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bonzos-number-1-fan · 2 days

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Putting the CAT# Back in the Bag: The Flaws With Person/Place/Object

Hi, I’m bonzos-number-1-fan You might know me from such theories as; "Theory of Fears; or, Zur Furchtlehre", "What R# Means: The ABCs of Fear" or, "Padlocks, How Do They Even Work?".

I’m back with another essay about this show. Today’s subject is a little different from previous ones. Rather than explaining what I think something in this show is, I’ll be explaining what I think it isn’t. What I’m going to be talking about is the very popular theory that CAT1/2/3 means the supernatural aspect is a Person/Place/Object.

Because I’m talking about other people’s ideas here I do want to start off by saying I understand why this theory is attractive and I don’t think anyone is stupid or anything for believing it. I just personally think there are angles from which it doesn’t work and that the sum of them makes it fairly certain to be untrue. I could be very wrong about that, and my other theories, or I could be very right. I don’t think either scenario matters much. This essay isn’t about being right but about talking about a big thing in the community. I just happen to not believe this one and people have signalled interest in hearing why.

So with all that out of the way I’m going to start by establishing the terminology being used. Then I’ll break down what this theory is positing and follow it up with the ways I think it does and doesn’t work. That’s basically it but with 16 episodes and supplemental material to cover it’s still not going to be terribly short.

Huge thanks to @brettanomycroft for proof reading/editing this madness.

Spoilers for The Magnus Protocol up to and including episode 16.

What is a CAT#?

A CAT# is the first 4-5 characters of an OIAR's incident report header. While these are not often referenced in the main body of the show, each incident we hear is accompanied by one in the show's description and transcript. As an example this is the case number for the first incident of episode 1.

CAT1RBC5257-12052022-09012024 Reanimation (Partial) -/- Regret [Email]

The first line is the case number. CAT1 is this incident's CAT#. The RBC (R#/Rank) and 5257 (DPHW) have been topics I've discussed in essays I linked at the start. The second line is the header and is formatted “Section (Subsection) -/- Crosslink [Format]”. CAT#s is all we're concerning ourselves with today but I will be using this terminology going forward.

Now we know what they look like, what is it we know about them? Well, not much at all. From the show itself we know there are CAT1s, CAT2s, CAT3s and CAT23s. From the Klaus excel sheet that was found as part of the ARG (and can be found here) we also know there are CAT12s and CAT13s. With that information we can say with some certainty that CAT1, CAT2, and CAT3 are non-mutually exclusive groupings. It's very likely not a linear scale of some description—i.e CAT23 isn't between CAT2 and CAT3—because CAT13 doesn't fit such a scale. Which means that where there are two numbers in a CAT# that incident likely fits both groups rather than being a new group. This also strongly implies that an incident could be CAT123 although we have yet to see that demonstrated.

We also know that CAT is short for "Category". In the Klaus sheet these numbers are located in the "Kategorie" column. "Kategorie" being German for "category". This unfortunately doesn't tell us anything we didn't already know. CAT#s denote some form of grouping.

There is only one other fact we know about CAT#s and that's this:

ALICE Right, so, after each entry there's four numbers. That’s the DPHW. So, “dolls comma watching” is… 1157. Then you cross reference with the table here, that would be a 2-C, and then you type that into the box here, along with date of incident if there is one and today’s date.

Which is not a lot to go on at all but it does raise an important question. How is a CAT# assigned? There are two major assumptions you could make here. The first is the “objective method” and that it’s a factor of either the section, subject, DPHW or a combination thereof. This means that they are pre-assigned in the same way that DPHWs are. This method has an inherent trait in that it means every header manifests as the same sort of thing. While it’s not a problem to say that every Doll (Watching) is the same— that could just be the rules of the setting—it does make CAT# itself somewhat redundant. The terminology of the headers will often describe something inherent about the CAT#. We have a CAT3 case that’s Dice (Bone) -/- Fate but dice are objects so why would you need to restate that?

The second is the “subjective method” in which the assessor chooses the CAT# based on the incident itself. The subjective method has a larger assumption built into it in that they know what CAT#s are. They don’t know what DPHW is and have shown no indication of knowing what CAT# is either. So I’d say it’s less likely that CAT#s are subjective rather than objective. However, for the purposes of this essay I will assume that both are as likely to be true as each other and will refer to them both. Different cases show different flaws when one of these is true over the other, so both will get discussed.

What is Person/Place/Object?

Person/Place/Object is the theory that the three single digit CAT#s stand for Person, Place, and Object respectively. Combinations of these digits represent that an incident falls into each category. A CAT1 incident indicates that the supernatural element of an incident is a person in some respect, while a CAT23 would indicate both a place and an object.

As I have mentioned this isn’t a theory with a single theorist or origin to point to. As such this theory isn’t a monolith and there is variation in how these categories are presented from theory to theory. Sometimes “Person” is literal and other times it includes any sentient thing, “places” aren’t always strictly physical locations, and the narrative framing of what “objects” are may shift. As such I will be taking the broadest interpretation of these categories as their definitions.

People will include animals and other sentient beings. Places will include metaphysical locations. Objects won’t need to be physical in nature. This is both the fairest I can be to all theories and also the strongest I can make this theory. The broader I can make these definitions, the more different ideas can be represented and the more wiggle room the CAT#s get.

What I’ll do next is run through all the incidents the show has mentioned and explain them as I see it. We’ll start with the ones that fit this theory well because they require little explanation. Then when that’s established we’ll talk about the places I think this theory falls down.

Which Incidents fit well?

CAT1:

CAT1RBC5257 Reanimation (Partial) -/- Regret: There is something like a zombie in this incident. That’s something like a person and so fits well.

CAT1RB4824 Injury (Needles) -/- Intimidation: Needles is definitely a person, no question there.

CAT1RB2275 Mascot (Kids) -/- Murder: Bonzo walks, “talks”, and probably thinks. He’s a person.

CAT1B4728 Mascot (Kids) -/- Frenzy: Bonzo is still doing that stuff so is still a person.

CAT1RB4426 Transformation (Snake) -/-Horde: There was a person and they turned into snakes. Snakes count as people here too. Given the amount of snakes this is the most CAT1 CAT1.

CAT1RB-6451 Hunt (Aristocratic) -/- Compulsion: Lady M is the most person on this list.

CAT1RB1565 Tattoo (Influencer) -/- Cardiac: Definitely involves a person doing something supernatural.

CAT2:

CAT2C8175 Infection (Full Body) -/- Arboreal: This incident takes place in a time and space bending garden. Makes perfect sense for CAT2.

CAT2RB2377 Disappearance (Undetermined) -/- Invitation: A spooky theatre is a location for sure.

CAT3:

CAT3RBC1567 Transformation (Full) -/- Dysmorphic: In this instance the object in question is the tattoo. Which I think is really stretching the definition of “object” but I’m still going to give it to the theory.

CAT3C7494 Collection (Blood) -/- Musical: A magical violin is definitely an object.

CAT3RB3354 Dice (Bone) -/- Fate: Bone dice are inarguably objects.

CAT3RB4622 Gambling (Application) -/- Murder: It’s another stretch to call an app an object but, again, happy to give it to the theory.

CAT23:

CAT23RAB2155 Transformation (Eyes) -/- Trespass: In this incident’s case the location is the Magnus Institute and the object is the box RedCanary stole. I think there are some problems with this one but there is enough to get through.

Which Incidents Don't?

CAT1:

CAT1RBC5257 Reanimation (Partial) -/- Regret: You’re not misremembering, I did say this fit well. Because on the surface it really does make sense, but I think if you push just a little it makes very little sense. Why? Because any category you want to place this in is easily justified in the incident itself. There is a zombie-esque thing but also a Frankenstein-esque figure for CAT1. CAT 2 would be the location of the graveyard itself. It was chosen by the presumed creator of this zombie-like creature and is depicted similar to the one in Marked, a CAT23 incident. If this theory is correct and the Marked graveyard is supernatural I can’t see a reason to discount that possibility here. CAT3 fits too because the presumed creation method is that they were Frankenstein-ed which does require some sort of surgical apparatus. But whichever choice you make you’ve not really clarified the incident at all.

This issue is further seen in the methodology of assigning CAT#s.Objectively it has the same problem all objective assignments do. Reanimation implies there is going to be a reanimated person so restating that doesn’t add much. If we look at the subjective method then this is chosen largely at random. There isn’t enough of an indication in this incident to clearly state which CAT this is. So it’s neither helped in the assessment of the incident and doesn’t provide anything for response because all choices are justifiable.

CAT1RB4426 Transformation (Snake) -/- Horde: Not misremembering here either. There is a problem with this one in that it’s demonstrated to be an infection. This makes the source of the affliction basically unknowable. The source could qualify it for other CATs but the larger issue here is that what CAT1 means here and what it means elsewhere are not that comparable. Needles, Bonzo, and Lady M are all sentient and independent. The afflicted we see in this case are normal people until they get very rapidly sick, summon a portal to the snake dimension in their throats, and die. Which leaves CAT1 translating to “something in the rough shape of a person” which is a really wide range of interpretations. Which is something I feel has little practical utility in either assessing or responding to these incidents.

CAT1RB1565 Tattoo (Influencer) -/- Cardiac: Still not misremembering. While you can say that Ink5oul or Madame E are the person in this instance there is a major conflict here with CAT3RBC1567 Transformation (Full) -/- Dysmorphic. If Daria’s transformation was CAT3 because tattoos are objects then there is no reasonable justification that this isn’t at least CAT13. It’s the same person, doing the same thing, to a very similar result but in a different CAT. The headers are entirely different, and so this/that may be misfiled, but it highlights a problem with Daria’s incident. If the incident with the Tattoo header isn’t an object then tattoos are probably not objects under this scheme.

If this is objective then this is always a person, or on people, which makes a great deal of sense. However if that’s the case then the objective method for Daria’s case sort of falls apart because there wasn’t really a secondary object there. Additionally, because all incidents with that case’s header being objects is a huge stretch. So if this incident, or that incident, is misfiled it doesn’t really matter. In either case (or even if both of them are misfiled), it largely disproves that tattoos are objects, creating a larger issue with that theory as it affects more than just this case. Subjectively as far as we’re aware Sam filed all three of the Ink5oul incidents. So he chose an object in Daria’s case but then opted against it here despite there being no real reason to that we can see. You could say that now Ink5oul has been in it more, he thinks Ink5oul has some sort of supernatural power themselves which makes them a CAT1; that would still make this CAT13 as episode 11 was CAT23.

CAT2:

CAT2RC1157 Dolls (Watching): This is a big one in my opinion. It’s not only the first incident we’re told about, but it's both Sam’s and our first exposure to an explanation of the OIAR’s filing system. It’s also one I see ignored in most of the posts that posit the Person/Place/Object theory. That is understandable as we don’t hear the incident itself but we do hear enough of it to show that there is a flaw in the theory.

What we hear about this incident is entirely focused on the doll itself and questions about its nature. It’s a split between Dolls (Watching) and Dolls (Human Skin) with the former being chosen as the latter is only implied. Dolls themselves are objects which would make this CAT3, and if the doll is sentient a CAT1. However, this is placed in CAT2 indicating that it's actually caused by the location in some respect. In order for that to make sense you have to make 3 major assumptions. Assumption 1: despite no indication in the conversation about this incident suggesting anything outside of the doll being strange there was actually a “haunted house”. Assumption 2: despite there being sections far more descriptive of locations—i.e Architecture—Dolls is more suited to this incident. Assumption 3: despite this being Sam’s/the audience’s first exposure to this system it leaves out the real source of the incident when, narratively, this is an explanation of it. Those are some fairly major assumptions to make to justify a theory.

This also has issues with either method of assigning CAT#s. If CAT# is objective then every Dolls (Watching) is actually a location. Unlike with something like Reanimation (Partial) that doesn't make much sense as dolls themselves are objects. In the subjective method, Alice assigned this as a location but their discussion of it centred solely on an object and she didn't explain to Sam why she did it.

CAT2RC3338 Agglomeration (Miscellany) -/- Congregation: This might be my favourite example of issues I have with this theory. To explain it we’ll look at this from both the objective and subjective methods while taking into account outside knowledge of the show from an audience perspective.

Everyone I’ve seen posit this theory attributes CAT2 to Hilltop here.They do this solely because of TMA. There is nothing in this episode that makes Hilltop out to be anything special in any way. But because Hilltop is special in TMA the audience is primed to view this location as special. It may very well be but there is no reason to think that. In fact, I’d argue there's reason to think otherwise based on this episode, but that is a little off topic for this essay. However from an objective perspective it can’t take Hilltop into account because not every header of this sort will take place in Hilltop. They could only manifest at special locations but that seems like a stretch. If it is true, why does this unique combination of words not include a word that describes it as a location? Subjectively it could be a misfile. Celia would be the only person who knows what Hilltop is in TMA— assuming some of the theories on her are correct—but that doesn’t make Hilltop important in and of itself. It also means she ignored large parts of this incident when filing it just to focus on that element. As this case is the one Alice uses to teach Celia the system with, then this also relies on Alice knowing or not correcting Celia. In either scenario this case is full of people of definite supernatural quality, lacks a location of supernatural quality, but has 100s of objects of dubious supernatural quality. Something doesn’t make sense here if this theory is correct.

