particularly long pause in activity, Jake rests his forehead against yours again. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

He opens his eyes to give you the same look he did earlier. You smile until your nose scrunches and giggles escape.

“For real this time… now kiss me.”

#enha fluff #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x you #enha jake #jake fluff #jake x reader #enhypen jake #jake sim #sim jaeyun fic #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jaeyun

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foursaints · 3 days

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I NEED more james/ jegulus hcs.

i fear that i love them so much they’re hard to articulate into posts. they’re so fragmentary. that’s peter pan and one of his lost boys. that’s the guy who’s supposed to be the protagonist and the boy who actually is. it’s arthur & mordred. james can never make sense of regulus (who is a simple thing, but endlessly mysterious to him). james wants to explore him. regulus wants to be seen. i think about james as a forever-adventurer, someone who is always creating his own myth. regulus is someone who has been forced to live a myth against his own volition, realer and more terrible than anything james has ever brushed against. james thinks he’s a miracle & regulus thinks he’s his savior. they both want something from the other (an answer to a secret question about themselves) but they only thing they can give are their whole lives. it’s enough. that’s calvin from calvin and hobbes & the unpleasant neighbor-girl he makes fun of because he has a crush on her. james is the kind of storybook prince who strides in on a white horse, and regulus is also a prince but from older, crueler fairytales. james is always ALWAYS searching for something real, but the only real thing IS the search itself, and he wants a labyrinth that he can traverse for adventure forever. regulus is just an endless labyrinth of his own terrible personhood, and james is the only person All-Encompassing enough to make it about himself, freeing regulus. regulus is the tower-trapped princess who demands the answer to an impossible riddle in exchange for her hand. james is the impossible woodcutter’s son who goes to the end of the world to solve it. yeah

#a #t #JEGULUS #YEAH

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noturlondonboy · 2 days

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Nails on the Chalkboard of My Heart

Wenclair Oneshot

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair

Summary: It’s a dark and stormy night… and Wednesday decides to paint Enid’s nails in an effort to help the werewolf calm down. Fluffy confessions and silly gay girl antics ensue.

A/N: I really did love writing this one, I love blorbos painting each other’s nails. They’re so stinking cute. Enjoy!

Warnings: that good ole lesbian make out sesh don’t ya know

It was storming outside when Wednesday returned back to the dorm to find a shivering Enid tucked away under the covers. The lightning and thunder had been going raucously for about an hour now, and the walls shook from the force of the wind. Wednesday almost smiled at the rain lashing the windows.

Setting her bag on her desk, Wednesday quickly changed into her hoodie and sweats while doing her best to ignore the whimpering coming from the other side of the room. Enid never did well during large thunderstorms. She had told her as such, even explaining that she was used to handling them just fine alone, as none of her family had ever bothered to comfort her. That tidbit has nagged restlessly at Wednesday, but she brushed it off and didn’t press questions.

Now, though, after 30 minutes of sitting silently in front of her typewriter with nothing to show for it, after 30 minutes of Enid crying softly under her thick blankets all alone, after 30 minutes of “my parents had better things to do than trying to get me to stop cowering” ringing through her head in Enid’s gentle diction, something in Wednesday’s chest gave a terrible ache. She ripped the useless paper from the machine in front of her and crumpled it with one hand before tossing it in the trash bin like it had personally offended her.

Thing appeared on her desk, somehow knowing he was about to be summoned. Wednesday nodded, turning to face him. “Enid’s noise canceling headphones broke last week after Xavier’s idiotic little stunt with the lunch trays. Grab my pair from under my bed and take them to her while I clean up,” she ordered quietly, already starting to tidy her desk back to how she liked it.

Morticia and Gomez had gifted them both a set of headphones once they had heard of Enid’s ADHD. They had already been preparing to do so after Wednesday’s official autism diagnosis, but hurried the purchase in order to supply them both before the new school year.

Thing gave a little one-fingered salute and scurried off to do what he was told, jolting at the lightning but giving no protest. The girl sighed and rolled her shoulders. The crick in her neck had grown especially agonizing over the last week, and while she normally enjoyed pain, this was more annoying than anything else.

