#reposting because damn it i worked too hard on this that it BETTER FUCKIN SHOW UP IN THE TAG

[actualbird]

nobody asked but here is every unraveled episode (as of may 2020) as how they’d be as a lover | a 2.5k word long post written in the style of an unraveled about unraveled and also love

Ah. Unraveled. Polygon’s golden boy of a video series where Brian David Gilbert is beckoned into a suit, lured into a blackbox studio, and is only granted escape after he has explained to three cameras whatever batshit video game adjacent thesis he has been cursed with this time. Unraveled is a wonderful video series, and we all love it.

But what if it could love us?

If you’ve ever asked this question to yourself, boy, do I have some content for you, because for the past 2 days, I’ve been working on this post where, for entirely too long, I explain to you how each Unraveled episode would be as a lover. And more importantly, which ones would be the best lovers.

Before I fall deep into this unhinged hole and take you down with me, I need to explain some things.

First: I want to make it clear that I am not categorizing BDG as he portrays himself in each Unraveled. I am instead taking each Unraveled episode as a fully formed being, the story, performance, etc, and letting that shape a character of its own. This character is where I extrapolate details from to create an Unraveled episode’s qualities as a lover. What I’m basically doing is anthropomorphizing Polygon dot com video content. And then making you date them. If this doesn’t make sense, don’t worry, it will as you read along. And if it helps you to visualize the Unraveled Episode As A Lover, I invite you to just imagine whomever it is you are most attracted to---or for those who don’t experience attraction, whomever it is you find most aesthetically pleasing---and then just add in the wild personality traits I describe through the course of this post.

Second: I know what you’re thinking. “Avian, the characteristics of what makes a good lover is subjective!” And I wholeheartedly agree. I’ve been through college, and I’ve witnessed my friends whom I love so dearly enter relationships with some of the most wack ass motherfuckers I’ve ever met. I know that people are into different things. But do I judge them for it? Well, kinda, yeah! Yes, what we want in a lover is subjective, but I’ve consumed a metric fuckton of romance media over the course of my life and am also in a wonderful relationship with my own girlfriend, and thus have my own personal idealized ranking for what makes a good lover. Feel free to disagree with my rankings of Unraveled Lovers, but also, I’m writing this post. I say this with as much love as I possibly can, but if you disagree with me, make your own post. If you don’t wanna make your own post, you’re just going to have to trust me for 2.1k more words.

With that out of the way, let me take you on a journey through the 23 Unraveled Lovers, from worst to best.

BAD TIER: I would probably advise you to break up with these Unraveled Lovers as soon as you are emotionally capable of doing so.

Hoo boy, we’re starting at the bottom. The perfectionists, the nitpickers, the emotionally unavailables. These Unraveled Lovers would have good intentions, but just have aspects within their personality that will wear you and your relationship together down until both of you can no longer take it.

“Ranking all 200+ Megaman robots” is a lover obsessed with the concept of “is this worth it?” They would unknowingly but inevitably rank parts of your own personality on a scale of ‘worth the trouble in this relationship’ and ‘not worth the trouble’. Any lover who deals with you with this kind of dichotomy is somebody you should not be with. You should be accepted and loved for all your parts, the beautiful and the ugly.

“How to make the perfect E3 press conference” is a lover who spent years consuming romance media and has a list of what makes the perfect relationship. So not only do they have unrealistic expectations for what a relationship is, but they will be obsessed with reaching that unreachable perfection. That will definitely put a strain on your relationship until the veneer of desired perfection crumbles away, leaving you both tired and sad.

On a less deep note, “How to tell apart all 596 Fire Emblem characters” just won’t remember any of the names of your friends or family. Sure, they’ll try, but they’ll give up in like 15 minutes and you’ll never be able to take this Unraveled Lover to a family reunion or a party with your friends. Probably not a dealbreaker, but as the Spice Girls said “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends.” This Unraveled Lover will not. Next.

“No one asked but I found Mortal Kombat’s best cuddler” and “I wasted 3 weeks of my life finding Castlevania’s hottest monster” are two Unraveled Lovers with a similar problem: they both won’t shut the fuck up about their exes. Mortal Kuddler constantly brings up all the other cuddles they’ve experienced and Castlevanias Hottest Monster will tell you you’re beautiful, but also bring up like 69 other monsters they think are also beautiful. This might not be a red flag, but personally, this would tire me out, always being thought of in comparison or contrast to others.

That ends the BAD TIER and brings us to the OKAY TIER where a large chunk of the Unraveled Lovers fall into, so much so that I had to create more specific sub tiers under the OKAY TIER.

So let’s get into the OKAY TIER: These Unraveleds Lovers are alright, you’ll just have a sublimely weird relationship.

These Unraveled Lovers will treat you right but they’re also just very peculiar. Nothing wrong with that at all, but I’m here to explain to you just in what ways these okayest lovers are bizarre. Let’s start with the first sub tier.

OKAY SUB TIER: College Students who are way too into their major

There are a lot of Unraveled Lovers under this subtier, and this shouldn’t surprise you, because Unraveleds are inherently nerdy. These are lovers that will be good to you but also just never fucking shut up about what it is they’re studying.

“I read all 337 books of Skyrim so that you don’t have to” and "Understanding Kingdom Hearts (and every other story" are Creative Writing majors obsessed with analyzing every single thing they read. As a Creative Writing major myself, I would advise you to never date a Creative Writing major unless you are a Creative Writing major yourself. I think that’s the only way the relationship can be ethical. Being sent essays from the New Yorker every day would be torture if you didn’t actively enjoy it.

“We made all 78 Breath of Wild recipes in one day” is a Culinary Arts major and, score, they’re gonna wanna cook for you! A lot! Beware though, because it’ll be a hit or miss on whether or not the food will be good, but you must admit, that there is nothing quite as attractive as your lover making you food (let’s just hope the food doesn’t harm you).

“Smash Bros. owes millions of dollars in OSHA violations” is going to law school and that should be a dealbreaker in itself, but I’ll be a bit lenient because they’re always working towards the safety of everybody. This Unraveled Lover will always remind you to put your seatbelt on and also tell you exactly what laws you are violating.

“Bowser’s military hierarchy” is a Political Science major, and Political Science majors scare me. So I’ll just say they’re okay, and leave it at that.

“Which Dark Souls Boss is the best manager?” is a rare non-evil Management major because they actually truly care for the welfare of employees. They just will always talk about it, even when you guys are on a date. I know worker’s rights are important, but it’s not exactly what I want to talk about in between kisses, yknow?

“I fixed Fallout’s music by creating a totally new genre” is a Music major who keeps accidentally making Ska love songs to you. You didn’t know Ska love songs could be a thing. This Unraveled Lover makes it a thing.

“Scientifically Calculating the Game of the Year” is a Math major so you will never have to worry about calculating bills because they can do it for you.

“Calculate your pet’s HP with my 100% legitimate formula” is a Veterinary Medicine major so if you’re an animal lover, this Unraveled is the one for you! Just beware, because this Unraveled Lover will also spend a lot of time observing you from afar to quantify your health points, but both of you will inexplicably find this activity strengthens your relationship.