CAT2RBC3366 Architecture (Liminal) -/- Hunger: This one is interesting because it shows a flaw not in the theory per se but in the methodology as a whole if the theory is correct. If CAT# is what the theory says it is why is this just CAT2? It being CAT2 at all is redundant when its header describes a location but in this incident we see it’s populated by supernatural creatures. I call them Uncannybals—as should you—and they’re monsters living in the shadow realm. That seems like very important information to include. So it should be CAT12 as there are both people and a place. The OIAR methodology already has the problem that you can’t include multiple headers but CAT#s, if they worked like this, could be used to alleviate that issue. The way it’s implemented here just makes it virtually pointless to include at all.

CAT3:

CAT3RBC1567 Transformation (Full) -/- Dysmorphic: This was largely already covered. So simply put if Transformation (Full) -/- Dysmorphic is an object because of the tattoo, and Tattoo (Corpse) -/- Compulsion is an object because of the tattoo, but Tattoo (Influencer) -/- Cardiac isn’t an object despite being virtually identical to this case then CAT3 doesn't mean object.

The method problems are the same as above too. Now this case is the one most likely of the three to be misfiled. So you could say that Daria's case is misfiled and would actually be CAT1 if filed correctly. Tattoos aren’t objects, this case is a mistake. Then you could explain that Marked is CAT23 because corpses are objects (so 13 if he was alive). Objectively this header always being CAT3 still poses problems because we know there are Transformations that don’t require objects. Which brings us back to the problem of “why are the headers so bad at describing these things?”. If it’s subjective Sam decided that object instead of person made more sense here. Seemingly based on the fact that there is a tattoo. Later on he changed his mind about this but choosing it in the first place seems like a stretch. If he knew what these things meant in order to choose them, object seems like a very unobvious choice.

CAT23:

CAT23RC5246 Tattoo (Corpse) -/- Compulsion: This one is fairly clear to me. I’m going to be very generous and suggest that the corpse here is the object based on the above. The reason this one is a problem is that there wasn’t a location here. I’ve seen people say that it must be the graveyard but that’s confirmation bias IMO. It wasn’t a large feature of the episode, didn’t do anything coastal graveyards don’t do, and had no overt supernatural properties to it. I don’t personally think anyone would categorise this as CAT23 based on the incident alone but because CAT23 people will justify it to fit. That’s not inherently a problem because sometimes you have to make assumptions but given all of the above I don’t think that assumption is a reasonable one to make.

Objectively all compelling corpse tattoos are found in magical graveyards—or morgues, tombs, goth bars, and other corpse hangouts—and I think we can all agree that’s sort of wack. Subjectively Sam decided the graveyard was magic despite there being nothing to suggest that.

Klaus’ CAT#s:

This is a bit of a special section. I briefly mention Klaus in the intro but I didn’t mention that some of the incidents we’ve heard have been found on the Klaus sheet. The canonicity of these aren’t 100% and I would say the show takes precedent so this is supplemental rather than definitive. I think I’ve more than shown that this theory doesn’t hold up. This is more of an academic exercise.

The big thing to know here is that Kluas’ cases lack headers entirely but that some Klaus cases have notes and it’s these notes attached. It’s only one’s with those notes I’m interested in for this because of how they relate to things we’ve heard. One case is CAT3RBC1567 with the note “tinte”. CAT3RBC1567 is Daria’s case and “tinte” is German for “ink”. So this is very likely that case. There are 4 other cases with that note and they’re two CAT1s, a CAT3, and a CAT13. So even if Daria’s case is misfiled not all of those are the correct CAT# for that assumption. There are also two CAT1s and a CAT2 marked “Herr B”, which is “Mr B” in English. These aren’t tied to a Bonzo case we’ve heard yet but one of them does take place in Bland Theme Park, Somerset. That’s not definitively Bonzo but it’s a good hint at it.

Additionally there are 6 CAT2 cases that have the note “Katzen LOL” or “Cats LOL” which you’d expect to be CAT1s if there are cats involved. In a similar vein there are one CAT1 and five CAT2s marked “Kreigsvolk” which is literally “War People” but more likely “Army” or “Soldiers”. Again, you’d expect more CAT1s if CAT1 is people.

I’m not saying any of the above is the backbone of my reasoning here but these are things that are showing up in the show and they do seem to be pointing the same direction as what I’m saying. Ignoring them entirely I think the theory doesn’t hold up but with them I think it’s very clear.

Conclusion

I don’t have much of a wrap up here. Anyone who’s been reading my posts for a while has known that I’ve never thought this theory worked. It’s not something I ever get too deep into because I’m also obviously happy for people to have ideas I disagree with, as am I happy for them to disagree with my ideas. That’s just healthy theorising. I’d been considering writing this for a while though but was mostly held back by not wanting to come across as some sort of arbiter of what is and isn’t correct, and didn’t want to seem like I was calling anyone out specifically. However a few people now said they wanted to see this and there are enough instances of parallel thought on this theory that it’s impossible for me to really single people out now. So here we are.

Just to reiterate for people that did/do believe this theory I don’t think anyone was stupid and/or wrong for thinking it. I hope if the above has convinced you that I’m right about it that you’re not dissuaded from making and sharing future theories. I’ve have 3 or 4 terrible CAT# theories and a few R# theories too. My current ideas on DPHW and R# might be awfully wrong in the long run and that’ll be okay.

That’s me anyway, hope this was at the very least an interesting read if it didn’t manage to be a convincing one. Bonzo! Bonzo!! Bonzo!!!

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp theory #tmagp speculation #klaus = kl4-u5

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verdemoun · 17 hours

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how the flip does arthur cope with no dutch?? for the first time in so so so long there is no dutch??

oh ouch thank you for reminding me what a question. this is high honor helped john escape arthur. an arthur who died alone because dutch walked away but he died holding onto the relief that dutch didn't go with micah. maybe dutch had a chance, maybe dutch could save himself

hosea and bessie silently agree they need to protect him from that knowledge for as long as possible and for just barely long enough arthur isn't curious. they've gotten pretty decent at helping people adjust to the timewarp! you don't start with btw we're in the future we know about everything that happens to the gang and it's awful.

they focus on the happy things like hey we're okay, we're all together and we're here. things are really different there's a lot of noises and smells and things to get used to like cars are mainstream. going outside means the constant noise of engines instead of horses. sometimes you can hear electricity humming and that is a really weird noise but look how easy it is to make toast! so many foods that were like insanely difficult/risky to get like milk are just parts of life. you can put milk in coffee without it instantly coagulating it's okay that the milk been in the fridge for four days it tastes the same as when we opened it

arthur jumps like a cat for at least 2 weeks every time the toaster pops but if there's one routine he picks up insanely fast it's the simple joy of waking up and having warm toast with coffee in the morning. arthur morgan figuring out what he likes on toast. the first weekend where bessie is home and he wakes up to the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes (not because bessie is a homemaker but because the gang are yet to prove themselves capable of using a gas stove (hosea will take over one day and be too passionate about the perfect fried egg)) i'm so sorry i'm getting off topic but the sheer joy he would get out of the smallest simple modern pleasures

arthur wanted to get out of the gang, in the end. he wanted to rest and it literally took him dying to get it because he was so loyal to dutch. it's a relief to rest even if he isn't physically drained and sore because of tb anymore but that mental fatigue is still there. he went through so much and now he gets to rest knowing that the people he had to mourn are there. he gets to sleep in a bed every night instead of it being something he pays for the luxury of. it's comforting dutch isn't there because it means dutch is still alive somewhere

but it's innevitable. hosea, bessie, annabelle, even lenny and sean, waiting in dreadful anticipation for the day arthur connects the dots that they aren't in an alternate universe they are in the gang's future and they know what happens to them. and dutch-

hosea has to be the one to tell him. knowing arthur tried, remembering the relief in arthur's face literally days after processing his own death as arthur explains at least dutch didn't go with micah because arthur tried and he thought dutch had a chance of becoming himself again. it's the worst conversation in his life - explaining to his unruly son that dutch did change but he went back to micah. he got the blackwater money. he started a new gang that were almost a parody of the o'driscolls and killed innocents like muriel scranton just for a chance to escape. that eagle flies's death meant so little to dutch that he went out of his way to continue exploiting the anger of displaced young native americans to make up his new gang. that a professor that worked with john wrote about the night dutch van der linde jovially told john that he was going to kill him for 'i don't know, sport, i guess?' and dutch died in 1911 reportedly killed by john himself (according to the bureau's reports)

god fellas would it be enough to make arthur cry? christ i still don't think he would be able to let himself cry in front of hosea and tries to be dismissive like well we all saw what he was becoming after blackwater. reminds me of something rains fall said about people not changing, just becoming more of who they always were. guess we (john and I) were right in the end, maybe we hadn't really known dutch at all and we were never who we thought we were (who dutch told us we were, we were never idealists, we were killers from the damned start)

but he does cry. alone. in the bedroom that sometimes felt so comfortably private but suddenly feels like more of a box than his wagon back at camp. the fact he still thinks of back at camp, like it's something he can go back to. he still misses dutch. old dutch. he misses camp before blackwater and they made a goddamn mess of everything and he cries because he misses it. he still can't doesn't want to believe that dutch, old dutch who still cared and believed in things before he started making bad choices and plans went wrong, was the same dutch that went back to micah after arthur tried so hard to convince him. his last words were still pleading for dutch to realize he changed and to change back into the infallable, god-like man he admired. finding out he wasted his breath.

#rdr2 timewarp au #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #good afternoon america can i interest you in some emotional devastation

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v-67 · 4 months

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And you know, sometimes I think, humans were created just so that we could create things that would even surprise god. Or a spiritual energy.

Imagine creating a being, who evolved, created more things. Things such as humans, fictional characters, Stories, AI, Tv shows.

So many timelines within a world, trying to understand the cosmos

Giving the world a meaning, so many meanings.

Maybe god/spiritual energy asked the question, what is universe

And they created humans

And humans gave them an answer to what is universe

And so many answers

In so many forms

In so many beings

That every speck of a thing we see, we name it, we talk about it, we create a life within it.

.....

Had a conversation with someone and sometimes I surprise myself

Took a part of it out and posted this because it makes sense to me.

#i like thinking about the universe in this way #our purpose in life is to understand life #and we all understand life in different ways #like i said in my other post #its the snippets #that make a universe #and each universe is different #because in a little way we're all a little different yet we're not #yet we are #but the different meanings #this is what makes it make sense #the footprints on sand are different #yet when i look at them #all i feel is peace knowing people have been here #giving the wave and the sands their own meaning #maybe the energy or the god or something that created us put us here because they seeked for a meaning so desperately #and now #they have it #and they find new things and new meanings everyday #and they're at peace #and this is why they don't interfere because they want to keep learning more #writeblr #random #tumblr #writerscorner #writer #writeup #universe #manifestations #life and living

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icewindandboringhorror · 1 year

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oh my god.. a job for me.. historical pierrot beach performer lol