There was muffled conversation from Enid, but her sounds of distress stopped while she presumably accepted the headphones and put them on. Wednesday closed her eyes, letting out a sigh from her nose. Maybe she could pretend to stall by reorganizing her entire bookshelf for the third time, when in reality all that was happening was a mental preparation for what she was about to do.

A strike of lightning pierced the night and rattled the walls, leaving the dorm room in momentary blackness. Enid lets out a shriek, her tears evident in the warble in her throat. But like a wraith, Wednesday is by her side the moment the lights come back on, unable to stop herself from holding back.

Another yelp from the Werewolf, who jumped and scrambled back on her bed. Wednesday reached forward quickly to cradle the girl’s face and pull her closer, her knees subsequently ending up on the colorful covers.

Enid freezes, tearful eyes wide, the black headphones askew on her head. They both hold their breaths, but Wednesday is the first to move, carefully taking her roommate’s hand to pull her back properly onto her own bed. Enid only obeys, expression dizzy as it darts between the point of contact and the lack of a scowl on the Latina’s face.

Once Enid is resettled, Wednesday busies herself with going through the drawers of her nightstand and desk. Her mind is running unfortunately much quicker than she likes, but her senses sharpen with each whimper from the puppy waiting for her just feet away.

Black and pink nail polish secured in her palm, she sits with her legs crossed in front of Enid and fixes the headphones back into place. The werewolf sat stockstill, only moving to flinch at the thunder.

“I’m going to turn some music on for you, and then I’m going to paint your nails, and we’re not going to talk- understood?” Wednesday says softly, pulling her rarely used phone from her pocket and opening up Spotify. Enid seems only capable of gaping, her wet cheeks glowing pink.

Wednesday presses play on a shared playlist of theirs (which mainly consisted of very limited Kpop, Cigarettes After Sex, Melanie Martinez, and classical cello arrangements) before setting her phone aside and putting her palm out. Enid stared at it for a moment before realizing what she wanted and giving her hand over.

They both jolted once their fingers met, but Wednesday just pulled Enid’s arm closer with a gentle reverence and uncapped one of the polishes to begin painting.

Enid watched her in silent awe, ears blessedly full of something other than the thunderstorm. Wednesday worked in careful precision, stroking one finger at a time to stimulate the claws that hid under the skin so she could coat the polish on. She did it in one full stroke, because she was an Addams and did everything perfectly, her dark eyes almost warm as she waited a moment for the paint to set before moving on to the next.

There was much to be said, of course, about the colors Wednesday had chosen. Pink and black, to symbolize the two of them, in a pattern of every-other.

A crash of thunder hit Nevermore, and Enid jumped at the vibrations as they rattled the wooden boards around them. Wednesday held her hands still, her thumb drawing slow circles into her wrists until she was calm again. When another loud bang had Enid’s claws slipping out involuntarily, the result of which was a red nick in Wednesday’s skin, the goth only pressed a kiss to Enid’s knuckles to steady her (and make her blush like a volcano?? C'mon Enid get it together) instead of lashing out like the werewolf had feared.

A bright flash set the world outside momentarily ablaze. Enid flinched and curled into herself, her hands pulling away from Wednesday to ball together close to her chest. When she came back around with the gentle melody of Apocalypse soothing her sensitive ears, Wednesday was hovering close, hands shaped like she would be cupping Enid’s cheeks if she just moved forward about two inches.

Enid watched her, blinking the tears away as her heart settled, and gave herself no time to think. She leaned forward and nestled her jaw into Wednesday Addams’ palms, the wonderful touch of skin on skin melting the fear away. Dark eyes bore into baby blues, and Wednesday idly wondered what her parents would say if they saw her like this, calm and warm and making a willing effort to provide comfort to someone such as Enid.

“You’re alright,” she whispered, even as she very well knew that Enid couldn’t hear her- though the girl’s eyes darted down to read her lips. “It can’t hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

And Enid watches as she always had, cheeks warm and marveling silently as Wednesday retracted, carefully cleaning any smudged polish before reapplying the color where it was needed. Once Enid’s nails were successfully painted, Wednesday held her fingers gingerly to blow on them until they were dry. Her breath was warm, and soothed the ache in her knuckles.

