#i feel like a straight white man coming to the most basic conclusions of all time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

derangedangel · 7 months

Text

Killer Duo - Isaac Lahey

Summary: Lydia’s throwing a Halloween party and your costume coordinates with Isaac’s

Isaac Lahey x Reader

Word Count: 1,591

Author’s Note: Apparently this was in my drafts in 2019 and I finished it in 2020. Why it never got posted, I’m not sure. The timing of this is funny cause I’m currently at work dressed as the character Isaac is dressed as. Anyway, reblogs and comments are appreciated. Happy Halloween!

“Lydia, I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since I was 12,” you said walking around looking at all the creepy Halloween decorations.

“And this is a costume party. You have to dress up or you can’t go,” Lydia replied walking in front of you heading straight for the costumes.

“I have no idea what I should be. And most Halloween costumes for women are sexy now, which really means they’re short and inappropriate, and I am not doing that.”

The strawberry blonde rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even looked at any costumes yet and your already jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m just pointing out facts. Halloween used to be fun, then I grew up.”

“And now you’re at the age where you can dress up again,” Lydia smiled at you. “There’s just no candy this time.”

“So what’s the point,” you joked.

“Just come on,” Lydia said grabbing your arm pulling you towards the superhero costumes first.

The two of you began to look through the racks of clothes. You ran a mental checklist of everything that wouldn’t work for you.

Batgirl? No.

Iron Man? No.

Elastigirl? Hell no.

“Oh, what about Wonder Woman,” Lydia asked holding up the iconic armor for you to see.

“Ehh,” you said fidgeting on your feet, “I don’t feel comfortable having my ass out.”

“Okay,” Lydia said sighing at how difficult you were making this. She stood next to you scanning the the other costumes in the superhero section and decided you were going to like any of them.

“What about a witch,” she asked.

“I guess I could be that,” you replied halfheartedly.

“No, I don’t want you buying something you don’t love. That’s the number one rule in fashion.”

“Lydia, why don’t you just look for your costume and I’ll find mines. I don’t want you to keep pulling outfits and I hate them all.”

Lydia turned and faced you. “Honey, I bought my costume weeks ago. No one is going to be wearing the same thing as me at my own party.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Duh, I should have known you already had your costume ready to go.”

“Yes, so this trip is all about you, my dear,” Lydia said tapping you on the nose making you smile.

“Fine,” you replied. “Well, let’s go look at something a little more spookier then.”

_____________

“Barbie, eat your heart out.”

Lydia walked up behind you in the mirror and nodded. “You look good.”

“I look killer,” you laughed and Lydia smiled shaking her head.

You looked at yourself in the mirror admiring your white dress, leather jacket, and combat boots. You grabbed your eyeliner pencil and added the final touch. Tiffany’s mole.

Perfect.

As soon as you saw the Bride of Chucky costume, you knew you needed it. Lydia was just happy you didn’t go with Chucky so you didn’t mess up her bathroom adding all the wounds and fake blood on your face.

About an hour later, the party was well under way and you already made your first rounds with Lydia. Now she off doing other hostess duties and you were people watching against the wall.

You saw Isaac across the room and smiled to yourself. You excused yourself through the crowd as you made your way across the room.

“Hey, Isaac. Nice costume,” you greeted, looking up at the tall burette in front of you. Well, he wasn’t brunette right now. He was wearing a red wig and a pair of Good Guys overalls. You snickered to yourself. Of course the guy you had a crush on would be dressed up as Chucky. He was basically the salt to your pepper.

“Thanks,” Isaac said, a grin lining his face. “And you are a... biker bride?”

You looked at Isaac confused and shocked. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“What,” Isaac smiled confused at your response. “Should I know who you are?”

“Yes,” you said laughing. You gawked at him as you held up your plastic bloody knife and pointed to your “Tiff” necklace. His eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m Tiffany...”

Isaac shook his head still lost.

“The Bride of Chucky...”

“Sorry. Still don’t know who that is.”

“Oh my God. Isaac, how are you dressed up as Chucky but don’t know who Tiffany is?”

Isaac shrugged. “Honestly, I wasn’t planning on wearing a costume, but Lydia said I had to, then showed up to Scott’s house with this.”

You shook your head, laughing to yourself. “Of course she did.”

“Am I missing something,” Isaac asked wanting in on the joke.

“Lydia knew I was dressing up as Tiffany and she made you be Chucky... we’re basically a couple’s costume.”

“We are,” Isaac asked, his eyebrow raised and smirk slowly growing on his face.

“Uhh, I- I mean sorta,” you replied fidgeting where you stood. “Especially, now when we’re standing next to each other.”

Isaac took a step closer to you. “So I guess I better keep you close then.”

You’re eyes grew big but before you could response you were interrupted.

“There you two are,” Lydia said walking up to you and Isaac. Her blonde ponytail wig bouncing with each step she took. She definitely was the only I Dream of Jeannie here. You doubted if most of the party even knew who she was, but they all knew she looked good. “Well don’t you look cozy together.”

“Lydia,” you said a little too sweetly for anyone’s liking. “I hear we have you to thank for Isaac’s costume.”

“What,” Lydia asked like she didn’t basically have you and Isaac in a couple’s costume. “I couldn’t have him come to my Halloween party not dressed up.”

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed crossing your arms over your chest.

“Anyway, everyone’s outside so we can take a group pic before anyone is too intoxicated to do it later.”

“Lydia,” Stiles yelped running up. “Oh, hey guys,” he said waving to you and Isaac. You smiled and waved back before he began talking to Lydia. He was dressed up as Captain Tony Nelson, the perfect couple’s costume to Lydia’s Jeannie. “Um, so, I may or may not have gotten my Captain’s hat stuck on the roof... okay I definitely did. But it was Scott’s fault!”

“Seriously, Stiles,” Lydia fumed. “God,” she whispered under her breath shaking her head before turning to you. “Give it about ten minutes before the picture so I can get his hat down.”

You laughed nodding your head. “Okay.”

The couple walked away, leaving you alone with Isaac. “Um, I’m going to go get something to drink. See you outside in ten?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, giving you a slow and sexy smile.

You turned and headed for the kitchen, letting out a long breath as you did. Isaac’s whole existence was driving you crazy. Although you did like the blue eyed boy, and you’ve been wanting something to happen for a while, he was making you incredibly nervous. You’d rather avoid him instead of potential embarrassing yourself.

After you filled your red solo cup with the fruity punch being served, one of your classmates came up to you.

“Hey Y/N, cute costume.”

“Thanks!”

“I didn’t know you and Isaac were a thing.”

“Huh,” you asked confused.

“The couple’s costume,” they said hesitantly. “Chucky and Tiffany.”

“Ohh, duh” you said to yourself when you realized. “We’re not dating. We just happened to wear costumes that went together.”

“Oh... well, the two of you look good together,” they said shrugging then walked away.

All your friends were already outside ready to take the picture. Lydia handed her phone to the designated photographer, then went to stand next to Stiles. Scott was in the middle, with Kira next to him. Malia was next to Kira, while Stiles and Lydia were on the other side of Scott. You stood next to Malia, throwing your arm over your friend’s shoulder. Isaac stood near Stiles.

After two pics were snapped, Lydia went to check the photos. She grabbed her phone, then looked up at the group. “Somethings not right...,” she said out loud, thinking to herself. “I know!” She grabbed Isaac by his arm and pulled him over to where you were standing. “That’s better. You’re costumes go together, so it makes sense,” she said smiling. She mumbled a quick you’re welcome to you before she handed the camera back over and went back to her place next to Stiles.

The person taking the pictures counted down “3, 2, 1,” then snapped a pic. But before you got to one, Isaac grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him. You shrieked in response then started laughing.

“Okay, now a funny one,” Scott yelled so everyone could hear.

Isaac didn’t hesitate, quickly picking you up bridal style. You yelped, then immediately stuck your tongue out at him. Lydia’s phone flashed as the picture was taken, then everyone stopped doing their poses, but Isaac didn’t put you down.

You giggled before you spoke. “You can put me down now, Isaac. The picture’s over.”

“I said I should keep you close. So that’s what I’m doing,” he said smiling down at you in his arms. “And besides, if we’re next to each other people will think we’re a couple, so no guy will ask you to dance.”

You titled your head to the side, your eyes squinted slightly. “But we’re not a couple.”

“Give it a few weeks.”

Your mouth dropped in a silent gasp, slowly turning into a huge grin. You heard Kira giggling behind you and Stiles’s “yuck.”

#Teen Wolf #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #isaac lahey fanfic

583 notes · View notes

gremlintrash · 11 months

Note

Ok but why is there always a reason. When it's about macro all of a sudden it's oh why should I care about the sob story of some bihettie who couldn't ever live through a day of real homophobia. When it's ppl like inosa or swagy or radgoose or countless others getting told disgusting things like that their bfs should kill them, it's laughed off too and it's like oh go back to your hettie world if you're so mad. When it's about catboy it's like oh why should I care if we make fun of the SA of some moid thats praxis actually. When it was ppl saying bi women are just like tims and they're weaponizing their rape it's oh why can't you bihets learn to read none of that matters. When there was a big burst of a bunch of people getting openly attacked by "blackpills" it was oh this is just so online why are the bihetties playing the victim. These ppl are just coming out to advance the position that they won't go after you no matter what you say about bihets. Like the refusal to condemn anything at all unambiguously is very much the point.

Honestly, I've come to the conclusion that people these days (esp young people) are not any more progressive than other generations... I honestly think their politics and values are possibly more conservative than 10-20 years ago - these are just my feelings as a low income bisexual woman who is pretty white passing but I've had friends of other races (esp older friends in their 30s-40s) talk about how they feel the same thing in regards to how ppl are regarding race now and there's tons of posts circulating about how people are more homophobic than 10-20 years ago and we just lost roe v wade, income disparity is worse and social services are cut, etc etc etc

I feel like people such as you described above are highly individualistic and don't really have principles in the traditional way like "x behavior is bad" like if we use examples specific to the recent state of radblr re: the treatment of bisexual users, they don't think that homophobia and misogyny are unacceptable behaviors, they think its perfectly fine to leverage homophobia and misogyny against groups they see as "other" and don't identity with in some way. There's always a reason why the people I have marked as "other" deserve their mistreatment and why my own actions and the actions of people belonging to the group I identify with are excused from scrutiny.

A lot of the time in spite of how they call themselves "radical" (feminist or leftist or whatever) they express behaviors and ideals which are sooo extremely in line with the cultural norm for treating people of marginalized groups.

Examples relevant to this convo: Gay and bi women talking about how they "don't fuck with" bi women because they are untrustworthy and flaky partners and "most of them are basically straight and will end up with men anyway" so they don't need LGB community support

Also, determining that a woman's intimate relationships overshadow all of her other actions, and feeling entitled to information about a woman's sexuality to determine how valid you think her words are and how much support from her community she deserves.

Also, telling a victim of sexual assault and homphobia his problems arent real and he should be quiet about them.

Also, you can't trust women with partners and especially children to take part in feminism because they're going to by default center their lives around their male partners and children, so they're going to at best half-ass things and probably just decide to focus on their families instead anyway, may as well exclude them and write them off.

But its okay because the women in the first example were gay and bi, even though they're saying the same things straight men say about bi women. The second example is okay because it's statements and demands made by other women a lot of whom are gay and bi, not men or gossip rags. The third example is okay because it's gay/bi women speaking to a man. The last example is okay because it's said by other women who call themselves feminists, and not a sexist boss, even if they have the same way of thinking and similar actions with similar results.

And on one hand I get it, these people are trying to pass along their own hurt a lot of the time and they are usually legitimately telling themselves and each other that they aren't doing anything worse than maybe hurting the feelings of individual strangers. But they're adults who are behaving in unacceptable ways, and honestly some behavior should just be unacceptable, like... we should be kind to each other if we want people to be kind to us. Beyond that though, the concept of "punching up" has rotted people's brains and is ruining our community solidarity, is honestly a huge class consciousness issue, and they are doing more tangible harm than they're admitting to themselves.

I see this way of thinking as way more of an obstacle for dismantling these power structures than activists being imperfect in their personal decisions. Like, structural opression does not exist in a vacuum and spring forth from nothing, it requires a culture mindset to continue. Like, the whole deal with structural opression is that the opressed groups "deserve" their structural oppression in some way like it's always "justified". While the power structures/axes of opression/classes DO serve social and economic functions, human beings are emotional beings and most people aren't evil, to get social animals to hurt each other you have to socialize them to do so... like as feminists I think we know that at least.

"It doesn't matter if you shave because you prefer it, it perpetuates the expectation for women to remove their body hair and you are indirectly socializing other women as part of society" but then, if you have a good reason you can excuse homophobia or misogyny and suddenly it doesn't contribute to any larger power structures or the socialization of those in your communities?

If you have conditions in which you support homophobic or misogynistic (or racist and so on) behavior then first of all, you're perpetuating the cultural mindset and socialization that allow the abusive power structures to exist in the first place which beings me to my second point... it will lead to them being used against you by people who deem YOU as "other" at some point, unless you're the most privileged person on earth and there's no axis of oppression someone could decide to flip on you if they feel you deserve it and we all just keep crabs-in-a-bucketing each other

It's in our own best interests to treat each other as well as possible, that is my belief. Anything else is cutting off the nose to spite the face, who benefits?

#ik your point was more targeted but ive been thinking about this a lot lately #and imo it applies to the homophobia towarda lesbians on radblr and the racism as well #and like i said its pretty much the same outaide as well which is why it makes me roll my eyes when they fixate so much on being “radical”#if anyone reads all of this ily lets get married #txt #i also think everyone is like this now for psyop reasons but im being so normal rn #like it's just convenient isn't it

43 notes · View notes

nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

Text

Mother May I Sleep with Danger - Servant!Nagito Komaeda x Reader

ミ☆ not a request, I’m just really horny for servant asjdkfkflddj

Summary: future foundation reader is kidnapped by the WOH and figures if they’re going to die anyway……..

Contains: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem reader, no pronouns used

Word Count: 3589

The foundation is not going to be happy with you.

Not only did you balls up your mission into Towa City, but now your uniform is ripped all to hell, basically slashed to ribbons by the Monokuma who managed to overpower you. It was your new set too, all fresh and clean. This mess is going to get you seriously mocked by the men in operations when you get back.

That is if the foundation even lets you back onto the helicopter after this disaster of a mission.

You huff and turn to face the man lurking in the far corner of your cell. He’s been standing there for the past 20 minutes, just shaking and staring at you with wide grey eyes. You had been planning to just ignore him until he left, but he isnt leaving, “What do you want?”

He doesn’t answer, just wraps his arms around himself and starts giggling.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” You snap, crossing your arms and glaring up at him from your seat on the floor, “If you’re going to kill me just get it over with, the anticipation has all but worn off and I'm just starting to get angry.”

“Ah...kill you?” He giggles again. His voice is a lot gentler than you had been expecting. What with the manic eyes and tangled hair. You were prepared for him to be downright menacing. He sucks in a breath and levels his gaze with you, “I wouldn't kill you. That would be waste.” The chain around his throat jangles as he gestures at you with his mitted hand, knees wobbling like they are barely strong enough to keep him upright, “Honestly, a bug like myself killing you would help no one. It would be utterly disappointing for both sides, and what is the point in that? No despair...no hope...ahhhhaaaa…” he brings the cuff of his jacket up to his mouth and starts gnawing on it, “it would be completely pointless...mm?”

“Why haven't the children killed you?” Your brows draw together, watching his balance shifting from foot to foot, “You must be at least eighteen, right?”

He wheezes, throwing one shoulder up in a haphazard shrug, “Older. I think. I honestly can’t remember.”

For some reason. A terrible little voice in the back of your head whispers - Hey, at least it’s legal! You balk at your own lack of decorum. The man is still currently chewing so furiously on his sleeve that drool has started rolling down his chin, his hair is so matted that if you dug your fingers into it you would probably never get them out again. You are smart enough to take one look at this wheezing, sweating, drooling mess of a man and think: gross.

Unfortunately, your cunt is dumb enough to disagree.

Maybe it’s because you’re going to die anyway. Maybe it’s because his black jeans cling very tightly to his thighs. Maybe you just have terrible taste in men. It doesn’t matter why, but for some godforsaken reason, you are attracted to him.

“So. Are they just keeping you around as a--” you examine him again, eyes locking on the chain dangling down by his knees. (why does looking at that make you want to rub your thighs together?) “--a...pet?”