#also I'm obsessed with shows like this #I always forget about like 'people live in a fully historical way as a sort of half documentary half educational reality-tv ish thing' as #a genre but then every once in a while I remember and watch something like this and am so enamored #There was also one called 'manor house' or something where it was like normal people who aren't actually historians or anything #trying to live like how they did a while ago in some big manor or whatever which was interesting #not the drama really (there wasnt much but a few of the people on there were kind of annoying whenever they did get their #few little interview bits among the otherwise mostly explanatory nature of the show just focusing on how things #worked in mainatining a giant manor house)#though there's a lot of focus on edwardian and victorian times in these sorts of things. which is cool!#but I wonder if they have them for different time periods too. and different locations. what about 1500s france #1250s china. etc. etc. I dont know because like I said I always forget I like this type of stuff so I never look it up #omg.... guess what... (whispering to you as if we're friends and I'm gosspiing).. you will NEVER believe this..#you know 'Edwardian Farm' right? well.. I just found........ 'VICTORIAN farm'!#it's literally the same people doing the same thing but a different time period. And you know what? I will still eagerly watch every moment #ghbhj.. They could do 'Victorian Farm 2' 'Victorian Farm 3: Yet Another Show About The Same Stuff' and I would watch them all #ANYWAY.. also I feel like that could be my niche. Like because I'm Very Mentally Ill And Have Very Much Problems and have difficulty managi #ng ''normal'' jobs. But I LOVE menial repetitive tasks epsecially ones I can do with my hands. Like I could peel carrots for hours. I love #sculpting. etc. If I were ever in a position to learn a historical trade I think that could be My Thing. on these shows they always have li #ke 'The One Single Guy In The Entirety Of England Who Still Weaves Baskets Like They Did In Shropshire In 1805' or whatever and they #call him on the show and he's like 'yeah this basket took me 16 hours to make and here's how I do it' and it's like.. god.. I could be that #guy.. Like old style jewelry making. shoe making. all of these little tedious tasks to do crafting sorts of things.#It's just that like... when am I ever going to be in a position to LEARN that? You'd have to know someone who already does it #and be like tutored by them or etc. Which my social issues are a barrier gghhj.. and lack of resources/money to buy supplies. etc #but.. THEORETICALLY.. the dream.. ANYWAY ghhjhj.. I've been very busy all week but will try to do new poll adventure and other #stuff soon. I've had like two appointments and More Things Than Usual so just.. zero social media posting energy whatsoever #I do HAVE posts though.. pictures.. cat things.. costumes.. polls.. it's just.. brain says I have to lay on the floor all day instead #but at least I can ponder the absolute glee of a theoretical life where I am That One Guy in england who can make old ass gloves or etc.#If anyone in the UK has a dying grandpa with a near-extinct skill and YOU yourself don't feel like picking up the trade to pass it to young #er generations.. hmu and help me get citizenship and I will do it for you. even if he's evil and mean. I will MAKE those shoes

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buysomecheese · 1 year

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I'm so confused by high schoolers wtf. Literally no one is every mean to me but my best friend has people telling them that other people hate them just randomly for no reason?? Makes no since we are basically the same-

#like we both keep to our little group (us. their boyfriend. our freshman. a couple others we talk to casually.)#(to be fair their boyfriend is a bit controversial on his own- he's a 'devil's advocate' a teacher's son- said teacher is an ass- etc.)#we're both not cis (visibly so- them a bit more than me because their parents aren't super transphobic but I'm out at school generally)#(like I run GSA. I'm annoying about it I talk about it all the time. yet they get hated for being non-binary and never saying anything?)#they're smarter and more school focused than I am and therefore in harder classes (and ik the people there are more stuck up) but it's-#-like completely random people who hate on them. like in a different grade we don't even know them.#they're definitely nicer than I am to people and teachers like them more because they talk to teachers better than I do #like they care about how people see them and I do not. I chose like maybe 5-7 people who's image of me I genuinely care about and they-#-choose everyone they've ever come in contact with so I know they are very fucking nice to people #I'm so confused this is so upsetting. if anything I'm the more unlikable idk why is it this way.#vent #not personal though

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dredshirtroberts · 8 days

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i'm just a dude and my mind is a NIGHTMARE

#the grieving process is hard - i feel like it's harder when they haven't even left yet #but you know it's coming so you just kinda Pre-Grieve and hope it helps later #I also uhhhhhh don't? grieve the dead very well? so i was already going to do a bad job of it #and now i feel like i'm doing even worse than i normally would because of the circumstances of learning the news #and also i hate my parents and my whole family of origin and the way that they're cycles upon cycles of neglect and abuse #and i hate that i'm caught in the middle of it and unable to process my thoughts feelings or emotions around it because i keep getting #caught up in the unfairness and rage and then shoving it all back out of my mind as hard as i can and hiding from it so i don't have to pok #at the box anymore because it fucking *hurts* dude #it hurts to think about these things and work through my feelings and I don't fucking want to right now #but i'm running out of time on a deadline no one fucking controls and if i miss it there are no second chances ever again #and i hate that. i hate that i have no choice i have no agency in this #i know i'm not supposed to but like i still hate it #this will also be my first grandparent death i'll have experienced and i know i'm late to the party #and i'm lucky to be late except i never even had a relationship with my grandparents #and what little i did have dried up because i *did* pull away from the family #and no one fucking chased after me #which is a DIFFERENT kettle of fish we're not even going to get into here #maybe i'll write more Adrien stuff he's good for getting these feelings out #and i started his story line officially yesterday so maybe... maybe i'll write something from further down the timeline

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uravichii · 2 months

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"best friends who kiss?"

character/s: bakugo katsuki

summary: recently, your best friend has been kissing you at random times. you have no idea why because he refuses to talk about it. either way, you're not about to let this to ruin your precious friendship.

genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo

a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D

the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.

"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"

"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.

you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.

you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."

then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.

you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.

"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"

"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"

you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.

"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"

"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."

he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.

"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"

and he's out of the door.

was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.

at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.

after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.

"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.

there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.

he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.

"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"

you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"

"s-sure."

when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?

he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.

"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.

"t's okay."

"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.

"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"

"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.

"son of a bitch."

the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.

you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.

now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.

he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'

"i'm okayー" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.

your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.

you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.

bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.

you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.

you kick him in the shin.

"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"i was going toー"

"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"

"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.

"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"

he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.

"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."

silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.

"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.

you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."

"i'm not confused. i like you."

"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."

"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"

"stop saying that. you don't."

"i do, and you like me tooー"

"what?!" you laugh incredulously.

'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?

you do what is necessary again.

"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.

"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."

you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.

"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"

"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."

you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.

"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"

"we're not going to break it off."

"how do you know that?"

"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"

"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."

"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."

"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."

he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."

"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.

"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."

if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.

"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."

in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.

"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"

he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.

"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."

he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.

"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."

after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.

he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.

when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.

"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."

"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."

"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."

you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.

"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"

he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."

"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."

"fuck off!"

TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you #bakugo katsuki drabbles #bakugo drabbles #bnha drabbles #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki fluff #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons

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chuluoyi · 6 months

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✎ newlyweds

- gojo satoru x reader

you and your new husband make out in the most inappropriate place possible

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—in the form of gojo eating you out and some fingering?

note: oh god what have i done… to the anon who requested this, yeah… i’m kinda nervous, and i can't bring myself to proofread it SKADSK pls forgive my sins i’m logging out until tomorrow bye

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

It began innocently enough, or as innocent as a visit to your husband's office should be.

You had wanted to drop by to simply see him for a bit. Perhaps because right after your wedding, he had been whisked away on missions all over Japan, leaving you with hardly any quality time together. You had been feeling rather lonely as a result.

You had expected over-the-top greetings and maybe some silly jokes, but the instant he spotted you entering the room, he swiftly pulled you close, tracing his fingers along your spine while studying your face intently.

"Satoru?" you tilted your head to the side, clearly confused. However, little did you know, your husband had different thoughts in mind.

He wanted to feast on you so fucking bad.

"My cute little wifey," he purred, a bright smile on his face. He was definitely your stupid husband still, but the way his eyes darken with desire told you that the other side of him had awakened as well.

You frowned in realization. "No, this is—"

But then Satoru quickly took his chance and crashed his needy lips on your soft ones. Taken by surprise, you sank into his arms that held you tight.

"—your office," you gasped amidst his fervent kisses. "Satoru, you can't—mmm!"

"Mm, you talk too much, wifey," he murmured against your mouth, still with that playful grin. "And I most definitely can. I've missed you, you know... just allow me this, please?"

Frankly, you missed him too. It had been a while... it'd be a lie if you said you didn't long for his touch.

Satoru steered you by the waist towards the desk, and then he started peppering your neck and collarbone with kisses.

"Mmm, Satoru—" your hands grasped his silky hair, gently kneading his scalp. The hard surface of desk was uncomfortable on your back, and yet you were still sprawled out there and the heat within you only grew stronger.

You could feel him sigh against your neck and tighten his grip on your hips. And to your surprise, one of his hand suddenly went to grope your chest, and at the same time he sucked on your neck, causing a whimper to escape your lips.

"You make the cutest noises," he grunted, voice husky with lust, and even you felt turned on. “I love it.”

This was so highly inappropriate. This was still his office at Jujutsu High, where anyone could enter at any time. No, more than that, this is public place!

"Satoru—ah—don't..." you were ashamed that your voice didn’t sound firmer, lost in the sensation of how he fondled your breasts. "We can... continue this at home?" you managed to offer, but right at that moment, he sucked hard on your ample bosom, making you gasp.

When had he managed to unbutton the first two buttons of your shirt, and how had you not noticed it until now?!

"Uh-oh, sweetheart," he mumbled against the valley of your chest, lips still practically on your generous mound. "I can't wait that long."

"Mmph…"

"You see, we're still what they call... newlyweds, no?" you could feel his smile grazing your skin and despite yourself, you felt really warm already down there. "Even I'm entitled to this much."

You knew this wasn't right, but—

Just for a while... won't hurt, right?

—and so you took a leapt of faith, betting on him to have locked the door.

Suddenly his head dived between your legs, placing them on his shoulders. His skillful hands moved quickly to push up your tight skirt, part your legs, and toss your underwear away.

"All of this," he cooed, his long, nimble fingers ran down your slit teasingly, and you unwittingly whined, feeling so exposed.

"For me, yeah? Just for me, hmm?"

Then, he began to pleasure you down there. He started trailing his tongue along your moist folds—causing you to let out a sinful moan. From your vantage point, you could see the greed in his bright eyes.

The space between your legs was soaked in no time and you felt your orgasm building fast. You couldn't gather your thoughts or respond coherently as you tossed your head back and writhed in pleasure when his plush lips casually nipped at your wet, delicate flesh. It was overwhelming, almost dizzying, but undeniably wonderful—

"Sa—toru!" you mewled, gripping his hair tight and pulled him even closer. In response, his lips pulled up into a tiny smirk and he lapped with even more fervor.

The way you cried his name made something dark and twisted inside Satoru twitch. You never knew but yes, there was always this darkness ingrained in him— Suguru leaving, the loneliness, the overwhelming power of his Limitless. He thanked all Gods that he had you with him to keep that part of him at bay.

Ah, but when it comes to carnal desires… that twisted side in him would be harmless now, wouldn’t it?

The next thing you knew, you reached your climax and the tension inside you finally burst. You felt your release spilling out of you and to his tongue as you turned into a puddle of broken wails and whimpers. You could only feel, feel and feel everything he brought upon you, as he sucked the living daylights out of your dripping cunt.

You could barely make out Satoru wiping the corner of his lips with that smug smirk. "You taste good as always, darling, and look at you… so, so wet. For me."

Now his beloved wife, and long before that, just you, whom he had cherished for so long. The satisfaction of bringing you to the pinnacle of pleasure was a reward in itself. Witnessing you sopping wet and blissed out like this had always been a part of his most vivid fantasies—ones he knew he could turn into reality.

"So perfect," he murmured, mostly to himself. In his eyes, you had never looked more beautiful.

You heaved, jerking your hips, feeling your sticky, hot walls squelch at nothing and wishing for something—like his fingers, at least, to stretch you out. As if he heard your silent pleas, he pushed two at once, and you were overtaken by spasms of pleasure.

"Hm? Surely this isn’t your limit." Satoru inserted a third finger, chuckling, prodding at that one certain spot there and you actually squealed, tears in your eyes at the feeling of being pushed to your limit.

You were a drenched mess as he fucked you with his fingers—and good lord, did your juices stain even the papers on his desk?

You could barely collect yourself as Satoru dirty talked you—now getting on your eye level, yet still twisting and scissoring his fingers inside you, telling you how much he adored this sight of you so vulnerable exclusively for him like this, and how hard he was getting himself.

"My pretty wife," he groaned, a wolfish grin curling on his lips and a sheen of sweat was palpable on his forehead. You shuddered from the feeling of his breath on your ear and how stimulated you were. “You sure are the prettiest when cumming, huh? Don’t you know what you do to me? Don’t you know it’s taking everything I have—” a grunt, “—not to fuck you senseless?”

You thought you couldn't take this any longer, but just as that thought crossed your mind, you went rigid as your absolute worst nightmare happened. You heard the door to the room click open, and holy hell did you see—

. . .

Megumi.

Stopping right in his tracks.

. . .

How he his eyes widened exponentially at the sight of you, whose skirt was hiked up and legs spread open in front of Satoru—

—who was bent over the desk, trapping you beneath him, his fingers plugged inside you.

. . .

And… that underwear on the floor—

. . .

The poor soul made a horrified strangled noise, and then bolted away, slamming the door so hard that it rebounded, failing to close entirely.

. . .

You wanted to die.

Epilogue

“Tsumiki? Is… Megumi okay? Can I see him?”

“Ah… Nee-san, he’s been having high fever for days now… he’s sleeping.”

“I-is that so… how about I take him to the doctor?”

“Thank you, but… Will Gojo-sensei be there?”

“Uh…”

“I’m really sorry… but he said he didn’t want to see Gojo-sensei for a while…”

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highvern · 3 months

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When I Kissed the Teacher

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, humor

Summary: Mr. Kim has a crush, to his students that much is clear. It's also clear that you like him too. What happens when a group of meddlesome ten year olds decide to play cupid for their two favorite teachers?