The two stared at each other, Enid taking the headphones off and setting them aside. The storm had thankfully dimmed to a drizzle. The pitter patter of the raindrops was soothing and much preferred over heavy thunder and lightning.

Wednesday felt her stomach roiling at the entire interaction. Who was she, Wednesday Addams, to be painting the nails of this strange girl? Who was she to calm and to help, when all her life, she had only been a dark thing of madness? Who was she… to Enid?

Wednesday was so caught up in her head that it took her a long moment to realize that Enid’s face had melted into a mask of awed serenity, and the expression was held only for Wednesday. The werewolf watched her so intensely that Wednesday could feel the cool water of her eyes, imagining what her fingers would do if pushed through impossibly soft golden hair.

“Thank you,” Enid suddenly breathed, her heart in her throat. Something was clawing away at her lungs, stealing her breath. Her very bones seemed to ring. “Thank you,” she said again, aching and aching for Wednesday to stay, to keep touching her, to touch her more.

Somehow, Wednesday saw that want, saw right through her as she always did and always would. She cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly very, very dry, the words burning on her tongue.

“Anything you wish of me, Enid, I will do. And if it is not what you desire, then I will leave you in peace, away from my darkness and pain that trails me as if a shadow forever imprinted. But you- I can’t…” She swallowed thickly. Enid’s eyes were wide, a blush rising on her freckled cheeks. Wednesday desperately wanted to touch them. “I believe that I have fallen victim to the Addams Family curse, to love fiercely and everlastingly. I can feel it swelling within me, a heart I didn’t know I had.”

Wednesday didn’t really know what she was doing, why she was saying this. But the words had started and her chest had screamed so desperately for what it truly wanted, what it had been waiting for all this time.

“I think… that you have entranced me, utterly entranced me in every way any wicked woman could think of.” Another swallow, tightening the hold their fingers had on each other. Enid’s face was a furnace, her lips parted and heart beating furiously.

How did she respond to this? How did she explain to Wednesday that she had discovered that her darker counterpart and undying crush was her mate only weeks ago, a revelation that had sent her into a tizzy so bad she had been bedridden for hours? She wasn’t sure she even remembered how to speak.

Wednesday’s pupils were blown wide, her eyes large and dark and swallowing Enid whole. She wanted to be laid to rest in those eyes. But Wednesday heard no response, and her mind faltered. She had been so sure in that moment that her wolf would return the affection, would recognize the confession for what it was. The plea in her voice, the promise to do and be anything Enid asked.

“If you- if you do not feel the same way, Enid, I would understand, and I would not blame you. Turn me away and I would trek to the edges of the Earth if that is where you want me. But if you wish for me to stay… I am devoted to you, to your happiness, your pleasure, your mind and soul. I am caught in your beastly claws and yours to do with what you will.” And she waited, her ribs throbbing as her heart pumped blood harshly through her. Wednesday Addams laid herself out for the first time in her miserable life, completely true and bare for someone else.

How had painting nails turned into this? What could have possibly possessed her today?

Enid, in turn, was still doing her best to wrap her poor little gay head around Wednesday’s words. This was too good to be true, it- it couldn’t possibly be real. And normally if she were called beastly by anyone else, she would claw their face off. But with Wednesday calling her that… Shit. It honest to gods turned her on.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again with absolutely no idea what to say. But… did she even really need words? Wednesday was stating this verbally because she knew it was the best way to get through to Enid. The darker girl had always shown her true feelings through actions, but to get through her thick werewolf skull, the words were easiest.

Enid thought she should return the favor. Tell Wednesday that she felt the same, show her she felt the same. That she would push herself to every possible limit for Wednesday, would do anything she ever asked, would rip her own heart out if it meant her mate would give her a rare smile.

And to show her, Enid knew there was only one option. They were in too deep- far too deep, to settle for anything less than razor sharp exactness.