He laughs again, finally letting the sleeve he was chewing on drop back down to his side, “A fitting position for someone like me, but no. I am their servant.” The man takes a step towards you, the chain jangles in ways that your insides apparently find arousing. You swallow, “I came to this town to seek refuge, but...well...you can see how that turned out.” he laughs again, shoulders quaking with the noise. You can help but notice the stiff way the hand obscured by his mitt is moving. Like he doesn't have any real control over it.

“Ah.” You say, eyes still focussed on the hand you cannot see, but can imagine perfectly well. That hand, along with his age, seem to only lead to one conclusion, “You’re one of the remnants of despair, aren’t you?”

He grins at you, manic, all sharp teeth and wild eyes, taking another step closer to you “Oh! I didn’t expect you to recognise common garbage like me…” he makes a noise that is dangerously close to being a moan, before exclaiming, “you’re right, I am!” His grin turns syrupy in a way that you find yourself enjoying much more than you should. His eyes hooded as he breathes, “does that disgust you? Does my very presence make you want to spit in my face?”

The way he speaks, his soft lilting tone. It almost sounds like he is crooning, purring. You shift on the floor, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. You have gone from wanting to fuck a regular crazy man, to wanting to fuck a crazy man literally out for capture by the company you work for.

“Listen.” You start, suddenly nervous, “The foundation is looking for you, all of you. But Togami in the other cell and I are working with-”

Your words catch in your throat when he comes barreling towards you and claps his bare hand over your mouth. His eyes are wild when they meet yours, pupils little more than pinpricks in dark swirling circles that dig deep inside of you, his voice drops to a terrifying whisper, “No. Not yet...I have important work I must do and you will not keep me from it.”

“We want to help.” You hiss into the meat of his palm. Horrified at how you feel the jagged grin that tugs at his mouth deep in your stomach. His mouth pulls so wide that his lips tear and bleed, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth and dripping over his lips when he starts laughing again, loud and manic, wheezing and decrepit.

“You truly are an embodiment of hope. You think you can...ah...haha…” He wheezes again, tangled white hair falling over his face and he tries to hold in a laugh, “You truly think you can help me? What a feat that would be! Endlessly impressive I’m sure” He leans in closer to you, eyes calm once again, hooded and piercing, “Thank you for your kindness, but I assure you. It will not be so simple.”

His face is so close to yours now, you can feel his breath on your face, see the bags under his eyes and the way his papery skin has wrinkled around the corners of his mouth. He looks half dead, but under that. You see soft skin, pretty long eyelashes and what are undoubtedly the most stunning eyes you have ever seen. You are going to die soon anyway, so you dont stop yourself from whispering, “You were very pretty once. Weren’t you?”

His lips curl into a smile, but his eyes look almost sad, “Most would disagree.”

“Hm. That’s a shame.” you whisper, trying to ignore the seductive tone you have adopted, “I think you’re still quite pretty now.”

He lets out a wheezing giggle, dropping down into a crouch in front of you and resting his hands on his knees, “Are you trying to win me over with words of kindness? With sharp lies wrapped in goose down?”

They aren't lies, but you can tell he won't believe you even if you try to convince him, “Just tell me what you want with me.”

“What do I want with you?” He breathes, reaching out a shaky hand and running his knuckles down your cheek. One side of his mouth quirks up in a smile at the feeling of your skin, “I don’t want anything...eheh...I just...I just want to watch. I want to see what you will do, I want to see you fight.”

“I’d be able to fight better if you let me out of the cell.”

“Aha. Cute.” He drags his tongue over his lower lip, “But wouldn't it be so much more satisfying to watch you overcome impossible odds? For your hope to overcome the utmost despair?” His head tilts to the side and he smiles, “I have faith in you. I’ll be cheering you on, just dont expect my help.”

The more he talks, the less you understand him. At this point you're barely even listening to his words and are just letting the soft tones of his voice wash over you, his eyes are blinding, it feels like he is staring straight through you. The door of the cell is still locked, Togami is still far enough away that he couldn't hear you if you screamed. Help won't be coming for a long time if it is even coming at all.

And you want to fuck a remnant of despair.

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” you whisper, reaching out a hand to push some of his tangled hair away from his face.

He stills, for a moment. The panic in his eyes is so powerful that even his ceaseless shivering stops. He blinks slowly, unsurely, and his lips pull up in a smile, “My pathetic name isn't even worthy of being heard by someone like you.” he breathes, leaning into your hand as it comes to rest on his cheek, “Servant will suffice.”

You make an upset noise, sitting up on your knees and leaning in closer to his face. His eyes aren’t grey, you realise, they’re green, “Are you sure? I was hoping for something a little more...intimate.”

“Intimate…” he whispers, almost like he is testing how the word tastes on his tongue. His face is so close to yours now, your hand reaches around and curls into the mess of hair on the back of his head. He starts shivering again, a wheezy laugh escaping his mouth almost breathlessly as he (with a surprising amount of tenderness) lowers you down to lay on the hard concrete below, “Is...this what you mean?”

Your heart is racing. He looms above you, knees planted firmly on either side of your hips. His hair tumbles down over his face, obscuring his beautiful green eyes in shadow and you feel your hips twitch upward at even the anticipation of his touch.

“Exactly what I mean.” you purr, slowly sliding your hand down the length of his chain. He quivers above you, a broken moan leaves his mouth when you give it a gentle tug. Your lips curl into a predatory smirk, and then you tug it again, hard.

His mouth collides with yours and a shocked gasp escapes his throat, his arms shake at your sides, desperate and almost panicked. It only takes a moment for him to soften, returning the kiss with a newfound passion, moaning deep and loud into your mouth and leaning into you. His kisses feel a little messy and unpracticed, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm. Choking on a groan when you bury a hand in his hair and pull tight on the strands.

He moves away from your mouth, trailing down the side of your throat and sucking hard on your skin. You can feel his breath hot and heavy in your ear as his tongue lathes over your flesh, teeth sinking in hard into the join between your throat and shoulder.

A moan breaks free from your mouth, and your hips buck upward high enough to meet Servant’s and you can feel his gasp against your skin. He grinds his hips down on yours in response, sucking in a breath at the friction.

“This…this really is my lucky day…” he whines, leaning back on his heels and undoing the few surviving buttons on your shirt. Your bra is conservative, skin toned and unflattering. It’s designed for missions out into the wastes of the world, not for whatever is happening right now.

Servant doesn’t seem to mind, running his tongue across his chapped lower lip, eyes blown wide as he drinks in your form. A shudder runs through him, and he swallows, “may I?”

You nod, “please…touch me…”

He giggles, gripping your breasts in both of his hands (though the hand hidden by the mitt is only really able to press down, but he is trying his best.) before burying his face between them, sighing happily against your skin. You choke on a moan when you feel his tongue run up your cleavage, hands squeezing almost desperately.

“Servant…” you whisper, “my bra, take it off…”

He leans up, a shy smile on his face, “Ah, I would like to! But uh, as I’m sure you know-“ he waves at you with his mitted hand, “-I can’t really use these fingers”

The thought of the dead hand attached at his forearm should deter you, but it doesn’t. You sit up just enough to unclasp your bra, chucking it off into the corner of the cell before grabbing Servant’s bare hand and pressing it to your breast. Servant chokes, brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Your breath hitches, and he is emboldened enough to take the other into his mouth. Your back instinctively arches upward, chasing the warmth of his mouth encasing your nipple, the finger and thumb on his bare hand pinching at twitching the other. His tongue is wet and sloppy, this is no precision to his licks and sucks. The servant is running on animalistic desperation alone.

Luckily, that doesn’t bother you much at all.

The cool metal of the chain presses down hard on your bare stomach, his mitt is scratchy where that hand is pressed firmly to your waist, not able to grab, but it still reads as possessive. You can feel him panting and moaning against your breast, his tangled white hair brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver. Your sex is aching, the way he furiously circles his tongue around your nipple feels almost feral and it makes you want more.

You hook your leg around the back of his knees, and use the leverage to flip the both of you over. Servant gasps when his back hits the ground. You grin, physical training at the Future Foundation is finally coming in handy.

Servant looks like a perfect ruin beneath you. His hair spread out on the hard concrete, eyes glassy with desire, cheeks bright red and mouth wet with saliva. You laugh, you can feel him quivering below you. The quivering grows worse when you tug his black jacket down off his shoulders and start working his shirt up and over his head. He is so thin, sickly, shaking, barely even there. All jutting bones and paper thin skin.

“Are they feeding you?” you find yourself asking quite seriously.

Servant giggles, “They’re children. I feed myself when I find the time.”

“You don't often find the time, do you?” he sucks in a breath when the tip of your finger runs up over his exposed ribs. You lean down and press a hot kiss to his collarbone, “Are you sure that you’ll have enough energy for this?”

“Ehehe...Don’t concern yourself with that-“ he leans up enough to lick all the way up the length of your throat, “I can be quite tenacious when required”

You don't doubt it. Leaning back down to kiss him firmly, licking into his open mouth as your hands trail down his torso and to the button on his jeans. He whines loudly when you undo the zipper and wrap your fist around the hardness in his boxers. His hips stutter up into your grip and you smile against his lips. He’s cute. It’s cute how desperate he is. You sit up, grinding your hips down against his, moaning aloud at the feeling of his cock pressing firmly against your clit through your panties.

Servant breaks out into a breathless giggle, panting and moaning as he pushes his hips up to meet yours, shivery and insatiable. The only light in the room is a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, just bright enough to catch on his teeth when his chapped lips curl back in a grin.

“Yes~” He whines when you grind down again, pretty eyes fluttering closed and white hair spreading even further across the concrete, “use me use me use me!”

You like that. You like that a lot, “You want to be used?” you breathe, sitting up just enough that you can wriggle out of your panties, hiking your tight pencil skirt up over your hips.

“Please...please…” he whimpers, hips stuttering up even though there is nothing to meet them. Drool trailing down his chin, “I want you to use me for your pleasure…” he gasps out a moan, like even the thought of it is too much for him, “...cum all over me...please...ruin me…”

“Okay…” you whisper, pulling his boxers and jeans down his thighs to expose his cock, he hisses a breath in through his teeth that turns into a moan when you grab him, “Can you be a good boy and stay still for me?”

He nods furiously. Thighs and stomach tensing as he forces himself not to move. It becomes even harder when you slowly slip yourself down on him, letting your head loll back in a moan at the feeling of him filling you. He cries out, hands jumping up to grab at your waist, trying so hard to keep his hips still when all he wants is to chase your warmth.

A smile crawls its way across your face when you lean forward, placing your arms on either side of his head. He stares up at you, enamoured with you, face flushed red and mouth hung open, “You feel so good, Servant.” you croon, slowly licking up the shell of his ear.

He mewls, thrusting up inside of you just a little. He just can't resist.

“I’m...I’m sorry, I'm so pathetic ehehe” he pants, “Can’t even follow such a simple order.”

“Well, hopefully you will do better with this next one.” You start, adjusting yourself so your bare breasts are now right in front of his face, “suck.”

He doesn't waste one second, licking up under one of your nipples and then pulling it into his mouth. Peering up at you through his pretty eyelashes as he sucks languidly on your tit, swirling his tongue around and moaning so deeply that you can feel the vibrations.

“Ahh…ah! You’re such a pretty boy, aren’t you?”

He nods

“Such a good boy.”

He nods again, moving his hands from your waists to your breasts, pressing them close enough together that he is able to suck on both nipples at once.

“Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh fuck- I…hng…” you rock your hips forward, keening loudly when the head of his cock meets your g-spot. Servant is still trying to stay still. Panting loudly as he furiously licks and sucks on both of your nipples. Wet and sloppy with little to no precision, so desperate to taste you, to devour you. The pleasure in your stomach is curling and twisting, the feeling of him so deep inside you, quivering as he resists the urge to move. It’s so much and not enough all at once.

“Servant…” you groan, hips twitching forward enough to grind your clit down on his pelvis, “you…you can move…”

His hips snap up immediately. He doesn’t waste even a second to drill himself deep inside of you, almost sobbing against the flesh of your breasts when the desperation he has been holding in finally gets to escape. He is animalistic, he is hungry. His hands move from your breasts to grip tightly to your hips, encouraging you to bounce up and down on his cock.

Luckily you don’t need much encouragement. Sitting up enough that your breasts leave his mouth with a lurid pop, throwing your head back and riding him like your life depends on it. Underneath you, you can hear the sound of his chain jangling with the force of his upward thrusts, along with his staccato breathing as he loses himself deeper and deeper within you.

Sweat drips down your forehead, down between your shoulder blades, it feels so good, it feels so wrong. The ever present itch of his mitt presses against your skin, a grim reminder of everything he is, everything he has done. It only turns you on more.

“I…I…AHAHAH! I’m…close.” He stammers, eyes wide when they fixate on the spot where you are joined, sharing himself disappearing inside of you again and again. His bare hand slides down your side and around to your clit, rubbing fast, messy circles that make your hips jump forward.

It’s too much, you can feel your insides growing tighter and tighter as his fingers bring you closer to the release you need so badly. Tossing your head back with a strangled moan as you finally cum, clenching hard around his cock and almost sobbing with how good it feels, how good he feels.

As Servant chases your release with his own, breaking into a breathless laughed as he pounds you with reckless abandon, cumming deep inside of you-

You can’t help but think that the foundation is really not going to be happy with you now.

But as Servant comes down from his high, his grip softens, his eyes grow sleepy, and he gives you a gentle smile that makes you heart race just a little-

And you realise that you don’t really care anymore.

#Nagito x reader #komaeda x reader #danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #sorry about the formatting I’m on mobile right now I’ll fix it tomorrow lolololol

276 notes · View notes

whitetherapy · 3 years

Text

Reasons your dad doesn’t want you dating a black man (and why you should!)

You’ve probably noticed that even today, there is still a sort of “buzz” around interracial relationships in the white community. While not exactly taboo you find that interracial couples still tend to get certain “looks” especially from older white men.

Now I know what you’re thinking, your dad seems to fall into this category, your mind rushes to all those off-color, not so PC remarks you’ve heard him say over the years, there’s no way, surely he can’t be a racist... right?

Well don’t worry! This post will help explain the motivations behind some of these attitudes and why the fact that they are so common in the white (mostly male) community is actually a big indicator of the desirability and benefits of interracial relationships.

4. Black men are more successful.

You’ve probably noticed since high school that black boys mature a lot quicker than their white counterparts. In fact black men tend to “tick off” a lot of milestones faster than white boys. They lose their virginity earlier, move out earlier, pass their driving test earlier... the list goes on. They also tend to be more positive, have more motivation and, naturally, have a lot more sex.

This means that white girls and black boys get into relationships a lot younger than a white dad might expect. This no doubt plays on his protectiveness, as he is worried that his little girl is growing up too fast, he may seem to be hesitant about letting her date. You should take his nervousness as a testament to the desirability of black men as partners.

All in all this one’s relatively straight forward, if you want a more mature, exciting and positive relationship with a man who’s got his shit together, your best bet is to go black.

3. Black men are more confident.

Assertiveness, Swagger, “BDE”, call it what you want but black men certainly got it and it shows. He’ll take control and make sure to give you what you need while not being afraid to handle fiery, passionate relationships. Whether he’s making you laugh or making you moan, his cool confidence will shine through reassuring you that you made the right choice.

Your dad of course may not be very understanding of this, mistaking your boyfriend’s confidence for cockiness, perhaps feeling a little pang of dread as he thinks about his intentions with you. By taking every opportunity to show off how happy and healthy your relationship is, those worries should quickly disappear, he too will be able to see how safe you are in your lover’s big strong arms.

2. Black men are more dominant.

If you like men who know what they want and are happy to take charge then you’ll find a black man is ideal for you. He’ll treat you right, make sure you’re taken care of, and provide healthy masculine energy to your life and relationship. In the bedroom, he’ll have no problem being in control and won’t shy away from fulfilling any submissive fantasies you have.

With the persistence of toxic (white) male culture in our society, it should come as no surprise that your dad may see your lover’s natural, effortless dominance as a threat. He may become insecure, to him, your relationship calls into question whether or not he’s still the “man of the house”. While this will no doubt cause much drama and undeserved headaches for you, it helps to support your boyfriend whenever he displays any sort of dominance over your dad. This is good practice for both, and you can take comfort in the fact that your lover’s presence is helping him learn about healthy masculinity by showing him what a real man is.