Warnings: science teacher mingyu, grammar teacher reader, meddling students, crushes, flirting, lots of candy and coffee

Length: ~5.2k

Note: it's here! thank you to @gyuwoncheol and @gyuswhore for beta reading and to my lovely @tomodachiii for fact checking my knowledge of primary school lol

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Turning from the white board, Mingyu faces the room full of weary children. Mondays are hard. Early mornings are hard. Learning the difference between reptiles and mammals first thing on Monday morning is downright torture. But it’s nothing a little bribery (read: candy) can't fix.

"Alright class, today we're learning about animals! Who remembers what a mammal is?"

Mingyu barely finishes his sentence before a sharp knock interrupts.

“Mr. Kim,” you seethe from the doorway.

Mingyu turns around immediately, eyes wide in fear at your tone. “Yes?”

“Can I speak with you? In the hallway?”

The class of ten year olds “ooooh” as their teacher trails after you like a kicked puppy. If they weren't awake before they sure are now. He shoots a silencing look back before dipping out the door where you wait, foot tapping impatiently.

“Would you like to explain where all my printer paper went?”

Mingyu tries to play dumb. “I don’t know?”

“Oh really?" You blink. "Because I found the box in the workroom and guess what was on the printer? More of your worksheets for your class!”

“How do you know they were for my class?”

You don’t answer, in favor of shoving the animal themed coloring sheets into his chest harshly.

“Listen, anyone could have…” He trails off under your withering glare.

“If you need paper, ask!”

Mingyu burns under the reprimand. “Oh, like you asked to use my paints last month?”

“That was an accident!" you argue, eyes wide. "And I replaced them.”

“Alright, then I’ll replace the paper I took.”

“Fine.”

With a curt nod, you turn to leave; unaware of the blushing cheeks and heart eyes following your retreating form. But the gaggle of elementary students waiting for Mingyu's return see them clear as day; their fits of shrill giggles and whispers falling on deaf ears as he shakes off the stars clouding his mind.

Mr. Kim, their goofy science teacher, has a crush. And like children are wont to do, they hatch a scheme to help him out.

—

“Alright. Do we remember the difference between fragments and sentences?”

The classroom ripples with tiny voices shouting “yes” with varying degrees of confidence. Their last quiz grades are proof they haven’t quite grasped the subject yet but that’s why you’re planning for an intensive review with them today.

“Awesome! So our warm up today should be a piece of cake. I’ll help with the first one so let's all look at the boa—”

A knock at the door cuts you off. Mingyu stands in the threshold, looking positively mischievous.

“Sorry to interrupt, Ms. y/l/n. But can I speak with you in the hall?”

Forcing a smile, you respond. “Certainly. Class, why don’t you all work with your desk partner on the worksheet and when I come back we’ll go over the answers?”

They break into groups, chattering about everything but the work you’ve assigned; most notably the way Mr. Kim beams as you follow him outside. However, once you’ve crossed beyond the border of the brightly decorated room, twenty pairs of ears strain to hear why Mr. Kim interrupted their morning lesson.

“What's this about?” you ask.

Mingyu smiles, eyes shifting to the floor. “Here's the paper I owed you.”

“You’re kidding.”

Three hefty boxes are stacked next to your door. It’s far more paper than Mingyu used for his color sheets, and more than you’d probably need for the rest of the semester.

“I thought you could use extra since you’re too stingy to share.”

“I’m not stingy!” You scoff.

Mingyu simply flashes another self-satisfied smile before heaving a box into his arms and carrying it into your classroom. He could certainly carry all three boxes at once; anytime there were desks or anything else remotely heavy to be moved, Mingyu did so with ease. But the kids don’t think anything of the way he so obviously drags out the torture.

The kids watch Mr. Kim weave through the maze of tables towards the back of the room.

“Lia, can you open the door for me please?”

The little girl jumps from her desk and bolts for the supply closet, braids bouncy with each step.

“In here okay?” Mingyu asks.

Blinking from your stupor, you turn back to your desk as you answer. “Yeah, it’s…whatever.”

Your class stopped their work to focus on the unfolding drama between their two favorite teachers. They don’t know why you can’t seem to stand their science teacher, and it’s anyone’s guess why Mr. Kim has decided to interrupt their grammar lesson for something so silly. But it’s clear that whenever you two meet an argument is clear to follow. And in the guidebook of elementary school, if you like a girl, you always argue with them.

So enthralled in your silent battle of wits with the peppy man, you miss the two girls plotting in the corner.

Hana turns to her friends with breakneck speed. “Did you see the way Mr. Kim smiled at her?”

“He’s so in love,” Arin sighs dreamily.

“And Miss y/l/n is blushing! We should help them.”

Their whispers are cut off when you clap. “Alright! Back to work!”

Mingyu lingers by the front until you forcibly shoo him away, huffing at the permanent smile stretched across his lips even when the door slams in his face.

“Meet at the tree during recess.”

The two girls nod and return to their worksheets.

A new week comes with new challenges. Today’s is the universe’s determination to make your life as difficult as possible.

Your alarm didn’t go off, your shoddy dryer left you with damp clothes, and your car battery decided a short strike would be a great way to start the freezing morning. There was barely time to wash your face with cold tap water let alone put on makeup or style your hair. To top it all off, the green lunchbox with leftovers from your favorite restaurant sits on the shelf of your fridge which means the crumbled granola bar at the bottom of your purse will finally see the light of day.

Flicking on the lights, you rush to prepare for the day. By the grace of god your first period is planning time so no students witness your near breakdown from the absolute shit storm of the morning. Not much is to be done since you already organized everything you needed Friday afternoon but the tense events of the day leave you feeling off. Not even a cup of coffee with the creamer you reserve for days like these helps the overwhelming unease rippling in the back of your throat.

Your allotted private time washes by and before you know it, a gaggle of students filters into your room, giddy on holiday spirit and sugar. The first five minutes of class are spent reminding them their butts belong in chairs at their own stations, that the warmup is for them to complete on their own, and if they aren’t feeling well enough to do classwork they need to go to the nurse.

Twenty minutes into the lesson and the worksheet for their quiz on Friday finally manages to capture their attention. A few students struggle but most are sailing through. Its the same material as last week just with a new puzzle for them to complete once they have all the correct answers.

“Alright, who can tell me what word fits for number six?” you ask.

The attentiveness you’ve sweated to cultivate all morning dissolves when a volunteer knocks to distribute candy-grams.

“Delivery!” a young woman sings as she enters, dressed in red from head to toe with heart shaped sunglasses and a sparkly headband. Her wicker basket flows with candy bars wrapped with shiny ribbon and cardstock penned with confessions.

The shrill symphony of oohs and ahhs as the kids receive pieces of candy raises the vein on your temple.

“And for Ms. y/l/n!” the young woman sing-songs, heart headband bouncing as she approaches your desk.

The cardstock reads one of the cheesy messages the school provides for the Valentine cards they sell as a yearly fundraiser.

‘I like you a choco-lot! - your secret admirer’

You throw it into a drawer in your desk, oblivious to the crestfallen faces of two little girls watching with rapt attention.

“I don’t think she likes chocolate,” Arin whispers.

“No. Remember during Halloween? She said her favorite candy is Twix. She gave Gabi an extra point on the spelling test when she brought in her halloween candy and gave them to her.”

“Well maybe she’s mad because it wasn’t a Twix!”

“Maybe. But Mr. Kim didn’t react to the note on his desk this morning either,” Hana huffs. “But he was late so maybe he didn’t see it.”

Your second attempt to put class back on track falls flat. Instead of group review, kids come up to your desk one by one to check their answers while you nurse your headache until the bell dismisses everyone to their next destination. Another crop of students flood the seats, emotions running high from who did and didn’t receive candy in their last class. Two students end up arguing about who knows what and then proceed to break into frustrated tears.

You bite your tongue to stop from doing the same and put on one of the movies you reserve for days like these.

When Mingyu walks into your room after school ends and all the kids are dismissed for pick up, you give him a look that sends him turning around and exiting the way he came without a word.

Tuesday brings a better attitude. Mostly because you get to take all of your class to the library for silent reading. But the homemade stirfry sitting in your lunch box in the teacher’s lounge helps too.

Your second period kids spread out through the room, some sprawled across the worn rugs on their bellies while others curl up in the much coveted bean bags; a few choose to hide between the imposing bookshelves, crowded on all sides by the smell of old paper.

With an overly sweetened latte sitting in one hand, and a new novel in the other, you perch at the long table near the librarian's desk to ‘supervise.’

“How did you manage to get a copy of The Gate? I couldn’t even get the pre-order before it sold out.” Elise, the librarian, asks.

You smile into your coffee cup before responding. “Eh, I know a guy.”

“You do? I thought you didn’t date?”

“I don��t.” You nod. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t have connections.”

“Well whoever your ‘connection’ is, send them my way when you're done with him.”

You pretend to ponder before answering, “I’ll think about it.”

Snapping your book shut, you rise to gather the kids to return back to class. It takes several minutes as a few refuse to join the line until their current chapter is finished and Kai pulls out the puppy dog eyes, begging to stay all day to finish his book.

You corral them out the door with promises of more reading time on Friday if they behave well the rest of the week. Some roll their eyes but most nod enthusiastically at the opportunity to skip on their weekly quiz.

Unlocking the door, you unpack your things and find a basket of Valentine’s on your desk to be passed out. Almost all the kids receive at least one, some find two or even three heart shaped sugar cookies on their desk. Your heart squeezes when some of the students decide to divy up their cookies and gift them to the students who didn’t receive a note.

The last cookie at the bottom of the basket has a note with your name on it and a message in the same swirly script as yesterday’s.

We go together like milk and cookies. - your secret admirer

As far as cheesy Valentine’s go, you’ve seen worse. But free snacks are free snacks and the confection tastes great dipped in your coffee.

Your fourth period class focuses on their worksheets, silently deciphering the reading and ticking of questions. You promised whatever group finished first with the most right answers gets a special Valentine treat; full sized candies and extra credit on Friday.

Whatever it takes to keep them focused while you work through grading everything for your other classes.

You don’t notice the man waiting at the door until one of your kids greet their science teacher; a ripple of tiny ‘Hi, Mr. Kim!’s following.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Mingyu announces from the door. “But, ugh, the volunteer accidentally gave me this.”

“Oh! Thanks Min—Mr. Kim.”

You take the can of orange soda from his hand and skim the note.

I have a ‘crush’ on you. - your secret admirer

None of the students can read the note from their seats but you and Mr. Kim look equally bashful.

“What are you guys working on? Mingyu asks, hoping to diffuse the tension.

A cacophony of voice race to explain their assignment. Mingyu pretends to understand, smiling at their enthusiasm and grabbing a worksheet for himself.

He plants himself in one of the tiny plastic chairs next to your desk meant for ten year olds rather than a grown man of his size. It’s comical the way his knees brush his chest and any small move across the slippery seat threatens to land him on the floor.

Reviewing the sheet, Mingyu announces, “Alright, how about if you guys finish your work before me, we can have a pizza party in my class on Friday?”

More screams bounce off the walls.

“You guys can’t finish if you’re talking to Mr. Kim,” you remind them.

The room descends into a cozy calm; the sound of pencils on paper, your keyboard clicks, and the soft jazz from the computer speakers blending together.

You don’t look up to grab the answer key from the corner of the desk, Mingyu huffing from his seat at being caught.

“No cheating,” you smirk under your breath.

“Creative strategy,” he argues.

Instead of answering you shake your head and continue to focus on your own tasks.

Ten minutes and twenty emails later, two groups of students rise and approach your desk at the same time.

“We finished first!”

“No, we did!”

“Guys,” you interrupt them. “I’ll grade them both and whoever has more right wins. Besides, Mr. Kim owes you a pizza party anyway.”

The entire class cheers at the news while Mingyu playfully pouts. Maybe if he hadn’t given up on his worksheet to snoop through the basket full of snacks on your bookshelf, he wouldn’t be eating his own words.

The second group of students to approach your desk ends up victorious. You mark down their candy orders to pick up on your weekly grocery shopping trip on Thursday night before sending them to back up their belongings so you can all head to the cafeteria.

“What’d you bring for lunch?” Mingyu asks as he walks with you to the teachers lounge to retrieve your lunch boxes.

“Pasta salad.”

“Wanna trade?”

“What’d you bring?” you ask, handing him the black grocery bag you know carries his lunch.

“Pasta salad.”

You roll your eyes and kick the fridge shut.

—

After lunch you have another free period. The printing room is empty so you take advantage and make enough copies for the rest of the week. Perhaps Mingyu wasn’t wrong to bring you three boxes of paper.