Wednesday watched her with wide eyes, cheeks dark and lips parted almost grimly. There was no more room for waiting. Enid set aside the nail polish bottles, crawled forward to gently nudge her way between Wednesday's knees, and kissed her without a moment to waste.

Wednesday gasped and jolted away as her heart shrieked, lips burning furiously. She stared; Enid stared back. The werewolf looked ready to fling herself off of their balcony. But Wednesday fisted the soft blonde hair at the back of her head and pulled her forward with no small amount of desperation, reconnecting their mouths before she could let herself think.

There was another gasp, then a sigh, followed by a moan as Enid pushed into her closer until Wednesday was pressed on her back, braids messy and thrown over the bed. The wolf’s weight on her smaller body was warm and alluring, fading into the back of her mind as soft lips devoured her whole.

Gods, Wednesday had never seen so much color. It burst into fireworks over her eyelids as Enid kissed her and kissed her, a silver tongue dipping hotly into her mouth to flick over her canines and taste the cruel words Wednesday Addams preferred to so generously wield.

Enid’s heart burst in her chest as the girl beneath her responded ever so eagerly to her lips, tangling their legs together and using her cold, delicate hands to cup the werewolf’s cheeks and pull her closer, always closer, her perfect nails scratching softly at her skin just below the Hyde scars. A purr built up and tumbled out of her throat, startling Wednesday so much that she broke away, cheeks deliciously flushed and chest working hard to keep breathing.

Enid stopped too, unable to squash the mortified look on her face as the purr persisted, rumbling softly in the back of her throat. She knew if her wolf had its way, a golden tail would be wagging furiously. She would’ve died from embarrassment alone.

Wednesday’s mouth had gone slack, her obsidian eyes wide and a bit glazed as she stared so intently at Enid she might as well have been stripping her right then and there.

“I didn’t know that you could- that you would… make that noise,” she muttered, one hand moving to settle on Enid’s waist while the other stayed where it rested on her scarred cheek. Her fingertips were cold, yet left a blazing trail as they flittered like dark little mourning doves over fairer skin.

“Werewolves only purr for their mate,” Wednesday said slowly, cautiously, doing her damn best to gauge the expressions flashing over Enid’s face so quickly she could barely decipher half of them. Most depicted a horrified desire to forget the balcony and just head straight for a window. “Only- their mate.”

Enid could only stare at Wednesday, at her inky hair and adorable bangs, the freckles smattered over dark skin that was normally as pale as death but now shone red, the depthless eyes that threatened to drown her every morning when she awoke. Mate. Her mate, watching her closely as one would a spooked animal.

What was there to say? Wednesday stated the fact, because Enid truly had purred, was still purring, even as she scrambled for the words to save her sorry ass from the rejection of an Addams daughter. She was still hovering over said Addams, such a welcome shadow on her colorful bedspread.

“Am I your mate, Enid Sinclair?” Wednesday whispered, her lips barely moving as she used her hand to tug the blonde fully on top of her by her waist, the purr halted for only a second by a nervous whine. Her eyelashes fluttered, and a smirk- no, a grin- tipped the corners of her mouth up until perfect teeth almost showed through those taunting lips.

Taunting lips that Enid wanted to kiss again very, very much.

Wednesday repeated her question, her words almost slurred as she breathed them. There was something on her face, in the lines of her cheekbones and the dip of her chin, the curve of her jaw, that spoke of something dangerous. Insatiable. Enid couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

But as soon as she came up with it -hunger- she let out a low whimper and somehow pressed impossibly closer until her warmth was Wednesday's warmth, until her breath was Wednesday’s breath. “Yes,” she whispered, begged, might as well have screamed for what that one word did.

Wednesday Addams surged up to capture the wolf’s lips in her own and throw her off balance in order to straddle her waist, the words melting into their mouths.

Words they never really needed to say.

Not that Enid would even know how to speak in the first place, after Wednesday had her way with her.