1. Black men are more physically gifted.

It’s no secret that when in comes to height, athleticism and, shall we say, “length”, black men take the gold medal. Sexual compatibility and satisfaction is an important aspect of relationships that is too often overlooked by women. You’ll find sex with a black man to be a much deeper experience, you’ll find yourself feeling things you may not have felt before and finding it hard to keep your hands off each other. These new sexual adventures will no doubt also lead to a much stronger sense of intimacy between you and your partner, for a much more satisfying relationship overall.

As for your dad, you may be thinking “why in the world would he even be thinking about something like this?”. And you’d be right, it’s actually rather sad but the culture most white men grow up in has very creepy patriarchal ideas about men’s “ownership " of women's bodies. It does little good to be mad at him about it, he’s not entirely to blame, after all his upbringing was probably saturated with the influences of toxic masculinity and white fragility. To get to the point, these influences are what causes him to project certain unhealthy ideas onto your relationship, men tend to have very primitive views on sex so it’s easiest to explain these ideas in very basic biological terms. To put it simply: penis envy, a bigger (i.e. more masculine/dominant), blacker (i.e. foreign/different), cock is screwing his daughter and there is nothing he can do about it. That thought wraps his feelings of submissiveness into a neat little emasculating package, a package he gets to peek into it every time he thinks about your relationship.

In conclusion understanding that uncomfortable part of his psyche should help you realise that his qualms about your relationship are really self inflicted, silly little insecurities brought about by the antiquated culture he grew up in. There’s no reason to let it bring you down, after all, It’s not your fault that a bigger penis with a darker complexion is all it takes shatter your dad’s fragile masculinity.

#blacked #blackonwhite #interracial #dating #couple #whitegirl #advice

420 notes · View notes

chrisevansmaid · 3 years

Text

Virginal

Summary: You go to a beach town in search of losing your virginity. The server at dinner is extra cute but it's also young Chris evans.

*this pic is from chris’s twitter*

MUST BE 18+!!!!

I see everyone saying this, so 18+ pleaseeeee. Begoneeeee youngins

Pairing: Chris Evans x female!reader, Young!Chris Evans x minor!reader, (Name inserted but you can switch it to yours)

Word Count: 3393

Perspective: Reader

Warnings: SMUTTT, p in v, mentions of smoking weed / dab pen, oral sex (female receiving), FLUFF AND ANGST, high sex, lowkey rough sex, dirty talk, degrading dirty talk, EXPLICIT sexual content, age gap, minor having sex with non-minor (17F with 20M),

Authors note:

FIRST FIC YAY!!!!!! Don't be mean pls <3.

I’m really bad at tenses so if it keeps switching from present to past tense sorry. The only grammar corrector I’m using is grammarly so if something doesn’t make sense oopsie, I’m too lazy from spending a while on this fic to go anal and analyze every sentence for errors.

Okay so… I’m a pisces which basically means I can never stop daydreaming. Also the backstory is lowkey gonna be my backstory lol. This is how I wished I lost my virginity plus make it Chris evans.

*THIS IS NOT BASED OFF OF CHRIS ITS FULLY FROM MY IMAGINATION*

Idk I'm bored and it's summer so I have nothing to do. YES THIS IS ABOUT A MINOR BUT IN MY STATE THE AGE OF CONSENT IS 16 SO CHILL.

18+ PLEASE STOP READING NOW IF YOU ARE A MINOR

So I’m a virgin. Not because I am a prude or anything, but it never worked. I like to self diagnose so my conclusion is I have vaginismus. That is basically rolled into my cervix/vagina clenches up whenever I try to have sex so no dick fits in and if anything does fit it's incredibly painful. It's not a matter of being turned on cus I could have Niagara Falls in my panties and it still wouldn’t work, trust me. Even being fingered was awful and I’ve been fingered like 10 times and none of them were enjoyable. My sister says I’m just really tight. Idk. I can finger myself and it's good-ish, I mean how far up can you reach with your own hand?

But I’ve had enough of being a virgin and I just want someone to blow my back out. Preferably some sexy older guy. And because I’m sick and tired of having an untapped pussy I’ve devised a plan. I am going to the beach in a week or so and I am going to find the guy who I had my first kiss with and have him fuck me. Or some other hot guy I meet. But to make sure my inhibitions are lowered and my vagina doesn’t clench from nerves I am gonna get a little high before.

1 week later.

My mom, stepdad, and I arrive at the beach and it is so pretty. I love this beach. It brings back so many good memories. I am rooming with my childhood friend, Sarah, and she knows I want to get fucked. We’ve snuck out before and we are so excited for this week. I take a picture of the beach and put it on my Snapchat story with my location tagged. This will let my first kiss know I’m near him so he can hit me up to fuck me.

The day goes by kinda slow because all I could think of was walking up and down the boardwalk trolling for hot men. Finally, night comes and all the families that are at the beach go to dinner. I was kinda bored but then our server came. He was something else.

“Hi my name’s Chris and I’ll be your server tonight.” Ugh. Even his voice made my whole body warm up. His greenish blue eyes stared into my soul as he took my order. His dirty blonde hair was perfectly quaffed and the way his black shirt hugged his biceps was absolutely sinful. Okay yes, he was probably in his early twenties but who said I was ageist. If anything an older man would know how to fuck a woman better than any stupid high school senior that I would meet.

I got up to go to the bathroom and saw Chris on my way. We locked eyes and didn't break contact until I went into the bathroom. As I stepped out of the bathroom I saw him again. It looked like he was waiting for me. His body was leaned up against the wall across from the bathroom I had just exited. He stopped me and said “Call me.” and handed me a piece of paper. Before I had a chance to say anything he turned and I was watching his perfect ass walk away.

I went back to the table as if nothing happened. I don’t think anyone noticed my uncontrollable smile. Throughout the dinner, I could not tear my eyes away from our sexy server. I think Sarah noticed but I was gonna tell her about it when my parents weren’t right there. We finished dinner and all went back to the beach house. When we got back I told Sarah and she was so shook. We were racking our brains on what I should text Chris. I didn’t want to come off too strong but also I wanted this man to fuck me. So we settled on:

“Hey”

Yes. I know it's lame but he’s older defffffinitely older and I can’t act too young. Ugh, I am so scared of his response it's absolutely killing me. Sarah, two other girls that came to the beach, and I decide to go out for ice cream. At least ice cream would take my mind off waiting for a response. As we wait in line I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out and it’s Chris.

“I thought I told you to call me” His response is very bold but for some reason, it only intrigues you more. Immensely more. I show Sarah and she smiles.

“Guess who’s getting her wish tonight.”

“Oh my god,” I respond. “What do I say?” I am literally so scared that he will think I’m too young or too much of a child.

“Um, don’t say anything. Call him.” Sarah says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Do I actually call him? I’m literally getting the worst knots in my stomach and now I have to shit and I’m literally so nervous over a phone call. I am not a spontaneous person. AT ALL.

“Okay, I’m gonna call him.” I say to Sarah after literally pondering this for 5 minutes.

Oh god. This is so scary. I tell Sarah to get me a vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles and I step out of the line. I go to the walkway near the ice cream shop away from the crowd so I can hear better. I dial his number and put the phone to my ear.

It rings like 3 times and he picks up.

“Hey.” He says and his voice is even sexier than I remember.

“Hey.” I literally didn’t know what to say and I am pacing up and down the sidewalk.

“So you must be the hot girl I gave my number to.”

“And you must be the sexy server.” Some wave of confidence came over me and that was the best response I could come up with.

“So what’s your name?”

“Olivia and if I remember correctly, your name is...” I paused to let him fill in the blank

“Chris.”

“Chris, that's right.” I wanted to come off like I didn’t hang onto every word he said and so I played it off like his name wasn’t already filling my fantasies.

“So Liv, when am I gonna see you again?” He asks and this caught me a little off guard that he would jump straight to the point but I guess why prolong the inevitable.

“I don’t know, when are you free?”

“Can I pick you up tonight around 12?” Ugh yes. My plan was filling out nicely.

“Sounds great.” I mean what else am I supposed to say?

“Send me where you’ll be and I’ll pick you up then.” His assertive tone was a panty fucking dropper.

“Okay. See you then Chris.” I’ve picked up from my previous male experiences that if you say a guy's name he’ll be more inclined to fuck you. I mean I totally pulled that out of my ass but I wanted to sound like a confident vixen, not some 17 year old virgin.

“Bye Liv.” The way he made up a nickname for me had me reddening in my cheeks and warming in my core. I say bye and hang up. As soon as the call ends I’m running back to Sarah and telling her every little detail. Okay, I really needed to get back home and shit.

Sarah, the other girls, and I go back to the house and hang out for like an hour, and then it’s 11 and all the parents are asleep. I need to start preparing. So I take a phat shit and then shower even though I showered before dinner but I need to wash off my nervous sweats. I shave everywhere and when I get out I lotion my entire body, put on my sexy lingerie, and douse myself with perfume. I do my makeup but it’s simple and of course waterproof. I text Chris the address of the beach house but tell him to pick me up a couple houses down. I tell Sarah she needs to sneak out with me so if we get caught I can pretend me and her were just hanging outside the house. Sarah and I sneak out the back and bring her cart. I take a couple hits to calm myself down because god forbid I tense up before he can get his dick in. It's like 11:55. God my stomach is in knots.

It’s 12. ‘Oh god’ I think to myself. I see a white range rover pull up at the end of the block. I say bye to Sarah and walk to the car. I see his face. Oh, fuck still sexy. I open his car door and jump into the passenger seat.

“Hey.” I say

“Hey, Liv.” He says back. Him saying that little nickname he gave me is so much hotter in person. So so so much hotter. I think he knows what it does to me because his lips curl into a smirk. “Let’s go for a drive.” Chris says.

“Okay, I’m down.” I say back and kinda rethinking saying ‘I’m down’ because he is definitely rethinking how old I am.

We start driving around and talking and thank god the radio is on to fill any silence there could be. It’s on the country station and him liking country music is literally another added bonus. Then When it Rains it Pours comes on and I say “Omg I love this song.”

“Really?” He says back. “I’ve never met a girl as pretty as you that actually likes country music.”

“Are you kidding? I love country music.” I say back not noting he just called me pretty. We mindlessly chat for like 20 minutes and Chris pulls the car into an empty parking lot that overlooks the whole beach town.

“This is so pretty.” I say in awe of the gorgeous view. I can see from the corner of my eye that Chris is just looking at me.

“Not as good as my view.” He says back in a soft tone that has me melting to the floor of the car. I look back at him and we sit in silence just staring into each other's eyes. I glance at his lips and they look so kissable. They are the perfect amount of plump without being too big. When I look back to his eyes he is still staring at me. His lips almost form a smile and he grabs and cheek and kisses me. It’s even better than each and every one of my fantasies. I grab the back of his neck and kiss him even harder back. Before I know it the kiss gets more rushed and Chris is running his hands along the curve of my back. Our lips are crashing into each others with fervor like no other. He pulls me into his lap and he ruts his hips upward. He takes his left hand and moves the seat back and starts kissing down my neck. His lips leave little bite marks and he reaches my bosoms. He pulls my tank top down and pulls my breasts out of my bra and sucks on my right nipple as he pinches the left. Soft mewls leave my lips and he stops to look at me and the rush of cold air sends goosebumps across my skin. He leans up and kisses my neck and leaves marks all the way to my ear lobe and whispers “Before I fuck you until you can’t remember your name, How old are you?”

Forming words is harder than I imagined so between pants I say back “17.”

“Perfect” he whispers back while still biting my neck. “Come here” he says as he opens the door. I hop off him and outside the car and see the tent forming in his pants. He picks me up and wraps my legs around him and pins me against the car door. He bites my lip and I can’t imagine anything better than this moment. While still mounted on his he opens the door to the backseat and lays me down. He gets on top of me and shuts the door behind him. He ruts against my core and his jeans rub against the soft fabric of my athletic shorts. Although my mind is completely fixed on his engorged cock a thought forms in my mind. What if he thinks I’ve done this before? What If I’m so bad he doesn’t even speak to me again? These thoughts completely cloud my mind and Chris notices.

“What's wrong?” he says as he pulls away. I glance at his bitten lips and pant trying to form words.

“Nothing just, I... I’m a virgin.” I blurt out. I am so scared I ruined the moment but his expression only intensifies.

“Oh well we just can’t have that now can we?” He says back and his lust blown pupils grow darker and he kisses me with such intensity my thoughts completely leave my mind. I could get drunk off the taste of him. Chris breaks the kiss and rips off his shirt showing his perfectly chiseled abs. I felt them through the cotton but seeing them right in front of my eyes makes my mouth open. My lips peak into a smile and he picks me up and places my back closer to the car door. He rips off my shorts and starts kissing down my neck to my navel and I run my fingers through his hair. My chest rises and falls quicker as his lips reach my red lace covered mound. His teeth grab the waistband and he pulls off my panties.

He inhales and says “So sweet.” His husky voice vibrating against my core. His kisses dance around my thighs. As more sounds leave my mouth Chris bites my skin. His hands hold my legs open as he licks down my folds. His tongue flickers across my clit leaving me trembling. I had never felt this way from anyone ever. My fingers run through his short dirty blonde hair and my nails dig into his scalp leaving crescent shaped indents. He slips his middle finger through my folds as he sucks on my clit. His fingers curl up hitting a spot I never knew existed. A feeling in my stomach starts intensifying and spreading through my entire body and I tremble in euphoria. Chris finger fucks me through my first ever orgasm. I shut my eyes tightly and when I open them Chris is staring right at me. I grab the hair on the nape of his neck and pull him back up to kiss me. I can taste myself still on his tongue as the material of his jeans rubs against my sensitive bud. His fingers pinch my nipples as he slips his tongue between my lips. I reach down and feel his throbbing cock through his pants. As I rub with the palm of my hand, throaty moans leave his mouth. Nothing was stronger than my desire to be fucked raw by this sex god. I pulled away from the kiss and say as I stare deep into his eyes “Fuck me Chris.” My words are efficacious to him.

He licked his lips like an animal locked onto his prey. “Don’t have to ask me twice.” He pulls down his jeans and takes his cock out of his boxers. I have seen a dick before but never that big. My mouth almost dropped to the floor. He pulled a condom out of the back of the seat and wrapped it around his cock. He pumped his dick a few times before running the head along my sodden folds. “You ready?” I had never been more ready for anything in my entire life. Unable to form words I nodded my head. Chris pushes his cock into me slowly. I gasped at the feeling. I wasn’t as tight as I usually was but it still stung. Each inch stung a little more until he bottomed out into me. He stilled. His breath was hot on my ear as our breathing synced. I gasped again as he pulled his hips back. I reached down and pulled him back into me.

“Don’t hold back.” I said. I wanted this to be as enjoyable for him as it was for me. Chris pulled out and thrust back into me again. The groans that left this throat made my pussy clench around him. He picks up his pace and pain turns into pleasure. My legs wrap around his thighs and I’m pulling him into me.

“You dirty little slut. So needy.” He whispered into my ear. The sound that escaped my lips drew him deeper in like a moth to a flame. Chris drives his cock into me faster so that all you can hear is breathy moans and the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin. Chris moves his hand to my throat and squeezes. I try to moan but they catch in my throat and I look back at Chris. His mouth is agape and he is staring deep into my eyes. He thrusts so deep my eyes roll back and I have to shut them. He grabs my chin and pulls my face to meet his. “Look at me. Don’t look away. I want to see your face as I make you cum on my dick.” His cock is hitting places he didn’t even reach when fingering me. Another orgasm rips through me and my body trembles harder this time. Chris fucks me through my orgasm and just as I regained my mental awareness I could feel another one coming on. Chris squeezes harder on my neck as he sucks on my hardened nipples. He bites my skin and takes his hand from my neck and reaches between our sweaty writhing bodies and pinches my clit. A guttural moan leaves my throat as another excruciatingly intense orgasm takes over my entire body. I can tell Chris isn’t far behind because his thrusts become sporadic and he puts all his body weight into his last thrust and stills. The noises he makes me wish he was still fucking me. He leans down to meet my lips once again but this time it is slower and more gingerly. He pulls his dick out and lays down on top of me.

We catch our breaths and I say. “Wow, that was.. fuck.”

Chris softly laughs and says “Who knew a 17 year old could have me in the palm of their hand.”

