#anyway all that to say regardless of stance
Text
It is totally possible to be a Buddie endgamer AND still support Buck/Tommy. It's possible to never be shaken from your stance as Buck and Eddie being soulmates while supporting every relationship they have been in, regardless of how dysfunctional it was.
Here's my take:
I want to see both Buck and Eddie explore life and find their true paths independently of each other, Christopher, and the 118. They are more than just each other's best friend/coparent, Christopher's fathers, and firefighters/part of the 118 family.
Since we know there is a season 8, and I would guess a season 9+ if these ratings keep up, it would be awesome to watch a full season, or more, of character evolution. We could watch Buck dating both men and women openly, learning his value, and discovering what he wants for his future.
Buck, as Bobby pointed out, doesn't enter into relationships of his own accord. He stumbles and falls into them without a clue how he got there. One day, he wakes up and he's someone's boyfriend or living with someone and isn't sure how it happened. Buck simply goes wherever someone will accept him. He misconstrues that acceptance and tolerance as genuine romance, feelings, and love.
Abby was bored and lonely and horny. I could say a lot about that relationship. If the motivation strikes, I may post about how that relationship was toxic and manipulative on Abby's part. If there are any Abby fans, you need to know your girl was showing some tendencies that were red flags.
Ali? Buck was single. She showed interest. That's it.
Taylor? Great sex and she kept coming back to Buck. She was there for all the wrong reasons and had questionable morals, but she was there. That was enough for Buck.
Natalia, again, was simply in front of Buck. She was obviously only interested in Buck's death, not Buck as a person, but Buck didn't care. He tried to make it work anyway because Natalia gave him time and attention.
So, we have an established pattern of Buck dating whoever will give him the time of day when he needs it most.
Enter Tommy. Buck is feeling left out. He's probably slipping into loneliness and spiraling because he feels the most important person in his life for the last six years is being taken away from him. (That's Eddie, for those in the back.)
Tommy shows up, sees Buck is spiraling, and kisses him. (Tommy fans, canon has established that Tommy has bad guy capabilities. Stop trying to gaslight the fans who are saying he may not be the good guy his sudden fandom claims he is. He isn't and Hen and Chimney forgiving him doesn't change that. People who are capable of consciously being a-holes are just a-holes. Mmkay?) He doesn't just hit on Buck. He physically initiates contact, giving Buck no doubt the man is open to other men. He showed Buck attention in a moment of crisis and he's a safe option after Buck openly admitted he was jealous and trying to get attention.
Buck stumbles into the next relationship. (Again, I could examine that situation, but if I do, it will be in a separate post.)
The show could give us Eddie admitting he let the expectations and influences of third parties control his destiny and he has no idea who Edmundo Diaz really is outside of what was expected of him, what he was taught, and what he did out of a sense of duty instead of doing what he wanted to.
He was with Shannon because she was pregnant and the right thing to do, per their parents and his faith, was marry her. I think he loves her for giving him his son, but nothing he has ever said or done indicates he was in love with her. I think he thinks he was. I think he wanted to be.
He was with Ana because Christopher needed a mother, per what he was told and taught, and she had an impressive resume and knew Christopher.
He is with Marisol because she fits the perfect mold of what his parents would like and she gets along with Christopher.
Should we talk about Eddie's relationships timing up perfectly with when Buck enters a relationship? No?
That man has never once in six seasons made a believable statement about genuine attraction to or sexual enjoyment with women. Ladies and gentlemen, if you have straight male friends who are in their 20s or 30s, you know you will be subjected to more details about their sexual history than you ever wanted to know. (Many of my close friends historically have been straight men. Conversations with them have been interesting and eye-opening. Sometimes traumatic, too, but I knew what I signed up for when I became their friend.)
Eddie canonically is in his early 30s and has been on the screen since his late 20s, but went without sex for years, never seemed to miss it, and now he's suddenly "pent up"? That is not the whole story and there is more going on there.
I'd love to see Eddie figure out he isn't into Marisol and hasn't been into anyone genuinely, except maybe Shannon. There could easily be a demisexuality arc for Eddie. Keep in mind, the term demisexuality was coined less than 20 years ago and is still not widely known. Eddie could spend a season, or more, working through the feelings he's ignored or been unable to put into words, dealing with overbearing parents, and how his faith has quietly, and unbeknownst to him, guided his choices. He could spend a long time wondering why he never feels an instant connection with anyone, except Buck and Tommy. (You seeing a pattern here?) This season has openly pointed out Eddie is in therapy.
The road to Buddie can be filled with satisfying detours, aka other relationships, leading to the realizations that open their eyes to each other. We don't have to negate the Buck and Eddie's experiences with others to support Buddie.
The part of me that wants instant gratification would love to see Eddie and Buck dancing at Madney's wedding and figuring out they are what they have been looking for all along. Cut to them in a room going at it.
But, the part of me that loves a great story, and doesn't mind waiting if the writing is great, is fine with a slow burn that gives us deep storylines and episodes that grip you from beginning to end. Let's say we have the rest of season 7, season 8, and maybe a season 9. There would be so much possible material.
Buck could go through a relationship with Tommy, a breakup, confusion, dating again, multiple amazing conversations with LGBTQ characters like Hen, Karen. This would also allow for giving other characters more depth, backstory, and more time on-screen. (This would be an amazing time to bring back Rockmond Dunbar as Michael and have him and Buck discuss figuring your sexuality out later in life!)
Eddie could spend that time working through his Catholic guilt and separating his actual needs and desires from what he was taught to need and desire. He could realize he makes excuses to stay with the women he dates then finds an excuse to escape when being with those women gives him anxiety. He could begin questioning if he is gay, bi, pan, or what. Then he could ask himself why he never really gets to know the women he dates. Who has he been close to? What was different? What gives him a feeling of safety and security and home? He needs to figure himself out.
So, yes, I do believe Buck/Tommy is acceptable and I support it, just not as endgame. I think, if written well, it could be integral to a great growth plot that takes us through Eddie and Buck diverging on their paths to self-discovery only to converge later on, a little more scarred but more in tune with themselves, to see their future in each other.
#911 abc#911 on abc#9 1 1 buddie#buddie#buck x eddie#eddie x buck#buddie 911#eddie diaz x evan buckley#evan buckley x eddie diaz#buck/tommy#911 tuck#eddie diaz#evan buckley#evan buck buckley#911#911 show#911 season 7
32 notes
·
View notes
Note
Anyone who wants Wille to not abdicate does not love Simon or Wille and doesn't know shit about the monarchy and how insane and fucked up the whole concept of it is.
The only good monarchy is a dead one.
.
#this is a bit accusatory but I'm posting it anyway#things are too quiet around here#i will say i think we do all love them regardless of our stance#let's remember that they are fictional characters#wanting a certain storyline does not actually harm people#and i say this as an abdication supporter myself#monarchy#the abdication debate
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
can you do a blurb of ymls harry defending yn when someone judges their situation/her pregnancy pls
yes omg I love this idea!! (sorry if this isn't my best, I only have the brain capacity to write short blurbs rn but I missed these cuties)
word count: 825
content warnings: pregnant y/n
ymls masterlist | main masterlist
talk to me
. . .
Y/N can't think of a worse place to be at right now.
When she agreed to be Harry's date to his office's holiday party, it was mainly because he was borderline pouting. Ever since they kissed and confessed feelings to one another (well... attempted to, anyway — Harry's gloating kind of got in the way), she's found it increasingly more difficult to say no to the silly things he wants to do. And now that Christmas is rapidly approaching, he's far more keen on requesting her presence at things, like those drive-thru light shows that cost $70 a car, or, in this case, clutching a Diet Coke and pretending to be interested in whatever Harry's co-worker is talking her ear off about.
Thankfully, Harry can tell from across the room that she's on the cusp of falling asleep from this person's incessant droning — were they talking about... computer parts? Y/N really couldn't tell — and he quickly traipses across the room, his hand finding the small of her back.
"Hey, Jason!" he greets in mock excitement, the volume of his voice enough to make Y/N jump, "I see you met Y/N."
Jason's eyes dart between the two, confusion clear on his face. Y/N's posture straightens some and she assumes her typical defensive stance with one hand cradling her baby bump.
"I didn't know you two came here together," Jason, apparently, replies through slightly squinted eyes. "Wait... is this the girl you're having a baby with?"
It's an odd question, but one that they've become semi-used to. Harry's willing to be more patient about it, while Y/N's quicker to tell someone off for asking. In her defense, he understands; you likely wouldn't ask a couple that question, and the definition of their relationship was still a bit... blurred.
"Is there a problem with that?" Y/N snaps, her grasp tightening around the cheap plastic cup in her hand.
"Well— no, we just heard that Harry was having a baby but it wasn't with a girlfriend or anything and— well, it's kind of weird that you brought her but then she's not really your date, is she?"
In the time that they've known each other, Y/N has rarely seen Harry get angry. She can actually count it on one hand actually, and they've all been fueled by silly tequila-fueled encounters, like when Dom wouldn't let him eat chicken nuggets because he's a pescatarian and it was for his own good.
This, though... this is different, and Y/N can immediately tell. He immediately looks more defensive and shifts his body slightly so that he's standing in front of Y/N, covering her stomach. He crosses his arms over his chest, his head cocked to the side as a perplexed facial expression appears.
"I don't really think it's any of your business, Jason," Harry responds easily, a clipped tone to his voice, "Regardless of whether we're dating or not, you don't really get to have an opinion on that, hm?"
"Well— yes, I suppose you're right, it just seemed like she's single—"
"She's right here," Y/N cuts in, crossing her leg over the other. "And why the fuck would you care if I'm single? You never had a chance with me to begin with."
Jason's lips part, shock and confusion written all over his face. It seems like he's in some sort of weird man stare-off with Harry, one that she quickly grows tired of, so she reaches up to tug at the sleeve of Harry's sweater. Immediately, he peels his gaze away and looks down at her.
"'s fine," she murmurs, quietly enough so he's the only person that can hear, "Okay?"
He nods curtly. In an instant, his arm loops around Y/N's shoulders as he guides her away from that dumb fuck in the engineering department.
"You alright?" he asks softly, motioning for her to sit down at one of the high-top bar stools. She nods.
"I'm fine. You seemed pretty pissed, though."
Harry shrugs his shoulders. "He's a prick anyway."
She snickers and shakes her head, "You're kinda hot when you're mad, you know that?"
"Shush," he mumbles, waving down the bartender as he wills a flowering blush away, "Want another soda?"
"Please."
He orders them both a refill — he decided to stop drinking a few weeks into her pregnancy in solidarity — and leans back against the bar. His eyes flicker to her, realizing that she's watching him intently. He can't help that he's reflecting on the minor argument, but his eyes brighten slightly when he remembers something she said.
"So, he never had a chance?"
Y/N lets out a loud laugh. "Nah. Kind of have my eyes on someone else."
"Oh? Spill the deets, girly."
She smirks, "Hm, brown hair, tall, always reading pregnancy books... sometimes he texts me random questions or name suggestions at like 2 am. Last night he asked if he can record a podcast for the baby so they can get weekly updates."
"God, sounds like a nerd," Harry replies with a toothy grin.
"Mm, yeah. He definitely is."
255 notes
·
View notes
Note
Feminist theory is not the same as feminist activism, which is what I specificied in my ask, intentionally. There is feminist theory about men's issues (yes Bell Hooks is by far the most famous theorist in this space), and that is good, but it is not the same as activism to improve men's conditions in the here and now. I wanted to give a different perspective, and have a discussion about something that I feel is a problem that has lead to and continues to lead to a lack of progress for men. I mean, the other ask you got saying thst feminism persistently centers men just by talking about our issues, that proves my point. That is an incredibly common view. Not even working towards solving men's problems, just talking about them occasionally is considered too much. There is an obvious solution to that, which I said previously. Regardless, I am and will continue to believe in the cause of fighting to improve things for both women and men, because we all deserve better. Anyway, I won't bother you anymore, but I hope you know this was written in good faith about something that is important to me.
Theory informs activism, so if you want to see feminist activism that does what I'm talking about, find the feminists talking about what I'm talking about.
Respectfully, despite referencing the other ask, you seem to have not read it if your stance is still "what has feminist activism done for men", because I gave pretty direct examples there.
But you're right. That sort of feminism is harder to find especially nowadays. A lot of people's feminism regards men as "ewwww boys are icky" and "men are 100% solely responsible for all of women's problems". Which was the entire point of my post that started this conversation. It's also compounded by the fact that a lot of times this doesn't look as big and loud as rallies and marches, and so it gets ignored. In reality, the feminist activism that follows the theory I'm describing looks like parents teaching their sons that gentleness and femininity is not bad. Dads who wear nail polish and tutus to support their sons' interests. Boys being encouraged to watch and read the "girl books" and "girl movies". Dads who do not abandon their sons' need for physical affection as they age out of fear of homosexuality.
It looks like restructuring the ways we look at sexual assault and rape so it doesn't automatically exclude the most common way men are attacked. It looks like teaching young men that they do not need to take abuse from a romantic partner or family member on the chin just to be a man. It looks like teaching men that "masculinity" does not need to be defined by stoicism and that the concept of "manning up" is harmful. It looks like teaching boys that there are ways to communicate affection that aren't violent or sexual in nature. It looks like teaching teenagers that playful ribbing is one thing, but tearing your friends down all the time so you can be the biggest man on the block is toxic behavior, and only leads to more isolation because all your friends learn to be mean to each other.
It teaches young men that pleasuring your partner involves more than just a penis, and sometimes doesn't even require a penis at all. It teaches them that their worth is far less in the length of their shaft or the hardness of their muscles or the number on the scale, but far more how they treat others. It teaches them that height and beard length and shoe size and how much alcohol they can consume or their favorite sport team aren't indicators of "manhood", because they are men regardless of the answers to any of those things. It teaches them they can be any type of man they want to be, they don't have to be what the patriarchy tells them are their only options.
And I know this, because I have watched plenty of my butch friends who are devout feminists and have been their entire lives teaching these things to their sons. This is established feminist theory that has existed for a long time. Many followers of this theory do in fact practice what they preach.
Genuinely, I don't really care what you call it. If you want to call it "man's liberation", go for it, I don't care. But to me, this is just feminism. I'm not going to call it men's lib because the feminism I was taught by the women in my life covered these things. Same as how I don't use the word "transandrophobia" because the trans theory I was taught by the trans women in my life told me "transmisogyny" covered these things.
Anyway. I urge you to go read some black feminist theory and then spend some time talking to practitioners of said theory. It might just surprise you how similar the conversation is. It might surprise you to see how their kids and families interact. I'm not saying all black people, because not every black person who is a feminist is specifically a *black feminist*, but when you find someone who fits this description you will know.
179 notes
·
View notes
Text
svt + not choosing their team
➔ reaction || not requested || staff!au || leader line
➔ warnings: none || 574 words
➔ words: fluff, gose staff!y/n ; happy monday! i'm sure people noticed that i post at a different time than usual :) still monday, but at midnight est instead of the afternoon. i find that it just works better for my queue. this post is inspired by the wonwoo gose dinner, when all the staff chose different colored ties! i like doing platonic!staff interactions, too, but this is self indulgent. in fact, since i can't write a whole thing right now, this is 100% for my personal satisfaction. if you liked it, please reblog!
SEUNGCHEOL: the poutiest, and i don't say that lightly. he watches as the staff members drift into separate groups, and when he sees that you're clearly not in his, he crosses his arms and gets that determined look you know too well. it's the one with the fired up eyes and the set jaw and the rolled back shoulders and the shoulder-width stance. it doesn't bode well for the other teams—something that jeonghan notices, too, because he taps your boyfriend's lower back as a warning. seungcheol is the competitive type, even when the stakes are low. (his iconic line from seventeen vs going seventeen still rings true.) once we add in the fact that you're rooting for another team? he's going to try his best to make you regret it. he doesn't mean to be a sore loser, but it can definitely come off that way if he's not careful on camera. once he actually talks to you later, though, all of the bravado is gone. what's left is a sulky baby who leans his head on your shoulder, blinks his pretty eyes, and asks why you didn't believe in him.