And last but not least for this sub tier, “When can Mario retire?” is a disillusioned Accounting and Finance major who chose this line of study to get a job and, through the years, realized what a hellscape capitalism is. You may have to deal with a lot of zoning out and staring off into the distance, with this Unraveled Lover, but a lover who hates capitalism sure is a good egg.

That brings us to our next sub tier!

OKAY SUB TIER: Cultists or Conspiracy Theorists (AKA...College Students who are way too into their extracurriculars)

These Unraveled Lovers are alright! They’re just a little bit off the shits.

“Every Sonic game is blasphemous” will get really really worked up about things and probably try to start a cult. For most, that’s a definite dealbreaker, but what makes Sonic Bible an okay lover is that they eventually calm down from the cult outburst and apologize. So this Unraveled Lover will treat you well, you just have to be ready to ground them when they get a little bit bonkers.

“Solving the Zelda Timeline in 15 minutes” is very similar to Sonic Bible, except instead of starting a cult, every once in a while they’ll just sit you down on a chair and explain to you their latest obsession while slowly and intensely stripping. Which, hey, that could make for a fun night, if you’re into that kinda stuff! Definitely okay in my book.

That brings us to our last okay sub tier.

OKAY SUB TIER: Your Unraveled Lover might need to schedule some sessions with a therapist, and that’s Okay

Listen, we all have baggage. We all have problems. These are Unraveled Lovers who want to be the best for you, but at the same time have issues of their own, and you’re going to have to support them when they pop into their local psych clinic to make themselves better people.

“Waluigi” is an Unraveled Lover who is going through some identity issues. They want to be good for you, but they don’t even know who exactly they are. They may feel as if they are tricking you into being in this relationship, that they aren’t who you think they are, and while these fears are irrational, they wholeheartedly believe it and will never feel fully secure in this relationship until they have made peace with themselves. If you love this Unraveled Lover, you’re going to have to stick with them as they learn more about who they are.

“Kirby” is an Unraveled Lover who, for some reason, is obsessed with the constant quest to make things make sense. This need of theirs bleeds into every aspect of their life and can definitely affect your relationship. This Unraveled Lover may sometimes perhaps cite that they don’t deserve you because they can’t seem to figure out a logical and objective answer for why you are with them. This issue of treating everything like a puzzle to solve is an issue they will have to work out and recover from, and they will be receptive to this process of recovery because they cherish the relationship they have with you and understand that not everything has to be solved; some things can just be felt. If you choose to stay with this Unraveled Lover, you must be prepared to support them when they take a mysterious but needed soul searching journey in the woods. You must be prepared to sit with them along the shores of the beach and reassure them that life is about living, not about answers.

And that, dear readers, ends the OKAY TIERs. Now it’s time for the tier you have all been waiting for.

Drumroll, please!

GOOD TIER: Pop open the champagne, bring out the strawberries dipped in chocolate, and let Spotify play Careless Whisper, baby, because we’re in the Ideal Lover zone.

Welcome to the Ideal Lover Zone. Here, we have three Unraveled Lovers who are just extremely good fellas.

“I used the Sims to perfect my apartment” is an Unraveled Lover who will work their hardest to be the best for you, but unlike the BAD TIER perfectionists, it will naturally dawn to them that perfection is unattainable. After this realization, they will find comfort and happiness in your romantic relationship and the other healthy relationships they have with other people. This Unraveled Lover will be sincere with you when the time calls for it, but will also not be afraid to be goofy for it. Above all, this Unraveled Lover will ask for help when they need it. They may often be shy, at first, but they understand their limits and will openly communicate to you when situations call for it. Communication is the bedrock of any good relationship, and this Unraveled Lover will never keep you guessing.

“The Perfect Pokerap” is similar to the Sims, in the sense that they will at first strive for perfection in the honeymoon phase of your relationship but then understand that that isn’t possible and then set more reasonable and realistic goals. What sets this Unraveled Lover out from the crowd though is just how much they cherish you. How devoted they are to you. The love you will feel in this relationship will be transcendental, and, even if you do break up, this Unraveled Lover will never forget you.

And finally. Who---according to me, a mildly delirious 21 year old rando on the internet---is the most ideal Unraveled Lover?

It’s “Find your Kojima name with my simple 11 page form.” Why? Because this Unraveled Lover wants to know you. They want to know everything about you, the parts you like and the parts you don’t like. This is a lover who will not shy away from any aspect of yourself, but instead, embrace you for who you are as a full fledged person.

They’ll also give you a whack ass pet name, and boy, isn’t that romantic?

Well, there you have it. All (as of May, 2020) of the Unraveled Episodes as 23 Unraveled Lovers. What did I learn from this endeavor? That romantic love is complicated, but if you’re into it, it is definitely worth the trials and tribulations.

...As long as I’m not dating the Castlevania Unraveled. Seriously, when we’re making out, I don’t wanna hear about how sexy the Hyena With Gun is. Learn how to read the room, dude.

(Thanks for reading.)

#reposting because damn it i worked too hard on this that it BETTER FUCKIN SHOW UP IN THE TAG #polygon #bdg #unraveled #brian david gilbert #nobody asked but

[forthehpfanboys]

Quidditch and T

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him; transmasculine reader.

Summary: Harry surprises Ron with tickets to the Quidditch World Cup after the war, after Hermione and after finding out Ron has a crush on the first professional trans masculine the Chudley Canons or the World Cup has ever seen. 

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol, tiny amount of transphobia?? super long, focuses on Ron more than it should, super long and probably really bad.

Notes: Trans masculine reader again! We love to see it- No one asked for this but I liked the idea. Also, Ron has long hair because I love him and Harry is a good friend. The bestest of friends.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Even with the second wizarding war years behind them, everyone struggled to regain control over themselves. Loved ones were lost far too soon, strained relationships came crashing down and businesses all but shattered like glass, but that was a year or two after. Families were beginning to recover and move forward, but some struggled. It was only natural, that was why the Ministry decided to bring at least a tiny bit of normality back to everyone's life with the Quidditch World Cup. They thought it would bring some light in the barely lit times everyone lived in.

While life for some was morphing back to a semi stable state, times were transitioning to a new era. Of course, no one batted an eye or fought against her when the Hermione Jean Granger demanded rights for wizards, witches and sorcerers who were, for lack of a better word, different. Not after everything she’d done for the world with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and especially not after S.P.E.W.  The world really was shifting for the better.

She created two acts for equality. If house elves can have it, why can’t magical humans who just- feel different. Hermione called it S.P.L.A.T.E.R, also known as Sorcerers Lover Protection Against The Everyday Routine, and it was meant to protect wizards and witches who desire relationships with the same sex against discrimination. The talented witch went on to create a similar movement against portraying gender and identity; The Sorcerer’s Typical Identity or Gender May Alter Shield, better known as S.T.I.G.M.A.S. Both were very welcomed by the public, which happened a good year before the game would be returning, and that led to you gaining your dream job.