“Who knew a however-old-you-are would take my virginity.” I say with a smile on my face.

“I’m 20, I probably should have told you earlier.” He says looking a little guilty.

“Don’t worry it would have only turned me on more.” I laugh back and our lips join in a soft kiss.

Chris and I look at the dashboard and see it's 1:30 am. “Shit I should probably get home before my friend worries too much.” I say looking back at Chris and he nods. We sit up and reach down for our clothes. I reach for my underwear and Chris snatches it from my hands.

“These are mine now.” Chris smirks.

“Fine.” I put on my shorts and pull my top back on. Sadly Chris covers his humongous biceps with his shirt. I lean in and meet Chris with a kiss. We get back into our respective seats and Chris looks at me with a dumb smile.

“Why are you staring at me?” I say with a giggle.

“Oh, nothing.” Chris says and his smile only looks more like a 6 year old who just stole a cookie before dinner. I mean technically he did just steal something but that's beside the point. Chris puts the car back into drive and turns around to back up.

As he drives me home there's more small talk but then he asks “How long will you be in town?”

“A week,” I say. Chris’s dumb smile returns. “Okay, what's that smile for?”

Chris looks at me and says “I’m just excited to fuck you every night this week.”

#chris evans #cevans #firstfanfic #yay #excited #chris evans fanfc #chris evans x reader #young chris evans #chris evans x female reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #smut #fluff #beach #stranger smut

246 notes · View notes

flowerflamestars · 3 years

Note

i remember that you once said something about privateer nesta could you elaborate? please? *shrek cat eyes*

WHO TOLD YOU I AM COMPLETELY VULNERABLE TO THE CAT EYES??

okay, so admittedly I don't remember the context in which I said this?? But I still SUPER super love the idea

and it matches with what we'll call the Dream ACOTAR Extended Universe Plot, almost canon.

We begin with the final battle against Hybern. Tamlin dies, closing the loop of his tragic, misspent life. Amren stays dead, a magical being on to the next adventure.

Rhysand stays dead.

He functionally (magically) threw himself on a bomb, and took the whole blast. He's not the Cauldron- and no one man could repair what it once was, but he could contain the fatal, drastic implosion of an object that was meant to endure forever, fractured into more and more peices.

Why is this important?

Because it leaves a world where Feyre Archeron- twenty-ish, romantic hero, prop, prisoner- becomes High Lady in her own, true right.

(I don't think she's necessarily good at this job, because why would she be? It's not even her fault- Feyre has no idea about how faery politics work, no real tangible knowledge of her own inherited kingdom.)

But both the men who stole her and defined her and loved her and hurt her are dead.

And it not only sets her on a journey to become, on her own, an actual character in her own life, but it galvanizes the Archeron sisters.

Feyre's basically fucking comatose after the battle. Elain has been a mess this entire time, but after that last fight with Grayson, walking into the war and stabbing a king in the throat- she is as vital and herself as Nesta has seen her in years.

Nesta just watched her father die and felt nothing- and she hates herself for it. She and Elain had taken the head of the man who stole everything from them- and she doesn't have a single regret.

Feyre screamed until she could no longer- there's so much magic seething out her it hurts to look at-

There's a dark well inside herself that could rise. But why should Nesta let it? So what, if she doesn't mourn her father? He'd never cared about her and Elain- not when they were young, too busy and important to even speak to his own children. Not when they lost everything, and he'd tried one last time to sell them both into marriages to recoup the family loss. Not after, in the starving cold, no matter what she'd tried to force him into action.

Nesta had been mourning all along a human girls human life- what is an absent, neglectful, shitty in the most ordinary of ways human parent if not a part of that lost future?

Their sister owns a fucking country- their sister is, at this minute so hemmed in by her followers no one can see her, much less comfort her- there's a war camp falling apart around them- there's Nesta, Elain, and Azriel, unhurt, upright, alive.

(she does not let herself think that an hour before she'd been ready to die and thought it right, the ending the meant to be conclusion of her story. she does not think about how she'd wished Cassian healed beneath her hands and that he had healed, that she'd wept to learn she could do more than destroy.

that she'd still been weeping, her mouth bright with his blood, when he'd pulled away, dragged himself to Morrigan's waiting arms)

Nesta Archeron is alive. Her sisters are alive. They're free, and she'll be fucking damned if this all falls apart before Feyre can heal.

Nesta turns to Azriel and asks if he can take control of the legions.

She has no time for his blank, angry eyes- she knows he's hurt, he's mourning, he's lost- but she needs him. Cassian's...down. Rhys is dead. Feyre and Morrigan are not coming out of that tent.

And he just listens. Thoughtfully. Asks what Nesta intends to do.

And Nesta looks at Elain- soft, kind, gentle Elain who'd never once wavered now when life was on the line. Who hadn't cried a tear for their father, or for the man who'd kidnapped and then married their baby sister.

The danger wasn't over- and neither had the steel faded from Elain's spine.

Nesta tells Azriel she's going to find Keir.

Nesta isn't blind- she's walked the Hewn City, spoken to the eldest darkness. She was also at the joke of a Summit- Autumn wants new territory, Keir wants to rule Night. And here Night is, weakened, a lamb to slaughter.

Nesta's not going to lose again- she's not going to give these ancient, cruel lords another chance.

Elain grabbed her hand and squeezed- the one person, always, who Nesta never need explain herself to.

Aren't the High Fae technically Morrigan's Elain asked, a bare whisper as they walked through the camp.

It went without saying yes, but Nesta had never seen any indication they respected her enough to listen to her. She made a face, and Elain made one right back, rueful. She had eyes too, after all.

They're not going to listen to us in these clothes, Elain also told her.

She was right, of course. They were High Fae, and that mattered to those vile pricks, but they'd been outfitted for flight. She would do almost anything, actually, to be free of leather pants.

Which Elain, a gleam in her eye that Nesta was learning meant magic, dreamy and happy- led her precisely to a gold topped tent, stepped inside, bowed, and asked without a trace of hesitation if Helion Spellcleaver, Lord of Day, would perhaps do them the favor of loaning them some garments.

Solid gold eyes gleaming against blood and smoke tinged dark skin, beautiful, glorious Helion, smiled.

Day-white against Night- but also, Nesta knew, taking care with her crown of a braid, the splatter of blood left on her throat, her mouth, her cheeks like fine paint- white was the color of death.

Elain covered herself completely- shawl wrapped over her hair, tucked around her neck, breathing easier now, in human modesty- but hung from a golden belt that Helion, with the clear air of someone who knew something about seers, had found, metal hammered with stars and flames, was Truthteller, the long blade without a sheathe, black metal swallowing up light.

Keir was easy to find, and in fine form, surrounded by Darkbringers, who looped back behind the sisters the second they were close.

Nesta was not afraid- she'd thrown power into the sky and it had hurt. Not in depth, but because she was still holding on- it wanted out-it wanted to devour-

Elain dipped a flagrantly rude, swallow bob of a curtsey. Nesta didn't even bother- just let Keir hail them, royal family that they were. He liked the sound of his own voice, but he was also clever- they'd come here of their own volition and now they were trapped.

She could smell the reinforcements, the utter Autumn reek.

Nesta interrupted, and asked Keir to come and swear fealty to her sister.

It was never going to get the right answer, but it had to be said. It had to be heard.

She'd been right- they'd been right- Keir enjoyed the cruelty of getting close to Nesta, denying straight to her Archeron face that no, Rhysand's bloodline was ended. It was time, it was right, for the House of Truth to once more hold their throne.

He spoke his treason aloud, looming over Nesta- close enough to touch.

So Nesta did.

She'd willed Cassian alive and whole. It was so, so much easier to remember fire, death, drowning, to push and want the revolting man's destruction.

And when he fell, silvered fire that had filled his lungs spilling from his throat, Nesta did not flinch. She looked to the next lieutenant, a frankly indistinguishable golden haired pale-eyed blandly handsome man in black armor, and asked, if he, as the new commander of the Darkbringers, would like to give a different answer.

He did.

Azriel met them halfway back to Feyre, grim mouth flickering for a second at the sight of Elain, before looking, stone-faced, at Nesta beside her, leading a crowd of the highest ranked Night Court faeries she could find.

Keir? He asked.

Dead, Elain answered, and that was that.

The Shadowsinger fell in step with the Seer, a threatening shadow to two pale beacons.

It was Azriel who actually went inside the tent. Who said what needed to said, what made Morrigan splutter loudly enough to be heard outside, before she burst out the tent in a whorl of hair, before blanching.

Nesta had just enough control not to roll her eyes. They come to swear fealty.

And Morrigan, chewing her lip with all the dignity of a child- Elain and Nesta had been trained out of such gestures at eight, what did she think was happening here? - shook her head. She's not well, it can wait.

No, Azriel said, from behind her, it can't.

He was supporting what looked like the entirety of Feyre's weight. Dead-white, blue eyes a blaze, Feyre looked blearily out at all of them like she recognized no one.

Elain, treasure that she was, came forward to take her sister's other hand, whispering both condolence and explanation.

And so the High Houses of Night knelt in battlefield mud, and swore eternal loyalty to the youngest Archeron.

It was only after they were gone that Nesta hugged her sister- hard enough Feyre protested, a fresh batch of tears soaking Nesta's shoulder even before Elain joined them.

It's Azriel, voice a little less like a phantom, who tells Feyre they're handling things. That if she wants to rest more, that's fine.

She was so clearly shattered- Nesta half wondered how much of that Azriel can literally feel/hear with his shadow...things.

Feyre protests that there's things to do- Feyre makes it halfway through a sentence about plans before she says Rhysand's name like he's still alive and collapses in on herself like a wave crashing.

Nesta and Elain tuck Feyre back into the blanket pile. Nesta manages to kiss her forehead before Morrigan is there, hugging Feyre putting herself bodily between the sisters.

They leave, and outside, Azriel is waiting.

To hand Nesta a gaudy, enormous platinum ring. The seal of the Night Court- Nesta recognizes it from shipping manifests, but she'd never actually seen it as an adult. Here, as a faery.

Her thoughts on Azriel's powers hold true, as he answers the dismay: Rhys only used it when he had to. It had passed between the whole Court of Dreams hands, there had not been a vizier, a lord of stars, since the time of Rhysand's father.

Nesta puts on the hideous ring, barely flinching at the brush of magic, it resizing to her hand.

Elain grasps her other, squeezing, and asks Azriel who is next.

They work ceaselessly, pausing only to sleep. Azriel, Nesta is quite sure, isn't sleeping at all- until she goes looking for him with a question and finds him finally, finally out cold, face tucked in Lucien Vanserra's neck.

In silence and gestures, they come to something of an agreement- and when the Night Court comes to the table to talk peace, it's with Lucien. Jurian, who Nesta immediately liked.

By the time they return to the North, there is not a Lord one who does not know the names and nightmarish qualities of all three Archeron sisters.

Feyre mourns, and learns to govern slow. Cassian goes back to Illyria and does not return for a long, long time. Morrigan becomes Feyre's second- Nesta laughs, not altogether kind, when Lucien tells her this. No one has been able to answer her as to why, if Morrigan is so powerful, why did she not fight? what does she actually do?

What answers to her questions she does find are appalling. Why does Winter block our every turn? oh, Rhysand killed more than a dozen children. Why is Summer refusing our trade? Well, Rhysand stole their ancestral pride. Why is the Hewn City so wrathful at even the slightest form of intervention? Because Rhysand had left Keir to rule alone.

Nesta doesn't want to rule the fucking court. She thinks she could leave all of these politicians to rot- but she won't let Feyre misstep her way to death, shouldering a burden of her dead mate.

There's nothing they can give Winter but apology and so that's what Nesta does. On her knees, in a gilded palace of ice, stars caught in her hair and the seal on her. Kallias, bright and young, seems to know something about inherited problems- he does not ever forget, but he forgives, at least, the Archerons.

Summer is more complicated- but Nesta does what she can. Gives them every melted, ruined piece of the Book. Offers reparations for the next millennia. Ends up paying for what she is appalled and embarrassed to learn is a two hundred year old debt for a building the head of the Night Court's armed forces- Cassian, fucking Cassian the ghost haunting Nesta- had destroyed. During a brawl. At a solstice party.

She deals only with Cressieda, and they come to understand each other very well.

Nesta was not raised for politics and bullshit- her mother wanted her to marry a crown, but Nesta wanted the family empire. Trade. The Archeron legacy, denied to a girl. She likes Summer more than any place in Prythian, and she doesn't hide that. She relearns old lessons of tide and routes in secret, before Cressieda reveals that of course, she knows who the Archerons were.

It goes well, until Morrigan finds out what she's been doing, and tells Feyre.

The youngest Archeron had been doing better. Morrigan has been right by her side, through everything. Cassian is in Illyria, and Feyre understands why, writing him letters. She writes letters to Rhys too, if only to have a way to direct the words.

Azriel, spectral and busy she sees the least of, but Feyre never doubts his presence, keeping her safe. Elain comes, drags her out into sunlight, brings Lucien and it makes Feyre happy to see them together. Nesta comes too, with them both and alone, with papers from Feyre to sign, with affection sharp-edged but true.

Feyre knows she owes them all more than can be said- she's not stupid, she knows they're keeping Night together. That slowly those responsibilities will fall to her, when she's ready.

She does not think about how much of those responsibilities is cleaning up the tangled mess of betrayal Rhysand left behind. In her head, there is only Rhys- beloved and shadowed, kind and tortured.

Until Morrigan tells her that it's been acknowledged, in public, by Night, that Rhysand was a thief, and a murder of children.

Feyre loses her shit.

Rhysand had done what he had to. Who was Nesta, to say such things? She'd always hated Rhys. Rhys had always hated her, maybe he was right- the children. Rhys had mourned them in screaming nightmares, but he hadn't hurt them-

(Feyre does not stop to think it strange, that Rhys could have nightmares of memories not his own. That he might have fractured just a bit, under Amarantha. That the Red Lady had no daemati- that was why she'd kept Rhys all along.)

The fight is as ugly as can be imagined. And what proceeds is of course, worse. Feyre says terrible things she will ultimately regret and apologize for, but what becomes clear is that Morrigan thinks that Nesta means to hold power forever.

That she's taken advantage.

And Cassian, called home by rage, believes her.

That is, more than her ungrateful sister, more than the ongoing weight of cleaning up after a man she despised for good reason, the end of Nesta Archeron's Night Court career.

She'd thought she loved him- she'd been willing to die with him- but they'd lived. This was the life, the next life, and what did he think of her? That Nesta was a power hungry snob. That she was paying too much heed to politics.

That Nesta belonged quietly at home. That she should have learned to fight somewhere along that way- a point so convoluted it made Lucien laugh- that she hadn't learned anything that mattered.

That she had no right to kill Keir, because it had hurt Morrigan.

Had he ever, Nesta would wonder later, even liked her? Enjoyed anything about her but for that magical tether, telling him he was blessed with something special?

Nesta was something special, and she knew it.

And so she returned the ring to Azriel, packed up her possessions, and left.

First to Day, where Elain had bought a house. Fury and tears both met the explanation of what happened- fury and tears that turned to getting inadvisably drunk in sunlight, when Lucien and Azriel snuck away to join them.

For the first time in Nesta's adult life, she had no obligations. Magic, money, freedom- the whole world was out there.

She stopped wearing black. Learned pants where actually lovely, when they fit correctly and weren't made of leather. Learned Azriel could laugh, and Lucien was as clever as she'd always thought.

She read books, she ate fruit, she took Helion up on several of his more lascivious offers.

She thought of Cassian, and it ached, but not enough to go backward.

Elain's house was by the sea, right on the water. The scent of salt reminded Nesta of Summer- but also of her oldest, most secret dreams. The warehouses of goods, like mysteries to solve. The account books she stole, learning by candlelight the trade in her blood.

Ten years after the war, Nesta bought a ship.

She set out to be a merchant, use what she knew, but what happened was this: Nesta Archeron did not care anymore for rules. And so when she came upon Hybernian remnants-for they were an island kingdom, even more one with the water than Prythian- pillaging a Summer town, she destroyed them.

She stole their treasure, gave much of it back to the people.

Found, unexpected, that she had much more of a taste for marauding than she would have expected. There was still trade of course- proft made and shared- but Summer needed someone willing to do some destroying out on the sea.

Twelve years after the war, Nesta Archeron became a privateer under the Summer flag, pearls in her hair and a true smile on her lips.