#Wednesday #Wednesday Addams #Enid #Enid Sinclair #Wenclair #sapphic #queer #lesbian #fanfic #fanfiction #wlw #gxg #Addams family #fluff #angst?#I love them so much

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dreamchasernina · 3 days

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Also it is noteable that in TSR aang let katara take appa. Aang and appa were never seperated before besides when the sandbenders stole him. He actually must have still ptsd about him getting captured but but he cares for katara so much that he let her take him and still everyone hates him because he is too preachy apparently.

I honestly feel like they’re going out of their way to make Aang the bad guy. Cause it’s Aang, you have to jump through a lot of hoops to make HIM the bad guy.

Apparently, not wanting your friend to take revenge on someone, knowing it’s not who they are and it will not make them feel any better, maybe even worse - is just a terrible thing to do. Apparently when Katara was full of rage and lashing out at Aang and Sokka, they were the ones at fault.

And look, I love Katara, I will defend her against anyone. Especially people who hate her for those moments in the Southern Raiders, I will defend her! But, I will not say she wasn’t in the wrong. She was. THAT’S THE POINT. But apparently it’s controversial to say that. Because apparently I’m supposed to root for this traumatized 14 year old to let all her anger out and kill that man even though that would go against everything Katara believes in. Apparently I’m not supposed to be like Aang - recognize that Katara is not herself and is letting vengeance consume her, but I’m supposed to be like Zuko? Sit there quietly and do whatever she says without any concern about her mental state if she does go through with her plan?

People miss the point of that episode completely. You’re supposed to recognize that Katara is in the wrong in that episode, the way she talks to Aang and Sokka, the way she wants to steal Appa, the way she is so consumed by rage she starts bloodbending. It’s all supposed to be wrong! Because that’s not who Katara is. And admitting it doesn’t make me a Katara hater, it actually proves that I like Katara for who she really is. A gentle caring soul who will not let go of her morals even in the middle of a war that took everything from her.

So you’re gonna sit there and tell me that Katara was in the right and Aang was in the wrong and Zuko is the only one who supported her? What show are you watching? What version of Katara do you actually like? Because in that episode, that was not Katara. If that’s the version of her you like then you’re not a true fan of hers. It would be like if I said “I love Aang, my favorite moment of his was in the desert where he’s constantly angry and lashing out at everyone”. You’d sit there baffled thinking…that’s not Aang. And that’s exactly how these people sound.

#avatar: the last airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #aang #kataang #katara #zuko #the southern raiders

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storygremlin · 2 days

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I have just discovered the offensive reality of straight people A/B/O through Bridgerton fanfics—truly a misogynistic patriarchal reinforcement of gender stereotypes that horrifies me to my soul.

Straight people should not have access to this trope, they have no concept of how to use it. Like, if you’re determined to do a “family legacy” thing for the Bridgertons, they’re all horny Omegas looking for love.

However, if we’re being more INTERESTING with it:

Simon/Daphne should be Beta/Omega, and you could use Simon being a Beta to play into his daddy issues.

Kate/Anthony is Alpha/Alpha, anyone who tries to make Kate an Omega is out of their fucking minds. Also, that is a woman who wants to fuck her husband, let’s be so for real.

Penelope/Colin would be the actual Alpha/Omega dynamic but Pen is obviously the Alpha. Colin wants to be good for her SO BAD. I don’t make the rules. (Except I DO and I’M RIGHT).

John/Francesca are a couple of autistic Betas who just want the crazy Alphas and Omegas to leave them out of their messy drama so they can be quiet nerds together.

As for Eloise and Benedict, there’s a few options.

Eloise as an Alpha or Omega can be used to explore how that effects her as a woman in 19th century regency who feels like she SHOULD be able to do the same things as her brothers but is restricted either bc she’s a girl (Alpha) or bc she’s an Omega, and how that’s affected by her internalized misogyny (against omega girls for example). Could also contribute to her and Pen’s friendship dynamics—if she’s an Alpha, as a bonding point for not quite fitting, but if she’s an Omega you can make it a like she thinks Pen being an Alpha is cool/is envious of her.

Benedict I feel like you could argue for any secondary gender and make it interesting, cause that’s the kind of character he is. But I think most interesting would be making him a Beta to really play into the way he’s trying to find his place without having a set role in his family.