You were able to join the Chudley Cannons, your dream team despite their reputation. You were naturally talented on a broom and weren’t afraid to pull some risky stunts to get the golden snitch, plus it fueled your ego to hear the crowd gasp, go silent then cheer loud enough to be heard from Mars. The team and their fans didn’t care that you were the only trans masculine player, in fact, they loved you! The team was very proud to have you be their seeker and it was even better when the Cannons got into the World Cup. You basically carried the team, and they fucking knew it.

Your face made the front page almost weekly, quoting comments from your games and showing off your merchandise like it was no big deal. While you caught the attention of many wizards, witches and magical humans in between, there was one who was absolutely fascinated, maybe borderline obsessed, with you. You somehow stuck in his head, causing him to repaint his room in his shared flat bright orange just like his childhood bedroom. The ex-auror even went as far as getting your newly printed poster. He would glance at it when he was writing letters to his mother, but then would spend a good few solid minutes staring at it, daydreaming about meeting  you and lose track of time. Life got a little harder with the moving poster in his room. Of course you had no idea the famous Ron Weasley was a die-hard fan of yours.

The youngest Weasley son ended up being the first out of three up everyday just to read the newest info about (Y/n) ‘Point Breaker’ (L/n) and the rest of the team. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew enough about you to be considered a borderline stalker and couldn’t help but spew facts about you to his twin brothers. Those very twins would tease him about his newly found crush but were secrealty very happy that he was getting over his heart break.

Ron and Hermione, more Hermione, had decided splitting and remaining friends was better for them, leading to the poor bloke locked in the spare room of his older brother's flat for a solid week. They told everyone it was mutual, but it was clear to Fred, George and Harry that it was most definitely not a decision that they were both fond of. Harry could still remember the frantic howler he got from Fred and George saying their little brother all but stopped functioning as a human.

He only started eating and showering once he heard the team was up and running again. He figured that was why Harry showed up to the flat one afternoon with tickets to the sold out game. When Ron asked his best mate how he got them, he just smiled and said something about knowing people and favors being exchanged. The ticket was more like a bandage encased in clear plastic and stuck to a lanyard, which is what Ron was fiddling with the day of the game when his best friend suddenly appeared in the middle of the flat.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron screeched out as he steadied himself in his chair. His hand gripped at the shirt on his chest and chose to ignore the head rushing to his cheeks. “Could’ve sent me a warning!” He let out a slow sigh, trying to steady his rapid heart beat. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Harry laughed out. The professor had his hands in his jacket pocket, a sly grin across his face. “Come on then! Game’s gonna be starting soon!” The raven haired male all but yaned his freckle covered friend out of the chair.

“Ok! Ok, sheesh. Let me grab a jacket.” The red-head knew this was going to be a game that leaked late into the night. Both teams were itching to get the trophy and forget about their troubles- It was gonna be absolutely beautiful. 

Grabbing his coat and reaching into the pocket, Ron pulled out an elastic band and put his hair up into a messy bun quickly before tucking the jacket into his arm. He walked over to Harry, who was gazing at the photo-covered walls of the flat.

“If you want, I can take ca-” Harry was cut off by Ron grabbed his hand.

“No, it’s fine. I like it like this.” Ron shook his head back and forth causing the messy ball to swap back and forth. “Come on. You were the one rushing us.” Harry let out a simple chuckle before apperating them to the field. 

“Tadah!” Harry did a fancy little wave, gesturing to the crowded field and began to make his way down the hell, passing by the old boot. Ron looked down at it as they passed before looking back at his best friend.

“Damn, it has been far too long.” Ron sighed out. A smile broke out across his face when he saw little kids running around with paint covered faces and happy couples sharing tea outside of their tents. “Do we have a tent?” 

“Nope, won’t be needing one this time around.” Harry shoved his hands in his pants pocket.

“No ten- Blimey, Harry, this is a game! This is going to go on for hours-”

“Ron-” 

“Won’t need it my arse. Hours, Harry. Where are we going to sit? The damp ground?” Ron was flaring his hands about.

“We get to spend our time in the Minister’s Box, Ron, relax.” Harry shook his head in mock disapproval before adjusting his glasses and moving forward. 

“Minister’s Box-” Ron’s voice stuttered out.

“Yeah! Isn’t that cool? We’re gonna be in the middle of the action!” Harry waved to a child who had recognized him with a smile.

“Ministry box-” Ron was’t used to such luguries, even after working with his brothers at their shop. Harry figured he’d never get used to being spoiled like this. It made him choke back a soft snicker.

“Yes, Ronald, the Minister’s Box, now hurry up! I told them we’d get there before the game started so we can chat.” Harry grabbed the lagging boy’s wrist and proceeded to maneuver through the crowd with him. 

“How did ya score this, Harry?” Ron all but yelled over the crowd. Once Harry dragged them through the crowd and to the front doors of the stadium, he spoke up.

“Remember when we went on that assignment to stop LeStrange again? Just before her Dementors Kiss about a month before we quit?” He handed the ticketier his lanyard to check over. Ron did the same before they both entered.

“Yeah? What about it?” Ron’s blue eyes glanced across the crowded inside. Gods, it really had been a while since he’d been here. It felt normal, like he almost hadn’t lost Fred to an explosion, like Harry’s life wasn’t on the line everyday, like every day wasn’t terrifying. Ron turned his attention back to his friend when he spoke up again.

“Well just before that, I went on a loner mission. This one involved taking care of some dark witch who was claiming she could bring back the dead and threatened to bring back Voldemort and the Death Eaters, so they sent me down to check it out.” Harry led him to an elevator, where the gate opened allowing the pair to step in. There was an exhausted looking male standing in uniform, most likely a worker from the Ministry himself. “Ministers Box, kind sir. Thank you.” The gate closed with a shuttering rattle and soon they were moving upward. Green eyes turned back to blue to finish the story. “Anyway, turns out she was actually trying to resurrect the noseless twat, but instead of over time or promotion, I asked for this and the best seats in the house. Figured this would be a good gift for you.”

“Gift? Harry, bud, mate, my fuckin best friend.” Ron placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to do this for me. You’ve already done your fair share of helping me. Blimey, I’m not worth this.”

The gate opened again, allowing the two ex-aurors to step out but not before tossing a few sickles to the poor man who looked bored out of his mind. Ron casted him a short wave before he was sent back down.

“You deserve more than a crummy game and a nice seat, Ronnie. You literally helped me destroy Voldemort.”

“I didn’t do that much and besides it’s not a crummy game!” Ron took his hand away from Harry's shoulder. They walked down the short hallway to the door leading to their seats, but paused just before opening it. “That’s fuckin wild, isn’t it?” Ron grumbled out. “Was she smooched by a Dementor in the end?” 

“Yup. All her research was swiped and burned. Anyone and everyone she knew was obliviated. Now enough talk about old work, let’s relax.” Harry spoke before opening the door and allowed Ron to walk in first. 