Lugging the stack in hand, you turn down that hall only to find a familiar face standing guard outside your classroom.

“Arin? Why are you in the hallway? You should be in class.”

“I was just…going to the bathroom!”

“Really? Because there's a bathroom right outside Mrs. Lee’s classroom if I remember correctly.”

“It was gross!”

Considering Mrs. Lee’s classroom sits on the main hallway and intersects with two other grades, it probably looked more akin to a battlefield than a restroom at this time of day.

“Okay…but hurry back. And I’m gonna let Mrs. Lee know what took you so long so she isn’t worried.”

You side step around her but she moves right into your path. And then again. And again.

“Arin, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, Ms. y/l/n. I don’t feel good. Can you walk me to the nurse?”

Crouching to her height, you rest the back of your hand against her forehead. Arin never admits she doesn’t feel well even when she’s tinged green and hacking up a lung. It’s the perfect admission to keep you from peering past the threshold of your classroom and blowing the entire operation.

Until a loud crash and high pitched scream breaks the silence of the hallway.

You jump back up.“What the—”

“Wait!” Arin shouts, throwing her arms and legs wide to block your path like a three foot tall ‘X’.

“Arin, what is going on?”

“Mr. Kim said animals make themselves bigger to be scarier,” Arin says, tiny face scowling.

“And why are you trying to scare me?”

Another bang echoes out the classroom forcing you to pick the little girl up by her armpits and carry her inside with you. She slips from your hold as you stare with a wide mouth at the scene. A desk is pulled up to the board allowing Hana to balance atop it as she scribbles across the chalkboard.

Wil you be my Valintin? - Mr. K

“Hana! What are you doing?”

“Arin!” Hana huffs indignantly.

Arin opens her mouth to respond but the look on your face silences both girls. You help Hana down from the desktop before crossing your arms in front of you and taking a deep breath.

“Sit. Now.”

They trudge to the seats next to your desk; heads hung low, tears brimming in their eyes. Neither has been on the receiving end of such a reprimand before; they’re usually your best behaved students.

You allow them to stew in silence as you right the two chairs Hana knocked over. She doesn’t look injured which is a relief but your nerves are shot from the perplexing situation. Hana and Arin can be troublemakers but they’ve never done anything like this before.

Once you're certain the urge to yell at them is quelled you approach your desk and take a seat. You watch them expectantly. Arin chances a glance up and swiftly looks back to her lap while Hana focuses on the picture at the edge of your desk, blinking away tears.

“Girls,” you sigh. “What were you doing in here?”

“Ms. y/l/n,” Arin blubbers.

Presenting the tissue box, you wait several moments while they both dab their eyes and blow their noses before speaking again.

“We just thought…” Hana starts, glancing at the other girl.

“Thought what?”

“Mr. Kim’s in love with you and we wanted to help!”

“I see.” You nod. “Did Mr. Kim tell you that?”

They look at each other before shaking their heads ‘no.’

Your temple throbs from the situation. A measured breath through your nose sends the girls into a frenzy.

“We can tell!”

“You’re perfect for eachother!”

“And did Mr. Kim ask you to sneak into my classroom while I wasn’t here?”

“No ma’am,” they mumble in unison.

It dawns on you that the two girls have been behind all the gifts you’ve received this week.“Are you two behind all the Valentine’s I’ve gotten?”

“We were just trying to help!” cries Arin.

Moving to crouch in front of them, you wait until they both look up at you.

“It’s very sweet what you were trying to do and I’m sorry I yelled at you. But you can’t sneak out of class. What if something happened and you got hurt climbing the table?”

“I’m sorry,.” Hana says.

“Me too.”

You pass them more tissues to wipe their noses.

“How about we get you two back to class?”

“But what about Mr. Kim?”

“Yeah! He needs to know how you feel.”

“That’s between Mr. Kim and I. Understand? Those are grown up things.”

The repulsion painting their faces forces you to bite back a snort. Instead you offer your hands, pinkies extended towards them both.

“How ‘bout this? I promise to talk to Mr. Kim if you two promise no more meddling. Okay?”

All three of you share a smile as you intertwine their pinkies with your own.

“Now,” you say whilst jumping to your feet. “You are supposed to be in Mrs. Lee’s class. And you are supposed to be at the library.”

Escorting them both back to where they belong, they can’t help but giggle when you pass Mr. Kim’s room and he waves. The question is clear on his face but you shrug your shoulders.

You’ll explain everything later.

You smile knowingly at the corner of the classroom where two little cupids sit as the volunteer brings you a lollipop with a note reading ‘I’m a sucker for you.’

Part of you feels guilty they pooled their own money together to supply you and the teacher next door with treats all week in an effort to play matchmaker. But another part can’t help but laugh. And when you get the chance to tell Mingyu what they’ve planned you’ll no doubt laugh harder.

But because the universe somehow knows you lied to your students the day prior you find your reckoning in the cafeteria.

It was Mingyu’s fault. Or at least that’s what you argue. You barely made it three steps inside the room before the large man bulldozes you; sending his lunch and your own down your fronts in a palette of greens and browns.

His eyes widen in horror as a slice of tomato peels off your shirt and flops to the floor. “I am so sorry!”

“Seriously?” you choke.

The entire school watches with baited breath. Students and teachers alike watch with abject horror as you skirt around the taller man and flee with shaking shoulders and your chin dipped into your chest. Mingyu gapes like a fish as you run by, frozen in place. As hundreds of eyes settle on him, he realizes they all saw how he drenched you in salad and coffee.

Mrs. Lee dismisses him with a nod, silently agreeing to watch his class so he can trapeze out to his car and find something suitable to wear.

—

Mingyu watches the game of kickball unfold across the field, keeping an eye on the rowdier students as they pick teams. But even from a distance he recognizes one face is notably absent.

He finds Kai slumped on a bench at the far corner of the playground using a stick to draw lines in the dirt at his feet.

“Hey, buddy. You feeling okay?” Mingyu asks.

Kai never misses a game of kickball. Even when his arm was in a cast at the beginning of the year, he insisted he only needed one good arm to play defense and neither to play offense. Kai’s mom simply laughed at Mingyu’s concerned email and said her son was exactly like his dad and there was no stopping him if he was set on something.

So to have the little curly haired boy isolated on the far edge of the field is serious cause for concern.

Kai looks up briefly at Mingyu’s approach before returning to his mud art. “Mr. Kim, have you ever liked someone?”

“Liked someone?” Mingyu drops onto the bench next to him.

“Like,” the little boy inhales trying to explain himself. “Like a girl?”

Mingyu snuffs out his chuckle at Kai’s innocent question. “Yeah, why do you ask? Do you like a girl?”

“I–My friend does!”

“Okay,” Mingyu nods.

“And he doesn’t know how to tell her.”

“Well that's tough.”

“How’d you tell the girl you liked?”

“Well,” Mingyu drops to a whisper. “Once upon a time, I had a crush on this girl. And she was the prettiest girl I ever saw. Smart and funny too.”

“Did she run fast?”

The question confuses Mingyu at first but then he remembers he’s talking to a ten year old and the rules of attraction hinge on who gets the swing the highest and jumps off.

“She ran really fast,” he nods. “And she made me so nervous I couldn’t talk to her. My palms got all sweaty and my face turned red.”

“That happens to m—I mean my friend!”

“And it feels like there's a bunch of frogs jumping around your stomach?”

“Yeah,” Kai nods. “So how’d you tell her?”

“Well one day, I finally decided to introduce myself. Walked right up to her, opened my mouth and…poof.”

“Poof?”

“Poof.” Mingyu hangs his head. “I forgot everything I was gonna say to her.”

“What happened after that?”

“She waited a few minutes and then said ‘okay, I’ll meet you at 6:30 for dinner.’”

“She knew you liked her?”

Mingyu nods gravely before imparting his most sage wisdom. “Girls are very smart, Kai.”

“So I should try and tell her I like her?”

“Your friend should at least try,” Mingyu shrugs.

Kai blushes, having been clearly caught. “But what if she doesn’t like him back?”

“That’s okay. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim. You’re the best!”

“You’re welcome, buddy.” Mingyu gives him a fist bump before shooing him back towards his friends. “Now go play kickball, the boys need your help.”

Kai runs off but a new presence fills the vacant seat on the bench.

“I thought we agreed to keep our romantic life a secret at work.”

Mingyu smiles sheepishly before turning to look at you. “Oh, you heard that?”

“Yeah, I heard,” you smile. “They already think you have a crush on me.”

“Smart kids.” He says, enjoying the way the worn sage button up swallows your figure.

Mingyu loves when you wear his clothes, he told you this morning when you stole his favorite jacket. Which is why you both took almost twenty minutes to gain your composure after he spilled an entire tray of food on you.

Mingyu swears he didn’t do it on purpose. How could he have known you were coming through the door at that very moment? But he’d do it again if it meant seeing you in one of the spare shirts he keeps in the truck again. Even if it meant he’d also sustain minor coffee burns.

“They think I have a crush on you too.”

You watch the way he traces your collar bone, catching the twinkle of the diamond pendant resting at the hollow of your throat; his birthstone. It was the first piece of jewelry he bought you when you started dating almost a decade ago.

You hadn’t taken it off since the day he gave it to you with shaky hands and red ears.

“Do you?” He asks.

“Do I, what?”

“Have a crush on me?”

“Oh Gyu,” you coo at him. “I have the fattest crush on you.”

“Damn right you do.”

Sitting outside with an entire audience of other teachers and students doesn’t allow either of you to fall into the familiar comfort of adorning kisses or airtight hugs. But Mingyu’s pinky brushing yours in the ample space between your figures is enough for now.

Friday is Valentine’s day which means all the kids don red and pink outfits and prepare for a day of candy filled fun. You spent all morning helping the art teacher set up paint stations. Why she cashed in on the long owed favor with such a simple task was beyond you but the monotony is a nice change from the chaos you’ve experienced all week. When second period rolls around, you shuffle back to your classroom; welcomed by the line of students waiting outside your locked door.

“I swear! I saw Mr. Kim and Ms. y/l/n at the grocery store last night.”

“Hana, Ms. y/l/n said its grown up business. Maybe you just saw people that look like them,” Arin shrugs. “And I don’t wanna get in trouble again.”

“It had to be them!”

They quiet down as they walk past your figure, smiling like cherubs when you greet them.

Students file in one by one, shrill voices echoing from excitement. Most cheer about their pizza party with Mr. Kim later that afternoon, a few squeals about the set of Valentine’s their parents sent with them to handout.

Your ears catch a few other snippets of conversation as you wait for the stragglers to make it by.

“Oh my gosh those are so pretty!”

“Those look like the flowers my mommy likes!”

Curiosity gets the better of you, forcing you to step into the room and see what the kids are talking about.

An explosion of pink camellias resting on your desk. Huge blossoms with pale pink petals spill over the sides of the vase, slips of greenery sprinkled throughout. Approaching your desk, the floral aroma fills your nose. The blooms feel like soft velvet under the pad of your finger tracing the largest one in the center of the arrangement.

Who on earth?

As if on cue a mop of black hair peaks in from the hall. Mingyu eyes the bouquet and the pleased look on your face before allowing his own to break into his infamous smile.

“Just wanted to make sure they got here safe,” he calls.

You whip your head up, eyes wide and mouth open at the can of worms he just spilled.

“What?” Mingyu asks innocently. “Can’t a man buy his fiancee flowers?”

He disappears with a wink but his laughter at the chaos he’s stirred up can be heard miles away.

“MISS Y/L/N YOU’RE MARRIED?” Mark screams.

Another shrill voice answers, “Fiancee means they’re almost married, idiot!”

“You lied to us!” Arin and Hana chorus.

Dropping into your chair, you hide your burning face in your hands. Coincidentally it also hides your shy grin from the hoard of ten year olds jumping in their seats at the news.Mingyu is in so much trouble.

A few weeks before the new school year starts, a group of nearly eleven year olds crowd into the pews of the massive church at the center of town. Stained glass reflects patterns over the marble floors, casting them in a rainbow of colors.

Some sit on their hands to calm the adrenaline pumping through their tiny veins. Others rock back and forth in an effort to watch Mr. Kim strut down the aisle in a fancy looking suit.

But all of them gasp when you turn the corner.

You look like a real life princess in your wedding dress, floating towards their science teacher waiting at the altar with tears and a smile matching your own.

When you and Mr. Kim kiss, the girls squeal and the boys blush.

Several rows ahead sits a small group of older students, who’ve long graduated elementary school and are headed to college in a few days. They exchange satisfied smiles and pat themselves on the back for getting their favorite fourth grade teachers together all those years ago.

Maybe now your new classes won’t try playing Cupid like they do every year given Mr. Kim finally married their favorite teacher.

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ghostgirl101 · 5 months

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Oliver Quick Being Obsessed With You Would Include...