Things grew, as all things do. Feyre wrestled herself the reins of government, stymied by the councils Nesta and Azriel set up as much as she often was by Azriel himself out of truly petulant action. Morrigan remained second, golden blades bright as her gowns within reach. Cassian became a sort of seneschal, reigning over Illyria in Feyre's name cold and alone as the wind through the mountains.

(Feyre thought he might never get over the war, but Azriel knew the truth.)

Elain took herself wherever the future led, a sort of mediator and councilor, walking in all Courts- but always back to home, that isolated green, green cove, where Nesta would land.

When war came again, there was no great Lordly alliance, no cut-throat summit. There was a fleet of ships whose sails where edged in purple, whose announcement across the water was silver fire, whose accompaniment were monsters of old.

Violence did not touch Prythians human shore, because Nesta Archeron did not let it.

She was death on the tide, and she remembered what shores had borne her.

She had a home in Summer, a place in Day, her family across the continent- she had her ships, full of faeries from every walk of life, who wanted as she did the freedom as much as the profit, the endless, endless blue, where sea meets sky.

It was eternity, and the Archeron sisters, free, had made it their own.

#i'm sorry this is literally a novel #but!!!#this is my dream plot actually #all about legacy and complicated feelings #the total failure of cassian as a partner #of rhys as a ruler #of feyre as a sister!!#there's so much love in the end but its not easy love #and they do have to fight for it #Nesta Archeron has always been exactly who she is and that shouldn't have to change #Elain has never GOTTEN to be who she is and that should change #Feyre standing alone is all i want yall #a true overturning of the patriarchy actually #yes this a luzreil universe #Elain...mhmm.... definitely just has a string a very romantic love affairs #marriage as a prospect caused her so much pain #she's done #I feel like Mor comes off almost too badly in this #but like #she would??#she's SO possessive of her people #and totally weird about Feyre's sister's from the start #Nesta having power?#Nesta having Azriel's backing?#NESTA BEING CASSIAN'S MATE?#its never going to go well

80 notes · View notes

baya-ni · 3 years

Text

The Queer Appeal of Sk8

Recently @mulberrymelancholy reblogged a post of mine with a truly galaxy brain take about how Sk8 “is a show made for queer fans” and generally how sports anime often depicts love and relationships in a way that’s more accessible and relatable to ace/arospec people than other mainstream media does.

Just, *chef’s kiss* fucking brilliant. I urge you to read their post here (note I’m referring to the reblog not the actual post).

And basically, it got me thinking about this concept of Sk8 as a Queer Show, and the kinds of stories and dynamics that tend to attract queer audiences in droves, regardless of whether its queerness is made explicit or hell, whether that queerness was intended.

And that’s what I’ve been pondering: What are the cues, markers, or coding, in Sk8 that set off the community’s collective gaydar?

I obviously can’t speak for the community. So here’s what aspects of the show intrigued me and what, for me, marks Sk8 as a Queer Show beyond the subtextual queer romances: a punk/alternative aesthetic, Found Family, Shadow as a drag persona, and The Hands.

1.) The Punk Aesthetic

All three of the above screenshots are taken from Ep 1, and every single one of them depicts background characters. They’re nameless and ultimately unimportant characters, yet each of them designed so distinctly and so unique from one another, one could mistake each of them for the main character(s) of another story.

Of what little I know about Punk subculture, I do know this: that the ethos of Punk is heavily built around a celebration of individuality and non-conformity. Sk8 seems to have incorporated this ethos into the very fabric its worldbuilding, and the aesthetics and culture upon which it takes inspiration appeals specifically to a queer audience.

I don’t really need to explain why Punk has such deep ties with the queer community. For decades, queer people have found community and acceptance within punk spaces, and punk ideology is something that I think is just ingrained in the queer consciousness as both lived experience and a survival tactic.

Therefore, a show that adopts punk aesthetics is, by association, already paying homage to Queer culture, intentional or not.

Queer fans notice this- like recognizes like.

2.) Found Family

This also needs little explanation.

Too often, queer individuals cannot rely on their “born into” families for support and acceptance. Too often, we are abused, neglected, and abandoned by those who we were taught would “always be there for us.”

And so, a universal experience for queer people has been redefining the meaning of Family, having to build our families from scratch, finding brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers in people with whom we have no blood relation, and forming communities tied together by shared lived experience rather than shared genetics.

And this idea of Found Family is also built into Sk8′s narrative.

Like, for example, the way that Reki promises MIYA that he and Langa will “never disappear from [his] sight,” filling the void that MIYA felt after his friends abandoned him.

And in the way that JOE becomes a paternal figure for Reki, teaching him ways to improve in skateboarding, and ensuring that Reki doesn’t self isolate when he’s feeling insecure.

And in the whole Ep 6 business with Hiromi acting as babysitter to the Gang.

Hell, even ADAM (derogatory) is associated with this trope. Abused as a child, he finds solace in an underground skateboarding community and culture he helped create- his own found family (or some powertrippy version of it anyway).

Again, queer fans see themselves depicted in the show, but this time in the way that the show gives importance to Found Family relationships between its characters.

3.) Shadow and Drag

This is one that’s more of an association that I personally made. But I was intrigued by the way that Hiromi adopts his SHADOW persona. He wears SHADOW like a mask, and adopts a personality seemingly so opposite to his day-to-day behavior.

Further, the theatricality and general “gender fuckery” of his SHADOW persona, to me, just seemed so similar to a the characteristics of a drag persona (I don’t know a whole lot about drag but enough that I’m drawing superficial similarities).

There’s also this aspect of a “double life” that he, and actually all the other adult characters of the show, have to adopt, which is a way of living that I’m sure a lot of queer viewers see themselves reflected in.

4.) The Hands

Ohhhh the Hands.

One of the things I noticed very early on is the way the show constantly draws our attention to Reki’s hands, which I thought was a little strange for an anime about skating. After all, skating doesn’t really involve the hands, or at least the show doesn’t really draw attention to hands within the context of skating.

I count 3 times so far between Eps 1-9 in which hands are the focus of the frame.

First, when Reki teaches Langa how to fist pump after Langa lands his first ollie, second, when Reki and Langa make their Promise, and finally, when Langa saves Reki from falling off his board.

And you know what they say, twice is a coincidence but thrice is a motif (no one else actually says this I think I’m the only one who says this lol).

I’m not really certain why hands seem to be such a shared fixation among queer people (at least among those I interact with). All I know is that gay people are just fucking obsessed with them.

I have a Theory as to why, and at this point I’d love for other people to chime in and “compare notes” if you will, but I think it basically has to do with repression. And in the same way that queer people have had to redefine the meaning of family, we’ve also had to redefine intimacy.

Being overtly physically affectionate with someone of the same sex, even if they’re your significant other, or often specifically BECAUSE they’re your significant other, can still be dangerous, even now despite the “progression” of society. Queer people know this, this vigilant surveillance of our environment and ourselves, always asking ourselves, “Am I safe enough to be myself?”

Already, Western culture is pretty touch-averse. That is, it’s considered taboo to touch someone unless they’re a family member or a romantic partner. And to touch a person of the same sex in any way that could be misconstrued as romantic (which is most things tbh) is a big no no.

There’s just A Lot to unpack there.

But basically I think that queer people, by necessity, have had to learn to romanticize mundane or unconventional ways of being physically intimate so that we can continue to be romantic with one another without “being caught” so to speak.

Kissing and hugging is too obvious. But a handshake that lingers for just a second too long is much more likely to go unnoticed, braiding someone’s hair can easily be explained away as just lending a helping hand, touching palms to “compare hand sizes” is just good fun.

But for queer people, these brief and seemingly insignificant touches hold greater meaning, because it’s all we are allowed, and all we allow ourselves, to exchange with others.

God, I’ve gone off and rambled again. What’s my point? Basically that the way the show draws attention to Reki’s hands, and specifically how they’re so often framed with Langa’s hands, is one of the major reasons why I clocked Sk8 as a Queer. It’s just something that resonated with me and my own experience of queerness, and I know that I’m not the only one who noticed either.

So in conclusion, uhhhh yeah Sk8 the Infinity is just a super gay show, and it’s not even because of the homo-romantic subtext (that at this point is really just Text).

Because what’s important to understand is that Queerness isn’t just about same-sex romance.

Queer Love isn’t just shared between wives/girlfriends, husbands/boyfriends, and all their in-betweens. Queer Love can be two best friends who come out together, queer siblings who rely and support one another, a gay teacher who helps guide one of their questioning students, a queer community pitching in to help a struggling member.

And that all ties with another important thing to consider, that what we refer to as the “queer experience” or “queer culture” isn’t universal. In fact, it wrongly lumps together the unique experiences and struggles of queer BIPOC all under one umbrella that’s primary White and middle class.

So I think what drives a lot of my frustration about labeling a show like Sk8 as Queerbait is this very issue of considering queerness and queer representation within such narrow standards, and mandating that a show must pass a certain threshold of explicit queerness to be considered good representation.

I get that someone might only feel represented by an indisputable canonization of a same-sex couple. That’s fine. But labeling Sk8 as Queerbait for that reason alone ignores the vast array of other queer experiences.

The aspects of Sk8 that resonate most deeply with my own experiences of queerness is in the way that Reki and Langa share intimacy through skating (intricate rituals heyo). For me, them officially getting together ultimately doesn’t matter- I’ll consider Sk8 a Queer show regardless.

Similarly, @mulberrymelancholy finds ace/arospec representation in that very absence of an on-screen kiss. A bisexual man might find representation in Reki, not because he enters a canon relationship, but in the depiction of Reki’s coming of age, growing up and navigating adolescent relationships. A non-binary person might feel represented through CHERRY’s androgyny.

That’s the thing, I don’t know how this show will resonate with other members of the queer community, and it’d be wrong to make a judgement on Sk8′s queer representation based on my experiences alone.

That being said, Straight people definitely don’t get to judge Sk8 as Queerbait. Y’all can watch and enjoy the show, we WANT you to enjoy these kinds of shows, and we want you to share these shows and contribute to the normalization and celebration of these kinds of narratives.

But understand that you don’t have a right to tell us whether or not Sk8 has good or bad queer representation.

And even members of the queer community are on thin ice. Your experience of queerness is not universal. Listen to the other members of your community, and respect that what you might find lacking in this show may be the exact representation that someone else needs.

#and scene #i was up till 4am writing this instead of doing my hw #bc i hav Opinions dammit #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #sk8 meta #sk8 theory #queerbait

286 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

re: that ask you posted a couple days ago about the male and female representation in RWBY, part of what makes RWBY's whole 'girl power' thing ring exceptionally hollow to me is the fact that there are like... no women in positions of real power in remnant. like at all. except the big bad.

winter is second in command to james. glynda is second in command to ozpin. all of the headmasters are men (for no discernible reason, imo; why theodore and not dorothea?). the leader of the ace ops was a white man (and then winter seemed to take over clover's position instead of either of the women of color on the team, and she was still second to james). RWBY is an all girl team, but JNPR was led by a boy despite a girl arguably being far more qualified (pyrrha). the happy huntresses are all women, and robyn had no real power to speak of--she didn't even manage to win the election, because jacques rigged it, and then the council ceased to matter. there was one (1) woman on the council, but she was so inconsequential that i can't even remember her name. (i suppose we're lucky it was the guy and not her who james shot lol) jacques controls the SDC instead of willow, even though he's not even a schnee by blood and actually married into the family for power. (and we don't even know how he got it over his wife.)

and then there's the white fang, which ghira led and not kali--and it's ghira who leads menagerie itself, while kali seems to be a housewife. sienna had five minutes of screentime before being brutally killed and her position assumed by adam, a man. cordovin is basically a one off lackey we haven't even thought about before or since. neo was second to roman. you have cinder, sure, who is a second but to salem, a woman, and raven as the leader of the branwen tribe--but what does it really say about your 'girl power' narrative when the only women with genuine systemic power in your world are villains or antagonists with massive bodycounts??

atla has the same sort of problem--a couple great female characters, but all the leadership positions are men (except the kyoshi warriors, an all girls group, and even then the leader of their island is an old man) and the one female mentor figure also turns out to be evil--but it at least has some great writing to help overlook that fact, and it came out in the mid-00's and so has some sort of excuse of being a product of its time. but rwby didn't even start until 2013 and it's still going and still making these kinds of decisions well into 2021.

where is this supposed girl power, exactly? am i really supposed to overlook the very patriarchal worldbuilding just because the title characters are girls?

That's an excellent summary of the situation, anon, and as with so much in RWBY, it comes down to the full context. Any one of these examples isn't necessarily going to mean much on its own. It's when you look at the pattern that you can start making a case for those conclusions: Why is the show marketed on "girl power" set in a world where men hold the vast majority of that power? And, more importantly, why is that setup not the point? We could easily have a story where that lopsided gender dynamic is the problem that the girls are looking to fix, but... that story doesn't exist. Like the problems discussed with Jaune, the supposed point here exists only on the surface. Dig just the tinniest bit — the above — and you hit on a lot of structural problems with this "girl power" world.

To add just a few details to what you've already said:

Salem indeed has power, but she's never allowed to fully use it. Each volume the frustration with this grows as Salem accumulates more abilities and then just sits on them. From literally hiding out for a thousand years to worries that she won't use the Staff in Volumes 9-10, Salem really isn't allowed to be the threat she's presented as on the surface. And yes, this is absolutely due in part to the "She's too OP and the writers don't know how to let her be that powerful while still having the heroes win" issue, but again, context. That problem doesn't exclude others occurring simultaneously.

Same double explanation with Summer. Yes, dead moms are an incredibly common trauma to dump on a protagonist, but it still left Yang and Ruby with Tai as their primary influence. And Qrow. The uncle becomes the extended family influence while Raven is the absent one/eventual antagonist. It's personal power as opposed to political power, but Tai, Qrow, Ozpin, formerly James... most of the mentors are men. Maria, a key exception, has been ignored in that regard. The story announced that she was Qrow's inspiration, setup her being Ruby's new mentor, and then... nothing. Nothing has come of that. She disappeared for a volume and then went off to Amity and was literally forgotten by the story when evacuating everyone was the finale's whole point.

Like that Endgame moment I mentioned, the Happy Huntresses feel a little too forced to me. Yes, it's the same basic idea as in ATLA, but ATLA, as you say, has a lot more going for it. The Happy Huntresses feel... on the nose? Idk exactly how to explain it. Like, "Here they are! Another team of all women! Isn't this how progressive storytelling works? Just ignore how this is a one-off team of minor characters compared to the world building issues discussed above." And if you're not paying attention, you miss just how insignificant they are, with a side of Robyn being, well, Robyn. The Kyoshi Warriors, at least, are based off of Kyoshi. A woman avatar who is a significant part of their history. That is, presumably, why they're an all women warrior group (but who notably still teach Sokka). The Happy Huntresses are all huntresses because...? There's no reason except that meta "We want to look progressive" explanation. Just like having all the women superheroes team up for a hot second so people get excited and ignore the representation problems across, what? 21 films? Don't get me wrong, I love that May is among the Happy Huntresses. I think including her in the explicitly all-women group was one of the better things RWBY has done in a long time, but the rest is still a mess.

RWBY is arguably about these smaller groups as opposed to systematic power (despite the writers trying to work that in with things like the White Fang and the election. Not to mention the implication that everything in Atlas is fine now that evil Ironwood has died and taken the symbol of wealth (the city) with him. We saw a human holding hands with a faunus after all. Racism and corruption solved, I guess.) So yes, our group is dominated by women... but Whitley is the one saving Nora, helping to defeat the Hound (plus Willow), thinking of the airships, and providing the blueprints they need to escape. Salem is our Big Bad, except Ironwood is the one the volume focuses on. Ruby is our leader, but Jaune is the one leading the group into the whale and getting praised for how heroic he is. Ren does more to shake things up, even if he's painted as the one in the wrong. Oscar gets to confront Salem and destroys the whale threat. Ozpin provides the information they need to evacuate. Meanwhile, when the girls do things in Volume 8 it's almost always followed by a long-stint of passiveness. Nora opens the door so she can be unconscious for most of the volume. Penny keeps Amity up so she can also be unconscious for a good chunk of time. Ruby sends her message and then sits in a mansion. Blake fights so she can tearfully beg Ruby to save her. Weiss, as said, takes a backseat to Whitley (and Klein). They forward the plot, absolutely, but comparatively it doesn't feel like enough.