The room was bigger than Gred and Forge’s flat, Ron was sure of it. It had silvery blue walls and a huge open window in the front, showing off the screaming fans and showed the entire field which held the perfect view. He couldn’t help his eyes from darting across the fancy black leather seats and the buckets of ice holding expensive bottles of wine, flasks of firewhiskey and glass pitchers giggle water and suddenly Ron wanted to cry and simultaneously brag to Malfoy. Sure, he hadn’t seen the blonde in a year or so but it’d be nice. The red-head didn’t realise he was drifting toward the giant window until someone spoke up, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Ah! Mr. Potter! Mr. Weadley, I’m so glad you could make it!” A wizard dressed in a suit came scurrying over, his chapeign glass almost overflowing with foam.

“It’s Weasley, actually.” Harry didn't hesitate to speak up. “But of course! I was thrilled when Ron decided to come with me! I couldn’t have caught that witch without him. Anyway, where will we be seated?” Harry was using his Auror Voice™ while Ron stood there, trying to recall how on earth he helped his best friend with a case he wasn’t even on.

“I did wh-?” Ron was interrupted.

“Ah. My apologies. Of course, of course.” The man in the suit adjusted his tie before gesturing to the window in the front with his glass.. “Front row, just as you requested.” He took a sip from his glass before walking off to the seat he came from, talking to the witch next to him. 

Harry thanked the man before grabbing Ron’s wrist and bringing him over to their seats. He sat Ron at the seat right in the middle of the big opening. Harry could actually see his friends blue eyes gloss over with tears, causing Harry to chuckle into his hand.  It was so worth fighting that witch and staying in St. Mungos for a week with a concussion, broken hand and a stupid spell that nearly killed him.

“Bloody fucking hell, Harry. What did you do to get these seats?” Ron’s voice did little to hide his excitement. Harry released a chuckle over his friend's excitement, but the sound got louder when Ron literally threw his jacket haphazardly onto the seat only for it to fall to the tiled floor.

“I already told you. Don’t worry about it.” Harry took his seat as he grabbed a bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the coffee table at their feet. He examined the label before nodding his head and popping open the cork.

“Wish I had a camera. Ginny would’ve loved this.” Ron walked past the table to the window, resting his hands on the railing and leaning over, looking across the field.

“Ron, she’s a professional coach-” Harry rolled his eyes, testing the wine with a small sip. He set the dark, tall bottle down on the table with a clank.

“Fred and George then.” Ron turned back to his friend and walked over, plopping himself down in his seat with confidence. Harry snorted, almost dropped his drink all over himself. This was therapeutic; he got to spend time with his best friend without the ever looming death threat of Nose-less Snakey Man breathing down his neck. 

“Yes, I’m sure their jealous tears could flood the shop.” Harry’s voice was filled with sarcasm and it had Ron laughing too. Harry checked his watch while the giggling red-head grabbed an empty glass at the table in front of them and poured himself a shot of firewhiskey. “It’s about 5:53. Game should be starting at 6 something.” He turned to Ron, casting him a smile while he brought his glass to his lips. “Wanna talk about your newest boyfriend or should I ask him for the details myself?”

Ron almost spat out his drink, his hand coming up quickly to catch the dribbles falling off his lips. Blood rushed to his cheeks, ears and before he knew it, he was bright red. He wiped his hands on his jeans, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth.

“I’m sorry, my what? Harry, I’d be lucky if he gave me the time of day let alone be my boyfriend!” Ron ran his hands through his hair, his eyes cast downward into his drink. “I mean, have you seen me lately?” He gestured to himself. “I’m a bloody mess. He could do better anyway.”

“You’re not a mess, Ron, anything but. In fact, you’re probably more put together than I am. Ginny would beg to differ, but I’m sure it’s true.” Harry shook his head in disapproval before taking another sip from his glass. “Besides, you’re a good guy. You did get Mione to fall for you and you are kinda well known, aren't you? I say you got a better chance than most.” Once the niorette male finished, he turned to look at his friend who nodded his head in silent agreement before deciding to change the topic.

“How is Gin, by the way?” 

Harry answered with a long explanation that she was good, but one of her chaser’s kept giving her trouble and didn’t believe Ginny was good for the team. The Harpies would be starting their first game soon and Ron made a note to buy a ticket. The questions came around to his brothers, of course, so Ron 

“Hey! Good for them!” Harry refilled his drink once it was finished and put the glass back in the ice bucket. “And good for you.” Harry checked his watch again when it beeped out, indicating the change in hour. “Game time!” 

The room went silent as the minister walked over to the window, doing his usual speech, but no one was really listening. Ron's legs were bouncing with excitement while his eyes looked across the white, green and orange fans waving flags. Ron should’ve known it would've been the Kenmare Kestrels duking it out against the Chudleys Cannons.

The crowds were going absolutely ballistic over the Kestrels and the screaming only seemed to get louder once the Cannon’s made their appearance. He watched the players zoom past the window, felt the air rush past him and before he could control himself, Ron was back at the railing, practically leaning over. His eyes bounced around the orange and black colored players for the new seeker.

“Harry!” Ron gestured pathetically behind him. “Harry! Come here! Look-” Ron pointed across the field to the seeker who was taking circles in the middle, taking in the crowd. He couldn’t help but stare at your confident smirk as you pulled the goggles over your eyes, casting the crowd a wink. The red-head basically melted.

“Godric, your smitten, aren’t you?” Harry was leaning against the railing next to his friend, his glass still in hand. A smirk came across his lips when his friend turned red again.

“Shut it.”

“You a Cannon fan, Mr.Wealsey?” 

The two ex-aurors turned to see the man who approached them earlier coming to Ron’s free side. The man held a cocky grin and a new drink in his hand, most likely giggle water. The red-head turned back to the game once the whistle sounded.

“Yeah. Have been for years.” Ron didn’t take his eyes off the field.

“Huh, even with their sour reputation? I’m more of a Bats fan, myself. Wouldn’t count this game in favor of the Chudley’s though, new seeker and all.” The man scoffed before sipping his drink. “Good seekers are hard to find. Hogwarts was lucky to have you though, Mr. Potter. Should’ve played Quidditch professionally, if you ask me.”

The two males shared a look with each other and came to the conclusion it’d be better to not fight the man on his clearly biased opinion and clear ass kissing. The pair gazed on, ignoring the crowd forming behind them the longer the game went on. Ron almost shoved his friend over when the announcer yelled you spotted the snitch. Ron blinked and you were standing on your broom, balancing perfectly, leaned over, golden snitch just a few inches from your fingertips.

“He’s a risky bloke, isn’t he?” Harry spoke up, hands going to his chaotic locks. “Gdoric, he’s gonna fall!” He squealed out when your foot shifted just a little too far on the broom.

“He’s bonkers.” Sir Pompous sneered out over his fancy drink, causing Ron to audible groan. 

“Sod off, will you?” Ron was so fucking sick of this man. “Stop bein’ pissy he has more balls than you and he was born without them.” He shot the suited wizard a glare before turning back to the game.  He let out a cheer when you finally grasped the snitch, plopping yourself down on the broom. The freckled male turned to Sir Pompous and smirked. “So.. Wouldn’t put this game in their favor, huh?”

The wizard turned on his heel, grumbling what the two friends assumed to be insults as he walked shamefully to his seat. Harry and Ron clinked glasses, giggling like school girls as they took a victory shot. They sat back in their seats, discussing games and just over all basking in the win. 