A/N: Watched this recently and got too many ideas because it's what I do 😀 if you've got any requests for the Saltburn crew then drop them in my inbox and I'll get round to them. Have fun reading- just know that there are obviously spoilers for the Saltburn movie here, so if you haven't watched it, zip to the cinema and come back 😎 or don't.

☓• It's hard to know where to start with Oliver... all I can say is that once you're in his sights, you're never getting out of them. Big never. Even if he has to wait years to get what he wants, he'll wait, and he will get it. And of course, the it we're talking about here is lucky you. So lucky you 🙃

☓• Say goodbye to your close friends and possibly your family if they're taking up too much of your time or happen to see through his harmless, quiet, normal act to something a lot darker and obsessive tainting his pure blue eyes every time they latch onto you. No one's managed to get in his way yet, and it stays that way.

☓• The first unknowing encounter with Oliver must have been somewhere around Oxford Uni, where you all go to and study. Maybe in the library, outside talking to friends - doing practically anything and making it look amazing and beautiful and something to be wanted above anything. He watches you a lot, a lot a lot, before you bump into each other, because the meeting has to be perfectly natural and it's his only chance to start things off on the right foot.

☓• Coincidences happen a lot and no one can be called out on them, because nothing seems to be wrong yet. You'll end up spending the majority of your time with him, maybe even without realising, whilst he finds out ways to know more about you and get closer to you. Oliver's not so good when it comes to talking about himself, telling you with one of his awkward but earnest half-smiles that he's not half as interesting, and so the conversation ends up steering back to you. From family life to friends, growing up, hobbies, favourite colour, tell him anything and everything. Because he won't forget a single thing.

☓• He's easy with where you want to go to hang out too, so long as he's there. You could just be talking with your friends in the nearby pub or at a party where the invite was extended to him as he's with you, or studying together at the library. Ignore the weird looks from Michael.

☓• But what Oliver prefers above all that is just being together and alone, maybe in your dorm room, or just out somewhere at a park or at the bridge, sitting and talking, opening yourself up more and more to him. This boy is an incredible listener. If your voice trails off when you become self-conscious of how much you're rambling, all you'll get in response is Oliver blinking out of his trance and giving you a calm smile and a shrug. "No, it's fine, I don't mind. Carry on."

☓• Number one supporter, naturally. Oliver tries to be the best friend and more, so hard, with you. He'll be anything you want and need him to be without you even having to mention it. Whatever club or team you're on, he'll give you a little wave and small grin from the sidelines... take a few pictures when you're not looking. For safekeeping.

☓• It can get more than a little frustrating for him when you're distracted by your other 'friends' at Oxford, even if it's something as small as looking over essay answers and revision notes with Farleigh. There's always a back-and-forth thing happening between those two, and so when Farleigh starts becoming friendly with you and outrightly mocking with Oliver, to you, all that will happen is Oliver giving him an unblinking, blank look that looks a touch too cold and repressive, before he ignores him. And that's all you'll ever know about it.

☓• If you happen to stick up for Oliver when someone brings up how different and odd he is, a bit awkward to talk to and a cheapskate or whatever, he'll never get over it. You stuck up for him. That just proves that he was right about you, from the second his dark gaze latched onto your unknowing self just a few weeks ago. He was right. You're... perfect.

☓• There's so much good about Oliver, that if you ever hear anything different, it's hard to actually believe it. It's just Farleigh causing trouble, or gossip that has gotten out of hand again, not actual hints of something deeper bubbling beneath the surface. Oliver would never watch you outside your dorm room at night, what are they on about? And when Oliver hears of them too, or gets the worries out of you when he instantly notices that something's up, he'll act as effortlessly, convincingly confused as you are. If there's the slightest bit of proof in the accusation, he'll cover it up with a flawless explanation that swerves away from him and onto someone else within a second, while still seeming without grudges towards anyone. "You shouldn't listen to them, they're just trying to get in your head. Or maybe they want you for themself or something. I mean, I can understand that. Completely."

☓• You will eventually notice just how clingy Oliver can get when he seems to be everywhere around you, and you might be looking for a moment to yourself. If you gently bring it up, he'll reluctantly go on the promise that you'll text him back, which gives him time to change tactics. He will go as far as saying someone in his family died, or as small as admitting that the isolation from everyone who is so different to him in this place makes him feel a bit broken up. Maybe he should leave? And you, being you, encourage him to stay on and hang out with you and your friends, and boom, his back in.

☓• It's so easy for Oliver to subtly manipulate his surroundings and its people. Everyone, except for you. With you, the manipulation comes in seemingly natural events, nothing too forward. Because what he likes the most is you coming to him with whatever, problems, thoughts, feelings. Then he's done his job, and everything else that will build up a beautiful, beautiful relationship, will slip into place for him.

☓• Again, everything has to be perfect, and it will be. Maybe your first kiss with him is on your birthday, or out somewhere nice as a treat with some other rich friends. Or it's just you two having a movie marathon or pulling an all-nighter. Every time, he'll inch closer with little sweet, honest lines spoken in a calm, low tone, his eyes locked with yours and scarcely blinking. "Do you know how loveable you are?" "I think that your smile is something to live for." "I never want to be without you."

☓• Oliver will edge closer and closer, holding hands, brushing your hair back from your face when you're reading with a tender touch, meeting your eye and not letting go until you smile in bashful amusement and look away. He'll meet you outside all your classes and bring you your favourite drinks and study notes that he got from his work, so that you never fail an exam. Oliver's a lifesaver, one of your closest friends, someone who's always there for you to be whatever you need whenever you need. A great comforter, supporter, study buddy, moral support, you name it. He created and adapted himself to be boyfriend material especially for you, and so it happens, and he's won, like he knew he did the second he saw you. Now he can be as clingy and overly affectionate and outwardly obsessive as he wants, all day, all night, tirelessly. And don't think he won't.

☓• Straight-up, he's a starer. And I mean starer when you think you're alone in your room, starer when you were with a fling or someone you might have been interested in before... before Oliver worked his magic behind the scenes. Now it's a lot easier to, when you're in a relationship, because he can pass off his staring as something romantic, which it kind of is, without the dangerous obsessiveness lacing it. You'll look up from your phone or wake up in the night to see Oliver's eyes on you in wonder and something else you can't quite place, before you smile and ask him what it is. It's always the same answer with the same soft, adoring smirk that manages to make your cheeks flush with colour and smile back. It's not 'nothing.' It's always, just, "You."

☓• Once he's got things how he wanted them, if anything tries to ruin it, they will have literal hell to pay. He did not come this far for nothing. It's an agonising process of waiting and being patient so he wouldn't scare you off, getting gradually and naturally closer to this point. So whether it's Farleigh telling his tales or playing off his tricks, or someone else pointing out the unobvious obvious, good luck to them, because one of his special coincidences will fall right onto their heads.

☓• And if, by a twisted turn of events, you walk into one of Oliver's schemes, and see flecks of his true, darker self and violent, delusional side unearthed from his usually calm and easy way, he'll beg you with racking tears and heaving breaths and literal vomit to stay. He'll do anything, just as he has been doing anything, for you. What he's saying and doing is suddenly terrifying, and whether or not you want to accept him as freely is your choice, but if not, Oliver won't go away. He'll wait some more if you manage to escape his grasp this time. See you in a few years as an adult, maybe. When you're vulnerable in different ways and water's gone under the bridge. He'll slip right back into your life like he was always meant to be there, with his earnest, devoting praise and comfort and support, and that's Oliver Quick's life come back together yet again, with you lost at its centre. Trapped.

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madschiavelique · 10 months

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okay so once miguel accidentally flashed his happy trail to his gf, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, constantly staring at his abdomen when she thought miguel didn’t see her (he did 😁). they just recently started dating, she was shy and inexperienced but she is just a human after all 😔 she lasted a week before she came to him looking embarrassed, desperate and defeated “miggy can you teach me how to suck your dick please 🥺👉🏻👈🏻”

long story short we need some good old dick appreciation 😉

AAAAA THIS IS SO SWEET i love it hehehe

summary : you ask miguel to teach you how to suck his dick (not proofread)

contents warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, blow job (miguel receiving), lots of praise, miguel is so sweet and patient in this word count : 2,9k

All it had taken was a casual glance, and your mind was infatuated with the idea. You were spending some time in Miguel's quarters when it happened, when your eyes were blessed by the sight before you.

He'd just got out of the shower, and as he hurriedly pulled on his T-shirt on the way out, his untied jogging bottoms had dropped slightly until your eyes drifted to his stomach and you saw it: his happy trail.

You'd only seen it for a brief moment, Miguel's T-shirt covering it all too shortly after that blessed vision, and his hands properly re-tying the elastic of his jogging bottoms.

But it was enough to occupy your thoughts for days. As he was often dressed in his spider suit, you had very little opportunity to think about seeing it again, other than in its civilian clothes. But that didn't stop you from occasionally glancing down at his belly, and sometimes even lower. The moments when you realised what your eyes were looking for were often followed by a flush in your cheeks and the back of your neck.

It's just that... you didn't necessarily have a great deal of experience in this field, and you were immensely curious. You also wondered if Miguel was holding back. You'd already talked about it, and you wanted to take it slow, because after all you and Miguel hadn't been dating for very long.

But you were getting impatient by the day, so you tried to visit him a little more in his private appartment. Miguel seemed to find this suspicious, but how could you explain to him that your thoughts had been riveted on a single subject for days, and that was his happy trail and what was below it ?

You were trying to convince him to wear civilian clothes more often, using arguments along the lines of "when we're together you don't need to wear the suit, you wear it mainly for work, so when you're with me you don't need to wear it."

And then, you thought maybe giving him a blow job would relax him? He seemed so tense quite often, and you wanted him to feel good, you wanted to make him feel good.

And as the days went by, the questions multiplied. Is it big ? Of course it is, but how big ? Could your hand grab him properly or would you struggle with the width ? How did he taste in your mouth? What sounds would he make when you'd lick him ? How do you even... give a blow job ?

It was when your curiosity became unbearable and your own questions too much for you that one afternoon, while you were sitting in Miguel's apartment and he hadn't yet returned, you asked Lyla:

"Lyla, send me a good article on How To Give A Blow Job, please."

The orange pixel cloud had almost immediately taken off its heart-shaped tinted glasses.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, eyes wide while her programmed eyelids fluttered as she watched you, "a good article on what?"

"You heard me very right, your system is 100% perfect: I want you to give me a good article on-"

"Yeah yeah i get it i'm just, um, surprised." she admitted, a virtual screen forming in the form of a tablet in her hands as she paused, hesitating and turning to you, "would you perhaps be interested in... different material?"

You raised an eyebrow, taking your computer and resting it on your thighs.

"What material ?"

"Well you know, the material," she replied with a little shrug.

"Huh?" you said, frowning as Lyla raised her eyebrows completely, as if taken aback by your answer.

"Let me just send you a link," she replied, sighing.

Within seconds, you received a link and opened it. It took you to a video that launched instantly. You gasped, immediately pausing and closing your computer. But your eyes had caught it well: two naked people, a woman lying between a man's legs as she took him in her mouth.

You hesitated between finding a way to fry Lyla's motherboard or congratulating her, but in the end you did neither. Any learning ways still brings knowledge somehow, right ?

You took a deep breath, then hesitantly reopened your computer. The page was still open, the video stopped on a scene that could not have been more erotic. Perhaps learning the basics wouldn't be too much?

So you started the video, turning the sound down to almost minimum, and watched. You tried to pay attention to the woman's gestures, how her hands acted, how she angled her head, how she...

"Cariño?"

The speed with which you closed the page and your computer surprised even you as you faced Miguel. Shit, he'd got home earlier than you thought, and you just hoped he hadn't heard too much…

"Oh babe you're home!" you say jovially, trying to act as if nothing had happened, hoping he hadn't noticed. "How was your day?"

He was standing up straight, one of his eyebrows raised. He took a step.

"Were you watching what I think you were watching?"

Shit, he'd definitely noticed. How could you want to escape from a spider on a situation like this with tenfold senses? You bit the inside of your lip nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up. Who knows, though, as long as he hadn't said exactly what he thought you'd seen, you might have a chance of getting out of this... however slim the chances?

"And," you asked as he took another step in your direction, your hands moving your laptop to the side as you turned to face him, cross-legged, "what do you think I was watching?"

He let out a little laugh from his nose, his tongue running over his canine teeth as he moved a little closer to you again.

"Don't play this little game with me." he said simply, your lips pressing into a thin line, "I think you and I both exactly know what was on that screen of yours just a few seconds ago."

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing with the gesture as he approached again, only a metre from the bed.

"Well yes, i was watching... what you think it is." he nodded as he crossed his arms over his vast torso.

"Porn," he affirmed, the word falling easily from his lips.