SOONYOUNG: ok, maybe he's the poutiest. as soon as the staff members start moving, his bottom lip juts out and the complaints start, which is rare for him. his voice is petulant as he says the groups are uneven, there's a clear divide in staff preferences, people are going to regret not choosing him, etc. just reaching for anything he can complain about, but he's mostly drowned out by the overlapping audio as the louder members yell out advertisements for their teams. he's being so obvious about his dissatisfaction, it's cute. it doesn't escape you (or anyone else paying attention, for that matter) that as he circles the groups, he keeps hovering around yours—back to the camera, hands on his hips, pout pointed straight at you. he won't push too hard because you've cast your lot with someone else, and the games are starting soon anyway, but he comes to terms with it fast. i mean, yeah, he'll be super proud of himself if he won with you on his team, but imagine if you took a chance on him and he lost horribly? twice the reward, twice the punishment.
JIHOON: honestly, he wouldn't choose his team either. it's not that he has terribly bad luck; he just has a strange team. team comp diff, he'd say, ignoring the fact that he's lost the pirate barrel game in one shot before. still, when his eyes scan for you in the crowd and spot you in someone else's corner, he can't help feeling a little disappointed...like he's already let you down somehow? he gives a tiny nod of indifference, more to convince himself than anything else, but it's clearly a front while he internally debates: should he try his best to win for his team or should he try to get your team to win? he saw the way you lit up when the prizes were announced, and regardless of the circumstances, he always has a soft spot for getting you what you want. the members like teasing him about it, but he cares about your happiness and that's something he stays unabashed about. as if knowing what he was thinking, seungkwan gives a warning glare and mouths, don't throw the game. alright, maybe having good content ranks higher today.
#caratwritersclub#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#seungcheol scenarios#s.coups scenarios#soonyoung scenarios#hoshi scenarios#jihoon scenarios#woozi scenarios#g: svt#m: seungcheol#m: soonyoung#m: jihoon#t: reaction#s: notrequested#ravixen
402 notes
·
View notes
Text
cw: selfship-coded. sappy. first kiss. isekai elements referenced if you pay attention. aged-up characters to early 20s. reader is part of the corps however not from time period nor country. love triangle.
Tanjiro is exactly where you expect him to be when you find yourself unable to turn in for the night, slipping your feet into tabi slippers, and finding the courtyard where he trains.
You’re no longer at the Ubuyashiki Estate these days but at the Butterfly Mansion, a welcome reprise from the rest of the Hashira with the subset of your comrades you’re most comfortable with - your best friends, in the same predicament as you, slumber in their own respective bedrooms. You can imagine that one has slipped into the room with Genya at some point in the night, and the other is probably asleep, her own gentleman (gentle really only with her and perhaps his pet beetle) caller having sent word that he’d be visiting in the morning. The Butterfly Mansion is truly a beautiful, restful place compared to the bustle of the estate but your heart has been aflutter ever since you came here.
You hate to admit it, but Kanao gets under your skin.
For a moment, as from afar you watch Tanjiro practice his strike for what may very well be the thousandth time that night, you stand transfixed, wondering if it is worth it to break his concentration to tell him what’s been on your mind. After all, perhaps all this for him it’s something silly and inconsequential, something you’ve only built up in your mind. The draw to him may not be something real even, and even if it were, you are not destined to stay in this land or even this time period.
Whether or not you like him doesn’t matter. Whether or not you love him is moot. You can’t stay. Knowing how he feels about the situation will not serve to clear the muddy waters, plus you have never been one to draw unnecessary love triangles, anyway.
Before you can let your own misgivings overtake you and turn tail, Tanjiro spots you from afar.
He calls your name loudly, one last strike before his sword is sheathed, and set by the trunk of the nearest cherry blossom tree. He’s fast, and before you know it, he’s by you, grinning widely as he does when he’s excited, despite the exhaustion evident in the very marrow of his bones, communicated by the sheen of sweat overlying tense, overworked muscles.
“You’re up,” he says, and you try to come up with the best way to organize your thoughts. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, carefully. He’s moving back to where he’s left his sword, but this time he’s taken your hand gently, pulling you along as one does a small child. He has the tendency to do this, reach out to you without considering it first, still unable to understand the effect his touch has on you. He hasn’t picked up on the fact that you let only him and your closest friends touch you casually, and you wonder how he would take it if he realized.
Has he realized yet how special he is to you?
Your mouth opens then closes as he unsheathes his sword again, and puts himself back in stance, throwing a glance at you to make sure you’re out of striking distance.
“Is it okay if I keep going? I assume you want to talk, but I’m not done. I can still listen, though.”
You nod then look around. Part of you is surprised Kanao isn’t out here, watching him with loving steady eyes, a mind that is as unreadable as her feelings are obvious. You can’t tell if she sees you as a threat or not, or if she sees you at all. But she’s nice. And you are nice.
That’s all you are to each other and this arrangement is what you wish it could remain.
Regardless, Aoi’s words have unsettled you.
I know how you feel and I’ve felt that way, but Kanao needs him.
Just thinking about how she practically accosted you, while well-meaning, terribly abrasive, you can feel your teeth clench.
You haven’t done anything wrong except be yourself. You don’t know how to control the fact that he gravitates towards you. You haven’t tried to seduce him; you understand the roles of girl code, that she was there first, that she loved him first, that she was by his side when he was comatose, when he was fighting, when he was becoming what he is now, and you have no right and yet-
“Talk to me.”
Tanjiro pauses, and he’s looking at you again, eyes washing over you in the moonlight as though they’re looking for any pain he can assuage. It hurts how he can care about you so deeply, like the most attentive of lovers, when all you’re fated for is a short-lived friendship. You have to remind yourself constantly that he does this for everyone, he loves everyone this tenderly, and thus let your heart stop racing, but there’s not much you can do when all you can think of is the way your lips met just days ago.
It wasn’t a kiss. Kisses are for people who love each other. Kisses are for him and Kanao. He is not for you, nothing is for you, everything is for Kanao.
“Kanao is in love with you,” you blurt out, and immediately regret it.
You can see his body tense, and then he breathes out slowly. You watch him move, and you can feel the night chill suddenly intensify, your arms wrapping around yourself for warmth but for comfort. Your body is trembling. Why did you say that? Everyone knows. It’s not a secret that they’ve been fated for each other for the past several years, long before you tumbled into this world that doesn’t in any way belong to you.
“I know.”
Heat rushes through your body. It’s the worst answer he could have possibly given you, polite and patronizing at once. He’s watching you carefully now, eyes matching your gaze, his hands running through his hair.
“I’m glad you know,” you finally convince yourself to say, trying to prevent your voice from cracking. Heartstrings taut to snapping, you try desperately to come up with a way to change the subject. You don’t care to hear about how easily he returns her feelings or any other part of their love story, whatever you’re not privy to.
“We’re supposed to head out in a couple of days, maybe you shouldn’t tire yourself out like this.” you offer. You turn your head from him, your hand on the tree trunk before you, pretending that the ridges of the bark are of particular interest to you now, although it’s mainly to catch a few errant tears threatening to escape your lash line. “When do you sleep?”
“__.”
He calls your name again, softer this time. Your heart sinks into your stomach. You can’t discuss this anymore.
“The soup Kanzaki-san made today was quite delicious, don’t you think? I have to ask for the recipe.”
There is a pause that is far too loud, and you’re now frozen stiff, holding back tears. You know he will not let you move on, but the idea of rejection in the middle of the night is just too much for you to bear.
Lovesick. Truly lovesick you are at this venture in time, and the fantasy has to last just a little bit longer. It’s all you have going for you in this awful situation, the dream that even if you’re trapped here slaying monsters for an indeterminate length of time, away from family and the technology you took for granted, perhaps he can smile and warm you like the sun.
“I think Inosuke may have said my name right today, Tanjiro, isn’t that so funny?!”
You laugh, but it’s coming out disingenuous, a sound not unlike a barking sick cough.
“___,” he says again, his voice even softer now, pleading with you to manage your own font of emotions.
It’s too much.
You turn quickly and whisper something about being tired and needing to leave, and the moment you walk past him, he grips your wrist again, stopping you in your tracks.
Your heart thumps.
“I don’t love her.”
Your head shakes automatically even if it’s what you wanted so desperately to hear. “I think you should,” you say in the smallest of whispers.
Your hand pulls but Tanjiro doesn’t let go, instead stepping around to face you. Your head is turned downwards but gently, he takes your chin and raises it up to his face. You look away, but you’re biting your lip and the tears are starting to well up again. Your heart is racing out of control.
This isn’t what you want, but it is. You must still be dreaming, never having left the security of your bed.
“Why are you crying?”
Concern dripping in his voice, he’s thumbing away tears that you’re too embarrassed to explain.
“I…” you trail off. There’s no excuse, really.
“What do you want me to tell you, __?” Tanjiro asks. It’s a harsh question but it’s said with firm kindness; the gentle glow in his crimson eyes are patient still.
That you love me as much as I do you, you think, then dispel. Preposterous.
“I’m not sure,” you lie. He frowns, the immediately detected deceit disappointing him. He lets go of your chin, then takes both of your hands in his. Your stomach turns as he raises them to his lips.
“Kanao is important to me-” he starts. You wince and pull away, but he holds on tighter, “but you too are important. Very much so.”
“She loves you-” you start, and he quickly rebuts, “I love you.”
And this stuns you to silence.
“You…”
“Yes, you.”
A sharp inhale as your body recovers from sobs racks your body. Tanjiro pulls your knuckles to his lips and kisses, and you find your breathing erratic again.
“Tanjiro,” you start, and he pulls your face closer.
“I’ve loved you for a really long time,” he says, and the adoration in his eyes makes it so clearly true, sparkling in the moonlight. Your mind’s eye spins memories like films, every time he’s been too close, every time he’s been too careful, every time he’s wanted to be with you above everyone else.
“Are you sure?” you ask. It’s the lamest of things that you can ask but you have to hear it from him, the man who loves everything and everyone, that would choose anything before himself.
“As sure as my blade.”
Your lips meet in a kiss that dizzies you before you can find his last statement cheesy. When the haze clears, you think of Aoi again, you see Kanao in your mind’s eye watching Tanjiro, butterflies in her hair.
“What about Kanao? She needs you.”
“I need you.”
He kisses you again, and this time you’ve lost all your reservations, perhaps too easily, your arms reaching around his neck to deepen the kiss. You’ve never needed to tell him you loved him because it was written all over your face. It’s a part you’ve hated about yourself, that no matter how badly you’ve tried to limit your emotions, all comes spilling out through your words and actions. He might have known before you even did, your penchant for devotion spilling into every word you spoke to him, smiles you couldn’t quite temper.
Your friends saw it, Aoi saw it, Kanao saw it, the heavens above must have seen it.
Most importantly, he saw it.
The tears remain free-flowing, now cathartic. You breathe in his love as he continues to kiss you, your lips, your neck craned, your back now supported by the tree that knows your poorly-kept secret.
“Tanjiro, I love you,” you admit finally, your noses just inches apart, breathless.
“I know,” he whispers. He smiles and kisses your neck. “And I’m so glad.”
#tanjiro x reader#tanjiro kamado x reader#kamado tanjiro x reader#demon slayer x reader#daydreams: kny#mimi's notes#tanjimimi
147 notes
·
View notes
Note
how abt an au where the villains of the month steal dickjay's dna and make a clonebaby :O
Okay, but what if it's a scenario where the Superfam and Batfam come together on some mission. They save the day, but in the wreckage of everything is this dark haired, bright eyed clone baby and all of them just stare because two of them are daddies but they don't know who.
So they all take turns caring for the baby until they can figure out what to do; whoever's DNA was used will have ultimate say, but they need to consider risks and the liability of it and-
SuperBat
Clark understanding where Bruce's concerns are coming from, but getting prickly regardless because Bruce is treating this clone baby like a threat. Clark has one clone son and he's perfect; they would be so lucky to have another. )<
To which Bruce shuts himself up because he's 1) not fool enough not to recognize that Clark will throw hands and Bruce is woefully under prepared for such a fight and 2) per his therapist, Bruce needs to make active efforts to 'be more sensitive to others.' This is a prime opportunity.
Also, Kon overhearing Clark being protective over him and getting all timid over it. Just scuffing his boot over the ground and acting like he doesn't care but really he's feeling so warm and loved and Tim rolls his eyes before bumping his shoulder against his friend and offering him an assuring and soft smile and ahhhhhh
Anyway, Clark and Bruce taking first watch of the child
And Clark isn't surprised by it; he's seen how Bruce is with kids of all species/creeds, but it still takes him by surprise to see how good Bruce is to this baby
He might be endeared, too. Because there's something really sweet about catching Bruce sat back in a chair, baby on his chest as he works, hand large enough that it spreads to support the babe's back and head - a protective stance
Or rather, Clark is definitely endeared. Because when Clark offers to tend to the baby, he only gets as far as reaching out to take them before Bruce is shuffling away, grunting as he goes to do the task himself because the old bat is attached after no time at all.
Clark does eventually get to hold the baby (which he loves; he gets all nostalgic about back when Jon was this small and how children grow up too fast, which Bruce can only grunt in agreement to because they really do).
But anyway, Clark gets to hold the baby and it's sweet. He supports them, holding them close to his chest and bouncing as he walks around, turning his head to smell the top of their heads and smiling at the baby smell
Bruce might feel just the slightest endeared by the sight, even if Clark being gentle and kind is nothing new.
Dickjay
Reluctant caretakers!dickjay, but only because Batman looks especially grim as he hands the baby off to Dick. Like this man is not keen on letting this child go
There's nothing to be done for it though. There are JL matters at hand and Superman and Batman can't skirt their responsibilities for too long at a time, so.
Even still, Bruce lingering in the shadows and being this foreboding presence in the background for a time while Dick and Jason take their turn with babysitting.
Things only settle once Superman herds Batman away. A comical sight that helps break some of the tension once Dick and Jason are alone.
Maybe they aren't anything to each other in this AU yet, either. Not really friends, hardly brothers. And it's not that they're estranged, but they don't seek one another out, either. Not unless it's for work.
Which is why babysitting together is weird.
Something something where Dick encounters the same problem as Clark had with Bruce, because while Dick tends to the baby, Jason keeps a distance and just sort of looms in the shadows. Wandering to the fringes of Dick's peripheral before pacing back away, arms crossed tight and scowl looking very much like a pout.
Because Dick is capable of watching a baby on his own and takes on the responsibility because Jason didn't/hasn't/has never seemed keen about kids in this way. Making sure they're safe? Of course. Having them drool and snot and vomit all over you? Not so much.
But the more Dick watches Jason and how fidgety he is, the more Dick realizes that it seems like Jason really wants to hold this kid.
So Dick asks Jason if he'd like to [hold the baby]. And of course because Jason is Jason, he won't admit outright that he wants to. It's clear with how his eyes light up, how he has to bite back a smile, that Jason is so eager though.
It's unexpected, to say the least.
What's more surprising is Dick's introduction to caretaker!Jason and how much of a mother Jason is.
It takes him out at the knees.
It's all Dick can do to stare in awe and wonder as he watches after Jason and the baby. Because Jason is so soft and gentle and sweet with them. The baby cuts through Jason's prickly exterior and on so many occasions Dick catches sight of the most devastating smiles.
And Dick has something of a domesticity kink always and forever so at some point he starts to get flustered by Jason being all kind and caring and delicate. Which Dick knew Jason always was, but to be confronted by it in such a darling way? Fuck.
But Dick tempers himself because it's still Jason.
So they go about their time babysitting.
Something something Dick playing with the baby a lot and keeping them engaged. Jason happening upon them because he hears baby laughs. So he wanders out from wherever he'd gone to find Dick and baby playing peekaboo. And the baby is thrilled by it. Their titters are so sweet that even Dick smiles - more wide and genuine (biting, Jason recognizes) than he's allowed in a long time and ahhhhhh.
And something to take Jason out at the knees: coming home from running errands or working a case to find Dick reading to the baby. Not even a baby book. Just straight up case notes and censoring the graphic bits as he goes and Jason is so damn endeared.