“Godric, I could get used to living like this.” Ron sat back, spreading his legs and just feeling confident. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I can’t afford to do this all the time, Ron.”

“I can dream, can’t I?” Ron didn’t blink twice when the door to the ministers box opened or when two voices spoke up. He was busy relaxing.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Coach Dorkins! The Chudley’s have always been my favorite-” The same kiss ass from earlier, spewing the same pompous bullshit as earlier. Ron was gonna fake a gag, but he hesitated. Coach Dorkins? Coach of the- of his favorite team? 

“Ah, well, thank you, but I’m just here to drop off Point Breaker.” As your coach went on with his arm now wrapped around you. Ron whipped around, his jaw was dropping to the floor. “Got a favor to fill in for an old friend. Ah, there he is! Potter!”

“Nice to see you again.” Harry stood up and shook hands with the coach. Ron’s blue eyes bounced between his old friend, his favorite coach and his favorite player. What the fuck was going on? Ron shrunk into his seat when you glanced over. He was acutely aware of his messy outfit and hair and- did he brush his teeth? “Ah! I should introduce you to my good friend, Ronald Weasley-” Harry waved over to his friend, a smile on his face. Ron stood up as well, but almost fell into his chair when he saw you shaking hands with his old friend and suddenly everyone was turning to him.

“Uh-hi-” When did his voice get all high pitched and creaky again. He cleared his throat, wiping his hands on his jeans before shaking hands with the coach. “Sorry, big fan.” 

Dorkins shook his head, saying how he understood between deep chuckles. The male then turned to you, who was standing by his side. He introduced you to the red-head while you held a similar, nervous smile on your face. You held your hand out as you spoke up finally. 

“I know all about you, Mr. Weasley. Well, no not- Wait, not everything like.. Like everything everything, like um- I.. well- Ok, let me start again.” You cleared your throat, shaking the ex-aurors hand. “Hi, I’m (Y/n). I’m a fan, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron was just kinda shaking your hand, confusion filled in his brain. He was just running over your rambling and was so confused. 

“You’re a fan of me?”

“The famous auror? Of course!” You were grinning now and he found himself just staring at you. The two of you missed how Potter and Dorkins were chuckling about star struck fans and wondered somewhere else in the room.

“You played great today-” Ron almost blurted out, his voice turning prepubescent again.

“Thank you! You don’t think it was too much? Too flashy?” 

“No, no, I’d say it has the perfect amount of flash.” Ron shot you a lopsided smile. The smile allowed you to relax some, the star struck tension between the two of you almost dispersing completely as you joked back and forth. You soon found yourself sitting in Harry's abandoned seat, chatting away like you had been friends since your school years. 

“So then- then- hold on, stop laughing-Haha! No, shh! We stole my dad's car just to save him! My brothers didn’t even try to talk me out of it! The only thing my older brother said was “yeah, get the car. We’re gonna find out if it’s considered kidnapping if we’re children"! Mum really chewed us out when we got back that mornin’!” Ron finished his 7th story that night while you were enjoying a nice glass of cold water. You couldn’t get over his terrible impressions of his brothers. More than a few times his stories led to you almost choking on your drink or just letting out a loud laugh.

You told him some stories about your life at home too and only got encouraged by his snickering behind his own drink. You were so open with him, telling him stories of quidditch practice and the strange gifts you got from fans, his favorite being a bra with your face hand painted on it. 

More time passed by as you chatted, finally coming around to just playing 20 questions just day to day stuff. Now, it was your turn to ask a question and honestly, the game shouldn’t even be called 20 questions, it was more like 500 questions.

“Ok. Ok. Is it true that you had a thing for Krum?” You grinned when his cheeks turned red. “I heard from a chaser that you were here when we got on the field and our  keeper was willing to bet his life on this rumor that you had a fling with Krum.” 

“N-no, no fling! Just uh- more of a sexual awakening, if you will.” Ron snorted out, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes turned away from yours for the first time that night, casting his gaze out across the empty field.

“Ooh! What is the great Ron Weasley’s sexual preference?” You leaned forward, your grin turning to a teasing smirk. You put a hand on his shoulder when he started stuttering over his words. “Come on! You can tell me! I don’t spill secrets.”

“Would hot quidditch players be an acceptable answer?” Ron was playing with a spare ponytail holder on his wrist now, his face turning redder.

“I’d say so.” You smiled, setting down your water glass. 

“What about you?”

“What?”

“I told you mine. It’s only fair, Point Breaker. Spill it.” It was Ron’s turn to get cocky as you blushed. 

“May or may not be hot ex-aruros, but who’s keeping track.” You were not going to admit you’d been fanboying over the red-head since his face came across the Daily Profit. While he knew a lot about your game stats and quotes, you knew about the dark wizards he fought against, how he helped Granger and Potter and decided fighting was too much.

“Oh really?”

“I said maybe. Don’t get cocky. Besides, I could mean Harry-”

“I have a feeling you don’t mean him.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“How about a date?” Ron leaned back in his chair, gauging your reaction. He mentally sighed when you didn’t appear grossed out or scared.

“Hmm, let me think. “ You pretended to count stuff on your fingers before smiling at the red-head. “Leaky Cauldron?”

“Sure! Tuesday?”

“I’m free after 6.”

“Done.”

#ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley x trans reader #ron weasley #harry is a good friend #male reader #trans male reader #hp x male reader #hp imagine #hp x trans reader #x male reader #x trans reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

[tabletopmayhem]

What We Sacrifice

A repost for @jessicapendragon

"I think it's unfair you've been hiding your squire from us for just ages, Faust."

Sir Isobel Faust smiled the precise amount, bowed the exact amount of deference from knight to Baron, and watched out of the corner of her eye as the boy did the same from his own inferior position.  An appropriate obeisance, and the appropriate amount of fear in his eyes.

Good.

"Barone Rossi, please forgive me," she replied, rising from her bow, "I realize tradition is to bring them in immediately, but he was hardly ready.  I prefer good training to trial by fire."

"Quite, quite. Well, blaming a knight for being cautious just because of loss of amusement would be..."  The Baron trailed off, cupping a hand under his chin thoughtfully before finishing at last, "counter-productive."

"He came to me in dire need of sculpting, but hopefully I have at least given him the tools to help him finish it himself,"  Isobel said, slightly displeased that the boy's smile escaped for a half second before he restrained it.  

She'd despaired of getting him to hide his emotions, it wasn't a skill he seemed capable of.   When he was embraced, that carefree nature of his would become worse, not better as a Daeva. Well, everyone had their own strengths, and his...

"Admirable as always.  You, boy.  What is it your Maestra has been teaching you as of late?"

In that moment she became uncomfortably aware of just how many eyes were discreetly on them at this point in time.  It was unavoidable, having finally brought him.  After Vicontessa Viola had come snooping by the training manor and had attempted her little seduction, she'd known her days of keeping a tight leash on the boy were over.

That was never more apparent when he glanced up, smiled his perpetual half-smile, and lifted his shoulders in a little shrug.  She could see the instant the Baron's expression softened a little.  Damnable boy.