It's that pattern then, no one specific example. More and more the personal power, not just the systematic power already built into Remnant, seems to be coming from the men. Not all the time, but enough that scenes like the tea drinking moment feel like a part of a much larger problem. Pietro taking control, Watts hacking, and Ambrosius literally remaking her when Penny is supposed to already be in control of herself and her fate. Winter being presented as the active mentor to Weiss, only to turn around and claim that Ironwood was actually responsible for everything. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and May straight up commenting on how awful things are out there while Yang, Jaune, Ren, and Oscar lead the charge against Salem — with the latter three doing the most to forward that mission (no fear, semblance, cane). As others have only half-joked, Yang's supposedly badass moment was bringing up a mother she's ignored for six volumes and briefly blowing up the immortal woman for a couple of seconds (with Ironwood's bombs). Even Marrow is arguably the most significant Ace Op after Clover. Vine isn't actually a character, Elm slightly less so, Harriet is there to go crazy and try to drop a bomb (notably before admitting to never-before-existed feelings for Clover), but Marrow? He's the one who breaks out. Who is meant to heroically stand up against Ironwood. Who comments on how awful it is that teenagers are fighting and, regardless of how messed up the moral messages are, is supposedly pushing for active change while all the women in his group, including Winter, insist on maintaining the status quo. Look at all these choices as a whole, it makes throwaway worldbuilding choices like "All the Maidens are women" feel pretty hollow. Why does it matter if Amber is a Maiden if she dies in a flashback so Ozpin can struggle to pass on the power? If Pyrrha dies before becoming one so Jaune can angst about it? If Raven is one and then disappears from the story entirely? If Winter has enough power to break Ironwood's aura, but supposedly had no power throughout every other choice she made getting here? If Penny is one, but is continually controlled by men and then asks another man to help her die? It's just really unconvincing, once you look past the surface excitement of a woman looking cool with magic powers.

When you do consider the whole of the story — both in terms of our world building and who is forwarding the plot in the latter volumes, getting the emotional focus, being proactive, etc. — there are a lot of problems that undermine the presumed message RT wants to write. They say, "girl power" by marketing RWBY with these four women, but too many of the storytelling decisions thoroughly undermine that, revealing what's likely a deeply ingrained, subconscious bias.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

64 notes · View notes

theyarebothgunshot · 3 years

Text

jib 7 breakdown and analysis

a little while ago i said that i am open to requests for making analysis posts when it comes to cockles panels and just cockles in general, and i got quite a few responses. the first person who asked me was my lovely tea anon, and the panel in question is jib 2016 aka jib 7.

first of all i want to give you my take on the overall vibe, and then second of all i will get into the details and link to certain timestamps in the video.

standard disclaimer: i am not gonna be linking to every single thing i talk about, but i will try my best to link to the moments that stand out to me the most. my recommendation would be to watch the panel in its entirety alongside my comments. i have read long posts about this panel before, so not everything in this post is gonna be original or said for the first time ever, simply because there is a good chance that information has stuck in my mind and has subconsciously formed my view of this panel. this is also in no way, shape or form gonna be coherent, unfortunately. i’m just gonna hope that the cockles hivemind will be able to make sense of this regardless. love and light. and lastly, this is all in good fun, so don’t come at me if you think this is too out there please and thank you.

the overall vibe that this panel gives me is that jensen and misha are a unity at this point. they are in sync with each other, and this whole panel is very relaxed and in good spirits. there is also the fact that their outfits match very well. and with jensen ross ackles involved, that cannot be a coincidence, so i love that a lot.

another thing that i cannot ignore is that it’s also a very sexual panel, with a lot of double meanings and innuendos and remarks that can be read as sexual if you are as pervy as me.

now let’s get into the specifics.

although i am sure this is not going to be news for any of you, i feel like a little background knowledge is in order. before this panel, misha had had a panel that day with j*red. the mishalecki panel was really fucking funny and filled with sexual innuendos.

between these two panels, it appears that there was a break in which they all had nothing to do (i am basing this off other people’s experiences and reports that i have read in the past, as i unfortunately wasn’t there myself).

considering how this panel goes, i think there is a good chance that jensen and misha just had sex beforehand. and based on both of their demeanors, one could draw certain conclusions about who did what (i honestly don’t like talking about who tops and who bottoms because who gives a shit and things are rarely that black and white, but all i’m gonna say is that even though jensen has joked about his asshole before, jensen and misha clearly said switch rights).

from the very first second. the VERY FIRST SECOND. jensen is sauntering on stage like he is thee man. then the crowd is cheering ‘one more time’, and jensen looks at misha, starts cheering too, and makes a movement that is bordering on obscene before waving it away. conclusion: ‘one more time’ could also mean ‘one more round of hot steaming sex’ and he still had sex on the brains, so that was what he was thinking about.

ahhh, the intricate ritual [1m34s] of greeting each other on stage as if you haven’t spoken to each other all day, even though you probably just had sex….. jensen ackles, i wanna study you. i wonder what the deal is with that. does he just like to pay misha extra attention on stage? does he revel in the fact that he knows that fans like this sort of interaction? can he just not help himself? questions that keep me up at night.

also, there is just SOMETHING about the way jensen says ‘i’m doing well how are you?’ it’s almost flustered? borderline shy? and then he goes on to say that he did an impression of misha earlier, in a manner that’s just so flirty. idk guys. it’s flirty. kindergarten flirty, but flirty nonetheless.

misha, of course, immediately turns his entire body towards him. almost as if they both already forgot there is an audience in front of them. then he just gets closer and closer to jensen, for no reason whatsoever except for the pure magnetic pull they have on each other. pray4misha.

i think it is a testament to how in sync they are that misha immediately realises that jensen mentioned bicycle touring during his ‘impression of misha’, and i love the moment where jensen puts on an accent (something that misha normally does) and goes ‘is like sport’ and misha laughs and goes ‘is very similar to sport’ and they both lose it. idk, i feel like that might be a sort of inside joke to them as well.

this might be slightly reaching, but hear me out: right away, jensen goes: ‘oh by the way, sore?’ why would he say ‘by the way’? what is he thinking about when he says that? is it about ‘is very similar to sport’? because i could totally see them having sex and refering to it as ‘well that’s kind of like a sport’, as an inside joke. it works. i’m just saying!!!

look. i know this back and forth has been discussed to death. we all know that the implication is that jensen fucked misha and misha is kind of stunned that jensen actually goes there. so stunned that he repeats it: ‘sore? am i sore?’ almost as if to stall a bit in his response. yikes.

i think that it’s fair to say that this is something jensen enjoys doing: riling misha up on stage. because a lot of the time, misha has the upper hand on stage (probably also in the bedroom but that’s another conversation), but sometimes. sometimes jensen just can’t help but throw a lil oil onto the fire. (see also: underbear panel, throwing himself on stage to get straddled, etc).

misha goes on to say that ‘after the panel with j*red’ he is quite sore. you can take that at face value, and think ‘oh so he is joking around that the panel with j*red made him sore haha’ or you can see a little bit of the truth shine through: literally after that panel, something happened that made him sore. it’s always easier to lie when you are bending the truth.

i actually can’t believe i never connected the dots before, but when misha deflects and says ‘oh you’re talking about the bike riding’ jensen is quick to say: ‘oh no i was talking about what just happened’ but instead of pointing at the stage (which is where the previous panel took place) he is gesturing to backstage. i mean…. way to feed into my ‘they just had sex backstage’ theory, jackles. thanks for that.

i cannot get over the way jensen is looking at misha throughout this whole ordeal, but especially when he goes ‘you heard it here first, folks’ and misha walks up to him. THAT FACE. fuck him. he’s so gone.

sidenote: i have never wished to be able to read lips as much as i have since i have stumbled upon these two morons, because i WISH i could see what misha is mouthing to jensen. i know there is some spec that he might have said ‘i am a little bit’ (aka he is a little bit sore) and i could see that, but i just want to know for sure. and even though i have seen people state that jensen would have already known about the panel with j*red, i think it’s possible misha hadn’t filled jensen in yet, seeing as they probably were doing something other than talking.

let me take this moment to tell y’all about one of my jenmish theories, and that is: i think that jensen sometimes is overprotective of misha and that can come across as jealousy when it’s actually just worry. and i think this panel is a good example of that.

misha says [4m25s] that in italy they call come influence and jensen just. straight up looks at misha like ‘what the fuck did you do, what mess did you get yourself into this time?’ this is another reason why i believe he actually didn’t know about what happened during that panel yet: the reaction looks very authentic. you see his eyes shift from one side to the other and back again, as he is trying to process it. and honestly when you look at misha, his face goes through this journey of ‘this is funny’ to ‘shit is this maybe going a bit too far?’ and ending on ‘okay wrap it up wrap it up’. this is further solidified by the fact that jensen starts to mime digging a grave (aka ‘digging your own grave’).

misha tries to ‘change the subject’ by saying cas is the bottom in the implied relationship with sam and jensen immediately brings it back to sports. see what i meant when i said that they are tying sex and sports together? here jackles goes again, doing exactly that. for no reason whatsoever. (except to once again proof my point).

WHY [5m50s] do they both burst out laughing at ‘tight end’ why why why i don’t wanna know but why why also quick reminder of ‘are you sore at all’ help i am just. EVERY DAY they are making me perceive things and connect dots and i do not like it. anyways i’m not saying that this is all very graphic stuff about their sex lives but i’m also not not saying it, you feel? jensen’s face says it all tbh. on a more wholesome note: i love the fact that they basically wanted to say ‘we should take questions’ at the same time. again: in sync.

when the first person to ask a question said ‘this is a serious question’ misha goes to explain to jensen that that was a joke during his panel with j*red, another reason to believe that he hadn’t told jensen about the panel yet. jensen’s face there…. heart eyes motherfucker.

i really don’t see enough people talk about the ‘safe word’ [6m38s] bit. jensen is the one to bring it up ‘so we should probably establish a safe word at this point. mine is keep going.’ misha laughs, and then realises what jensen has said, and (here comes my dom/sub truthing) teases jensen by saying ‘what is your safe word?’ to which jensen replies ‘keep going’ but LOOK at jensen’s face after he says that. he shakes his head with a little smirk and looks at misha with such a knowing look in his eyes that says ‘you fucker you know damn well what my safe word is’ and he actually does a double take and immediately rolls his eyes at himself after that. it’s all very quick but it’s far from subtle and i am here for it.

i fucking love this next part because when the person says ‘a real story about the real jensen and the real misha’ they both are just like ‘yes okay’ but as soon as they say ‘that you have never told anyone before’ jensen just looks down and moves his head as if to say ‘what the hell am i supposed to come up with then’ lmao it’s really funny, and they end it with: ‘to know you a little bit better’ and guys (gn) i beg of you to look at the way they look at each other here. [7m24s] jensen is just like ‘help wtf should we say to this’ and misha just smiles down at him fondly like ‘sigh our fans really want us to talk about our relationship and as much as we would love to share stuff we just can’t’.

when misha says ‘we have to dust off some of those stories that we usually try not to tell other people’, something comes to mind: the ‘3 least ordered items on the menu’ story, that jensen shared a year after this at honcon. i honestly think that maybe they started to talk about what else they could share with the public, after this panel, because they get similar questions like this one all the time. either that or jensen just thought about what he felt comfortable sharing, without talking to misha about it, and decided to tell that story.

i also absolutely love when they say ‘this is a serious question’ at the same time. AGAIN: IN SYNC!!!

‘i actually have a voice for you’ jensen can you please tell me why this sounds flirty and charming while you are actually about to make fun of your husband? i hate you (no i don’t) the fact that misha immediately knows what will happen, says a lot.

then jensen says: ‘dust off an old story for uhh..’ and burst out laughing. i swear to god i’d give my left pinkie to know what came to mind and what he whispered into misha’s ear. and i’m left handed. but i think we can all agree that whatever jensen said, it was something sexual, seeing as misha goes ‘nope’. those fuckers (affectionate).

something that i have mentioned in the past is that jensen always sort of ‘jokey’ goes ‘oh shit’ whenever misha says he’ll share something personal/private about them. i mean. jensen, it would be less sus if you didn’t respond. just giving you some pointers here, bro. because misha almost never shares something strange, it’s actually your reaction that makes me go ‘hmmmm.’ this time he even gets kind of elaborate breathing?? [10m27s]

oh to be a fly in clif’s car… honestly, the things clif must have heard and witnessed lmao. he clearly knows what is up between them (has made enough remarks about thinking that misha would be the bottom and that misha on his knees was nothing new for me to see that he absolutely knows.)

this isn’t really important when it comes to cockles but they talk a bit about j*red’s internet dispute with at&t and jensen goes ‘oh they know’ gesturing to the audience. so clearly, jensen is well aware of the fact that fandom gets involved whenever something happens online with any one of them. just. thought that is an interesting fact. just in general. also love how i can tell that they both think j*reds crusades are bullshit (as they should).

there is something really cute [14m13s] about the way misha goes ‘do you want your apple juice?’ and jensen goes ‘yeah!’ it sounds so domestic and mundane and i just. god i love them so much.

i know we talk about jensen’s heart eyes a lot. but y’all. look [14m52s] at misha right here. he’s SO in love.

the thing that strikes me about jensen putting on ‘that voice’ for misha is that misha is honestly not bothered by it at all, but i think if the shoe was on the other foot, jensen would definitely be bothered. i don’t know what conclusion to draw from that but i just thought that is interesting. i always laugh at that bit, though, they seem to have so much fun.

i REALLY wanna know how jensen got from ‘will you dance for us?’ to ‘no but i’ll tell you what, misha and i will write a song for you real quickly.’ it’s such a fast transition that i am tempted to think that this was something he had been thinking about for a while now. he just wanted his mish to sing a song. and that warms my heart.

if you think i will ever get over how soft jensen is here… ‘you’re smart, you think on your feet, you make brilliant videos, put them on facebook, write amazing texts (*coughs* poems) and tweets and stuff, go ahead. spit out some lyrics, big guy.’ there is not one single thing about this that i do not adore. an ode to misha!!!! so casually!!! fuck. it might be true that if you want jensen to do something, you get misha to ask him, but it’s certainly also true the other way around.

the way jensen just. stares [19m02s] at misha, trying to get inspired by him, trying to feel out what cords to play. yeah. the way misha stands up but instinctively turns to jensen when he starts to sing. yeah. and then during the remainder of the song, he keeps on turning to jensen even though he faces the audience. and jensen loved it all. it’s so sweet. idk why but it just is. jensen just wanted his babe to thrive and get the love he deserves.

aaaand in comes the dom shake [20m37s]. we love to see it. jensen just keeps on looking at mish. almost gets lost in it. touches his inner thigh (one of his habits, which he does a lot around misha or when talking about misha).

i think it’s very interesting that jensen’s reaction [22m11s] to the question if he thinks dean will ever find a way to have a romantic relationship and to find himself in between normal and supernatural, is to immediately looks at misha. like? what was the reason? did he expect misha to answer a question that wasn’t about cas but about dean? did he think he should maybe answer it in a destiel-like manner? was he worried that the fan was hoping for a destiel-like answer and was he looking at misha to gauge what he thought was a smart way to respond? so many questions.

i think it’s pretty interesting that jensen was very aware of the fact that people did not wanna see dean end up with a huntress lmao. he absolutely was aware of so many fandom things.

when jensen said that misha just crossed the line [23m40s], it’s another example of how jensen is ultra aware of what misha says and how it could get him into trouble and by the sounds of it, misha knows that as well but he just can’t always stop himself in time. from what we can see, he often realises just after he has already said something (when it is already too late).

listen. the fact that misha says ‘when harry met sally’ BEFORE the question was even finished, and jensen LAUGHS, like??? that panel was 5 years ago at that point. it clearly made a lot of impact on the both of them (jeez i wonder why, could it be because misha faked an orgasm and jensen got excited? hmm. who knows.)

i think the dance portion is so fucking hilarious i’m wheeeezing. literally. they are just moving randomly AND YET THEY STILL SORT OF ARE IN SYNC? amazing.

you wanna know what i find really cute? the fact that jensen has such a soft spot for the resume off. part of me thinks it’s because they had a resume off in both 2012 and 2013.

and jib 2012 took place during the famously rumored break up period. i wouldn’t be surprised if jib 2013 was that much more special to him because they finally got to make it right again. don’t look at me i’m getting emotional (on that note…… i might wanna write something about the break up period at some point. but idk. i mean. it’s a lot to delve into especially since i wasn’t in the fandom back then but. it compels me. we’ll see i guess.)