That feeling only gets worse when he comes back from showering and finds the both of them napping.
Jason gets a blanket over them and starts dinner. And when Dick wakes up to the noise, he flusters worse than ever before because Jason. Apron. Cooking for the family them.
Something something they're working on the couch together. Jason's got the baby cradled to his chest. Dick looks over occasionally because it's cute. But between one glance and the next Jason fusses and Dick looks over and oh.
The baby tries to nurse off of Jason through Jason's shirt and Jason tuts at them and Dick just stares because omfg. Jason scowling and Dick being genuinely flustered although he still laughs because it's funny and cute.
He still goes to get the baby's bottle though.
And when he comes back Jason jokes about how Dick would be surprised how often that's happened.
Which. What? <- an internal thought with an envy that rears itself in a startling way.
Externally though, Dick plays it cool.
'You've done this before?'
'With Damian.' What? 'He'd always bite, too.' What? 'Hah, he didn't change.'
Which leads into a conversation about how Jason cared for Damian way back when. And grumbles about how he should have stayed longer if only to have raised the brat with some proper humility and manners.
Dick minding his tongue over how Damian might have internalized plenty of Jason's ornery qualities, but a lot of his best qualities, too.
It becomes very clear how Jason missed out on being there for Damian growing up. So Dick fills him in starting from the point where Damian came to him, at least, and what an ornery punkass brat he was and how Dick loves him anyway
And from there they just talk. And they laugh. They taunt and challenge and jibe and get recklessly close to flirting as they exist in this domestic bubble with one another.
Oh. Something with Dick taking the baby to shower. And he has a towel around his waist but he's very much a wet and glistening dream as he pokes himself part way through the bathroom door to hand the baby off to Jason and Jason just about combusts because he was wholly unprepared.
Anyway, Jason's had a crush since forever and Dick falls in love over the span of their babysitting duties.
So when it's time for Conner and Tim to take over, Jason is more intense than Bruce ever was because no. Fuck off, losers. The baby is theirs. His. Uh.
The baby is eventually coaxed from them (despite Jason's snarls and scowls; despite even Dick's disappointment) though because vigilantism doesn't lend itself to this sort of normalcy, this form of goodness
But Dick tries anyway by at least holding on to Jason. And asking him out on a date and moving in together getting married having a circus trope of kids and-
KonTim
For flavor and funnies: Tim and Kon struggling to babysit the baby. They've overcome any number of hardships together, but child care might be their undoing.
Just two very young adults with no aspiration for having a family being confronted with family life and not jiving with it in the least. Like they're absolutely the sort that hold this baby beneath their arms and at arm's length as there's a two v one stare down because like...what now?
Spoilers: chaos.
But before that, Kon and Tim jinxing themselves because for a while the baby is just chill and not doing anything and just...it's so boring? They honestly don't understand baby fever or the hype of new parents; this is miserably dull.
Famous last words between them, because right after it's all crying and hiccups and blowouts and just all the nasty things those who aren't ready for parenthood tend to fixate on hahaha.
Like, one of them absolutely gets peed on while trying to change a diaper. And they screech about it while the other laughs. But it's okay because karma exists so the other party definitely gets puked on after changing their shirt for the third time.
Tim develops some sort of system for troubleshooting baby problems; manic first parent energy dialed up to 1000
And by the end of the day they're both exhausted and they just got the baby down and they're ready to sleep, but then there's more crying and they just smack at each other because, 'it's your turn.'
But it's Tim and Kon, so of course they get into a routine and get everything sorted.
Anyway, abrupt cut to:
Where Tim is working and has the baby in one arm against his shoulder while he types away with the other. Just patting the baby's back to burp them since they just ate while attempting to catch up on a case he's fallen behind on.
Tim distractedly grabbing the baby's bottle instead of his coffee cup. And when he goes to drink it, the rubber nipple pokes him and he scowls because ugh, come on.
Meanwhile Kon is just there, staring intensely and being wildly jealous because it's been days of nothing. So Kon makes a dramatic gesture to his chest/nips and Tim cackles because omfg, shut up stop.
Which only makes Kon snicker and smirk and take the challenge for what it is.
Basically everything devolves into Kon trying to seduce Tim
Another abrupt cut:
Where Tim is debriefing with Batman over something and Bruce hears the baby crying in the background and visibly straightens and leans forward, shifting left and right to try and get a better view while asking after the baby and Tim is just ._. because the baby is fine, no they don't need help and Bruce don't you dare zeta over-
DamiJon
Damian standing there with hands out ready to receive the child into his care, only Bruce is being stubborn about it again.
Bruce making all manner of excuses for how Damian doesn't need to babysit and that Bruce can cancel his plans and-
But Damian is a dutiful son through and through and is wildly obtuse so he misses the obvious with Bruce wanting more time with the baby and insists that his father resume his duties and responsibilities because Damian can be trusted with this mission
And Bruce is just a big sad boy about it because baby
Meanwhile Clark is just fond as he looks after his partner before turning back to Jon to assure him that Jon can call for him if anything happens.
Which Jon rolls his eyes at because it's just for a few hours; they'll be fine. And then a little hair ruffle moment because yes, they will be fine they've both grown so much proud dad feels ;3;
But also they'll be fine because DamiJon spend their babysitting time on the farm with the grandma and grandpa Kent supervising lol
Anyway, Damian holding the baby and being so calm that the baby is just zen af, dozing and drooling on Damian's shoulder.
Damian swatting at Jon's hand when Jon goes to poke the squishy baby cheeks
So Jon smirks and pokes at Damian's cheeks, too. Because they're still round with youth.
Damian retaliates by pinching Jon's cheek. Doesn't matter if Jon is grown now; Damian can fuck him up - watch it. )<
Since it's only a few hours of babysitting, they'd pass the time wandering the farm. Introducing the baby to all the farm animals.
Just baby pats for the cows and sheep and Damian mindfully taking the baby's hand when Jon brings them a chicken because he's not risking any bird pecking at the babe.
The chickens pecking at Jon instead lol
The baby being snuffled at by a horse and the sound/feel of it making the baby laugh and Jon beams about it because this baby is a Kent through and through; a total farm baby.
Damian commenting on how that might be. Because the baby has Jon's nose. Which makes Jon fluster a bit because what? Really?
Jon scuffing his foot over the dirt and mumbling about how maybe the baby is theirs, after all? They have Damian's eyes.
Damian refusing this, because it's clearly his father's eyes.
And Jon just about gags because no, nope. Damian or nothing.
But anyway, an easy day spent babysitting on the farm.
Jon being surprised by Damian's grace with looking after babies. And Damian gets to share some of the experiences he remembers with the nanny that looked after him. It left such a lasting impression on Damian and it's so clear that he's fond and tender towards the memories and Jon is both glad and jealous because it's nice to know that Damian had some kinder childhood memories, too (even if Jon wasn't a part of them).
Martha showing them both how to properly feed a baby and burp and change and bathe them.
Come the end of the night, they're all tuckered out. Jon and Damian passed out on the couches in the living room. And the baby nestled up with grandma Kent who is so happy to have another grandbaby. Great grandbaby? Doesn't matter.
And then of course there's a clamor (or as much of a clamor as Bruce makes) as Bruce charges up to the house to fetch his clone baby because Bruce is always and forever an intense father
Bruce taking the baby but forgetting Damian at the farm
The way this man reverses the car all the way from the main road back to the farm ahahahaha
And Clark is there with Damian passed out in his arms and Bruce is so flushed with embarrassment because 'not a word, Clark.'
189 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiiiii - just wanted to say I love love love your writing 💗💗 and i have a req but idk if you’re still taking requests if you are yayy!! if not bloop 😪 Anyways you could make this multiple parts if you wanted to build on the storyline more but could you do a Neteyam or Aonung (I cant decide - both extremely beautiful in their own way) x reader. Maybe where Neteyam and y/n have always been close and like eachother but haven’t made it official or clear they want to be mates. All the other girls in the village desperately want Neteyam for themselves (obvi) and a few of them heavily flirt with him in which he is oblivious to making y/n jealous. So she plays hard to get and makes him jealous with Aonung or something. Idk but it can end in some FILTHY smut and then fluff 🤭🤭🤭 ok that’s my req. Thank you and keep up the amazing work!!!😁😁😁❤️
Eyes for You
🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞
Characters: Neteyam Sully (20) x Metkayina reader y/n (19) x Ao’nung (20)
Warnings: nsfw, heavy smut, fluff, first-time, foreplay, oral sex, rut cycle, jealous/protective Neteyam, consent king neteyam, profanity
Word count: 6.5k (sorry y’all, I have a problem with overwriting.)
Authors note: I tried to write this while I was experiencing some writers block + burn out, so this honestly isn’t my best work. Regardless, I hope this is okay, anon, and enjoy <3. Also, I’m feeling really inspired to write something that is unrequested. I’ll be temporarily closing my requests to that I can work through my list of requests thus far (even the ones sent in before this post went up), to the best of my abilities :)
Tags: @jakexneytiri (first part is the bow scene you requested)
Synopsis: You and Neteyam like each other but haven’t made it official. You’re promised to Ao’nung even though you don’t like him in that way. You see Neteyam with another girl, and flirt with Ao’nung to get back at him. Neteyam intervenes and makes you his.
Intro:
There isn’t a single girl in the village of Awa’atlu that doesn’t have a strong liking towards Neteyam. This includes you. As soon as Neteyam approached the shore with his hands out in the air, he caught your eye. You came out from behind your promised mate, Ao’nung, and examined the na’vi thoroughly. His tail was thin, just like the rest of his body, and he had darker skin with golden eyes. It was a beautiful sight, and he seemed to think so too, as his face lit up immediately when he first laid eyes on you. Since then, you guys spend most of your time together, as you teach him and his siblings everything they need to know about the reef people. He has even been teaching you his ways too, riding his ikran and learning how to use a bow and arrow. In the silent moments where it’s just you two, the tension is unspoken, and off the charts.
----
“Hold here, tighter.” He taps your elbow and repositions your grip on the taut string.
He’s so close behind you that you can feel his soft breaths on your shoulder. Each warm, pant that blows against your skin makes your bioluminescence glow, and your ears perk up. You simply can’t deny the way he makes you feel. You glance at him quickly, catching the sight of his serious gaze. You hold the string of the bow tighter and adjust your elbow.
“I can hear your heartbeat.” He whispers next to your ear. “Relax a bit, y/n.” He slides hand down the side of your waist, fixing your stance.
“Likewise.” You whisper back, hearing his heart thumping, too.
He leans into your shoulder, his braids barely brushing against your skin, and loosens your grip on your bow. How could you relax when he’s doing this to you? Does he even know what he’s doing? You turn to look at him, searching for any hint of innocence in his eyes.
He pulls back slightly, looking deeply into your eyes. “You know, it helps if you focus on the target, y/n.” he breathes, placing the tip of his index finger under your chin, using it to turn your head towards the target. It feels like your stomach is fluttering, all from his simple touch. You swallow your spit.
He must know what he’s doing, right?
You snap your head back to him, to see him smiling at you, glancing down at your lips. Those flutters in your stomach make their way up to your chest, quickening your heartbeat even more. His smile slowly disappears the more his heavy eyes stare at your lips, and you find yourself staring at his, too. Maybe it’s in your head, but it feels like the distance between you two is shrinking.
You feel his breath on your cheek now, causing your gaze to drop to your feet, and then shoot back up at the target. You clear your throat and reposition your arms. His hand lets go of your waist when he fixes his stance, slightly backing away from you.
He clears his throat, too. “Erm – good.” He looks at the target. “Now, release” he whispers, tapping his finger against your elbow again.
Your arrow completely misses the target. You laugh together, making eye contact again – only to drop your smiles when you feel the tension budding in the air.
“Good try, y/n.” he smiles again, brushing your upper back.
“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure we both saw it miss the target completely.” You laugh, covering your mouth.
He faces turns serious and takes your hand off your face. “You know I don’t like it when you cover your face when you laugh.” He says, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.
You can’t help but smile and stare at him, feeling the warmth in your chest spread throughout your body. “We should go back before our parents get upset.” You whisper, focusing on his lips.
He focuses on your lips, too. “We should. Dad might actually skin me.”
You look down from his lips, landing your stare on his bare, muscular chest. “Well, mine’ll skin you, too if you don’t get me back before the eclipse.” You laugh, using your hands to nudge him towards his ikran.
Though his body moves, his eyes remain locked onto your face.
“...and so would Ao’nung.” You tease, knowing that he hates hearing the name.
He rolls his eyes and walks swiftly to his resting ikran. “Get on, mermaid.”
You giggle, grabbing his hand and hopping on his ikran, seating yourself in front of him. After bonding with his banshee, he takes off, soaring quickly through the air. It’s almost like what happened ten minutes ago happens all over again, with his loud, hot breath on your shoulders, and his hand brushing against your waist – holding onto his ikran.
His warm chest presses lightly against your back, as he steadies his ikran that makes a sharp turn towards the shore. Your heartbeat speeds up. It never used to feel this way – this intense. Sure, being close to him made you nervous, but never this nervous. The flutters in your stomach turn into knots, and it’s almost like he could sense it.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, leaning into your shoulder.
“Yeah. Why?” you ask breathlessly.
“Your heartbeat. It is fast again.” He states, sounding a little worried.
“Oh, that.” you gulp quietly, “I guess I’m just a little motion sick”. You lie, looking down at your hands gripping the seat beneath you.
Immediately the ikran slows down, stabilizing itself even more. His free hand slides over your waist, onto the flat of your belly, and pushes you back into him.
“I’m sorry. Just relax and breathe, you’ll feel better soon.” He whispers into your ear, brushing his cheek against your hair. “Close your eyes.”
You melt into him and allow your heavy eyes to rest. The rest of the flight home is silent and so, so comfortable, that you don’t even realize that you’ve fallen asleep. You wake up to the eclipse occurring, looking down at the glowing arms wrapped around your waist. Not only are you snuggled into his chest, but he is also leaning into you, too.
You take a sharp breath and sit up quickly, looking around you to see exactly where you are. You’ve landed in the sand, right outside of your marui pod. You turn around to see his glowing amber eyes watching you, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were trying to restrain himself in some way.
“Hi.” You smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Sorry I fell asleep; you should’ve woken me up.”
“I did not want to disturb you. You looked...” the corners of his lips slightly curl upwards, “comfortable.” He lies, realizing it would be creepy to say that ‘you look beautiful even when you’re sleeping’.
The sound of your father’s voice breaks the growing tension.
“Y/n. I told you to come back before eclipse!” Your father shoots Neteyam a deadly look, storming towards you. Just as you’re about to explain, Neteyam speaks up for you.
“We got here before eclipse, sir. She felt sick and fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake her. I take full responsibility. I’m sorry, sir.” He bows his head at the chief warrior.
Your father shakes his head and comes to help you down his ikran. He drags you back home and you look back at Neteyam, who is waving goodbye to you, pursing his lips.
----
“You know I do not like you hanging out with that forest boy. You are promised to the son of Olo’eyktan, Ao’nung. Do not bring shame to this family.” Your father scolds you, resting his hand on your shoulder.
You shrug him off and walk away to the Marui pod. “You know I do not want Ao’nung, father. I don’t like him in that way.” You turn around, fuelled with anger. “Why must you force me?” you look at him through teary eyes.
“Not another word, daughter.” He says sternly, looking you directly in the eye.
You leave and go to bed, crying yourself to sleep.
----
“This will be your second rut without a mate, Neteyam.” Neytiri states firmly. “Why must you refuse all the beautiful girls that offer themselves to you? I will not continue to see my son suffer.”
“Mother.” He looks at his feet. “I don’t want anyone but y/n. I thought I made this clear. I will continue to spend my ruts alone until she is ready.” Neteyam argues, shaking his head. “I don’t care how painful they become.”
“I will be speaking to your father about your betrothment with Tsireya.” She spits, getting up to find Jake.
“Mother! Please.” Neteyam snaps, standing up behind her.