He was going to be so much trouble for her

"Everythin' she can get through my head, my lord, I got kinda a thick skull.  I'm doin' my best, though."

"Oh, he's local, how delightful!"  the Baron declared, as if he hadn't just spoken to the boy himself.

It had ceased to bother her some decades before, but she always found it a bit gauche for people who claimed to have impeccable manners.  Some people simply preferred the letter of the law to the spirit of it.

"Yes, Squire Leary challenged me to a duel a few years ago.  I admire his bravery greatly, even if he is a bit...rough around the edges."

"I lost," Connor supplied with a hint of a grin, as if that wasn't already obvious.

"Irish, that's a shame."

"Half," Connor replied, a little bit defensively, settling when she gave him a look of reproof.  "My mother was a Bianchi, my lord."

"Bianchi and Rossi, how amusing," the Baron replied wryly.

"This is the modern era, Barone Rossi," Isobel interrupted mildly, keeping her voice detatched.  "Such things have little bearing.  We are all Americans now."

"Quite, quite, but some of the older generation..."

"I am not Italian."

Silence for a few seconds, her face kept studiously blank.  Finally the Baron smiled, broad and agreeable, instantly setting her back up.  Not that she would ever let him know.

Never let them know.

"Of course not, Dame..."

"Sir," she interrupted, grateful that the boy managed not to smile.

She could see it in his eyes, though, she always could, the slight crinkling of the skin around them, the barest twitch of the corner of his mouth.

"Sir Faust. Forgive me.  Of course, you are so modern, I must defer to you in this discussion of the...modern age."

"You are as wise as you are gracious," she replied, pleased to see the Baron's interest in the squire had waned with the introduction of uncomfortable topics.

"I have some things that need moving next week, I was hoping I could avail upon you, Sir Faust, to accompany my...movers."

Ah, that was why he was being agreeable for once.  She smiled, inclined her head, and he returned the gesture before stepping back. She bowed, as did the boy, and the Baron turned on his heel at last.

When he withdrew she saw a slight relaxation of the boy's shoulders.  She wished she could have told him it was over, but she could see that vulture Viola already making her oh so discreet way towards them.  

"Squire, go find Sir Errol and tell him the Barone has requested my help."

"Now?  But you said I should stay close..."

She could see the minute widening of his eyes as he finally noticed the sidelong approach of the Vicontessa.  Ridiculous woman, in those overdone ballgowns that looked as if she was playing Cinderella in a highschool play.  Of course, they cost more than any school could boast in a year's budget.

She did try not to let such thoughts rankle.

The important thing now was getting her squire out of this pit of Ventrue, who would greedily hunt a Daeva-to-be regardless of whether their heart still beat or no.

"Yes sir, you got it, sir,"  Connor agreed in a hurry, turning on a heel and all but racing away.

He remembered his manners three steps in, luckily, and she tossed away the instant reproof that normally she would file for later.  He was doing well. How could she chide him, when this was a cage full of lions and he was little more than a rabbit to them?

Her ridiculous boy- how proud she was of him.

A sidelong step, a gracious smile, and she intercepted Viola, bowing immediately so that she'd be forced to respond.

"Viscontessa. It's such a delight to see you again so soon, I have been looking forward to spending more time in your company."

The instantly sour purse of the other woman's lips relaxed into a smile, a forced riposte to her initial attack.

And the battle began.

It was fucking exhausting dodging people, last thing he wanted to be doing.  Sir had done a pretty good job of telling him what to watch out for, but...well, hearing it and living it were two different things.  At least the other squires were here, even though they acted real different outside of the training house.

Here it was like they were some kinda toys, things slightly more interesting than the other people he saw running around, doing errands, carrying messages.

She'd warned him about that, too.

Messages could be traps, they'd have to go straight to her.  If he opened them, he'd be seen as interested.  Other...humans, kine, they could be traps, too. They were just there to work for the Kindred, if one of them asked him to talk, or offered him something to drink, it could be real bad.

He wasn't supposed to take anything from anyone, unless it was to go straight to her.

That had been his mistake the other day, thinking he was safe in the training house. That Viola woman had just said she wanted help with her shoe, he thought he was being polite, but...

The memory had him pretty hot under the collar, made him sure he couldn't go straight back to Sir despite Errol telling him to go back to her.  Clearing his throat, he ducked off to the side, through a door into a room full of books.  He couldn't go back out there like this.

"C'mon, c'mon..."  he muttered to himself, wandering through the shelves, finding the quietest spot in the room.  "Cold showers, fuckin'...Ol' Gert naked...that time you got your guts stabbed out...Christ on a cross, man, the last thing you wanna do around here is have to jack off in the bathroom..."

It wasn't helping. Of course it wasn't fucking helping, nothing seemed to lately. Stuck in a goddamn pit of sin, it felt like, barely hanging on by his nails.  Sure, it would probably be easier to give in, and Isobel didn't care except that he didn't want to, but...

His eyes fell on a desk back in the corner, cleaned of papers but set up with a lamp and matching pen set that caught the light.  Looked like real gold, which made his fingers itch, but they mattered less than what else was on the desk.

A phone.

Breathing out a heavy sigh of relief, he raked back his hair and headed for the phone, leaning down and grabbing it, slinging it around.  The dial tone in his ear was comforting, and punching in her number was his favorite song, not even needing to look down at the numbers.

It rang four times, which meant she was studying.

"It's past midnight," Hannah answered with a hint of complaint.  

The tone of her voice didn't bother him, he was so relieved that it took every bit of stress away, washing over him all at once.  He sighed, and she gave a small, grumpy 'hmph' that just made him laugh.

"Sorry, baby girl.  You know I had this business thing tonight.  Hi."

"Hey.  I know, so I don't know why you're calling, I told you I had to finish writing this paper.  I said we could talk tomorrow, remember?"

The irritation in her voice didn't fade, which brought back the worry again.  She'd been really snappy lately, which he was usually so good at pulling her out of.  She always said he could always make her smile.

"Hannah...c'mon, baby, is it so weird that I just wanted to hear your voice?"

"Yeah, a little.  Are you drunk?  Of course you are, why would I be surprised? What is it, wine and...and cheese and midnight parties, huh? Meanwhile I'm over here completely buried in work, but you don't even care."

"Th'fuck? How'd we get from I just wanted to hear your voice to I'm drunk an' not carin' about you?" "You didn't show up to Mikey's graduation.  You didn't show up to breakfast last week, you almost forgot my birthday..."

"Han, I apologized for all that, we talked about that.  You know I got a lot goin' on.  You know how hard it is for me to get away, to get up, I work real late."

"I have stuff going on, Connor!  I am working my ass off right now, you know. You're not the only one!  You act like you're the only one that matters, you call me in the middle of the night..."

"You're awake," he replied weakly, feeling the whole conversation sliding out of his grasp.

"I'm not every time!  And even if I was, it's just selfish!  You have gotten so...damn selfish!  Don't you ever think about anyone but yourself any more?"

Sudden rage overtook him, dragged up from who knows where, somewhere old and bad and always there.  He knew what his rage could do, he usually did such a good job keeping it down, but whatever she said had woken it up, brought it roaring out.