"Yes," you said with an embarrassed chuckle, "that's the name for it..." you nodded, his eyes watching you, no doubt trying to find out the reason behind this. "But I had my own reasons to do so, of course," you said to clear your throat.

"Which were?" his responses to your sentences were so quick that they seemed to stick to your every word.

You inhaled, straightening up, suddenly determined. The vision of his happy-trail came back into your mind, your eyes inevitably landing on where it must have been under the suit.

"Miguel," your eyes returned to his, "I want you to teach me how to suck your dick, please."

There was silence for a few seconds before Miguel smiled, the smile turning into a small laugh, his amused eyes looking into yours confused.

"So that's what the looks were about?"

You froze, your cheeks heating even more. All those looks you'd been giving him, all directed at his lower stomach and more, he'd noticed. You fancied the idea disappearing down a hole right now, and placed your hands on your face in embarrassment.

"Hey hey," he said softly, coming to kneel in front of you as his two large hands came to rest on yours to move them away from your face. "It's okay, it's just," he caressed your cheek, "took you long enough muñeca, you could've just asked me."

"I know," you said, your hand sliding over his as you pressed your cheek closer, "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he assured you, "but in the future, whenever you're thinking about something like that, or anything, you have to tell me. Okay ?"

You smile softly, "Okay."

He came over and kissed your lips chastely.

"So," he said, taking your hand in his, "you want to learn how to do this?"

You inhaled, nodding. He came to kiss you again tenderly, coming to sit on the bed and lay down. He pulled you against him as you kissed, his hand coming to rest on your for a second. He stopped the kiss for a moment, tapping his watch gently. You were so happy of finally being able to do this, you couldn't wait anymore.

"Learned anything from the video?" he asked, glancing at you.

You said nothing, just tilted your head slightly to one side as you shrugged on all fours above him.

"We'll see, but be careful with that kind of stuff. A lot of it doesn't really show anything actually pleasant, it's all for show. Alright? Cariño?" he informed, coming to stroke your cheek again as you nodded. "Good."

Then his suit began to depixelate, and your eyes lowered until you finally saw the happy trail again, and what was just below it.

Okay, now there might be a problem you thought, because the dick the girl was sucking in the video, which was hard, just approached the same size as Miguel's... which wasn't hard yet. He was, and will be too big for what you were about to do.

"Everything is alright cariño?" he asked worriedly, "are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," you replied immediately, perhaps a little too eagerly.

A small smile spread across his lips.

"Good. If you're not sure what to do, I can give you small tips as you go along."

You nodded once more, your eyes dropping to his perfect torso. You lowered your face gently, kissing his skin gently, gradually working your way down to his navel.

He breathed softly, and you felt his skin grow grainy under your kisses. Then you finally reached his body hair, your hand resting on the sheets and gently caressing his hip as you placed soft kisses on his happy trail. A sigh of relief escaped from between his lips. The object of all your desires for a week was finally here, close to your touch.

Then, just a few centimetres lower, you came to face his cock. Your eyes locked with Miguel's for a moment as you kissed his groin, then coming to kiss his shaft running your lips along the base of his it.

You heard him inhale as the fingers of your other hand gently wrapped around him, holding him tenderly as you placed a trail of pecks from the base of his dick to his tip. You placed kitten kisses there as you felt him harden and grow between your fingers and against your lips.

This encouraged you, as you no doubt told yourself that you were doing the right thing for his body to react like that.

"Spit will help you, nena," Miguel murmured, surrendering gently to your touch.

You nodded, sticking your tongue out between your teeth to lick his tip, a low grunt echoing in Miguel's chest as you gathered drool on the sides of your cheeks to run down his length and lick him further. Your hand spread the saliva a little more evenly as you kissed your way down to his balls. Then, placing your whole tongue on his base, you worked your way up his entire length.

"This feels so good muñeca," he breathed, one of his hands gently stroking your hair.

You let a little more drool trickle down, your hand spreading it a little more evenly as you pulled the foreskin back to expose the head, kissing the uncovered pink and licking it gently as Miguel sighed and moaned. You made circular movements with your tongue, your eyes resting on Miguel from time to time.

"There's a spot, just under-"

But no sooner had he started his sentence than you opened your mouth wider and let your tongue slide under his tip, just underneath the crown, like you had seen the woman do.

"Yes, there," Miguel breathed shakily, his eyes closing as his head fell back on the pillow, "right there, just like that."

You let your tongue flick back and forth on that spot, beautiful moans rumbling in Miguel's throat. You readjusted his cock in your hand and then gently took his tip into your mouth, letting your tongue slide underneath him.

He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling in a long sigh of pleasure. Your mouth was so warm and wet and your tongue was incredible: perfect for him.

"You feel so good," he whispered, biting his lip, his half-closed eyes coming to rest on yours.

He was thick, and you were trying your best to make sure your mouth was wide open enough to contain him but also to keep the right pressure around him. So, breathing in gently to loosened your jaw, sank a couple of centimetres deeper around him, then pulled up slightly.

You started at a slow pace, taking your time to get used to all this and remember to breathe properly, but also to savour the moment. You relaxed your lips as you lowered yourself onto him, then pressed them once you got up, letting your tongue stretch out as soon as you came up to caress that sweet spot he'd mentioned.

"Be careful with the teeth, muñeca" he said softly as your teeth surreptitiously grazed his skin.

You widened your mouth a little more, breathing in so that your cheeks hollowed out and pressed against him.

"You're doing so good for me," he murmured, his hand still on your hair, caressing it even more.

His praise encouraged you even more, and you thought maybe it would be good to step it up a level. So you sank down on him a little too hastily, and he bumped your throat very lightly as you immediately pulled away, coughing slightly thanks to your gag reflex. How could the lady in the video make it look so simple ? You felt ridiculous.

"Hey, slow down," smiled Miguel as he straightened up a little to reassure you, "all the way down will take a bit more time, but you're already doing so good for me, arlight ?" He caressed your cheek. "No need to rush it."

You nodded softly, although you could have guessed that you wouldn't be able to take all of him in your mouth, especially with the little experience you had, you could still pleasure him.

You weren't just here to make him come, you were here to make him feel good because you wanted him to feel good.

So you went back to kissing his tip, letting your tongue coat it again before taking it back into your mouth. You knew you couldn't suck the whole thing straight away, so you took his shaft in your hand, pumping softly. You let a little more saliva spill out as you remembered the movement of the woman's hand in the video.

You started twisting your hand clockwise while sucking on him, your tongue occasionally hardening near his sweet spot and the tip. He was making heavenly moans, his fingers weaving through your hair, his hips starting to move on their own.

"You look gorgeous," he moaned tenderly.

A low moan rose from your throat and vibrated against him, his head sinking into the pillow as his back arched, his fingers becoming a little firmer and gripping your hair.

When your jaw began to tire, you wrapped your second hand around his cock, twisting it counter-clockwise, your mouth concentrating more on the head. Your hands applied more pressure as you pulled back, and since your hands were twisting around him, you started softly twisting your head as well.

His hips dictated a rhythm that you followed, a little faster every instant, his hand on your head guiding you in the rhythm.

"You're amazing," he breathed.

You hollowed your cheeks, his rhythm quickening as his moans multiplied. He was going to come, and you would accept it with longing.

His breath became more and more ragged, and after a powerful moan and a single thrust of his hip, you felt it spill over your tongue. He was out of breath, and realising what he'd just done, he pulled out of your embrace confused:

"I'm so sorry!" he said, referencing your tongue covered in his cum, "It was just so good i forgot to pull out, you don't have to-"

But you pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth until the substance dripped down your throat and you swallowed. The taste was slightly salty, but nothing special.

"Swallow," he finished, a smile stretching his lips, surprised.

He straightened, pulling you to him for a gentle kiss.

"You did so great nena, really, I'm so proud of you. You were amazing... you are amazing."

A smile stretched your lips as he caressed your cheek and you came to kiss him again, delighted to have finally been able to taste your desire.

Bonus:

"So, was the material I sent you helpful?" asked Lyla.

"Very," you admitted, "excellent choice."

"What material ?" asked Miguel, confused.

"The new one for an upcoming suit," replied Lyla.

"I'm not sure we're talking about fabric here," remarked Miguel, slightly suspicious as he left the room and you winked at Lyla.

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theminecraftbee · 3 months

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being in true sexyman nostalgia mode today (on account of. IT'S BEEN ONE YEAR BABY.) i think one of the most fascinating things about it is that we will never manage to do that again. like, not in a "we couldn't organize it better" way; there were better ways to do the spreadsheet, we would just turn off comments on posts and anon asks from day one so that we wouldn't then get people accusing us of censorship while we tried and failed to control the tide of things that ended up in the comments and inbox, we'd definitely have a WAY higher non-hermit contingent, both thanks to qsmp and thanks to the sexyman blog and medusa now having MUCH wider reach to other corners of the fandom and the original spread not all rooting at me, etc.

but the reason we couldn't do it again is that i don't know if we could ever replicate the exact circumstances that lead to it blowing up quite to the extent it blew up.

it was while tumblr polls and doing tumblr poll brackets on tumblr itself was still new-ish, and people were still excited about them. the idea of a mcytblr bracket was basically brand new; i won't claim we did it FIRST (because i have no idea if we did and doubt we did), but certainly we did it big first. so there's that; we can never again invent in real time "shit people are sending us threats about fraud lets legalize fraud because its funny, we can't stop it, and that neutralizes that drama as a thing anyone will take seriously", and then in turn accidentally invent a fandom culture of. um. wide-spread voter fraud.

(i don't know if we should apologize for, uh, causing the specific way mcytblr voter frauds. i still think it was better than the alternative at least, especially after seeing how so many other polls crashed and burned after us. there were MANY things we could have done better but i have seen SO MANY ways we could have done things worse since then so i think we came out looking pretty okay.)

but also: february 2023 was a very different time in mcytblr. we were in a hermitcraft dead period, where most of the hermits were either on vacation or playing tcg (which was fun, but didn't end up generating that much fandom activity by that time in february). the former dsmp crew was very much doing Nothing (and in that awkward space when the entire fandom knew dsmp 2 was never happening, but also people were still claiming it would happen, so it was just... busy waiting). qsmp didn't exist yet. there was no ongoing life series and wouldn't be for some time. i think even the dominioners and lifestealers were in a fairly dead zone. there was very little new for people to be excited about, mcyt content-wise.

enter: our poll. our poll which cleo then thinks its funny to call out on twitter. our poll, which was not only new mcyt content for the fandom to interact with (thanks to the fact we KEPT GETTING CC INTERACTIONS???), but participatory.

for about two weeks, we were the mcyt event de jour.

and like. the thing is. now we're in february 2024. mcyt is BOOMING. a new hermitcraft season JUST STARTED. we came off of vault hunters before that. meanwhile, qsmp just restarted and is, if i'm understanding correctly, booming. they just added a new guy! the two current juggernauts of the fandom are in FULL SWING. i honestly think we'd be somewhat overtaken by the fact things are actually happening in fandom. there's stuff to do that ISN'T go insane about a poll.

and it's not new, and we've seen it all before now, and frankly, it's hard to cause a mass hysteria event TWICE. lightning in a bottle, as they say.

i think part of the reason we all just REMEMBER mcytblr sexyman so much is that we could never, ever recreate it, so it remains crystalized in a single moment in time, impossible to replicate, forever memorable.

anyway: HAPPY ONE YEAR TO THE JOE HILLS SWEEP BABY,

#mcytblr sexyman #sorry i'm in nostalgia mode and feel like rambling. o7 happy one year to joe's victory

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izvmimi · 8 months

Text

cw: minors dni. smut elements.

"just friends, huh?" katsuki asks.

your brain freezes for a moment as the door to your apartment closes and latches. the air in your apartment is still a bit cold, and as katsuki takes your jacket and helps you hang it in the closet, you realize that's what the awkward train ride was about. that's the concern that was hidden in the slumped, not squared shoulders, the scowl that isn't his usual grumpiness but rather an admission of disappointment.

you blink once, then twice, and katsuki is looking at you, red eyes piercing, his lips pursed.

"what do you mean?" you ask, and the frown returns.

"your ex comes by and suddenly you're not sure what to call me?"

he's stepped forward but has unclenched his fists because the very idea of confronting you feels wrong to him - he shouldn't ever make you feel the need to defend yourself against him. ever.

you watch his restraint carefully, watch him tremble ever so slightly as he swallows his upset.

"katsuki..."

he runs his hand through his hair in self-soothing. he only meant to drop you off home safely, like a good friend would. what else is there? if you wanted him, you'd say so, right?

a meaningful look he gives you, calculating. his mouth opens and closes. you look at him and your eyes soften, and they shine.

not this.

"i wasn't sure," you start then trail off. but you should be. it's obvious.

friends aren't entangled like this.

katsuki pauses, then storms towards you, rushed, taking your face in his hands, taking your lips in a kiss. it isn't your first kiss, or the second, or something countable, it's one of many, including more to come.

there's no name to your relationship yet, and yet...