“Agh!” she grabs at the air in front of his eyes, causing him to jerk his head back. “It is final.”
----
You disconnect your queue from your ilu and make your way back to the shore. You enjoy your early morning swims, as the water is usually still warm by this time. You see Ao’nung standing at the shore, his hands crossed over his chest, peering at you through his brows (or what would be brows, lol). Ao’nung smirks as you walk on the shore in his direction.
He makes his way over to you, extending his hands outwards, as if he were asking for a hug. “My beautiful mate. I love watching you come out of the water.”
You look down at your feet as you walk past him, trying to avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Ao’nung, but we are not mated.” You mutter.
Ao’nung shouts after you as you walk away. “Agh. I know, I know. We will be soon, my love. No need to be so short with me!”
He knows that you don’t feel the same way about him, yet he continues his feeble attempts at winning your heart daily. Your heart has already chosen Neteyam, and has no space left for Ao’nung, no matter how handsome he may be. You walk up to the grassy part of the mangroves, lifting your head up to see a sight you wish you didn’t.
Neteyam is in front of you, leaning against the large roots of the mangroves, talking to Tsireya, the Olo’eyktan’s daughter. Her beauty is stunning – absolutely breath taking. You could see that he feels this way too just from the way he gazes down at her with the biggest smile on his face. She, too, is smiling with him, brushing against his bicep with her hand.
Jealousy consumes you. The feeling is like a spear to the heart – deep and painful. The pain radiates off your chest, up to your face, reddening it as your eyes sting, pooling with tears. You stand there, frozen in time, just taking in the sight before you. Neteyam laughs, and shakes his head, as if he were telling her ‘no’ to something.
He catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, and does a double take, looking directly at you. When his gaze meets yours and he realizes that your eyes are glossy from tears, his smile falls off his face. You look away, and turn around quickly, hoping that he didn’t see your tearful eyes. You walk hastily back to Ao’nung, with the image of him laughing with the prettiest girl in the village replaying in your head.
“Hey, pretty.” Ao’nung says huskily.
You force a smile on your face. “Sorry if I came off as rude a while ago. I’m not feeling great.” You lie.
He takes a few steps towards you, with concern written all over his face. “What is wrong?”
You didn’t want to tell him the truth – that you were feeling jealous about his sister of all people. “I’m just sore. The water was rough this morning.” You look up at him, meeting his blue-eyed gaze, seeing that he looks worried. “It’s just my back. I’m alright. Really.” You smile at him, thanking him silently for being so concerned.
Unbeknownst to you, Neteyam had made his way over to you the moment he laid eyes on you. He stood at the grassy area by the mangroves, watching the interaction between you and your fated mate intently. Ao’nung inches closer to your face and rests his hand on your waist.
“Crying over a sore back? It must be bad.” He moves swiftly behind you. “You do know my mother is Tsahik, yes? She has taught me quite a bit.” He places his other hand on your upper back. “Where does it hurt the most?”
You feel uncomfortable with his touches and turn around to face him, pulling away from his advances. You see Neteyam in your peripheral vision, seething from jealousy and anger, watching the two of you closely. (side eye, lol)
Is he jealous?
The thought of you making him jealous, too, makes you feel better, as bad as it sounds. You work with the situation, flipping it to your advantage. You focus back on Ao’nung, and smile at him.
“Thank you, Ao’nung.” You rub his bicep, sending Neteyam over the edge. “But I’m really alright.”
Ao’nung arches a brow and looks down at your hand rubbing his bicep. He looks up back up at you and grins, wrapping his hand around your waist. “Took you long enough to come around, my mate.” He pulls you into him, leaning in, staring at your lips.
Its only now dawning on you what you just got yourself into. You feel uncomfortable – on edge. You feel like running away, but you’re frozen, watching him inch in closer to you. Neteyam watches you two get closer, feeling pangs of pain in his chest. He really didn’t think you would choose him, even if you guys were promised to each other. He always knew deep down that there was something between the two of you, it just wasn’t official.
But he couldn’t stop you. He would never come between you and what you want. All he can do is accept it for what it is, no matter how much anger he’s feeling. If you choose Ao’nung, then so be it. His only concern is your happiness, and for it to be your choice. He drops his gaze to his feet, not being able to stand the sight.
It feels wrong, very wrong. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want Ao’nung, you want Neteyam. You break eye contact with Ao’nung, and finally put your hands against his chest, pushing him away from you.
“Wait, Ao’nung. I’m sorry. I, I-” You stutter, turning your head to avoid his gaze and lips. “I’m still not ready, yet.” Neteyam hears this, and his ears perk up as his head snaps back to you.
“Don’t back out on me now, pretty girl.” He cups your cheek and pulls your face in his line of sight.
“Stop, Ao’nung.” You pull your face out of his hand and take a step back, as your eyes start to well up with tears again.
“Y/n. You are promised to me.” Ao’nung says sternly. “How long are you going to take? My rut is coming soon.” He pulls you back into him by your waist, causing you to fall into his chest.
Neteyam doesn’t waste another second and rushes in, braids swinging in his face, and pushes Ao’nung away from you. “You heard what she said.” He growls, towering over Ao’nung.
You hide behind Neteyam, backing away from them both. They’re face to face, staring each other down, waiting to see who will back down first.
Two sons of Olo’eyktan challenging one another? Over me?
“Leave Neteyam. This does not concern you.” Ao’nung looks him up and down.
“No. Back. Off. Now.” he steps towards him, poking Ao’nung’s chest with his finger.
Ao’nung scoffs, shaking his head. “She is promised to me.” He steps towards him. “Mine.”
You’d never seen Neteyam this angry before. You could see the rage in his body language, he looks like an akula (shark-like animal) ready to strike.
“She is promised to nobody. She chooses who she wants.” He snarls, flashing his fangs.
Ao’nung looks behind Neteyam, directly in your eyes. He squints them, looking from you, to Neteyam, realizing that you both have feelings for each other and the ‘choice’ he speaks of is between him and Neteyam. Ao’nungs face relaxes, knowing this will just end in a fight - a fight that makes no sense. He takes a step back putting his hands in the air.
“Smart choice.” Neteyam growls. He turns around to look at you, his eyes were a deep gold, something you’ve never seen before. He shakes his head, as if he were disappointed in you and grabs you by the hand, leading you towards a hidden cave deep in the roots of the mangroves.
----
“What were you thinking?” He asks with his back turned to you, not being able to look you in the face.
“What were you thinking?” You shout back, still upset with him.
He turns around, walking towards you quickly, towering over you now. You look up at him, feeling small and feeble compared to his size.
“What? Don’t think I could’ve taken him?” he scoffs, shaking his head.
“I’m not talking about that, skxwang (idiot). I’m talking about you being all lovey-dovey with his sister.” You see his expression change; his gaze softens, and he pulls back. “Yeah, I saw you.” You cross your arms and turn around.
He laughs, loudly, finally understanding the entire situation. You’re both upset about the same thing.
“What’s so fucking funny?” you mumble, back still turned to him.
“We are upset about the same thing.” He slides his hand down your arm, and holds your hand, pulling you towards him.
You turn around, looking him in the eyes. “What?”
“You are jealous of Tsireya, and I am jealous of Ao’nung. What does that tell you?” he smiles, taking your other hand into his.
You roll your eyes and pull away from him. “I don’t even like Ao’nung, you know this. But Tsireya... She is the prettiest girl in the village, why wouldn’t you want her?”
“Y/n... That is not even true.” he scoffs, knowing you’re the most beautiful girl on pandora, “...and it is not what you think.” He grabs your hand again, pulling you into him. “Tsireya and I were just having a conversation.”
“Oh, yeah? A conversation... with her touching your arm like that? Come on.” You hit his hand away.
“Yes. We were making this stupid situation that we are in into a joke. My parents, they are trying to promise me to her, which is stupid because I already explained to them that I have eyes for someone else. And she – she even confessed to me that she has eyes for Lo’ak. It is really nothing like that.” He shakes his head, backing away to give you the space you want.
Your glossy eyes peer up at him, searching for the sincerity in his eyes. “Who?” you mutter.
He looks at you, confused. “Who?”
“Who do you have eyes for?” you ask, feeling the same stabbing feeling in your heart.
“Is it not obvious, y/n?” He whispers, stepping towards you. “I only have eyes for you.” he whispers, taking your hands into his.
Hearing these words make your heart flicker in your chest. You can’t help but smile, the swell of your cheeks finally pushing a tear out of your eye.
“I only have eyes for you, too.” You whisper, sliding your hands up his arms.
You knew your father would be upset if he found out what you were about to do, but you didn’t care. Neteyam didn’t care either, it’s time to break the unspoken tension between the two of you. Neteyam leans into you, his gaze fixed on your lips. You find your body responding to him, tilting your head upwards to meet the gaze of the man in front of you.
“Can I kiss you?” Neteyam asks, wrapping his hands around your waist.
“Please.” You breathe, before feeling his lips crash into yours, reeking of desperation.
He kisses you passionately, but in an inexperienced way. His hands are all over your body, trying to touch every inch of you. He backs you up against the rocky wall, and moves his feverish kisses down your neck, to your collarbones. Your hands make their way to his chest, where they slide down to his stomach, feeling every dip of his muscular physique.
“You are so beautiful, y/n.” He mumbles in between kisses, looking up at you with dark amber eyes.
You giggle, feeling shy from his comment. “Why are your eyes different?” you ask, trying to change the topic.
He kisses the bone between your breasts, inhaling your natural scent. “What do you mean?” he mumbles into your chest.
You feel your nipples harden, and shivers run down your back. “Your eyes, they are darker than usual.”
“Oh, sorry.” He pulls back, blinking rapidly, hoping they’ll change back to their original colour. “My rut is coming in a week.” He nestles back into your chest, lingering there, waiting for your consent.
The thought of him in rut, unable to control his insatiable urges, makes your undergarments wet. You nudge his head over to your left breast, while your free hand unties the knot of your top. Both your movements are hurried, eager for each other’s touches. He takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks on it rhythmically, blowing hot breaths through his nostrils onto your breast.
“Mmnh, feels so good.” You moan softly. He bites your nipple gently. “Neteyam!” You gasp, pulling his head even closer into you.
The sound of you moaning his name makes him impatient, sucking even harder at your nipple, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His big golden eyes stare up at you, like you’re something to be devoured. He unlatches from your nipple and kisses you again, his tongue exploring your mouth and intertwining with your tongue.
He kneads your breast with one hand and uses the other to play with the strap of your loincloth. You could feel his burning desire for you in his movements; he’s ready to take you right here. He shoves his knee between your legs, applying pressure to your cunt. You moan into his mouth and can’t resist humping at his leg.
“Shit.” He groans, applying even more pressure for you to hump at. “I like when you use me like that.”
You laugh between heavy breaths, feeling your slick wet his thigh. He notices, too. “Fuck, you’re that wet already?” he breathes, smiling with raised brows.
He kisses you again, like he can’t get enough of your touch. He kicks your legs open and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his hips. He’s pinning you against the wall, pushing his pelvis into yours. You feel the imprint of his cock through his loincloth, pressing against your hot, wet slit. It feels so thick, and warm, bulging against you, throbbing for some attention.
The friction against your clit feels amazing, like the heat from your cunt is making its way through the rest of your body in waves. The pressure in your chest builds to the point where you must release it through loud moans, and pants. All you can do is bury your face into the crook of his neck while he pins you to the wall and bucks his hips into you.
“Neteyam... it’s so thick.” You whisper shyly, now smelling his musky scent. “...and you smell so good.”
Neteyam is too busy willing himself to be gentle with his thrusts to listen to what you’re saying. He wants to take you right here, right now – to shove his cock inside of you in one thrust and fuck you carelessly for even looking at Ao’nung.
“Why did you touch Ao’nung like that? You should only be touching me like that.” he thrusts hard against your cunt.
You can feel how stiff his cock is, rutting into your plump cunt like that, eager for some release.
“Yeah? And you should only be touching me like this.” You take his hand and press it firming against your breast.
He kneads your breast and kisses you roughly, breathing hard through his nose. All the tension that has been building since his arrival to your village is finally coming to a head. You grab his face and melt even further into his kiss, squeezing your legs that wrap around his hips, trying to push him harder against you.
He pulls away from the kiss, catching his breath. “Can I taste you here?” he pants, looking down at your sticky pelvises rubbing against each other.
“Ugh... yes, Nete.” You whimper, desperate for your mate’s touches.
He puts you down and starts kissing your neck, making his way down your chest once more. You will yourself to stand on your shaky legs, weak from holding onto him so tightly. He kisses your stomach, paying extra attention to your belly button with his tongue. The sensation is so erotic, feeling him inch his way down to your most vulnerable part. He’s breathing in deeply, trying to savour the scent of your cunt.
He kneels before you, looking up at you with big golden saucers for eyes, fiddling with the straps of your loincloth, asking you silently if he can take it off. You look down at him and nod your head, using your hand to try pull down your undergarments. As soon as he gets your consent, he buries his nose into your hips, and slides his fingers underneath the cloth, slowly pulling it down your legs.
He’s grunting into your soft flesh, kissing your thighs and your plump pussy lips. He gently opens your trembling legs, that struggle to remain standing, and looks up at you while he uses his tongue to part your lips. The flavour of your cunt is so sweet – so enticing, that he closes his eyes to fully immerse himself in the experience of eating you out, swallowing the slick that pools in his cheeks.
Although he is inexperienced, he follows his body’s commands, lapping at the sensitive nub at the top of your slit. He feels your body jolt from pleasure, telling him that he’s just found your sweet spot. He sucks lightly at your clit, opening his mouth and licking you from your hole up to your pearl, engulfing it with his hot mouth. He uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart as he makes out with your cunt, looking back up at you.
The sensation is too good, you feel like your legs are going to give out any second. Your hips thrust into his face on their own, already chasing your orgasm. Covering your mouth with your hand, you stop yourself from letting loose the loud moans that make their way up your throat. Your free hand explores the wall you lean against, trying to find something to hold on to. Neteyam notices this and takes your hand, placing it on his head. You weave your fingers through his braids and hold on tightly, as he eats your cunt hungrily.
Not being able to hold back your moans anymore, you drop your hand from your mouth and place it on his head. You let your head dip back as you let loose lengthy mewls into the air as you experience your intense climax. You look down to see Neteyam touching himself, rubbing his bulge with his hand as he laps at your sopping cunt. You want nothing more than to share your next climax with him.
“Fuck... I wanna cum with you, ‘teyam.” You moan breathlessly, legs trembling uncontrollably as you try to push away his head.
He peers up at you, gulping your juices loudly before pulling away from your throbbing cunt. He stands quickly, meeting his lips with yours, having you taste your own cum. He kisses you frantically, still touching himself.
“Mine to touch.” You slap away his hand and grab his growing bulge.
He moans at your aggressive advances. You pull down his loincloth in a hurry, to hear the slap of his cock against his belly. You look down to see his monstrous cock, oozing beads of precum out of its pink, mushroom-like head. His slick is shiny, glistening in the light that reflects against the water outside of the cave. It looks so tempting.
“I want to taste you, too.” You announce, quickly dropping to your knees.
His warm, rock-hard cock brushes against your cheek. You take a deep breath and hold it to savour his musky scent. You release your hot breath through your nose, as you rub your closed mouth up and down against his shaft. The heat of your breath against his sensitive, throbbing cock sends his head back in frustration – he’s eager for you to take him in your mouth. You sense his desperation, and lick the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around his cockhead. He bucks his hips suddenly, sliding his cock over your closed eye.
You let out a breathy laugh. “Want to fuck my face that badly?” You lick his cock from the base of his shaft, back up to his tip and take him into your mouth.
His cock is so thick and girthy that it stings the corners of your mouth when he thrusts inside down your mouth. He’s pressing his hands firmly against the rocky wall behind you, trying to prevent himself from ramming his entire length down your slippery throat. You suck harshly, paying attention to his swollen cockhead as you bob your head up and down.