okay i know i keep saying this but they are SO in sync, as soon as they talk about photo ops and jensen goes ‘and to dab a little salt in the wound’ misha knows what he is gonna say, and they stand up together to demonstrate what happened. AND they both go ‘that’s not the punchline’ they are husbands.

misha and jensen have both “twirled away laughing” in the EXACT same manner during this panel: misha when jensen starts to read the script, and jensen right here when misha says ‘what’s it like to be in a successful long running show’. they are mirrors. listen. listen. i know my mind is in the gutter a LOT of the time but like. uhm. there is this moment where they recall a woman saying in the photo op to ‘eat it’ (the string candy she gave to them) and misha says ‘and so we did’ and jensen looks at misha and it is SUCH an incriminating look i mean i don’t wanna be that person but 5 bucks he was thinking about eating misha out i am JUST SAYING. LITERALLY LOOK AT HIS FACE. [28m55s]

misha teases [7m02s] jensen by saying ‘what did you do? did you actually do it on purpose orrrr’ and i think it was to make jensen elaborate on it. which i think is a fucking good way to pull that off when it comes to jensen. cause jensen doesn’t like to brag, which misha knows, so by making that joke he is essentially trying to get jackles to tell the audience more about what he did, without him feeling like he is boasting about himself. and misha looks so pleased when jensen starts talking.

fuck i literally had to pause just now because. jensen says: ‘one of the characteristics of dean that i love to play is that he can bottle those fears up, stash them away, and just go. and uhm… sometimes i wish i could do that.’

this is actually making me a bit emotional because. he took his time saying this. it was a very deliberate move. he wasn’t sorry he said anything or regretted it. he wanted to get that out there. and i just. it makes so much sense if what we all think is actually true. he wishes he could just ignore all his fears and go for it. and it’s not hard to imagine what ‘it’ could be: coming out. whether that be just about his relationship with misha or being attracted to more than women in general, just in any way shape or form. it’s poignant. and misha turns away, but you can see him sigh a little bit.

the whole bit about “apple juice” is just very cute and i enjoy it a lot. one thing i will say though is that i can kind of spot two tells of jensen: the way his face scrunches up when he is telling a lie that he thinks is clever, and the way he always leaves his chair to pour a drink when a question becomes difficult/hard/too funny to face head on. he has done both of those things time and time again, during panels with misha. just an observation.

there is this little moment [10m13s] where misha tells the story about how he used to make apple cider with worms and dirt in it and in the end he goes ‘anyways. new england apple cider everyone. highly recommend.’ and jensen echoes that, ‘highly recommend. yeah.’ and of course that could just be a way to joke around and play along with misha but i’d like to think that he has visited misha and they had some apple cider together. just because i like the thought and i can, so.

how CUTE is it that jensen remembers ‘i’ll just wait here then’, a line cas spoke 7 years prior to that panel, in a scene jensen wasn’t even in. i love it.

jensen slowly shaking his head when misha says ‘fuck’ and apologizing for it has SUCH major ‘excuse my husband’ energy. i love it.

‘i’ve got an idea’ [14m13s] ‘what? let’s do it’ misha imMEDIATELY regretted that lmaooo they are always so aware of double meanings and yet they cannot seem to help themselves. we love to see it.

can you BELIEVE jensen ‘dance monkey dance’ ackles OFFERED to shamelessly promote a movie they have nothing to do with??? jensen, who hates the fact that they have to play some sort of show on stage, actually wanted to do that with misha??? i’m just- something something if you want jensen to do anything ask misha, but apparently also: if you want jensen to do something get misha involved and he’ll love it.

and then he has the audacity to say ‘over to the wheel of love.’ i mean. i can’t.

(i don’t necessarily understand what is happening btw but that’s okay, because it leads to champagne. which is fun.)

okay so again apologies for my mind being in the gutter but jensen’s face [16m33s] when he says he is going to explain what [the champagne] tastes like……. hm. help.

honestly i just love the whole champagne bit because i love it whenever they get so playful on stage, and them “presenting” the bottle and going all ‘we know what we’re talking about’ ‘we’re kind of connaisseurs’ and the whole english accent bit. say it with me…. in sync.

jensen popping a champagne bottle is something that can be so personal…. (i’m touch starved and going crazy, leave me alone)

i absolutely love the fact that jensen notices that misha is miming taking off his pants and misha immediately runs to him to explain and jensen just goes full on protective husband mode (YET AGAIN) ‘i turn my back for 2 minutes’ lmao it’s just such old married couple behavior. an old married couple that is horny and deranged, but still.

i’ve seen the gifset of this moment [24m52s] many a times but i still think it’s so intimate. the way misha looks at jensen and walks backwards with him, for no fucking reason at all. sigh. misha’s hand clenches a little, and honestly i think he would have wanted to reach out to jensen in that moment. pat his arm or his back. and something happens a little while later that only proves my point even more…

that caress [60m5s] is probably one of the most intimate gestures i’ve seen between them. it’s so familiar. so natural. it says a lot.

and that’s the end of the panel. all in all i have to say that i enjoyed rewatching this panel with the analysis goggles on, because it’s really a very different experience and i picked up on a lot more than i did when i watched it just for fun. i think this is one of my favorite panels of theirs (at least until my next analysis lmao) because of the fact that they are so in sync with each other, which goes to show that their relationship was in such a good place (mind you i am only using past tense because i am describing a past panel, not because i think they’re not in a good place right now). this was a lot of fun folks, if you actually read all of this, god bles, you’re the best. see you next time!

#cockles #jib 7 #this is very very long but in my defense this panel is an hour long #comments and thoughts are always appreciated!!

160 notes · View notes

tobi-momo · 3 years

Text

"The Setter's Help" Chapter 7

Pairing: Kageyama Tobio x Volleyball player!reader

Synopsis: With a big game coming up, the confidence in your setting has gone down significantly. Knowing the setter on the Karasuno boy’s volleyball club is good at what he does, you ask him for help. Will he help you build your confidence and skills or will he just tear it down more?

Genre: Romance, fluff, some crack, angst, hurt/comfort

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, angst, physical violence (?) (not much if any), lmk if more

Word Count: 1.9k

Taglist is Open!!

“Kageyama!” A loud shout could be heard from outside the storage room where Kageyama had been sitting for the past two hours. Suddenly the blank white wall had the memories of his happenings with you covering it. Every time he looked back at himself, the emotion he saw behind his face said everything he wanted to. “You’re really pretty today”, “do you want to hang out?”, “You’re amazing at volleyball”, “I like you”.

“Kageyama!”

The yelling had become clearer, he regarded. His eardrums pick up the sounds of his name, although his eyes still never peeled from the partition. Only when the collar of his shirt was pulled and tugged on and his body being lifted off the chair did he look away, his brain finally responding to its messages.

“You’re such an asshole! Do you know what you did to her? She hasn’t stopped crying! She liked you! And you messed this up! How could you? What did she do to you?!”

It seemed as if Hinata has snapped, Kageyama notes. It’s not that he didn’t care, but the energy that he had in his body to keep fighting and defending himself had almost drained out.

I know, I know, I know.

All he could do was listen, silently scream at how he hurt you, how he damaged your self-esteem, and tore your view of yourself. He knew you looked up to him as both a mentor and a person, and he knew that you wanted to be just like him in terms of volleyball. The event that had occurred just about three hours ago had carved into his brain and embedded itself there, resulting in a headache that he thought he deserved. As his friend throws him around with his fist, his head wobbling and his teeth gritting at the reality of it all, he groans.

“She was good for you!” I know. “She just wanted your help!” I know. “Why did you mess it up?!”

“I don’t know!”

Hinata’s eyes widen dramatically when he heard Kageyama’s voice bleed through the air, his arm loosening a bit and lowering Kageyama’s figure down towards the chair. He looked distressed, Hinata noticed. It was obvious he was arguing with himself, his breath shaking as his chest heaves, his hands balled up into fists yet not having the energy to put them up and use them. His furrowed, frustrated eyebrows that guide his angry eyes when he stares at the floor, too ashamed to look up towards the man counting on him the most. It may have been the humid room, but his eyes felt hot, wet. His head felt sore, tired. But what could he do now, instead of just laying there in guilt and shame, constantly thinking about the way you grew scared of him once he stood up to you, or when you were sobbing and shaking into Kiyoko’s chest as she held you close.

Silence overcame the room; a dark, frozen occurrence in time that was only interrupted by a couple of sniffles as Kageyama tries to pick himself up. He brushed himself off as he stood straight up, a shadow overcasting the top half of his face when his hair sways in front.

“You better fix this,” Hinata mumbles. “Even I can see she’s too good for you.”

“Yeah. I know.”

~.~.~.~

Giving you time was one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. Watching you walk past him in the hallways and avoid looking at him during class. Every time he tried to stop you in the hallway to talk or say your name to grasp just a sliver of your attention, you do the opposite. You never looked at him once. A concentrated, determined look on your face as you stare at the piece of paper beneath you, your fingers fidgeting with the pen you hold.

The cap resides on your lips while you write down a new formula. His eyes carefully trail the way your mouth wraps around the lid, focused pupils darting to the different details your lips display, them blowing out when you move them, your hand slipping the cap out from your lips. He let his mind get distracted for a little bit while he thinks about how soft your lips would be against his.

“Oi,” Hinata whisper-yells at the man who stares at your mouth. He hesitantly turns around, a blank expression hugging his face while he looks at the ginger. “Stop looking at her like that, you look creepy,” he whispers as he leans upon his desk to give the message properly.

“What? No, I don’t,” Kageyama tries to defend, only his volume a little louder than intended.

“We get it, you like her, but take it slow, remember? No one wants to see you drool over her eating her pencil.”

“She isn’t-” he sighs, turning back around and sitting in his chair properly, “whatever,” he grumbles.

Once the bell rang, he only caught your eye once before you darted out of the class. Dammit, he thought.

“Hey, Y/n,” he called, only to be ignored by your leave as you exit the classroom.

He hated that. He kept seeing your body disappear over and over again and he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take watching your back vanish around the corner of the white walls any longer, but his brain ached when it yelled at him to just leave you alone. It was hard, he had to stop himself from taking another step, but his foot halted and he was left alone in the empty hallway while you storm away with no regard.

~.~.~.~

The minute practice rolled around an anxious feeling wrapped around his nerves, suffocating them and telling him to worry and be anxious. It created a pit in his stomach that he wasn’t able to shake, a nervousness that he wasn’t able to identify as he enters the silent gym. Well, silent now that he was present. All murmurs and small-talk came to a stop, all eyes turning to face him while the metal doors clang shut.

Well. This was awkward.

“C’mon! Let’s get to practice, y’all! What’s up with everyone?” Coach Ukai shouts in question with his arms in the air, hoping to clear the dread for a slow second. He chuckles dryly when the humming and mumbling continues, all except two volleyball club members grabbing a ball out of one of the available carts. He gives a double-take to two standing boys by the entrance of the gym, jogging towards them when they don’t move after a moment. “What are you guys doin’? What’s going on with everyone?”

“Well,” Hinata speaks up, a hand scratching his neck as Kageyama takes a step back, scared. “Something happened yesterday and… let’s just say the club isn’t too happy with Kageyama-kun over here.” He tries to laugh it off, but the evidence in Kageyama’s fearful eyes proved that this was, indeed, a serious matter, so Ukai’s face didn’t do anything but display shock and concern.

“Hinata,” he calls, walking off as he uses his pointer finger as a gesture to make the boy come over. He complies, speed walking with his arms sticking out the sides, while Kageyama just stands at the back of the gym, trying his best to ignore the stares of judgment- the ones of Tsukishima and Tanaka, of course. He couldn’t tell if they were glaring at him out of sport or if they were actually mad, but the way his eyes strayed to the polished floors was enough to say they still affected him.

“Yes, Coach?”

The man leans down towards the teenager while looking at the lonely player in the corner, a brow quirked up in question as he asks, “Why is he acting like that?”

Hinata raises his arm to point when he says, “I jus-”

“No, I know what you told me, but what happened. This is not how the team usually is, have you seen the third year’s?” He points out the three men on the court, Hinata taking a quick glance at them grumbling incoherent nonsense to themselves.

“Uh… well,” he tries to explain, putting his pointer fingers together for comfort. “Do you know of Y/n?”

“Mhm, I know of the girl. Girls’ Volleyball Team, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s her. Anyways, Her and Kageyama-”

“Wait, a minute. Are you telling me what I think you’re about to tell me?” He questions with a whisper louder than he intended, although thankfully earning no quizzical looks as he quiets down.

“No, no, no. Well-”

“Are you serious?”

“No! Okay, okay, so basically what happened was he was helping her train for a game she’s excited for,” Hinata continued his explanation, both the ginger’s and Ukai’s head’s turned towards the dark-haired teenager as they talked under their breaths about what had happened. Hinata could see in his peripheral vision the way the blond’s eyes blew open in surprise.

“Kageyama-” he pauses, taking a breath, “Kageyama Tobio,” he clarifies, not believing his ears, “did that to Y/n?”

The ginger only nodded his head, guilty. “Yeah…”

“Oi! Kageyama!” The older man calls the lonely setter his way, the teenager hesitating for a moment before following directions. “Are you dumb or something?”

“What?”

“You heard me!” He keeps his voice at a low whisper, although the striking frustration in his voice does not falter to make Kageyama take a step back in utter shock. “Why the hell would you do that to a nice girl like Y/n? There could be no possible reason other than you being stupid!”

“Coach, I think-”

“Get to practice, both of you! And stop torturing girls like that!” He waves them both off, shoving them away with annoyance. They stumble off, not hearing Ukai mutter, “Dumbasses,” under his breath.

~.~.~.~

You weren’t there. You never showed. The empty gym rang with silence as the dust particles clashed with the windows and the benches, only showing themselves when strings of light bled through the clear panes. He could only sigh, as this was half expected of you, which he had come to the conclusion that that was valid as he closed the gym doors before heading home.

It was like that the next day as well, and the next; Kageyama has no idea why he keeps bothering to show up anymore. Whenever he had texted you politely that he was on the court waiting for you, the message switched from Delivered to Opened in less than two minutes, leaving him to assume that you knew you were doing this to him.

While he picks up his volleyball bag for the last time that night, he walks home with a conflicted expression. Should he keep waiting for you? Or should he stop? You had to come around one of these days, you were crazy about this game, you practically begged him to help you, and even if he wasn’t your mentor anymore, you stay at home doing nothing?

He stopped his thoughts from pursuing- he knew not to call you lazy, because he knew he would be wrong. You were determined, you had a goal. It just irritated him that he was the one to mess it up for you.

That’s it. He won’t do that anymore. He won’t mess it up. He knows you can do amazing on your own anyways, you never really needed him. His time helping you is over.

a/n: hi sorry its been so fucking long ive been having a lot of trouble not only with this chapter but with home things too, so im really sorry aljsdasld buut!! its almost over! one more chapter then an epilogue then The Setter's Help is over! thats so weird honestly but im super happy you guys tagged along! thank you!this is me trying to redeem kageyama, and redemption plots are hard for me so i apologize lasjdkas

taglist in reblog!

send an ask or fill out THIS form to join! (reblogs are VERY appreciated <3)

MASTERLIST

80 notes · View notes

frobin · 3 years

Note

Okey serious question here. How much do you actually believe that Oda ships Frobin? Like do you think he actually have like doodles/sketchs of them in a pairing kind of way? like for the strong world film riding the motorbug? (Personally i would love it to be true but he has stated one piece isn't about romance in that way)

Hey there anon! Thank you so much for your question and I hope I can answer it seriously enough. Also once more sorry for the late response. I felt like a question like that needs some research and that is what I did these last few days.

So... I think I'll start with the tl;dr because that way people can read that and ignore the rest.

So, long answer short: I 100% believe that Oda has one or more sketchbooks with drawings of his characters that are absolutely self-indulgent. I am 98% sure that he has drawn Franky and Robin in a romantic way at least once (and supported the ship). I am 80% sure he still is shipping FRobin.

Little disclaimer: I actually have no idea if any of this is true. I pull everything in my arguments out of my own experiences and knowledge and since I'm not a 46 year old Japanese Mangaka my perspective might be WAY OFF.

argument - reason- example - conclusion... behind the cut (or in the google doc)

So, why do I think that Oda has a secret sketchbook?