"Fuckin' selfish?  That's pretty fuckin' rich for someone whose 'hard work' is somethin' I'm payin' for. I'm sorry, I didn't realize workin' my fuckin' ass off so you could go to your fancy-ass college was such an inconvenience for you!  Don't worry, I'm sure the old house is still there, if you just wanna go back to livin' on the st-"

It died, suddenly, curling up and withering inside of him, replaced by a sudden fear.  

Shit.

It was silence then, the distant sounds of the party eclipsed by the thundering in his ears.  His stomach clenched, hand clutching the phone, and he finally managed a quiet, "...baby?  I'm..."

"Fuck you," she replied clearly, and the phone went dead with a click.

He listened to the dial tone for a good thirty seconds, and then swallowed, carefully hanging up the receiver and turning the phone back around.  Pulling himself up onto the edge of the desk he rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a long, slow sigh.

"...Happy fuckin' Birthday to me," he muttered quietly under his breath.

Nineteen.  Only three years left, she'd promised, before he could be free of this fucking in-between Purgatory and he could finally be Embraced.  And then, he'd figure out a way for Hannah to join him, so they'd never have to leave each other.

Just a little longer, baby...

The pit in his stomach said it was already over, but he'd gotten good at ignoring things he didn't want to hear.  She'd probably feel better in the morning, and he'd bring her something pretty to take her mind off of it.

It wouldn't work. That was why he loved her.

That was why he'd lose her.

#vampire the requiem #vampire the masquerade #Daeva #vtr #vtm

[jasntodds]

Have A Heart [t.h]

Pairing: Roommate!Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Request: @kenobislittlepadawan : Hii! You’ve been my salvation during my thrist for Tom Holland that came out of no where. Your writing is really good! If you don’t mind, I’d like to request prompts #2 and #8 out of the list, cause I’m often called heartless and accused of not caring for other people :// oh and it would be with Tom Holland and female reader, if you please. Thank you so much in advance! Have a great day! 😘😘

Prompts:

2: “Why can’t you just let someone care about you?”

8: “Awww, look who actually has a heart under the blackness.”

Summary: Tom comes home from a night out and you prove you’re not so cold-hearted after all

A/N: Reposting here because I’m just a mess and making my life harder

Masterlist Prompt list Tag list

The apartment was quiet tonight. Tom was out with a few of his friends and you were sitting inside catching up on last-minute coursework for the end of the year. It was rather peaceful and while you enjoyed living with Tom and his happy-go-lucky energy, you were enjoying working in the quiet for once. It really let you focus and get everything done. But, your calm and peaceful night came to a stop when you decided to make yourself dinner.

You were chopping up vegetables and you happened to get your hand. The cut went deep, probably deep enough for stitches so you rushed off to the bathroom where you and Tom kept a first aid kit. You ran your hand under water, your eyes water from the stinging pain radiating through your enter hand while the water turned a vibrant red. You were too busy focusing on not screaming or crying that you hadn’t heard Tom come home. He heard the water running and made his way to the bathroom, seeing you leaned over the counter.

“What the hell happened?” He asks coming up to you.

“It’s fine.” You mumble, looking to your hand as you shut the water off.

“You’re bleeding everywhere. Lemme see.” Tom tries to take your hand but you jerk it away.

“I don’t need your help.” You grab a towel and wrap it around your hand.

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re alright.” Tom defends.

“Okay, cool. I don’t need it, alright?” You snap and Tom’s eyes roll with your words.

You two did get along well but whenever Tom offered to help with anything, you always snapped on him. He was always just trying to be nice and you couldn’t handle it. It was easier to push people away when they showed they cared in any way than to just let them in. If you let people in, let them care, they always fuck you over or end up leaving without a trace. It was just easier to have walls seven stories high. You made that clear and Tom seemed to keep running face first into them.

“What’s your fuckin’ issue?” Tom groans.

“I cut my damn hand. What do you think is my issue?”

Tom shakes his head, his ears tinting red from frustration. “Why can’t you just let someone care about you?” Tom’s words are forced as the happy mood he was in completely fades away.

“I don’t ask you to care. That’s your choice.” You try and push it onto him as you check the bleeding of your finger.

“You make it hard not to!” Tom raises his voice, something he never did even when you two did get under each other’s skin.

“Uh...what?” You face him, your voice quiet but your face showing your confusion with his tone.

“We’re flatmates, yeah,” Tom shrugs and gestures his hands out. “But you’re my friend and I care so you’re gonna have to get rid of that lifeless exterior and deal with it.”

“I don’t have to listen to you.” You roll your eyes and pull out a bandage.

“Fuck’s sake.” Tom hisses as he walks up to you and takes the bandage from your hand. “You tellin’ me you don’t care at all?”

You bite your lip as your watch him take your hand and start wrapping the white bandage around your bleeding hand. Of course you cared about him. You cared about him more than just a roommate, more than just a friend but if you admitted that, that would make you vulnerable. Tom has given you every reason to believe he’s safe but it’s scary territory.

“Maybe.” You mumble.

“Yeah?” Tom’s voice falls quiet as the energy shifts in the room. His eyes lock with yours and your breath hitches in your throat. You’d never been this close before, nearly chest to chest. You hated to admit it, but it was nice.

“I-I, uh, we live together, it’s hard not to, I guess.” Tom’s face falls with your words, your heart falling to the pit of your stomach with it.

“That all?” Tom asks, him finishing wrapping your hand.

“Should there be more?” Your ask, your voice wavering with the question.

“You tell me.” Tom looks back to you, your hand fully wrapped but he doesn’t let go.

Tom takes his other hand and lightly places it on your hip, pulling you into him. Your heart skips a single beat with the movement. His head dips down, his lips level with yours and you can feel his breath on your skin. Your breath is in your throat and you can’t remember how to breathe. Tom doesn’t move, instead it’s like he’s waiting, savoring the moment and waiting for you to pull away or close the distance. His nose brushes yours and you lean into him, your lips brushing his before Tom finally presses his lip to yours. He tastes of peppermint, not alcohol. His lips are soft and sweet while the kiss is delicate and hesitant, only lasting a few seconds before he pulls away.

“Yeah, I care about you.” You say in a single breath, your heart beating a thousand miles a second. “A lot.” You take a jump and admit to him and yourself you do actually care about him.

“Awww, look who actually has a heart under all that blackness.” Tom teases.

“Fuck off.” You mumble before pulling him back, not wanting to end the moment just yet and have an actual discussion on what the kiss means. That’s for another day and another time.