“F-fuck.” He groans, dropping his head, feeling overstimulated “I need to be inside you.” He grips you by the hair and pulls you off his cock, standing you up. He’s panting like a maniac, backing you up against wall yet again, kissing you hungrily.
“So, fuck me, Neteyam.” You grunt into his mouth, reaching down to stroke his swollen cock.
“Shit. Spread your legs for me.” He moans into your mouth between feverish kisses.
You obey him, opening your legs as wide as you can whilst standing up. His fingers rub against your slit, coating themselves with your glossy slick. You whine against his fingers, trying to grasp them with the walls of your cunt. He rams two fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch your hole out enough for his cock.
“Nghh, Neteyam... make me yours.” You pant, trying to grind into his fingers. “Just put it in, already” you whine, trying to replace his fingers with his cock.
“Patience, my love.” He pants, trying to be gentle with you. “It is your first time, no? You must be stretched.” He hums, inserting his third digit inside of you.
You feel like you’re losing it, you just need his cock inside of you. “Please. I need this.” You beg, gripping his member.
His hand is pressing against the wall; his wrist brushing against your neck as he looks deeply into your eyes – forehead to forehead. He searches your eyes for your bluff, to be met with your serious glare. He’s so eager to fuck you that he can’t even hold himself back anymore to stretch you out properly.
“Fuck, y/n.” he exhales, moving his hand from your slit and turning you around, pressing you roughly against the wall.
Your tail sways wildly from side to side, tickling his throbbing cock, as you look behind you at your soon-to-be mate. You see him reach for his queue, running his hand along its length before bringing it forward. Knots form in your stomach knowing that he’s about to make the bond with you. He takes his hand off your head and reaches for your queue, bringing it towards his.
He pauses, waiting for your word – for your consent.
“Yes, Neteyam. Do it.” You say through shaky breaths, feeling your slick drip down your legs from the thought of him being all yours. You knew this would upset many people close to you, but you didn’t care.
He watches closely as your tendrils wrap around each other, morphing together to form a unified connection. Your eyes bulge and dilate as you both take a sharp breath, feeling your bodies and minds sync together. He looks down at you, and you look behind you to meet his gaze, knowing his every thought – knowing exactly how badly he wants you.
You’re panting at the mere thought of him ploughing into your cunt. He presses you against the wall with his body, pushing his bulge against your slit, coating it with your thick nectar. He leans into your ear, brushing his lips against it, just taking in the feeling of his mate. You feel him grip his cock and rub the tip against your hole. You feel his restraint – his struggle to fight the urge to bury himself inside you.
Please... hurry. You pant, pushing yourself back onto him.
Say the words, y/n. Use your voice.
“Fuck me.” You moan breathlessly, feeling his hot breath against the back of your neck. “Please.” you whisper.
“Good girl.” he smiles into your shoulder, lifting one of your legs up in the air, spreading you wide enough to accommodate him.
He slides the tip in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his thickness. It feels as if you’re overly full – stuffed to the brim with Neteyam’s huge cock, and it isn’t even half way in yet. You whimper loudly, from the mixture of pain and pleasure of taking something this massive inside of you. Neteyam cups your mouth with his hand, muffling your loud, lewd noises.
“Shhh... Mawey. You don’t want your father hearing us, do you?” he growls into your neck, slipping into his hazy fog of desperation. Your whimpers quiet down into soft mewls as your cunt stretches to the sheer girth of his cock. He praises you by planting soft wet kisses on the nape of your neck.
“That’s a good girl.” He groans into your neck, inhaling your natural scent. “You are taking me so well.” He looks down at the sight of his mate taking his cock for the first time, causing him to lose his control for a split second.
“Although, I would love to have Ao’nung hear this.” He rams his entire cock inside of your cunt in one swift thrust, getting the pain over with for you.
“Agh! Neteyam!” You yelp out a long, loud scream, feeling overstimulated from the mixture of sensations happening all at once.
Hearing his name roll of your tongue in such a lewd manner causes him to fall deeper into the haze he’s under. He’s breathing heavily into your shoulder, enduring the tightness of your cunt as it clenches around his entire length, willing himself not to pump in and out of you.
“Mmn’ you okay?” he mumbles, focusing on being as gentle as he possibly can with you.
“Sst. ‘ts too big, it stings, Nete!” you panic, frantically trying to accommodate to his size.
“Shh... I’m sorry, baby.” He kisses your neck while rubbing circles into your thighs, patiently waiting for you to get comfortable. “But you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this... wanting you.” he growls.
Flutters are felt in your stomach, yet again, making you want him even more. “Me too, Nete... I’ve wanted you from the moment I first lay eyes on you.” You say between shaky breaths. “You can move now.” You moan, feeling more pleasure than pain as you back yourself up on him.
Those were the only words he needed to hear. He begins thrusting into you with no rhythm, grinding his cockhead against the hole of your cervix. He moves his hand in front of your body, tracing the dips of your stomach as he makes his way down to your swollen clit. He rubs circles into your wet pearl as he ruts relentlessly into you.
“Oh, good Eywa. Neteyam!” a new sensation washes over you as he fucks right into your sweet spot.
“Fuck. You’re so... *thrust* fucking small... *thrust* so tiny... *thrust* and tight.” he grunts into your ear, rolling your clit between his fingers. “Shit. You’re just sucking me in.”
He’s pounding into you at this point, unable to restrain himself from his territorial urges, fuelled by the jealousy of seeing Ao’nung touch you in that way. You could feel that his climax is near, as yours is nearing too. Your leg is shaking, about to give out at any moment. He takes notice of this, and lifts your other leg, causing you to slump back into him as he fucks you suspended in the air.
He weaves his arms under your knees and around the back of your head, spreading your legs as wide as they can possibly go. He is pounding into you so hard that you can feel his balls slap against your sore clit. His movements become erratic, like he’s going to cum inside of you any second. The heat is overwhelming, like you’re about to implode from the sheer force of his thrusts.
“Fuck! ‘m gonna cum!” you cry, finally feeling the burning sensation in your chest shoot down into your pelvis. Your walls clench tightly around his cock, on the verge of pulsating.
“Oh – oh fuck.” He huffs, quickly climbing to his peak. “Moan my name. Tell me who you are really promised to.” he groans, licking the dip of your shoulder.
“Ngh... Ne-neteyam! I’m promised to you! Oh – I’m cumming!” your cunt throbs quickly as you cum to the sound of his sweaty skin slapping against yours, burying his pulsating cock deep into your cunt.
“Gooood girl. Cum all over my cock” he grunts into your ear, cumming inside of you. “Ughh... fuck.” he groans, looking down at his cock spurting its thick, heavy ropes of cum into your cunt.
He rests his head into your shoulder, desperately trying to calm down from his high. He’s panting hot breathes onto your clammy skin, already being consumed by his urges yet again. He uncontrollably bucks his hips into you, as you feel his low mewls vibrate into your shoulder. He’s whimpering from the overstimulation of his body rutting into you after just cumming.
“Y/n. You need to go.” He growls, suddenly pulling out of you and releasing your legs – causing you to fall to your knees, breaking tsaheylu. You turn your head around and look up at Neteyam to be met with reptilian-like, green eyes, peering down at you.
“Neteyam?” you pant breathlessly, already knowing what’s happening.
Your mate just went into rut.
#neteyam sully#neteyam#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam x you#neteyam smut#avatar way of water#avatar x you#avatar smut#lo'ak avatar#avatar#metkayina#rut cycles#neteyam fic#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x metkayina!reader
941 notes
·
View notes
Text
I saw a post the other day that listed a number of facts about La Fayette and while I am more than just a bit skeptical with regards to some of these “facts”, I also hate to correct other people in such a manner. Anyway, there was one remark (well, actually two) that made me think in particular.
First, let us all say it together - La Fayette did not come to America disguised as a woman.
With that out of the way – Slavery. Just like in that post, La Fayette is often praised for his stance against slavery and for raising the topic with prominent slaveholders like Washington and Jefferson. And all that is true. La Fayette was against slavery, he spoke up for enslaved individuals, most notably James Armistead Lafayette, and spoke against the institution of slavery in general. He also let actions follow his words. Now, were all of his actions crowned with success – no. Where his ideas and approaches always the best ways to handle the problem – no. But he took an almost lifelong stance at a time when many people were content with saying nothing or even outright profiting from slavery.
Now, here is a point that brings the complexity and that many of these “have some random facts about La Fayette he was so great” posts not quite capture – and to be fair, that is also not what they are aiming for.
Slavery and the participation in the system were for La Fayette not necessarily deal brakers.
What do I mean by that? La Fayette owned land in Louisiana and was one day approached by John Gravier, who owned land nearby and wanted to buy some of La Fayette’s land. He offered La Fayette to pay either in “real” money or in enslaved people. La Fayette was frankly disgusted by the second proposal – and he wrote so in a letter to James Madison, a slaveholder and someone who, most likely, I am not an expert on Madison, also sold and bought enslaved people and maybe even used them as “barging chips” in some form of financial transaction. La Fayette urged Washington to join him in his plantation project because he was keenly aware of the mojo Washington’s participation could have. Washington refused and La Fayette did not seem to hold too many grudges. Was he disappointed? Probably, even likely – but he still looked up to Washington. I do not want to fire up this puppy-love narrative, but the fact remains, that La Fayette, until the end of his life, remembered Washington very fondly, praised, him, considered him a friend, mentor and even father-figure. He certainly was aware of the problem with Washington being a slaveholder, otherwise La Fayette would not have stirred up the topics that he did – but it was in the end no deal breaker for him. Same thing with people like Jefferson, Monroe or Madison. Jefferson is particular interesting since La Fayette wrote Jefferson many letters where he broached this topic. From the way these letters are phrased I often wonder if a) La Fayette thought Jefferson his friend and as such was determined to tell him everything on his mind, regardless of Jefferson’s own opinion on the matter, b) La Fayette believed Jefferson when the latter wrote that he actually was also against slavery, or c) La Fayette knew that he could write about everything and Jefferson could not protest without retracting his own statements.
Anyway, La Fayette could criticize slavery, quite harshly even, he could call enslavers criminals, he could spend a lot of time and money and effort to take actions and proof to the world that it could be done – but he could also call Washington the “patriarch of liberty”, praise Jefferson and assure both of them of his deep and everlasting affection. It also did not stop him from staying at plantations like Mount Vernon or Monticello. While he always travelled with a number of servants who were in his employ, free, and well paid, it is impossible to stay at a place like Mount Vernon, especially for an extended period of time, and not, in some shape or for, profit from the labour of the enslaved workers there. We do not know what La Fayette thought about that, if it maybe even reinforce his views. We do know that he raised the subject of slavery and abolition when he met Jefferson and Washington in person – but when it came to his friends, it was not a deal breaker for him. He definitly used his friendships to be an influence on Washington, Jefferson and the likes and we can not look into his head to see what his motives or thoughts were in regards to this topic. Human relations are often a web of complex emotions.
I do not want to downplay what he did, but we should also not forget that his engagement was not perfect, he was not perfect – and with that I thank you all for listening to my little rant. :-)
#marquis de lafayette#la fayette#french history#american history#history#slavery#george washington#thomas jefferson#james madison#just some thoughts that kept me awake last night
85 notes
·
View notes
Text
gratitude
simon “ghost” riley x female reader
you’re always the one thanking ghost, and though he likes to tease you for it, he thinks it’s about time he starts showing you his own gratitude.
content: suggestive themes, slight violence, ghost is tsundere but really cares about reader!
notes: sorry guys i had to post this for a second time since there was a bug before!! i unfortunately cant put a read more option so…🥲 anyway. no smut this time!! but in the next fic (soap), u can count on it!!
“Heads up, soldier.”
You wince just in time to narrowly miss an item to the face, hand reacting- clasping- and promptly dropping whatever the hell he threw your way.
Glancing up with an attempt at a glare (but your lips are curling and you can’t ever really be mad at him), your gaze meets your Lieutenant’s, inscrutable as always, brown eyes glinting beneath his mask.
“Brilliant catch, Y/n.”
“Oh, c’mon!!” You whine, fighting back a big grin as you finger for the object (some sort of food, you surmise without looking) fallen in your lap. And you stand, then, striding casually over to Ghost. “Your aim isn’t so good outside of snipers and pistols- don’t blame it on me!”
You’ve got the feeling his brow is quirked beneath the skull extension. That he’s battling a smile of his own and, when you nab him playfully against his shoulder- flashing him that cute little scrunched nose of yours- he nearly loses.
“That so?” He’s not convinced. You huff, “yeah! Ought to put you back in selection, I think!”
He hums, low and brief at that. And you can tell there’s some jest there, can vaguely recognize the humor he’s trying to convey, but it comes out clipped and sort of weird, like he’s not so sure how to do it the right way.
“I think,” he starts, in that thick Manchester accent, idly adjusting the big gun strapped to his chest, “I was aimin’ for your head, and hit right on target.”
Once it clicks, you huff and spin away. “Oh, you jerk.”
And on your way out of the wrecked, dusty room- “Didn’t even check it, did ya?”
Looking down, deciding to bite your tongue- partly out of obedience but mainly out of curiosity, you pause in your tracks.
Clutched in your fingers is a bar of Hershey’s.
“Oh,” you breathe. If you’re blushing, you do (hopefully) good not to show it, blinking away the delicate warmth of your cheeks as you sniff and belatedly turn around to face your statuesque Lieutenant. Owlish, you are.
The two words are simple enough, but they somehow get stuck in your gums regardless and the faint awkwardness of Ghost’s stance doesn’t go unnoticed either. He’s stiff and heavy and big but the sun leaking in through the busted windows coats him in a sort of tenderness. Makes him sunnier than he really is, paints all his red in yellow, washes his death away in a river of gold.
You smile good. “Thank you.”
He grunts in acknowledgment, giving you a frank nod before he clears his throat and lets his shoulders slump some. “No trouble. Found it in a pile of dust. Thought you might like it.”
You huff for the umpteenth time. Still, can’t snuff out the little grin that pulls up your cheeks, so you turn away and shake your head. “C’mon, Simon, just say you’re welcome or somethin’… Ain’t that hard.”
There’s a beat of silence before you walk to the door, but you pause once more. Feel like you should, like something was holding you back there- some unseen force gripping you in place like a vice.
“I… won’t get poisoned if I eat this?”
He makes a halfhearted sort of scoff. “Hope not.”
“Ghost!”
“Nah,” he finally answers.
The fun’s over, the flesh of the joke was dragged on for as long as it could be. And the dust settles over the room again, on his shoulders and the muzzle of his glinting gun. His brown eyes flicker down to it as he talks to you, figures he ought to stare at something other than you like he has been for the entirety of five minutes.
“You like sweet things, don’t ya? Eat up, then, we’ve got a ways to go before home.”
You don’t have to say anything. It’s not a necessity and- of all people in the world- Ghost wouldn’t take offense if you left wordless.
“…Thank you,” you say anyway. Tender, more soft than the previous time, but you can’t find it in you to look him in the eye right now for some odd reason.
“Already said that, pet.”
“W-Well, I said it again.”
“That ya did.”
Then, after a heavy stretch of spoiling silence, you do leave.
♡
He’s not very good at controlling his temper, even after all the management.
If that wasn’t obvious before, it’s being made abundantly clear now, Ghost a towering fortress as he stands between you and the enemy who managed to weasel in through the back.
You’re not so sure what the guy’s saying, mostly due to the ringing in your ears, the shock of it all- but the fact that he’s speaking another language certainly doesn’t help your case.
Squirming on the floor in a puddle of his blood, the man chokes back a cry as Ghost lowers himself to one knee beside him.
Slow. Calculated. Ghost knows what will happen, and he has no qualms about it.
“¡Solo déjame ir, vamos, estaba siguiendo órdenes! Malditos pedidos! ¡Solo déjame! No diré una palabra…”
You don’t know what he’s saying—
“D-Déjame ser.”
But Lieutenant’s brushed up on his Spanish.
From your spot behind Simon, half curled up in a ball with your pistol lying a few feet away on the tile, you watch something glint in the moonlight.
“lo haré.”