Have I put way to much thought into this? No, I literally came up with this as soon as I thought about it, it’s so easy and way more interesting than “the boys are alphas and the girls are good little omegas bc i hate queer people and prefer to write boring uninteresting worlds and dynamics and fetishize terrible gender stereotypes”.

The only way ur allowed to use A/B/O for het couples is if ur messing with the secondary gender shit. Otherwise it just feels inherently misogynistic and homo-and-transphobic to me.

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adanseydivorce · 3 days

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assigned each TTPD track to trc/td3 chars/pairings because I was bored.

Main Tracks

•Fortnight — post TDT & BLLB era Bluesey. not every lyric fits perfectly but the tone/overall subject (requited but forbidden love, especially the implication it’s both literally forbidden (other people involved/kiss curse) and self imposed forbidden (they’re from two different worlds and need to bridge that gap) is so them, pining and yearning, Literally “we can pretend this once then never speak of it again” and then mourning that as they try and keep their distance, also the “your wife waters flowers I want to kill her” bit in my head is Blue being jealous of Henry when she meets him. It makes sense. To me. Primarily a Blue pov song and then the Post Malone bits can be Gansey.

•The Tortured Poets Department — The Gray Man x Maura, The Gray Man’s post TDT break up anthem. When you give up your hit man life for a woman and she runs off to a cave to find her ex boyfriend, a tree! Will really mess up an Anglo Saxon Poetry lover.

•My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys — DC Party Adansey from both their povs, Adam fearing Gansey only can value him as a possession and can’t love him in a way that Adam would want and Gansey fearing Adam secretly hates him + his heart breaking when Adam smashes the figurines. But the bridge is very Adam pov “I felt more when we played pretend than with all the Kens” Adam’s relationship with projection and both hating Gansey’s facade and being infatuated with and attracted to it, also there are so many ways they pretend seperately and together.

•Down Bad — Pynch, first verse and chorus definitely Ronan pov in trc, the second verse and chorus as Adam pov in mi then after that could be both of them although still would lean more Ronan pov for the vibes.

•So Long, London — Noah song. A lot of it could be his pov talking to Whelk, but then the friends he’s referring to could be the Gangsey and the Gangsey pov could be the final chorus saying goodbye to him.

•But Daddy I Love Him — Niall x Mor. Niall’s pov as he tries to get his mother/his family to accept that he loves Mor.

•Fresh Out The Slammer — Jordeclan. Self explanatory.

•Florida!!! — at first I was going to give this one to Blue because of some of the themes about feeling conflicted about your hometown, then I wanted to make it a Hennessy song because some lyrics really fit her, but then eventually I decided this is actually a song about The Fairy Market. Different parts could be from Hennessy Jordan and Declan’s pov and maybe a little bit from Mor’s and/or Henry’s.

•Guilty as Sin? — this song has both Bluesey and Pynch vibes but to me it’s a Bluesey song overall. Blue pov, yearning for someone you can never touch it’s perfect…

•Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? — Ronan song fits him in the first two trc books real well imo. In the second verse he’s addressing the Gray Man but he could be addressing a number of people from Declan to Kavinsky to Niall to Gansey throughout the song.

•I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) — Maura Sargent and her terrible taste in men! First verse and chorus about Artemus and Calla and Persephone shaking their heads in the background, then the second time with The Gray Man Calla again shaking her head.

•loml — Jordeclan, but specifically a Jordan pov song after Declan chooses death by fairy market over her could either say this is her thought process in a middle bit that we didn’t get to see or an au where Declan did die and/or she did leave him for a bit after this.

•I Can Do It With A Broken Heart — Adam song. I think you could read it as in the first verse / go of the chorus the “him” being referred to is Gansey post DC but then in the second verse/chorus it’s Ronan in mister impossible era. His whole thing with masking/not paying attention to his feelings through both series and literally “faking it to make it” at Harvard… I can pass this test… the tonally upbeat music and devastating lyrics. Soo him.