"people who're just friends don't do shit like this, ___," he mutters against your lips before kissing you again, tilting your head back ever so slightly as he kisses you again. you fall into his kiss, whispering a soft "sorry" that he forgives. more kisses ensue, and your lips and hands travel far and wide and close to intimate places.

perhaps you are just friends, but the way your leg wraps around his waist then and there suggests otherwise, and the fact that you whisper how much you love him even if you haven't really said it enough times before, is a little more than platonic. he replies that he knows back, letting his fingers tease apologies out of your soft, squishy parts, sucking the desire out of with every movement.

you call him by his name for the rest of the night, arms reaching around him and hands clawing at his back. he has been your one supporter, he is a good friend, and even if you have yet to heal from a failed love before, katsuki is not your rebound, but someone you've loved dearly your whole life. perhaps now in a different way, with want dripping from your lips, the same way you can feel it in the pressures of his fingertips on your skin.

"we're not just friends," he declares into your curves all night.

you nod and then you sigh as he marks you as his more and more with every second.

he's right. he's more than that, he's everything to you.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #daydreams: bnha #bakugou smut #mimi's notes

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katrafiy · 1 year

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I think about this image a lot. This is an image from the Aurat March (Women's March) in Karachi, Pakistan, on International Women's Day 2018. The women in the picture are Pakistani trans women, aka khwaja siras or hijras; one is a friend of a close friend of mine.

In the eyes of the Pakistani government and anthropologists, they're a "third gender." They're denied access to many resources that are available to cis women. Trans women in Pakistan didn't decide to be third-gendered; cis people force it on them whether they like it or not.

Western anthropologists are keen on seeing non-Western trans women as culturally constructed third genders, "neither male nor female," and often contrast them (a "legitimate" third gender accepted in its culture) with Western trans women (horrific parodies of female stereotypes).

There's a lot of smoke and mirrors and jargon used to obscure the fact that while each culture's trans women are treated as a single culturally constructed identity separate from all other trans women, cis women are treated as a universal category that can just be called "women."

Even though Pakistani aurat and German Frauen and Guatemalan mujer will generally lead extraordinarily different lives due to the differences in culture, they are universally recognized as women.

The transmisogynist will say, "Yes, but we can't ignore the way gender is culturally constructed, and hijras aren't trans women, they're a third gender. Now let's worry less about trans people and more about the rights of women in Burkina Faso."

In other words, to the transmisogynist, all cis women are women, and all trans women are something else.

"But Kat, you're not Indian or Pakistani. You're not a hijra or khwaja sira, why is this so important to you?"

Have you ever heard of the Neapolitan third gender "femminiello"? It's the term my moniker "The Femme in Yellow" is derived from, and yes, I'm Neapolitan. Shut up.

I'm going to tell you a little bit about the femminielli, and I want you to see if any of this sounds familiar. Femminielli are a third gender in Neapolitan culture of people assigned male at birth who have a feminine gender expression.

They are lauded and respected in the local culture, considered to be good omens and bringers of good luck. At festivals you'd bring a femminiello with you to go gambling, and often they would be brought in to give blessings to newborns. Noticing anything familiar yet?

Oh and also they were largely relegated to begging and sex work and were not allowed to be educated and many were homeless and lived in the back alleys of Naples, but you know we don't really like to mention that part because it sounds a lot less romantic and mystical.

And if you're sitting there, asking yourself why a an accurate description of femminiello sounds almost note for note like the same way hijras get described and talked about, then you can start to understand why that picture at the start of this post has so much meaning for me.

And you can also start to understand why I get so frustrated when I see other queer people buy into this fool notion that for some reason the transes from different cultures must never mix.

That friend I mentioned earlier is a white American trans woman. She spent years living in India, and as I recal the story the family she was staying with saw her as a white, foreign hijra and she was asked to use her magic hijra powers to bless the house she was staying in.

So when it comes to various cultural trans identities there are two ways we can look at this. We can look at things from a standpoint of expressed identity, in which case we have to preferentially choose to translate one word for the local word, or to leave it untranslated.

If we translate it, people will say we're artificially imposing an outside category (so long as it's not cis people, that's fine). If we don't, what we're implying, is that this concept doesn't exist in the target language, which suggests that it's fundamentally a different thing

A concrete example is that Serena Nanda in her 1990 and 2000 books, bent over backwards to say that Hijras are categorically NOT trans women. Lots of them are!

And Don Kulick bent over backwards in his 1998 book to say that travesti are categorically NOT trans women, even though some of the ones he cited were then and are now trans women.

The other option, is to look at practice, and talk about a community of practice of people who are AMAB, who wear women's clothing, take women's names, fulfill women's social roles, use women's language and mannerisms, etc WITHIN THEIR OWN CULTURAL CONTEXT.

This community of practice, whatever we want to call it - trans woman, hijra, transfeminine, femminiello, fairy, queen, to name just a few - can then be seen to CLEARLY be trans-national and trans-cultural in a way that is not clearly evident in the other way of looking at things.

And this is important, in my mind, because it is this axis of similarity that is serving as the basis for a growing transnational transgender rights movement, particularly in South Asia. It's why you see pictures like this one taken at the 2018 Aurat March in Karachi, Pakistan.

And it also groups rather than splits, pointing out not only points of continuity in the practices of western trans women and fa'afafines, but also between trans women in South Asia outside the hijra community, and members of the hijra community both trans women and not.

To be blunt, I'm not all that interested in the word trans woman, or the word hijra. I'm not interested in the word femminiello or the word fa'afafine.

I'm interested in the fact that when I visit India, and I meet hijras (or trans women, self-expressed) and I say I'm a trans woman, we suddenly sit together, talk about life, they ask to see American hormones and compare them to Indian hormones.

There is a shared community of practice that creates a bond between us that cis people don't have. That's not to say that we all have the exact same internal sense of self, but for the most part, we belong to the same community of practice based on life histories and behavior.

I think that's something cis people have absolutely missed - largely in an effort to artificially isolate trans women. This practice of arguing about whether a particular "third gender" label = trans women or not, also tends to artificially homogenize trans women as a group.

You see this in Kulick and Nanda, where if you read them, you could be forgiven for thinking all American trans women are white, middle class, middle-aged, and college-educated, who all follow rigid codes of behavior and surgical schedules prescribed by male physicians.

There are trans women who think of themselves as separate from cis women, as literally another kind of thing, there are trans women who think of themselves as coterminous with cis women, there are trans women who think of themselves as anything under the sun you want to imagine.

The problem is that historically, cis people have gone to tremendous lengths to destroy points of continuity in the transgender community (see everything I've cited and more), and particularly this has been an exercise in transmisogyny of grotesque levels.

The question is do you want to talk about culturally different ways of being trans, or do you want to try to create as many neatly-boxed third genders as you can to prop up transphobic theoretical frameworks? To date, people have done the latter. I'm interested in the former.

I guess what I'm really trying to say with all of this is that we're all family y'all.

#transgender #third gender #hijras #femminielli #trans women are women #trans solidarity #trans rights #transmisogyny #transunity #transunitism #this is what trans unity looks like

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wombywoo · 7 months

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Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

#tutorial #my art #art tutorial #since people have been asking #I remembered to save my process from this latest work~#enjoy 🙆‍♀️

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alwaysshallow · 6 months

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hey babes, for the drabbles in the inbox post all I can think of is price with a breeding kink so upset he's "too old to give you a baby" only for him to end up with a wife pregnant with their 2nd baby

Fifth time, sixteenth test, and he's fuming. He doesn't even look at you, and you feel bad, when he's pacing back and forth around the house, deeply in his thoughts. Normally, you'd try to hug him, like the last times, but somehow, you can't do it now. There's something wrong with his mind, and you just can sense that, even if he's not telling you anything; being with him prepared you enough for moments like these. He's a captain, the head of the team, usually stressing about things himself.

"John, could you finally talk to me?" you ask after another ten minutes, when enough is enough; he suddenly turns around in your direction, like he finally acknowledges that you're here. Apologetic look on his face makes your heart break even more.

"'m sorry, missus." He's quick to sit next to you on the couch, kissing your hand a few times, with hope you're gonna forgive him for ignoring you.

It's what he usually does, and it always breaks your facade, but now you're not mad. Rather, confused, but you don't talk about it with him, when he smiles into your lips and drapes a blanket over you. You two just cuddle on the couch, watching some ridiculously old documentary about war, when he decides to pop the question.

"Why aren't you with someone younger?"

To say you are shocked, would be an understatement; completely bamboozled, you look at Price, your eyebrow cocked. "The fuck are you on?"

He sighs, as he looks down at you; it feels like he doesn't want to fight, but he genuinely asks, which makes you feel weird even more. "Simple question."

You prop yourself up a little, to take a better look at your husband. "Because I love you, and that's settled?"

"Someone younger would give you a baby," he mutters under his breath, as his eyes are on the TV again. John's implication shoots right through you, like a bullet, sharp and hurtful, but not that much for you, as for him. You're quick to sit on his lap fully, to bring his attention to you.

"It's definitely not your fault, John. It might be as well something with me, you know?" you frown, your fingers tracing his bearded jawline, as he still doesn't look at you.

"I waited too long, and now there's the consequences of it." His tone is hard, like he didn't hear your explanation before, and he continues to blame himself for it. Your heart sinks. "'m failin' you, love. If I'd meet you earlier, it would be different. Or if you'd be with someone else, maybe he would give you kids."

"None of that," you say, grabbing his face, to make him look at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you're quick to put a finger on his lips to shush him; he already told you enough to make you want to do a monologue on him. "We're gonna have kids, even if it will take years, do you hear me, John Price?"

"Affirmative," he replies, kissing you a few times. On lips, cheeks and nose – you learned that doing it this way soothes him. Makes him less nervous than he already is. "I wouldn't blame you, if you'd want to—"

You don't even try to talk to him this time; you just kiss him, interrupting his intrusive thoughts with hope that he'll focus on something else. It's not a surprise when he takes the bait, and he's quick to pick you up in his arms, while you just giggle, knowing that he takes you to bedroom.

Three years later, he's off at deployment, when you learn that you're pregnant again, with your second child. 9 weeks, your gynecologist says, when you look at the scan, thinking how happy you are right now. Tears pricks in the corners of your eyes when you're in your car, taking deep breaths before you'll call your husband.

A lot of thoughts are going inside your head; should you tell him now? He's on the mission, probably doing important things, maybe he doesn't want to be interrupted? Yet, it is an important thing, something that he waited to hear for the longest time, having doubts if he's ever gonna be a father— and now, he's about to be a father for the second time.

"Love, are you okay?"

You blink twice, when you hear him through you phone; you don't even know when you called. "Yeah, baby. I'm okay, why?"

"Been askin' you how's your day, and you tell me nothin'. Got me worried for a second," he laughs, and for some reason, his laugh completely calms you. Before, you were a little scared to even call him, interrupt whatever he was doing.

Now? Now, you're more than excited to tell him the news, since you have time, and your firstborn is with his grandma.

"I'm okay. I promise," you reply warmly, smiling to yourself, as you take a peek at your stomach. You don't have a bump yet, but you smile nonetheless at the thought that, if everything will go well, in following months you're gonna have a bump. "Are you busy?"

"Just got back to base. Will be there for a while," he hums. "What is it, missus?"

"You should sit."

"…everything's alright, yes?"

"Yes, but you should sit. And, turn the camera on, please?"

He doesn't even question your request; in a minute, you see his face – happy and confused in the same time, while you grin the widest you possibly can. You felt joy this big back when you were just a kid, getting your Christmas gift.

And, now you're the one who delievers the gift.

"You're in the car? Thought you're gonna be home," he speaks up, and you have to hold back a laugh.

"I had to see a doctor, and—"

"—you had to see a doctor? You told me you're okay, love. Is it our little man? Baby, I'm—"

"—I'm pregnant, John." Words fall from your mouth.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant," you laugh, as you show him the ultrasound on camera, the closest you can. "Nine weeks. I'm back from my gyn, that's the doctor I needed to see."

"You're not pulling my leg, are you, love?" he asks, and when you shake your head with excitement, he laughs. He laughs so happily, and he even stands up for a few moments before sitting again. "A week, and 'm gonna be back. Is it okay?"

"A week?" you raise your eyebrow. "You're supposed to be another two weeks on the mission, and—"

"—I'd like to spend it with my wife, and my two babies, alright? A week won't harm anyone," he whispers lovingly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "We have to talk about so many things."

And the fact you had to try so many times for the first baby, is just a faded memory.

#john price #john price fluff #john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod x reader #exilesanswers #captain john price x reader #x reader #captain john price #cod mw2 #john price imagine #cod imagines

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