A blade, your brain quickly supplies, but before you can think much of it- there’s a sickening stab, sharp meeting something spongey- a hushed scream (lost in Simon’s gloved hand)- and a dying gurgle.
Simon intakes a shaky breath. Slowly shifts, drawing his knife to his pocket, tosses a calm glance over his shoulder at you.
Stands to his feet and, for a blistering, ever fleeting moment, you feel vaguely afraid of the hulking man standing over you.
“Tell me you’re alright,” is all he says, though, extending a hand- his clean one- out to you.
You exhale, breath almost as shaky as his. And you take it.
“I’m alright.” You whisper.
♡
He’s… softer later.
After you’ve showered and your hair smells of honey and something else sweet, a fluffy towel wrapped around your nakedness as you emerge from the bathroom.
Propped against the wall opposite the door, clad in civvies, Ghost’s brown eyes meet yours- faintly tired- and go blank.
Realization kicks in, for the both of you.
“Bloody hell,” he sort of snaps, “forgot your clothes, have you?”
“I’m sorry,” you blurt improperly, smaller hands scrabbling to secure your towel as you take a timid step back, shrinking halfway behind the shower room’s door. He doesn’t really face you as he says,
“No need… S’pose I don’t quite belong here anyway, do I?” It’s not rhetorical; with a mad blush to your cheeks (that you cannot blink away this time), you hear him clear his throat.
“I wanted to…”
He’s chewing on the words he has to say. But it’s hard to say. Awkward, too- and the situation is already uncomfortable enough, he can tell he caught you well off guard- if your skittering stance and darting eyes were the least bit credible.
(To his defense, he thought you’d be fully clothed- at the very least in a tanktop or sweats- and prepared. And to yours- you thought most if not all of your fellow soldiers would be in a deep sleep by now, if the clock that read three am was still working, and you forgot your nightwear anyway.)
So he just chews and chews and chews.
“Earlier,” but he does find his way again, albeit somewhat uneasy. “That bastard got you good,” he says gruffly, dark eyes meeting yours for a moment across you. Anger spikes in him at the recent memory. “…Your ankle feel alright?”
“Oh,” you breathe, throwing a thoughtful glance down to the gnarly, blossoming bruise peeking out from the short towel. Managing a sheepish, somewhat tired smile his way, you nod.
“Mm, I’m alright. I told you, ‘member?”
And that little, charming grin that burrows somewhere deep within his chest.
“I do,” he eventually confirms.
Beads of water run down your shoulders- he catches one slipping down your chest, between the valley of those gorgeous breasts before disappearing under the damn towel. And your hair is wet, stray strands plastered to your forehead, curls sticking at your cheekbones, you look something of an angel, all doe-eyed and vaguely embarrassed, trying hard to keep it all in check. Your cheeks are a healthy flush from the cold water.
You glow like a sweetheart and Ghost, he- He stands as still as a dead thing in the awful fluorescence of the hall.
The better part of his rationality strikes him next.
He quickly turns away, adjusting his balaclava before tucking his hands in his pockets, and he won’t let you glimpse his face as he points a foot in the direction of where he presumedly came from.
“Well, glad to hear, Sergeant. Could afford to lie better, though.”
You huff fondly, nibbling on the insides of your cheeks. “What,” you say, just before he can force out his parting words and leave you. “You came to help me or somethin’?”
He’s quiet for one long second.
“…You gonna tell me no?”
You smile, all sheepish, but partly entertained. “No.”
You want to believe it’s a stubborn grin curling under his mask when he glances over to you once more, because his eyes seem to glint pleasantly and the breath he takes in isn’t so controlled.
“You get dressed then, yeah? Put on somethin’; come once you’re ready.” He tells you, voice a fond rumble in the odd flicker or two of the fluorescence overhead.
“O-Okay,” you agree rather quickly, inching out some from the doorway, steam rising from behind you like a tidal wave as you timidly add, “I-It’s late though-? Don’t you wanna sleep?”
Searching for any reason why he can’t take you, why harboring you in his bunkroom may be a bad idea, why he may regret it.
Not that you’re planning on anything devious- like childishly knocking him in the shoulder or reaching for his mask, or ripping the sheets from his bed, even- just that you’d hate to fuck up around your strong Lieutenant, and you know his grouchiness is often heightened when he’s low on rest.
“Can you sleep?” He counters back.
You inaudibly clear your throat, fingers gently fiddling with the hem of your towel and Simon watches it all cautiously as you belatedly meet his eye. “I’ll change.”
Your nod is returned, and he shortly leaves. “You do that.”
The whole way back to the room you’d been assigned to, you limp.
♡
You come back to him in a snug tanktop and striped pajama pants that graciously hide the ugly bruises just at the bone of your ankle.
One knock, two knock—
Except, the door’s opening before your knuckles can meet it for a third time.
He performs a quick once-over of you, skimming over the casual nightwear— he hopes not lingering at your breasts (though it’s like they’re gawking at him, and it’s not often he sees you in these sort of clothes)- and huffing lowly.
“In,” is his simple invitation. And just like his hand earlier at El Asilo, you take it.
The room-situation here is temporary— it always is— and though the lot of you haven’t stayed here for over a week, you think the small space even smells of him. Something faintly woodsy, shampoo and residual gunpowder clinging to his hair beneath the balaclava.
“I like it,” you say after spinning around every which way, looking at the wonderful blank walls to the right, and the lonely cot to the left, and the lack of color and decoration to the cookie-cutter room.
He makes a half-amused huff at that. “That right? It’s just like yours, I’m sure… Nothin’ brilliant behind the door?”
You nod, somewhat sleepy, before approaching the mattress a couple feet off the floor, pushed to the wall.
“Nothin’ brilliant,” you parrot- “S’it okay if I sit?”
His eyes, ever inscrutable beneath that damn mask, skim over you, and maybe it’s just the exhaustion but you find an odd twinkle in them- like Simon’s really seeing something in you, unconsciously filtering out the badder parts, looking at you in this dazzling sort of light.
You are awash in a gentle jest and the spirals of your hair still glow from the shower, your cheeks carved by a soft smile- which he then realizes is quite timid. You’re tense.
This is your Lieutenant’s room, and if anyone sees you in it with him at this ungodly hour, they may get the wrong idea…
But Simon doesn’t want either of you walking on eggshells. So, with a half-assed jerk of his chin towards his bed, he says, striding forward,
“Have at it, I’ll get your leg operating again, no worries.”
“It is operating,” you counter harmlessly, belatedly settling back onto his sheets. He snatches a kit from the top of his dresser and meets you again, dropping to a kneel before you.
It’s silent for a while as he opens it up, though not a bad silence, by any means, before his dark, inscrutable eyes flicker up to yours. “…I’ll just wrap it for ya,” he starts almost timidly, before giving his throat a good clear. “Be good as new before y’know it.”
You smile down at him, teeth peeking through your lips like glittering pearls for a moment before your shyness takes over and you blink away. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“You say that a lot,” he mutters.
“Say it ‘cause I mean it,” you counter pleasantly.
He huffs at that, plucking out a roll of gauze before unraveling some in his hands, positioning it up to your ankle. He almost cringes at the bruise there, the idea of you walking with so much pain, but merely responds with,
“Well,… gratitude looks good on ya, pet.”
You’re blushing to your ears. “T-Thanks. You too…”
Simon glances at the flustered expression you wear, your incoherent words that made no proper sense, and fully realizes what he just said, quickly refocusing his attention back on your ankle.
Feels his heart palpitate… Tries to recount if he had any caffeine earlier. (And he didn’t. A good part of him already knew that.)
Your eyes are trained to the ceiling like a silent martyr as Ghost’s hands, big and callous, gently hold your ankle up, decorating the dark galaxy there with white bandage.
“Like a champ,” he compliments your endurance, and yes, your chest does tighten.
…He ties the bandage off after a bit, slowly trailing his gaze up to yours.
“There… All done,” he says.
But the words take their time to exit his throat, because he distinctly realizes the job has been done, and you’ll be leaving him soon. And then he’ll close his door, lock it for good measure, and pretend to be asleep for an hour rather than thinking about you, and the way your name sounds, and how gorgeous you are all hidden away in his heart.
You smile again, lips parting sheepishly—
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
You pause. Your cheeks are burning up a fever but the longer you fidget, the more you feel inclined to spit something out. So you do.
“Sweetheart?” You mimic, “…Guess I’m not so low on Simon Riley’s list of good things?”
He scoffs. There’s a hint of a grin curling beneath his mask but you’d never know. It’s supposed to be that way. Why he wears it. Now, he’s wondering what you’d say should he take it off and show you.
He shrugs halfheartedly. “Eh. Could rank better.” He jokes, and he knows you have to stay for a bit longer now- if only to try and get the last word in, to defend your dignity— no, your relationship with Ghost.
And he’s right.
“Simon, you jerk!” You beam, fighting off a mad grin and losing awfully, hands trying desperately to wipe it away. He’s glad they can’t, still at his knees before you, those dark eyes drinking every glowing part of you in.
“You’re so mean to me sometimes,” you murmur, and he just hums all casual like the bastard he is, tucking the gauze back away.
“Maybe you deserve it, a bit more common sense couldn’t hurt ya, yeah?”
You quirk a brow at that, tilting your head like a confused puppy. You couldn’t help but notice the strange undercurrent there, even though you knew he was only teasing.
“Is that some fancy british way of calling me stupid?”
His jaw shifts from beneath the balaclava, his eyes softening some. “No, pet,” he pats your thigh, then, before rising to his feet, growing like a shadow over you.
“It’s my way of saying I bloody hope you don’t waltz into just any man’s room at night… Is danger a foreign concept to ya?”
He’s still joking- his back facing you as he goes to return the kit- you know that, but—
Your smile falters ever so slightly. “You’re not a foreign concept to me,” your cheeks are still hot and they feel rosy. “You’re my….”
This makes him turn around, deep-chestnut hues surveying you closely, yet distantly too, like he’s ready to run at any given moment. It frightens you.
“Go on…”
Like he’s ready to harden over again.
Your cheeks puff with a cheery little smile. And you stand, though rather uncoordinatedly, from the bed.
The mattress groaning beneath you, you sweep a hand up through the air to point a confident finger at his chest.
“You’re my favorite Lieutenant. My Simon Riley.”
He turns to you fully, then. His body a stoic wall of something you could never read, and his eyes betray nothing as they flicker and spark against yours. He strides forward, all the way forward, ‘til the hard muscle of his chest beneath his shirt digs into the pad of the finger you point.
For a split second, you think you’ve wronged him.
Simon just reaches up, though, taking your jittery hand in his, lowering it down between you. And he presses himself closer, his hot breath puffing past his mask and warming the tip of your nose as he says,
“That’s right, doll… All yours.”
And when you hesitantly go to inch the lower half of his balaclava up, that harmless curiosity winning out as your eyes drop to his mouth, you find a subtle grin there.
Simon leans in even more, every shaking breath he takes mingling with yours as he dips his head in, whispering, in that gruff rumble that has your tummy spiraling,
“Long as you’re all mine.”
His lips touch with yours, slowly crashing- a controlled, yet frenetic dance of your mouth against his, slightly inexperienced, though the passion there triumphs. His hands are at your hips before you know it, feeling you up, getting to know you in the way he’s wanted to for months now, but never had the proper balls to.
It’s mostly soft at first, gentle, eager pecks and suckles at your mouth— but when your breasts smack flush against his chest and he groans, earning a delicious little whine from you, all of Simon’s rationality flies out the window.
“Oi, the hell’re you tryin’ to do to me?”
He grunts when you finally pull away for air, panting, the both of you a dazzling mess of blushy cheeks and budding, uncertain arousal. His fingers draw up your face, savoring the warmth he finds there before they press into the curls of your hair and you watch his eyes like a hawk.
Calculative. Slow… Thoughtful, so broken in by war and bloodshed and bad memories.
Your doe eyes… They drag him in like a winter night’s tide and he can’t find it in himself to resurface.
“Fuckin’ hell…”
He leans in once more- harboring a whole new initiative, it seems- and captures your lips in his. All his darkness seeps into you like watercolor on a page, a million tiny fireworks going off in your belly as your knees buckle, and he holds onto you like you’re his lifeline.
His single thing worth a damn.
“Open,” he barely demands, chest rumbling against yours, every vibration giving you butterflies. “Give me some tongue, won’t you?”
You obey, belatedly parting your lips, his tongue meeting with yours, his palm pushing the back of your head in closer as he groans into the kiss.
“Atta girl.” He breathes, his eyes, rimmed by the black fabric, pinched shut as he backs away for oxygen, brows furrowed tight as his enamored hues then sweep over you.
“Let me show you my gratitude, pet, yeah?”
#call of duty#cod x reader#ghost x reader#ghost#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#simon riley#simon ghost riley
697 notes
·
View notes
Text
An Option
Stelle stumbles in with cuts and bruises all over her arms and face.
Caelus:Woah…what happened to you?
Stelle: Automatons and their mechanical koi contraptions. Ugh, I’m over those things. There has to be a better way to get materials.
Caelus:You’re bleeding.
Stelle:It’s fine.
Caelus: That’s the Destruction in you talking.
Stelle:Pfft, as you’re Mr. Preservation? My risks are just a little flashier than yours.
Caelus: Butt. Seat. Right now.
The girl groaned as she walked over to a chair while Caelus got up to get the first aid kit. Everyone bone felt like the abandoned door on a haunted house as Stelle tried to relax her body. Caelus came back quickly, brushing her tangled hair out of her face and gently putting a cotton ball doused with rubbing alcohol on a cheek cut that made her wince.
Steele: Hiss! That stings!
Caelus:I bet it does! Probably not as much as it was to get in the first place. Man, you really at shit.
Stelle:Thank you. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear after helping people all evening. Immaculate bed side manner.
Caelus:You’re extra feisty today. Credits for your troubles?
Stelle:I’m tired is all. I don’t know…maybe feeling the stress of everything?
Caelus:It pays to relax. You don’t have to face everything. I can swap jobs with you more often.
Stelle:I like my responsibilities. Plus not being active all the time doesn’t feel good.
Caelus:I’m active! I just don’t feel the need to go into the Simulated Universe every day! You need meaningful ways to spend hours.
Stelle:We don’t all have people inviting us for “personal encounters”
Caelus:…Ah, so that’s what the problem is about? You need to get laid.
The man witnessed the slowest head turn in history as Stelle’s jaw dropped from his audacity. Caelus didn’t even blink while putting another bandage on her arm.
Stelle:Do you think I’m not trying!? We all can’t be suffering from success like you!
Caelus:Like me!?
Stelle:Yes, you! You and Dan Heng in March’s room!
Caelus:I didn’t know what was happening!? She called us in there saying she needed help. I thought another spider entered her room. I wasn’t expecting her to the “I offer you a proposal” stance.
Stelle:She’s so dorky. It’s great.
Caelus:Surprisingly good negotiator. Regardless, not my fault and not a common occurrence.
Stelle:Siver Wolf.
Caelus: Barely here and a shot in the dark. I’m not saying I wasn’t interested but I didn’t expect things to be so…casual.
Stelle:Still counts. Topaz.
Caelus:I’ve never done anything with Topaz. I just think she’s beautiful.
Stelle:What? But you hangout sometimes.
Caelus:Yeah, and? We just like hanging around cute pets. That’s it. I don’t even think she likes me.
Stelle:Eh, her mind is a mystery. I’m sure she wouldn’t hate it.
Caelus:I don’t think that’s the point at all. Anyways, it’s not like you can’t get a date or a potential “buddy” to spend time with. You’re way more attractive than me.
Stelle:That’s not hard.
Caelus:You can do your own stitches.
Stelle:I’m sorry. Please don’t stop. It was a bitter joke!
Caelus:Stop crying. My hands are still moving aren’t they? So, pick someone you fancy.
Stelle:You’re forgetting my luck is atrocious. Bronya is taken.
Caelus:Correct.
Stelle:I don’t think Welt could bring himself to see me in that light.
Caelus:A trait that maybe you should consider with him.
Stelle:He’s handsome! I don’t have to look at him like a parent! He’s just an older guy! It would be no different than liking Jing Yuan or Blade!