•The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived — Rovinsky break up song. I think the first verse and chorus is K pov but the rest of the song is Ronan’s pov.

•The Alchemy — another song with both Pynch and Bluesey vibes but this one I’m giving to Pynch overall. The whole high school relationship currently long distance but I’ll always come back to you thing.

•Clara Bow — for a minute I thought I really would have to give up on making this one about trc, but then I thought about the whole theme of women mirroring each other Blue and Gwenllian and the tapestry of girls with Blue’s face, their literal mirror powers, the 300 fox way women and how you see something of all of them in Blue / she’s a product of them, Hennessy and her clones, Mor and Aurora. So yeah general vibes of that theme.

Bonus Tracks

•The Black Dog — Pynch divorce bop. Adam pov.

• imgonnagetyouback — Bluedam, now you may be thinking that I’m just assigning this one because I already think get him back! by Olivia Rodrigo is a Bluedam song (see previous web weaving) and this song is just a worse version of that song, and you’d be right that’s why I’m saying it.

•The Albatross — Bluesey. Gansey associating the color blue with death, learning Blue is his death, being fascinated by her and falling for her more and more the more he accepts his own death…

• Chloe or Sam or Sofia or Marcus — this is all about romantic drama/a love square between Blue Henry Gansey and Adam, different parts of it are from Gansey or Adam’s pov primarily about each other but they refer to Henry or Blue at different points. The Adansey divorce to Sarchengsey to Chengsey divorce pipeline song essentially.

• How Did It End? — Adansey!! literally “he was a hothouse flower to my outdoorsmen, our melodies were such we could not cure them” I won’t just go through every lyric but every lyric just screams Adanseycore, as many of her songs about divorce do.

•So High School — Pynch. “You know how to ball I know Aristotle” referring to Ronan playing tennis is an especially fun aspect.

• I Hate it Here — Adam, first verse and chorus could be DC party Adam and then as it goes on it’s Adam at Harvard thinking all the things he won’t say to the crying club, and then it’s Adam about Henrietta.

•thanK you alMee — Declan song centered on his conflicted grief/hatred of Niall.

•I Look in People’s Windows — Adam observing the wealthy/people he envies.

•The Prophecy — Blue song. Elements of Bluesey obviously but mostly about Blue who won’t let fate define her and is brave when she’s afraid, begging for a different fate for Maura when she’s missing for Gansey and Noah, for herself when she wants things from the future that seem impossible for so many reasons. “And I look unstable gathered with a coven around a sorceress table” so the bath tub scene with her and her mom and Aunts!

•Cassandra — Gwenllian Glendower anthem!

•Peter — Adam pov Adansey song 😭 I already made a web weaving explaining this and if I tried to again with words I’d throw up and die, but this is the most trc coded song on the album other than the prophecy.

•The Bolter — Hennessy song. First verse refers to her childhood trauma, The chorus fits Jordanessy and their mi scene with the cars so well and the whole repeatedly dying thing is obviously very Mister Impossible plot coded and also the cyclical nature of her lace dreams are reflected here.

•Robin — Adansey. “way to go tiger”.

•The Manuscript — Blue x Henry pining era song post Sarchengsey divorce.

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bullet-prooflove · 2 days

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4000 Followers: Barcelona - Matthew Keller x Reader

Tagging: @rosielou94 d @kmc1989@toheavenwmydrms@noxytopy

Companion piece to:

5 Times - Keller almost tells you he loves you.

Three Minutes - It takes three minutes for Matt Keller to lose his humanity.

Transactional - In the wake of your injury, you leave Keller a Dear John letter.

It takes a couple of months for Matt to track you down. You’ve rented an apartment in Barcelona, near the town centre because your working a legal gig for the Picasso Museum. Your business has been flourishing in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve bounced from Frankfurt, Vienna, Milian and now to here. Matt’s always been a few steps behind you, he’s missed you by twelve hours back in Italy.

Matt has never done this before. He doesn’t chase after women, he’s usually the one that does the leaving. The fact he wants to follow you, it speaks volumes.