Tag list: @theofuckingraeken @gonnamurderyou @thumper-darling@spiderlingss @negative-love @gwenstacysmom @tmrhollandkay @peter-i-got-homework-parker @carrotsunshine @hasozterfield @pickachurose @pookiepookie8 @catnolannn @finn-the-pigeon @findawaytoglow @malecordie @somebodyoncetoldmeimsad @brookssbabe @mysteriouslyluckymoon @hopelessdestielromantic @zenzedana @mikalaka @blackberryporcupine @deanslittlebitch @jxvnv @shelteredheart @50shadesoflaurmani @lisamnieto @writingforbucky @dangerousluv1 @chayceschultz @bellagrayson-wayne  @satan-chicken  @mysticsthinking @aussie-holland @wtfholland @distressedhollandfield @twd1dsnfreak @chingonaconcha @tiny-friggin-human @batfam04 @spiderboytotherescue @loserparker @miajane601 @cancerous-lizard666 @shawnsassymendes @tomhollvnds @acciorinn @yeahbutmarvel @shuris-sneakers @draqcnheartstrinq @bpdsx @avengersgirllorianna @soccer-mom-karen @and-everythings-not-lost @spidermanswifi @tomsfireheart @a-rose-writes @notthepersonyouwerelookingfor @tomsbabyquackson @spidey-pal @postapocalyptic14 @im-finally-clean @starlightfound @707-deserves-better @maddie-leighhh @wolfie-doggo @the-crime-fighting-spider @hellomywonderfulwildflowers @random-ass-user @cherrysoul @marvel22girl @ditchthesticks @lilackimmi @coach-mccall @gangnaengie @coolranchqueen  @mimiloh @psychael @randomfandomsshallwe @lionheo04 @lovelynerdytraveler @taliaa-gracee @filmbypeterparker @50shadesoflaurmani @sigh-stars @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy @lizm-05 @softboyhollands @peter-i-got-homework-parker @laucontrerasv @shuriismyqueen @necromancer-inwell @wtfholland @fairydustparker @dharma-babe @internetnetnet @minibog @ohdamnerons @spidey-shit @hollandsmuse @iwatchedastimeranout @justarandomfangril @fifistydia @rosecoloredshawn @foreverbeingthunderbuddy @shelteredheart

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker headcanon #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland headcanon #tom holland imagine #spider-man #spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman headcanon #spider-man headcanon #spider-man imagine #spiderman imagine #imagine #imagines #prompt 2 #prompt 8 #request #imagine request

[gnostic-heretic]

Also other thing that is semi related to this but I have to say it to someone. For years I see people saying that Hetalia is dying bla bla bla support artists, support writers etc etc but in my opinion it's not dying bc there are always new people coming BUT it's completely stagnated. Hetalia has the capacity to attract people but very rarely can keep them interested for a long time (cont)

Bc there's this mentality of 'quick works are good but often more detailed stuff is ignored' especially on fanfics. How are people supposed to keep being interested if more serious and detailed stuff are being overlooked? Don't get me wrong both are fine but there should be a balance between both and not dismiss one of them. Hell I like when my memes are reblogs I laugh a lot with them but I wish that my fics that I worked hard on had the same attention (cont)

And i'm sure others would too. Idk where I'm trying to get here but I think that the fandom has potential that is not being used bc damn it after 11 years people are still coming so there are very attractive factors going on here but there's no power to retain people why? More support on both styles of work could help imo but that's me

@aph-belarusia

 i’m making another post because i’m gonna get long and i don’t think replies are the most comfortable way to have a conversation...

i agree with you like, whenever people call hetalia a dead fandom i always roll my eyes because ... y’all... i’ve been in fandoms made of like ten people. these kids have NO IDEA what a dead fandom is dhsjfh but while it’s not dead i think there are a few issues, namely

some people are afraid to reblog hetalia because the anime/fandom has a bad reputation. i can’t count the number of likes i get on my works from people who do not seem to be into hetalia at all at first glance... and i always wonder if it’s a mistake but after i see the same non-hetalia person liking my posts... twice... four times... ten times it’s obvious that it’s no coincidence here. i do not think that the fandom’s attitude to self degrade and joke about how horrible and problematic and embarrassing hetalia is helps at all. if we content creators and fandom in general started talking positively about hetalia, and owned the fact that we like this anime and the related fanwork even more instead of being like “uwu i may draw and reblog hetalia but i don’t support it and i’m not in the fandom” maybe people would be less hesitant about reblogging hetalia content.

there’s this ... extremely widespread attitude among artists and writers to be like, “reblogs not likes! if you like my art you might as well ignore it and spit in my soup and call me worthless!” and yet... i rarely see the people who are so adamant about this ever reblog (or like) anyone’s fanwork but their own which is interesting, considering :^) i understand pride and no one’s forcing you to reblog anything of course, but sometimes a “nice!” in the replies if for whatever reason you cannot reblog someone’s work will make someone’s day.

quite a few people i talked with told me they feel too shy about leaving comments or talking to me and.... seriously. y’all. writers are huge fuckin nerds. if you are nice and don’t come with insults or entitlement, no one will snub you or be rude to you. i swear. i’m actually dying to yell in chat about headcanons.... and so are... 99% of writers from what i can tell 

so here’s some Fandom Praxis i hold myself to, usually, as i try to navigate these tendencies in the hetalia fandom:

art made by people and posted directly on tumblr > reposted pixiv fanart (yes, even those that say reposted with permission) i usually never reblog fanart that is reposted from pixiv or keep it to a bare minimum. people seem to be super fond of the “Pixiv style” and often reblog fanart reposted from japanese pixiv accounts and disdain more “tumblr-looking” style of art,, but i don’t think it’s fair towards the person who gets their art reposted and there is never any proof in those posts that the permission was actually given other than “op says so”. even if someone’s style is not the most aesthetically pleasing to me, when i see art i like (keyword: i like) here on tumblr i try to support the artist and interact with the post even if i just leave a like

networking > guilt tripping build a network of friends and followers with similar interests who will enjoy not just your work but also enjoy talking to you and exchanging ideas because fandom is about FUN and about creativity and human relations not about the number of notes on a post.  engaging with people and sharing your ideas generally builds positive connections and community solidarity... it’s not about the notes you get but also about the notes you give to your friends and fandom peers and the relationships you form this way. i’ve found so many friends i’m grateful for through the hetalia fandom!!! any genuine relationship and genuine exchange of ideas and yes even of notes and comments is what makes fandom such a good place...

if you like a fanfiction leave a kudo and/or a comment it doesn’t have to be literary analysis a “(keysmash) i love this” ... is enough seriously as someone who’s been a passive reader for ages before i became more engaged in the fanfiction writing side of fandom it never occurred to me but it’s so important to let writers KNOW DIRECTLY that you enjoyed their work. so often people devalue the skills it takes to write something and take fanfiction for granted but it’s such a stressful and long process and it puts the person publishing their work in a really vulnerable place... because writing is always a piece of someone’s heart and soul that they are showing to you. if you like something, show it! and... 

explore tumblr ship/character tags and fanfic writers networks instead of sorting by kudos/views on ao3- seriously, the best fics i’ve found never made it to the “sort by kudos” top pages and they really deserve to- but they can’t if people continue to stubbornly ignore smaller writers with this sort of filtering. fanfiction is not one-size-fits-all and finding writers with similar interests instead of going by the opinion of the faceless crowd will make your reading experience so much better

do not be afraid to talk to writers like seriously we are all fckin nerds i cannot stress this enough

#unpopular opinion of the day: we should all be nice to each other #UNPOPULAR IDEA OF THE DAY IS FANDOM SOCIALISM