Caelus:Those two have enough baggage to fill the train. Asta thinks you’re cute.
Stelle:The last thing Asta needs is more rumors and drama.
Caelus: Ruan Mei?
Stelle:Why would I like her? We’ve barely met…I think?
Caelus:Wait, I’m an idiot. Don’t you like Argenti? You seemed like a fan.
Stelle:Did you forget the part where that man told us goodbye to find the Aeon on Beauty as he jumped off the train!? I would love to have dinner with him but he’s a bit busy! I hope he crashes into us again.
Caelus:Or you know, dock normally? That’s an option. Didn’t you go to dinner with Gepard.
Stelle:He’s definitely a sweetie. However… *red* No, there’s no way I could feel comfortable sharing my needs with him without dying of embarrassment. Especially when I’m friends with Serval!
Caelus:I don’t think he’d judge you, but I could definitely see how awkward that could be.
Stelle:And let’s not forget the one person I wholeheartedly swooned over may not have been the person around for most of my conversations and got their neck snapped. My luck is probably why Nanook likes me. *deflates* Maybe I should phone it in and become a Celestial Jade enthusiast.
Caelus:…Am I an option?
That question hung in the air for a moment, slowly registering to Stelle’s brain. Her eyes then gradually widened as she turned her head to see him focusing in a leg injury. That did nothing to hide the growing red on his ears.
Stelle:…What?
Caelus:It’s a pretty straightforward question. If this situation is about being stressed, opportunity, and comfortability then…. it’s not that crazy.
Stelle:Are you saying you would say yes?
Caelus:No! I’m saying if I was an option for you that o could see it and it would make sense! It’s not like any good would come from you not at hundred percent.
Stelle: Caelus, so you would say yes?
Caelus:…I mean who would put up with you effortlessly?
Stelle:You’re in kicking distance.
Caelus:You’d pull your stitches. Anyways, it was just a random thought. Forget I said anything.
Stelle:….You’re not, not an option; I guess?
………..
Caelus:Neat…
He finally fishes the last of her main injuries. Caelus rises to his feet and closes the first aid kit with a satisfying case click that filled the awkward silence.
Stelle:Thanks for the pick-me-up.
Caelus:No biggie. Just doing what I can and all. Welp…time to put this back! See ya. *walks away*
Stelle looked down at his careful needle and gently bandaged wraps. Not even Welt or Himeko could do a better job. If anything, Caelus was good with his han-
Stelle:Fuuuuuuuk. Noooooo don’t think thaaaaat. *covers face* Damnit all. Why’d you have to ask that?
xxxxx
Caelus:(Why did I say that!?)
73 notes
·
View notes
Note
mystic malfunction is on my mind again and i've been thinking about how funny it'd be if mikey hijacked a training session and taught everyone Lou Jitsu style (à la fish and ladders). ik Splinter's already been trying to make it a little more interesting for Mikey, but maybe it's the day after a particularly sour mission and he's like "yknow what? okay let's do it Orange's way today, just for a bit of a change of pace. lighten the mood a bit." the 2012 boys learn a very structured style, which is def useful (like when Mikey was fighting Shredder), but the 2018 boys are way more used to improvising and using their surroundings in non-traditional ways - particularly Mikey. i think it'd be really interesting to see how the 2012 boys would fare trying to fight in that style, and if they'd use it in future! anyway. the image of Mikey chasing them all around with an improvised household appliance weapon is EXTREMELY amusing to me, along with seeing Splinter's reaction when Mikey informs him that this was how they first learned how to properly fight. I think he'd go through all the stages of grief, but it'd definitely help him understand Mikey's lack of interest in regular training. anyway back to rotating your fic around in my mind like a microwave <3
Oh, I love this idea. Here, have an unedited ficlet I wrote in my notes app quick lol.
==========
Mikey vibrated with excitement, Splinter amused beside him while the others cautiously filtered into the dojo.
Splinter had seen how he’d struggled during regular training and after a small talk about why that might be, he’d allowed Mikey to run his own session to see exactly how the teaching styles differed. Both for Splinters own curiosity and to provide a different, more improvised kind of training so the others didn’t fall too much of a routine.
“So, how many different death traps are in here?” Raphael asks. Michelangelo is attempting to hide behind him but Raphael keeps pushing him away. “And where is one of them so Mike can be distracted by something else—“
“No death traps!” Mikey confirms. The others still look around cautiously as they come to stand in front of him. “I’m gonna show you the kind of training I got from Dad back home!”
The turtles share a disbelieving look, glancing towards Splinter who merely nods in confirmation.
“That’s…great,” Leonardo says slowly. “I suppose we could spice things up a bit.”
“You betcha!” Mikey exclaims. The turtles share one last confirming glance with Splinter before falling into their training stances and pulling out their weapons.
Mikey’s grin grows. “Nuh uh, nope,” he says, rolling onto his heels and thoroughly enjoying their confusion. “Won’t need those.”
Splinter turns to him in curiosity while the other look on in slight terror. Regardless, they lower their weapons to the ground in front of them and wait for Mikey to continue.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
—————
“That’s not how you use a toaster!” Donatello screeches, lunging away from the flying toaster Michelangelo threw by the cord like a flail.
“That’s exactly how you use it!” Mikey encourages from the sidelines. His alternate sends him a bright thumbs up before his head is promptly smacked to the ground by the lamp Raphael wields.
“How on Earth are you still alive if this is how your Master Splinter trained you!?” Leonardo exclaims, hurriedly blocking Raphael’s next lamp strike with his couch cushion. “This isn’t what training is supposed to be!”
“Sure it is! You just have to get creative! I don’t see Michelangelo complaining!” His alternate groans from the floor and he immediately backtracks. “Not about the training anyway!”
The chaos quickly resumed with Raphael going on a rampage with his lamp and the others scrambling out of the way with their other improvised weapons.
Mikey beams up a smile to Splinter who pinches his brow with eyes shut tight, taking deep breaths.
“I…understand your frustration with my teaching methods, now,” Splinter grumbles, watching with tired eyes as Raphael gets a whack to the face from Leonardo’s cushion.
Mikey launches to his feet, not being able to help himself anymore. Without any warning he grabs the closets of the many household items he gathered before starting. His hands adjust around the pens he grabbed, fashioning them into claws between his fingers, before jumping into the fray and straight towards a panicked Donatello.
They’re nowhere near prepared for all the razz-ma-tazz he’s about to unleash.
==========
Hehehe ❤️
#mystic malfunction#rottmnt#tmnt 2012#rottmnt mikey#rise of tmnt#tmnt#rise of the tmnt#ficlet#I love that image lol#and since I can’t really add it in now it goes here#whether it’s canon or not to the story I’ll leave up to interpretation ;)
132 notes
·
View notes
Text
atla old men + pole dancing
(inspired by this post by @allgremlinart)
iroh: might not be physically capable of it in earlier seasons but he is a flirt and a charmer and a generally fun-loving guy, he'd be down to try and it would probably be entertaining regardless
bumi: absolute fucking master of the pole. he's got the physical ability he's a fun guy with zero shame about public nudity. i'd say it's too bad nobody's into a 112 year old stripping but i don't think that matters to him at all
jeong jeong: would've killed it when he was younger and more fiery and his joints didn't ache, but as it is, he is way too old and depressed
pakku: absolutely the fuck not
piandao: piandao is pure artistry. graceful and intensely choreographed, with a playful side. there are swords involved. he complains that he's getting too old for it, but that only makes his performances, which are still as good as ever, more rare and therefore special
gyatso: is a monk, but has a respect for the art form
bato: actually a really good dancer but would only try pole if hakoda asked him to. the only pole dance bato does is traditional south pole dances
hakoda: similar to iroh, he's down to try because hey, it'll be fun, right? he's not very good but he's hot and charming enough that people enjoy the show anyway
ozai: would be physically capable of it but the fire nation official stance on dancing is that it's frivolous nonsense
sozin: see ozai
roku: could use some crazy avatar skills but probably won't, let's be real
#i don't know lok or the kyoshi novels well enough to do them#but i feel confident in saying i know the atla old men#nina's personal log#iroh#jeong jeong#piandao#hakoda#bato#bumi
91 notes
·
View notes
Note
What’s your opinion on transgenders people? I ask as i have seen you reblog a few things and I am unsure on your stance. I mean this in no judgmental way i would just like to know your thoughts
anon this ask both excites me and fills me with caution, but! I will provide you with what you seek!
what do I think about transgender people? Here’s my answer to that, but be warned, it is lengthy!
1) they’re to be treated as people, not outcasts. Human is human, and we are supposed to treat fellow humans with love, care, and respect, even if we don’t agree with the people in question, or if it’s just plain hard.
2) I say this with gentleness: their perceptions of themselves are skewed*, and there are many reasons for this with the primary one being that we live in a broken world, which leads to everything else. But one of the absolute worst things we can do to trans people/ people who want to be trans, regardless of the reason, is to go along with the idea that they are or can be any other gender than the one they were born with. As you can probably tell, I believe in the God of the Bible, and that while human hands may have written the physical book, He speaks through the people that wrote it. So let’s let His Word do the talking.
You know the creation story, yeah? It’s ok if you don’t, let’s recap anyways:
Every day for 6 days, God made aspects of our universe, and when He declared everything finished – perfect! God’s work ain’t finished ‘till it’s perfect – He rested on the 7th day (Genesis 1 and 2). On the 6th day He made humans, male and female, and they were made in the image of God Himself (Gen. 2:26). They were also the only aspect of creation God formed with His own hands; Genesis 2:7 says God made the first man from the dust of the earth, and verses 21-22 says He took a piece of the man to make the first woman.
That might not seem huge to you, but it speaks volumes of the care God put into humanity specifically. Everything else – the sun, stars, sky, trees, dogs, almost everything you can think of – God simply spoke them into existence. But for humans; for you, anon? He got up, got His hands dirty, and shaped your head, your heart, your spirit, your body. He gave humanity a literal special touch that He gave to nothing else.
This is reinforced again by God speaking through king David’s Psalm 139, verses 13-16:
13 You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
16 You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed.
God is omnipresent, meaning that He’s everywhere all the time any time, and nothing escapes His knowledge. This includes the creation of a new human being (again: male or female, no secret 3rd option for this one). And because God Himself – who makes no mistakes – oversees and ordains the creation of every new little boy or girl, wouldn’t it make sense that God would make them as He intended to make them: perfectly, without mistake? There is then no ground for the “born in the wrong body” argument to stand on, because God made your body with you in mind; your body was made specifically for you, and there were no errors on His end.
Now, what if you just straight up don’t like your body? I think everyone has disliked their body and/or felt uncomfortable in it at some point, that includes me. If someone’s going through puberty then they are almost guaranteed to be uncomfortable in their body because that kiddo and their body both are growing up. Sometimes you’re uncomfortable in your body simply because it’s changing, but this particular change is a good thing! Going through puberty is a sign that your body is working as it should, even if it feels weird. To try and block this transition from happening, or deliberately alter it, is to actively harm your body’s natural progression.
So yes, I do think that a trans person’s view of their body – that they were made for a different body and so they should change it – is not only wrong, but harmful to themselves in the long run. Why are we affirming this; giving people of all ages the means to scar themselves to feel good in the now?
Last bit before the TL;DR: if there’s anyone out there who thinks God won’t except them for any reason that you can think of, I’m gonna stop you right there. There is grace for you. Yes, even for that; please refer to my pinned post. And also this.
My explanation doesn’t cover all bases I’m sure, but the TL;DR is that the human body is a sacred thing designed by God, with care, made differently and specifically for every individual person, and it is medical malpractice (evil) to alter it within the context of transgenderism. If you have undergone the gender transition at any time – or have done anything else, ever – God still loves you with his whole heart, and He wants you to let Him help you with whatever may have dragged you down this time. Even if it was self-inflicted.
Lastly, some stuff I didn’t know how to cleanly fit into All That
*it is worth noting that basically everyone has a skewed perception of themselves about different things and to different degrees, but in this context I mean “a skewed perception of how a trans person relates to their body”
Creation was deemed “good” before people, but after people, God declared it “very good.” Again, in Genesis 1. I literally cannot stress enough how much God wants people to come to Him for whatever the reason
Chloe Cole's discussion with Dr. Peterson + the comment section and the testimonies in it
this post
#tm answers#heavy post#there's always stuff i can phrase better i am positive#but this is my best atm#long post#also anon how did u find me i am genuinely curious
85 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii! Love all yuor metas! How do you think Remus took the fact that James and Sirius declared themself often as best friends, do you think he sometimes got hurt and felt a little jealous or he was just okay with that?
Hello and thank you, that's so nice of you to say! <3 Thank you for this question, I could talk about marauder dynamics forever and I mean that incredibly literally, because this response is so. long. But I felt like I had to explain the ins and outs of the dynamics of james, sirius and remus to justify why I think it wasn't exactly jealousy but that there was resentment and maybe judgement from remus re: their friendship. that’s what I’m telling myself anyway :)
Note: I mention some information directly from Pottermore/Wizarding World here as a lot of information about Remus’ early life is included there. My stance on Pottermore/WW information is that you can judge and accept it according to how well the additional info aligns with character presentations in the books and whether it’s consistent with the information there. Basically, whether it seems like something that was always intended for the character or whether it’s something fluffed up for attention post-series (it’s about 50/50 with this author imo). For me, the Pottermore/WW info on Remus generally does align with how I understand and read him in the series so I use it as part of my discussion here.
-
I think that jealousy is a pretty common human response when you see a mutual bond existing independently of you between two people you consider your close friends. Remus had an isolated childhood and we see that friendship and acceptance were incredibly important to him so on that basis, yes, I think that James and Sirius' closer friendship existing within the group would be difficult for him at times, when it was something that he wanted and valued so much. But on that same basis, I think that James and Sirius' closeness would be something he was at peace with, because he still had the friendship and acceptance that he wanted regardless of what level of exclusivity it operated at.
Sirius and James seem to have hit it off immediately on the Hogwarts Express, so Remus would probably have recognised their closeness to each other from the start and maybe assumed that they had already known each other for many years, and it was something that he never questioned. Whilst I don’t think that James & Sirius' closeness was something that especially troubled Remus, I do think that James was his favourite friend, because he talks about him especially fondly and in a different way to how he talks about Sirius and Peter. Even so, it’s evidently incredibly meaningful to him that he had the three of them as a unit when he's explaining that he's a werewolf in the Shrieking Shack:
"For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black… Peter Pettigrew… and, of course, your father, Harry -- James Potter."
Pottermore/WW states that Remus was happy to have friends at all, having never thought he could be part of a group, and I think he'd get swept up in the excitement and novelty too much to get strongly jealous, especially when they tell him their intentions to become Animagi for him because I don't think that Remus would ever have imagined that kind of friendship for himself.
In fact throughout the books we see that, as an adult, Remus participates in and perpetuates the view of James and Sirius as a closer, separate pair - “your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school”, “your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did — everyone thought they were the height of cool” - so I’m more inclined to think that any issues that Remus might have felt towards James & Sirius’ friendship would have come from the imbalance in how he comes to view them individually, rather than from any feelings of personal exclusion.
However, we see Remus’ negative self-judgement inform his relationships on several occasions throughout the series - he doesn't pull up James and Sirius in SWM on their treatment of Snape despite his visible disapproval, probably out of his closeness to them and fear of rejection, as we know he values and relies on the company of his friends to bear the difficulties of his condition (although he made them "feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes"). He thinks that Tonks doesn't see him as good enough because he doesn't feel good enough for her himself. He worries about not being worthy of the accommodations that Dumbledore has made for him so I can absolutely see him watching James and Sirius form their own unit within the group and feel that it's due to his own shortcomings rather than a natural kinship between them.