When you enter the apartment he’s sitting on your couch flicking through a Spanish fashion magazine, his brow furrowed. He sets it down on the coffee table as you close the door behind you.

"I'm not giving you security details for the museum." You tell him drifting towards your desk to check your laptop. To your surprise it looks untouched.

"You know that's not why I'm here." He says as he raises to his feet and approaches the desk. His fingertips caress the tiny terracotta dog perched on the corner. It’s new, an unusual piece, not expensive but he knows it’s a sign, one that you’re planning to stay for a while.

“No I don’t.” You say distractedly as you close your laptop. “Because you don’t give me a reason behind anything you do, why you leave, why you stay, why you turn up in my place in Barcelona. I get nothing from you Matt.”

“Avery…” He says softly, his palm coming to rest upon yours and you pull away because his touch, it always leads to the same damn thing. “You know how fucked up I am.”

“Yea,” You tell him meeting his gaze. “It’s a good excuse to hide behind when shit gets too real isn’t it?”

This right here, this is why he loves you. You see through all of his bullshit, you call him on it. You are the first person who has ever bothered to scratch beneath the surface of his psyche. The only one that sees him.

“Avery.” He whispers, catching your hand. He squeezes it lightly and your fingers twitch underneath his touch. You don’t have much mobility in it anymore, Woodford saw to that. “Please just let me show you.”

“We’ve played this game before and we both know where it leads.” You say as you draw away, your hand slipping from his. It feels like a knife plunging into his chest but he gets it, your protecting yourself because he is not a safe bet, he never has been.

You watch as he removes his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans before he takes out a ticket stub and places it on the desk beside you.

“This is from the night we went to that art show in MOMA, you were wearing that dress, the blue one with the white flowers.” He murmurs as his hands come to rest on your hips. You tip your head up to look at him and for a moment he allows himself to hope, he prays that this is the time he can finally get the words out. “I remember because…”

…that was the day I fell in love with you.

But the words they just won’t leave his lips, they die in his throat as he cradles your face between his hands, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. He realises in that moment that it’s never going to happen. Those words they’re associated with so many terrible things in his life. There’s no pleasure in them, no joy, there’s just anguish and grief.

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear sweetheart but I promise you I feel it.” Matt whispers against your lips. “I feel it with every fibre of my being."

“You should go.” You tell him, your palm coming to rest upon his chest before you push him away lightly. “You’re just going to break my heart all over again.”

You twist away from him then, because your eyes are stinging and you don’t want him to see that weakness in you.

“Avery.” He rasps and sigh as you turn back towards him.

“Matt look…” You trail off because the last thing you expect to see is Matthew Keller on one knee in front of you, a little black box in his hand.

You recognise the ring, Alexandrite with an accent marquise cut, set between two diamond leaf clusters in a rose gold band. You’d been devastated when you’d had to sell it to pay Matt’s legal bills but you’d owed him, because he’d killed a man for you, saved you from something worse than death.

There’s a lot of history attached to that ring. It had been taken from your family in the late 1930s along with the rest of their belongings before they’d been shipped off to a concentration camp in Germany. Out of the four family members that went in only one came out, your Grandmother. That ring was the only memory she had had of her own family. It had been the first thing that you and Matt stolen together. It had been residing in a collection of stolen Jewish artwork, along with other Nazi memorabilia. The other shit that man had had in his collection…

You’d burned that place to the fucking ground afterwards.

“I hate shit like this.” Matt had told you after you’d deposited the three stolen pieces of artwork you’d managed to rescue inside Peter Burke’s porch. He’d find it in the morning, get it back to the place it belonged to.

“All she wanted is to see this ring one more time before she died.” You’d told him as you sat in the passenger seat of his car, looking at the circlet inside the tiny black box. “They took everything from her.”

“We did a good thing here tonight.” He’d told you as he’d walked you to your door that evening. “Consider this one on me.”

You’d taken him to bed for the first time that night.

And now he’s on one knee in front of you, with your Grandmother’s ring.

“I might not be able to say it.” He tells you, his eyes meeting yours. “But sweetheart trust me when I say I feel it.”

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