Again, I think that's a fairly common human response to seeing two people that you know so well, seemingly spend the same amount of time with, but they just click in a different way. I don’t think that it necessarily suggests anything untoward on Remus’ part and I think that any jealousy or annoyance about it would arise mainly in his worst moments of low self-esteem rather than being a consistent and underlying feeling. Remus is quite matter-of-fact and could probably see that James and Sirius have that same spirit and taste for trouble and be like, okay then, makes sense. Perhaps in the scenario of group activities (i.e. the map) where James and Sirius might get carried away and work on it without the others, he'd be a bit more sour about it because it's something that was intended as a group activity but he'd also probably enjoy the peace away from schemes that didn't involve him.
I said earlier that I think Remus consideredJames his personal best friend but I also think he'd be somewhat relieved to not have the pressure of being in an intensely close best-friendship like James and Sirius had and having to constantly uphold his side of it. I don’t think he could deal with the sense of pressure that would manifest for him in that scenario, and I think that he would also be aware of that and that would temper any sense of jealousy or woundedness. The intimacy of his relationship with Tonks seems like a very new or at least rare thing for Remus and he doesn’t deal well with the idea of being needed. James and Sirius have a lot of energy, so probably Remus would be grateful that James has Sirius to cause trouble with rather than getting drawn into it himself, particularly the side of James that gets a kick out of bullying Snape because Remus is clearly uncomfortable with that. Remus says in PoA that:
"Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He
let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life"
so although they pushed the boundaries with the illegal Animagi transformations, I don't think that Remus would have done anything covert at school so James having Sirius to do the more ostentatious troublemaking with would be a blessing for Remus in many ways.
Ultimately, I think that James and Sirius being a twosome just becomes a given fact of the group dynamic, with Remus happy with being part of a group and being liked, grateful for James in particular and accepting of James’ separate friendship with Sirius, but I think it became more complex later on. Remus doesn't perceive James and Sirius equally and as he grew to trust Sirius less, James’ closeness to him might be something that Remus understood or accepted less too. We don’t know very much at all about his individual relationships with James and Sirius, or how his view of them changed between adolescence and adulthood but there are differences in the way he talks about them as individuals.
Remus talking about James vs Sirius
Remus has a very positive view of James and struggles to admit to his flaws with Harry in the post-SWM chapter, he tries hard to mitigate and justify them even when Harry has visibly seen Remus' discomfort in the memory:
“Look, Harry, what you’ve got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did — everyone thought they were the height of cool — if they sometimes got a bit carried away —”
whereas Sirius is like "yeah he was a bit of an idiot, we were all idiots" and admits that he's ‘not proud of it’ rather than trying to justify it.
Remus actively makes allowances for James’ treatment of Snape:
“Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James, so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?”
but intervenes with Sirius' behaviour on several occasions, even when he's not doing much more than getting a bit heated in conversation (as in, not in circumstances such as the Shrieking Shack which I would argue are exceptional):
“Sirius, sit down” (even though Molly is goading Sirius: “The thing is, it’s been rather difficult for you to look after him while you’ve been locked up in Azkaban, hasn’t it?”)
This sets up a dichotomy of James as predictable and reasonable vs Sirius as rash and unreasonable in Remus’ judgement - he doesn’t keep an eye on Sirius in OotP because they’re close or he’s in love with him, it’s because he doesn’t trust him and expects him to react disproportionately, or he sees Sirius as a disruption to good spirits or peace. When Sirius mentions Voldemort:
“the atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity Harry associated with the arrival of dementors…Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary”.
On the other hand, he's incredibly protective of James’ reputation as an overall Good Person because the most stable and sociable times of Remus' life are framed by the time that James was in his life. Sirius and Remus were less close to each other than they individually were to James in my opinion, so Remus doesn’t have the same struggle with seeing Sirius as flawed. Sirius on the other hand readily admits James’ flaws:
“Of course he was a bit of an idiot!” said Sirius bracingly
To Sirius, this is just who James was and loved him for his flaws and his good qualities equally. He also doesn’t need to deny James' imperfections to believe that he was a good person:
“Your father was the best friend I ever had, and he was a good person”.
So I think it’s interesting seeing the differences in how Sirius and Remus see both James and each other, and what it says about those various individual relationships. Remus’ default perspective of Sirius still seems to be of someone he can’t or doesn’t trust despite finding out that Sirius was never a traitor.
Discord between Sirius and Remus
In my opinion, Remus and Sirius have a dynamic which has probably always run with some form of an undertone of discord and a couple of instances in SWM summarise this well (they actually run concurrently but I find it easier to dissect them seperately because there's a lot going on):
“I’m bored,” said Sirius. “Wish it was full moon.” / “You might,” said Lupin darkly from behind his book.
and
“...if you’re bored you could test me...” / “I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.”
The intended meaning of both Remus and Sirius is pretty clear in each exchange: in the first, Remus is asking for Sirius to test him, not for Sirius to refresh his own knowledge. In the second, Sirius is talking about the activites after transformation, which Remus talks about enjoying himself. In fact he says that when the others could transform, it made:
"my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life"
Therefore, it seems as if he’s deliberately reading it as ignorance on Sirius’ part - or he interprets it as ignorance or selfishness because he sees those qualities in Sirius already (the prank happens before SWM, so I think that this is probable, even if only a recent development). To me, this signifies a fundamental sense of misunderstanding and miscommunication between them, or a lack of desire to try, which continues into their adulthood. Their understanding of each other has limits and hurdles, whereas their discussion of James (both separately and together) is overwhelmingly positive and familiar (which could just be the dead friend glasses at work, but I do think they both just really loved James).
Pottermore/WW suggests a further sense of bitterness and jealousy towards Sirius from Remus: "he always got the women", Remus supposedly said when he thought that Tonks is in love with Sirius. There’s a kind of self-pitying tone and almost a sense that Sirius didn't deserve it or something. I personally imagine that Remus’ assumption of Sirius’ love life here is inflated, but it’s hard to say as we have nothing else to go on except teenage Sirius’ pin-ups. Nevertheless, I can’t see Remus directing equal bitterness towards James - he sees James an example of normality and therefore deserving of the things that Remus himself wants or admires in him, which I think are stability, likeability and eventually his own family.
The lasting effects of "the prank"
In isolation, these could be seen as small or surmountable incompatibilities but I think that the prank could foster some resentfulness from Remus regarding James & Sirius' closer friendship. It's a murky incident, but I personally see the 'prank' as a (if not the) catalyst in Remus’ doubt of Sirius. I don’t really see how a close call instigated by a friend where you would be solely implicated in the case of any fatal consequences couldn’t affect you personally and affect your friendships, even if most of it was kept under the surface. In fact, the under-the-surface attitude towards the prank is probably exactly what intensified Sirius and Remus’ eventual distrust of each other, and some fraughtness is evident in SWM. Interestingly we never pre-prank Marauder interactions (except J&S), which is interesting when SWM essentially functions as the defining snapshot of MWPP dynamics.
As much as Remus brushes ‘the prank’ off as an adult, I think it’s important to note the context of him having spent the last 12 years alone and finding out that he doesn't have two dead friends and a murderer ex-friend, but instead a dead friend, a traitor ex-friend and a framed friend (a net +1 friends), making him more willing to overlook the incident given the circumstances and the time that has passed since. There are also three kids and the actual traitor present, so I think that Remus downplays the prank to recalibrate focus onto Pettigrew, who is the bigger antagonist at that moment in time.
Remus has a pattern of avoidance which would make it extremely easy for him to be like “oh that? yeah that wasn’t a big deal, that’s all over with” even when Sirius and Remus’ post-Azkaban dynamic still has an undercurrent of Remus’ distrust in Sirius’ self-control, as we see from the way he restrains Sirius in the Shrieking Shack and afterwards in Grimmauld Place also. Arguably, these are both exceptional circumstances and not examples of Sirius' habitual behaviour. Outside of the Shack (finally confronted with his best friend’s murderer) and Grimmauld Place (unhappy family home), we see that Sirius is lucid, sharp, in control, when he meets with Harry and advises him during the Triwizard Tournament. After Voldemort returns, Sirius is visibly affected but composed for Harry, so he doesn’t need Remus to keep him under control but Remus clearly feels the need to intervene.
In many of the incidents where Remus steps in, Sirius is just expressing emotions, perhaps in a big and alarming manner, but he’s not really at risk of any dangerous or threatening behaviour (not denying that Sirius doesn't have impulsive episodes, the incident with Snape for example). By getting out of his chair, what is Sirius really going to do? I hardly see him coming to blows with Molly Weasley in front of half the Order + their kids but the point is that Remus is anticipating that he will do something disruptive or aggressive. A key part of the disconnect and discomfort between Remus and Sirius in my opinion is Sirius’ freedom to express unpleasant emotions without real consequence and Remus’ habit of restraint due to the implications of losing control as a werewolf: externalisation vs internalisation. Again, Remus doesn’t hold a loss of control or freedom of expression against James - only against Sirius, because the potential consequences of Sirius' loss of control were bigger (and involved Remus directly).
All of this, in my opinion, stems from the prank. The prank is also where I think that Remus would start to feel a stronger resentment towards James & Sirius' friendship, because his admiration of James and distrust of Sirius are incompatible and I think he'd see Sirius as undeserving of James' complete trust and loyalty. I think that he would want James to be angrier and take his side over Sirius', I think he'd see it as a black and white situation where Sirius is completely in the wrong. I think he'd be a bit like "he does shit like this and you STILL think the sun shines out of his arse" but he'd also be conflicted by that logic because he'd be like "well I'm a werewolf and you tolerate me so maybe it's fair enough that you let him get away with things" or maybe he’d just be relieved that James wasn’t angry at him, because he expects negative responses to the actions of the wolf.
Maybe the incident would elevate James further in his eyes, he might see it as part of James' fierce loyalty, maybe he would find it reassuring that James stands by Sirius even after a fuck up and it’s still okay, or maybe he would be resentful, like “I can't fuck up, and if I did would you defend me as hard as you’re defending him?”. In all scenarios, I think that Remus would nurse that resentment and distrust privately - he doesn't speak up in Snape's Worst Memory and it doesn’t seem like he ever voiced his suspicions about Sirius to James, or anyone at all. This is probably because he didn't think that James would believe him or tolerate him voicing concerns over Sirius’ loyalty, so he clearly understands James and Sirius’ friendship for what it is. I imagine that James probably thought the group were all equally close, or loved each other as much as he loved them all, and would be hurt by Remus and Sirius’ fraught friendship. Or perhaps Remus didn’t see Sirius as a threat to James specifically because of how close they remained after school.
Ultimately, I think Remus would have found his individual friendship with James and his place in a group of friends more fulfilling than he would have found the lack of a mutual best friend disheartening. Jealousy, with Remus' character, I think is a given at times as it feeds into his self-doubt and feelings of unworthiness but I don't think it would have been a constant or overriding feeling. If anything, I think that his frustration with Sirius’ impulsive or unreliable behaviour would show up in the way he viewed James and Sirius’ friendship, and in turn he’d see Sirius as undeserving of James’ fierce friendship and loyalty, out of love and protectiveness for James more than self-pity. TL;DR: some jealousy, but mainly resentfulness.
Thank you if you've read all of this! Now you know why it takes so long for me to answer asks, I promise I'm getting to all of them if you sent one and it hasn't been answered yet <3
86 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiiiii₍₍◞( •௰• )◟₎₎
Could you explain the hipster Vs fandom war. I've been on here for like four years and I never knew that existed lol and btw I really really love your art and you are one my biggest inspos for how I imagine and draw my Clark.
i'm not sure i can explain it in a way that makes sense, and certainly not in a way that makes you say "i understand why this was such a big deal", but gl'bgolyb knows i can try.
first, let me take you on a sensory experience... picture in your mind the following things... skinny jeans... nerd glasses... a weirdly dapper fashion sense in a time where everything is baggy and neon... boom, you have 2010-2014 online tumblr hipster culture. and also 70s elvis costello, oddly enough.
although admittedly i don't know his stance on pumpkin spice lattes.
anyway. now that that's burned into your brain, consider a significant population of this exact type of person that has already been well-established on this microblogging platform around the turn of the decade. tumblr doesn't really have an app yet because smartphones haven't taken over everyone's life yet, and online fandom culture is still largely dominated by deviantart as the main "fandom hub". most people, myself included, are getting their main meme fixes from facebook (which your parents were not yet on) or the icanhazcheezburger image-aggregator network. THEN EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN THE FANDOM NATION ATTACKED.
somehow, a huge crowd of people who considered their favorite books/movies/games to be core personality traits began to set up shop on this fair slate-blue isle. i number myself among this crowd, having been lured here by google-image-searching for miscellaneous fanart in 2011. the "old guard" largely belongs to, and continuously attracts new bloggers within, a burgeoning subculture that 100% defines itself by bucking popular trends and social expectations... whether or not this is actually accomplished by purchasing beverages from starbucks and putting old film filters on every photo, i cannot say.
you may be seeing an issue already arising: hey, if the hipsters hate everything that's popular and gatekeep all their interests, and the fandom bloggers are obsessed with extremely popular franchises and are hell-bent making them even more popular, isn't that going to cause a little friction?
well, yes. it caused a fuck ton of friction. a division arose early on between "the fandom side of tumblr" and "the hipster side of tumblr." some people, like myself, played both sides. others abstained from the rigid dichotomy and considered themselves to be on another "side," like the science side of tumblr, known for explaining relatively straightforward STEM concepts in large essays that began with something like "listen up fuckers."
ahhh, unfriendable. such a narrow little window in time where cheezburger sites and facebook had equal sway in the online zeitgeist.
interestingly, as someone who trawled a LOT of aesthetic tags, the most popular of which was simply #aesthetic (it was shockingly consistent in there), i never actually saw hipster bloggers complaining about fandom bloggers. it was always the other way around, with fandom bloggers bragging about how much they're freaking out the squares to get cool points with other fandom bloggers, all while never actually engaging with the hipster bloggers because their tags rarely overlapped.
hi, marge! we're freaking out the hipsters!
regardless of whether there was any material reality to it, or if it was simply a Minitrue level of entirely fictional warfare, this concept entrenched itself into the fandom bloggers, likely as a way to still feel "edgy" and unique while, again, obsessing over extremely popular and mainstream things like doctor who, pokemon, avatar the last airbender, the brand-new mcu, and other decidedly non-counterculture media. even with things it felt like no one irl had heard of, like hetalia and homestuck, those were online juggernauts nonetheless, the former of which had dominated deviantart for years and the latter of which prompted hotels and convention centers across the world to implement very strict rules about unsealed body paint. people treated fandoms like they were some sort of exclusive country club with membership fees and a dress code. and dunking on hipsters became an entire genre of Fake Internet Story, which were already pervasive on this website.
what's the point of being in a clique if there's no outgroup to flex on? #swag
this whole phenomenon ran concurrently, even symbiotically, with other tumblrisms like "tumblr university" and those horrendous "not like other girls" memes...
which means, of course, it was absolutely dead in the fucking water once DashCon happened in 2014. i don't need to tell you what happened at DashCon (there's a million essays and videos about it if you're one of today's lucky ten thousand who's never heard of it), but all across the fandom side of tumblr, it felt like finding out your parents lied about santa claus. turns out the fandoms you're in don't actually say anything about who you are as a person, a bunch of tumblrinas can't just will a fully functional micronation into existence just by wearing tacky merchandise in a public venue, and magic probably isn't real.
i wish i had some grand way to end this story, but really the moral is the same as it ever was: online drama is eternal, inescapable, and completely fucking worthless. if you only post to get mad at shit, especially if you're just making up a guy to get mad at, cut that out. touch grass. look at images of cats. i don't remember any of the enemies i made from this era, but i fondly remember all the friends, and i'm richer for making those positive connections. that's all for today's episode of Tumblr History with Toothpaste Face... remember to tip your waitress and stay minty.
#also fellow Clark Enjoyer rest assured i'm going to draw him for his birthday later this month!!!! my beloved big blue boy scout...#shebbz shoutz#shebbz editz#tumblr#tumblr history#tumblr culture#ask
49 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
the-lazy-artist
I think of cool stuff, sometimes I draw it
thisissweaterweather
Rainy Days
dakota--west
Queen
allisontrivino
allison marie.
dr-ilyas-munshi
Ilyas Munshi | Tumblr