Simple answer is that he is an artist. He is drawing a lot and no artist will publish everything. That can have multiple reasons like imposter syndrome or because the artist thinks it’s not good or interesting enough or they just forget. There are even more reasons I forget and every person has their own.

For Oda I can imagine two big reasons as to why he would keep secret sketchbooks.

First: He is a horndog. You can skip this part if you don’t want to read about it, to the second reason.

Anyway, we know thanks to answers in the SBS, the way he likes to draw big-breasted women and how some of his characters are classified as perverts that he can be considered one too.

Let me show you a few of a few lewd SBS questions he likes to answer in a funny way:

Chapter 228, Page 46

D: How are ya, Odacchi? I know how much you like getting butt-naked, so this must be a favourite season for you. <3

O: Yes, yes. I just LOVE getting completely naked. In the summertime, after I take a bath I just run STRAIGHT OUTSIDE!! And when the girls' softball team running on the sidewalk looks over at me, they say, "Yup, it's really summer now!!" ... AS IF!! I'D GET ARRESTED!!!

(x)

Chapter 433, Page 68

D: If Lady Robin can use her Hana Hana Powers to make any part of her body sprout somewhere else, does that mean she can do it with her ample bosom as well? "Nyurin-zaki" (Breast Sprout) Boy, I'd like to take a hit from that sometime... P.N. Ero Ero no Mi Devil Fruit User.

O: "Ichirin-zaki" (Single Sprout) "Nirin-zaki" (Double Sprout) "Nyurin-zaki" (Breast Sprout) Very clever!! NO IT'S NOT!! STOP THAT!! I'm sure she CAN do it though ♡

(x)

Chapter 798, Page 64

D: Oddachi, I'll give you a pornographic book, so please answer my question. Sanji won't allow anyone to waste food, but what will he do if a woman does so? P.N. Smoker's Cigar

O: I think he would grab the plate and eat it up. Now please give me the pornographic book.

(x)

Nowadays I’m sure there is a focus on those lewder questions compared to the beginning because that is what 13 year old boys laugh about and we all know that is Oda's main demographic (of course).

I think a very good picture of that is given by Tekking101 in his breakdown video of SBS Volume 100.

youtube

“Let’s get diving into these questions (...) now, this is a huge moment. I mean, not many Manga manage to reach 100 Volumes, Okay? Now I know Oda usually starts these off with questions relating to boobs and things that don’t really… you know, aren’t really relevant but you know, this is a big celebration so we’re gonna dive right into it. I bet the most important things that we need to know about the One Piece Story are right here in these pages, okay? I printed them out. That is how important this is. So let’s start off, shall we? Epic voice, Barry!

‘Mister Oda, there is a UFO over there with huge big-breasted beauties on it. That memorable 100 Volume of the SBS is about to begin.’

[pause] Yeah, like the first five of these are all related to boobs in some way. You know what Oda? Sticking true to your guns! Godspeed, Sir Oda. Godspeed.”

(end at around 2:30)

So, Oda is a man who likes beautiful women and who draws.

Coming to the conclusion that he will draw his own characters in suggestive poses, naked and even doing adult stuff is not hard.

Obviously he would not show these sketches just around. He would probably keep them in a secret sketchbook that he keeps at a safe location. Maybe his wife and some close friends know about it? Maybe it is his and only his little secret.

I don’t think it would be unlikely to learn about this years into the future, maybe the next generation of Anime Fans will hear about this.

And it would not be the first time that something like this happened.

Not that long ago the daughter of Osamu Tezuka - groundbreaking Mangaka, known for his works of “Astro Boy”, “Kimba the white lion” and many more - found his adult Furry art. Source; Japanese article;

It’s a fact that many Mangaka did indeed start their career with art of the more risque kind and/or as doujinshi artists.

So again, I have no doubt that Oda, a known pervert, has one or more secret sketchbooks with „the p0rnography“ in it. Is there only hot stuff in there? Not necessarily.

The second reason to keep a secret sketchbook would be to collect information in there, that could be considered canon but he is not willing to use it in the Manga. Maybe they are not important enough or will be used later.

What am I imagining here? Anything that could be considered too weird for the normal sketchbook but isn‘t too risque. Funny things that might still not be „appropriate.“

Like a sketch of the male Strawhat ding-dongs with the sizes beside it. All the lewd jokes the fans did about Luffy's stretching qualities? I’m sure Oda thought about them too and drew that in the past if he had the time and it made him laugh enough.

But also maybe there are scenes in there that never made it in the Manga. The Strawhats interacting with each other in their daily lives, ideas for colorspreads and maybe chapter-titles. Oda probably has noted/sketched down a lot of unofficial stuff somewhere.

Another example, even an artist like Oda himself would have needed to exercise drawing two people kissing. Why not use Characters he thinks that might work out together?

Why not Franky and Robin? I would imagine he sketched up a few panels of Franky and Robin having a romantic date, going shopping together in Dressrosa, having a conversation that we never got to see because it was too on the nose.

Which brings us to the second point of me being very sure that Oda had drawn FrankyXRobin at one point.

I’m sure in those sketchbooks there is at least one drawing of them doing anything couple-related together. Again it does not have to be downright nasty but it could be them holding hands, kissing or even just Robin leaning onto Franky while reading, like all those fanarts that exist out there.

It’s not hard to imagine. Even for other Characters I think that is possible

And there might even be proof for that idea. The sketch of the Strong World movie you also mentioned, anon. The one movie that can be considered canon is Strong World. It was basically written/directed by Oda. Shiki the antagonist had an appearance in the Manga.

This sketch is drawn by Oda. Robin is holding onto Franky.

Can it be read as romantic? Yes. Can it be read as Robin holding onto Franky because there is nothing else to hold onto? Also Yes. But couldn't she just have used her power to keep herself secured on the bike without holding onto Franky? WELL YES. Could Oda never have thought in these circles like I do right now? I hope he did not because I hate it and I don’t wish it upon him.

In the movie Robin is NOT holding onto Franky. Now the really interesting thing - that is neither proof pro nor anti FRobin - is that we can see the sketch provided by Oda as a “between the scenes”.

In the movie Strong World the old trio is collecting information at the Pirate assembly. The next time we see them they use the Batta GT-7000 to slowly approach the destroyed village, which had been ravaged by the animals, and start to look for their friends. No need to hold onto Franky and no need for Brook to lean back. They are looking around.

The sketch is clearly not the same scene as the one we see in the movie.

In conclusion the drawing is indeed a between the scenes drawing. And yes if there exists one, who is to say there aren’t more?

Talking about Animal-Bikes...

Is there any meaning about the fact that in the opening scene (that is part of the talked intro after the opening ‘We Go’ - a huge thanks to antiherofangirl, ccb0nnet, JFL_Estudios and Maems, over at twitter!) Franky and Robin build another grasshopper-based vehicle? Maybe not but I still feel like it’s quite a callback.

Where did the idea to put this in the beginning come from? a) an editor had the idea inspired by Strong World; b) maybe it’s another sketch that Oda provided.

Neither seems very far-fetched in my opinion.

So yes, I am very sure that Oda has drawn things that we would consider FRobin.

Now to the last point (the first being Oda having a secret sketchbook, the second me arguing that Oda might have drawn FRobin).

As I said in the beginning I’m very sure that at one point Oda did and kinda that he still does ship Franky and Robin. Because even though every Interaction of two characters can be depicted as romantic or platonic, Oda used ROMANTIC TROPES with Franky and Robin.

They have never kissed on screen but we had

finishing each other's sentences

coordinated clothes

one using the others lap as pillow

hand on cheek caressing

and we can’t forget that Robin had answered Franky's invitation to ride on another animal-themed bike with a heart.

Edit: I didn‘t say anything about „no romance in OP“ so ask again if you want me to talk a bit about that. Sorry!

Those are things an author of Oda's level would not write or draw without being aware about how teasing this is. He has to be aware that every single line he draws will be analyzed to the end of the universe and back. People earn money by saying their opinion and interpretations about the Manga on Youtube.

These interactions are not something outlandish like “There was once an Anime Scene in which Robin was wearing something blue and exactly 28 episodes later Franky was wearing something violet and then 39 episodes later they both stood beside each other for exactly 69 seconds.”

Whenever I think about these facts, things that are not about interpreting but are factual, black ink on white paper but also about the little things, about how Frank and Robin help each other to become better, how they support each other… I want to say YES! ODA IS 100% on board! While in reality I’m 80% sure and 20% of me is wondering if I’m not actually analyzing too much into it. If maybe he really is abandoning ship. Maybe I will become the person who will curse his name and throw my Mangas and fanfictions in an active volcano?

I don’t know and it’s impossible to say what is going to happen.

And with that I've concluded this answer, and it only took me around 2k words and four days.

#FRobin #One Piece #One Piece Meta #Odas secret sketchbook #One Piece analysis #Adult themes #Notreally Frobin #long post #2k words #ask #modpost #kon #boy this was something #sorry about any mistakes

26 notes · View notes

dubsxreader · 3 years

Text

worship the king //.o1 // shigaraki tomura x female!reader

summary: after the soul crushing realization that you're not meant to be the Hero you've spent your life training to be, you hunt down the most indiscriminate killer you know: Dabi. his man-child of a leader being there only makes the task easier, right? too bad Shigaraki has a knack for seeing things in others they don't see themselves. wc: 3,312 playlist: here!

rated: M for dark and mature themes; future lewd tw: suicidal ideation (seriously don't read if you're in a bad mindset this probs won't help), depression, toxic thoughts, manipulation, the start of a v dependent, idolizing relationship ie "worship" in all definitions of the word haha. Shigs taking advantage of a mentally vulnerable hero basically; dead dove do not eat for that reason.

a/n: this is something I wrote almost year ago now, when I first fell head over heels for Shigs and really felt like bnha was saving me from insanity haha. I have 15 pages of notes for this fic, but for now, for the King's birthday, this is my thank you to him and a year of loving Shigaraki Tomura <3 also to the xreader community for being my gateway into every fandom that takes over my life haha. will be posted to ao3 later

You stand on a cracked, littered rooftop, sullenly looking over the calamity you figured would be destroying the lives of every day, happily unaware citizens tonight. A slight sigh of relief leaves your chewed-to-hell lips, hidden to your own addled mind but glaringly apparent to any of your fellow heroes who’d commented on your state of mind the past few months.

You appreciated their care, you really did—for all the surface level care it could give, that is. It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t understand. They were simply more Heroic than you, official capital and all. More driven, stronger, faster… But you’ve been doing the absolute best you can, and you were sure of that. Days–weeks months?–of harshly honest self speculation assured you of your failures and of the fact that, simply put, you weren’t cut out for shouldering multitudes of lives every time you stepped out your door. Heroism didn’t just end when you took off your costume; no, it was an ideology that should be ingrained into the soul of the costume wearer, and you’d come to the jarring conclusion that, after all your special training, you just weren’t up to snuff.

You couldn’t even save yourself from your own demons. How the hell were you supposed to save those more deserving of life if you couldn’t cope with your own shit?

A small, condescending snort leaves your nostrils as you observe the blue flames engulfing the area below you. Fucking worthless. What was the point, then? Hours of support Hero's work on your items, costume—wasted. The countless words of love and support from friends and family. Ha. Your eyes track the small movements of the current chaos’ perpetrators with a keenness you've found twisted comfort in recently. A familiar, all encompassing fixation gears up that brings you out of the cloud of self-doubt, hate, and deprecation that was so, so wrong to feel as a Pro-Hero in today’s society. In this bubble there's a solution, so it's okay. You let out a numbing breath.

Maybe you could give the Villains +1 morality in the eyes of whatever twisted being rested on their laurels, idly watching as you drive yourself insane.

A swift gust of wind knocks the empty cans and bottles from their peaceful resting places as you leave your perch, descending into the empty alley below to begin your last stand against yourself. Resolute and heavy steps echo in the widened, deserted streets of the city you vowed to protect—a small, still aware part of you thankful it’s so late at night that most would be sleeping. Your targets (saviors?) usually moved when they would make the most social impact, but you’d been tracking a certain member that didn’t seem to adhere to their strict schedule.

Whoever they were behind the obvious moniker, they seemed to kill liberally. It should be easy. You take a numbing breath.

The stench of burning flesh and ash is suddenly all too pungent, assaulting your senses enough to kick your mind into another, more logical plane and question how stupid you’re being. How disappointed everyone who knew you would be. Izuku and Hitoshi, especially, had been trying their hardest to devote extra time to you recently, you knew that—fuck, how selfish were you to bring their attention away from a goal they’d fought so hard to achieve?

The flames are smoldering char on concrete when you arrive at the end of another alleyway, just as dirty as the one you’d come from… But the incineration just seemed to have cleansed the way of its trash. You nearly sigh again in morbid relief when you see two men still standing there in the aftermath. You can see from behind that the man you’ve been tracking, Dabi, still has his left arm extended, as if relishing the memory of his flames destroying the ones he deemed unworthy.

Hands in your hero costume’s pockets, you steel yourself in your usual Hero emotions: indignation, conviction, disgust at the idea of them feeling they had a right to do anything going against the grain of the society you were indoctrinated into. You clear your throat with the last of your practiced confidence, bringing the sights of the two Villains to your own frame shadowed by the bright street lamp at your back.

“You two aren’t planning on getting away with this, are you?”

Your simple, deadpan drawl has both men scoffing to themselves and sharing a look of exasperation and annoyance. They clearly want nothing more than to be done with whatever the hell they were doing; your gaze sharpens in acknowledgment while their own take note of your hero costume. This is it. This is really it. You’ve done it. Is it really what you want?

Your eyes ice over, hardening to protect your vulnerabilities when they meet those of the second man’s own carmine flecks, so unflinching and so, so bored from behind his trademark hand.

Yeah. This is it.

Resignation freezing the rest of your visage and nothing left to say, you dash forward with simple physical speed, locking onto the Villain you recognize as the leader of the League of Villains himself. Sure, Dabi was a proven relentless killer, but you figure if you go after the leader himself there would be even less hesitation or time to think on either side. They were both reportedly unflinching, ruthless, uncaring and absolutely evil, but Shigaraki’s devilishness was practically beaten into you at this point. He was the obvious candidate, the oddness of his presence meaningless yet welcome at this point.

Your eyes never leave his as you take those last three lunging leaps, your arm cocked back in a hopeful show of some impressive power you might possess, in a display grand enough to paint yourself as a threat if not at the very least an annoyance.

Blue flames lick at the back of your costume. You’d somehow been faster than Dabi’s flames, which made no sense at all—you weren’t fast in any capacity if you were to judge yourself. It must’ve been a misfire. Lucky you’ve targeted the faster acting Villain.

Something distinctly odd flashes in his previously disinterested eye as you rush him, your Quirk barely powered yet still reflecting in his observation as you aim for the mask. Your own, in contradictory spite, slows as your mind races, brushing the hand enough to feel the inexplicitly soft and leathery texture, knocking it clean off the face of the man you’d targeted. Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it's the anticipation of the end, but you don’t feel anything near what you thought you’d feel when his living hand grazes your outstretched arm. If anything, it feels like an angry wasp had come at your elbow in some sort of misguided revenge attempt. Bearable.

Fucking livable.

You skid to a shaky stop feet behind them, your glare going to the small hole in your costume’s arm where he’d made the briefest of contact. The skin had only begun to crack and decay from a central point; nothing near the scale and intensity you’d been warned about by your superiors and peers. What the fuck gives?

A desperate rage threatens to erupt at the lack of damage. You feel cheated. Your eyes shift from the minimal damage to the apprehensive yet notably curious eyes of your chosen euthanasist. Was he just not taking you seriously? You didn’t blame him, but…

“I thought the League was the best of the best?” The sting in your arm is mockingly there and you scoff, barely hiding your indignation at his unfulfillment of the role you’d forced upon him. You take it and use it to fuel the crumbling foundation of your resolve, ashing it to the ground yourself and focus on the slightly slumped figure topped with white-blue hair.

His eyes are now magnetized and piercing, never wavering from your own, adding to your rage and confusion. Just what is he getting at, looking straight at you in the fucked up state you’re in and just–just fucking seeing–?! You aren’t looking for pity, fuck all if it's from the person you’ve deemed would have the balls you didn’t to end this shitty nightmare you live in. With a primal, anguished and utterly guttural scream you dash forward once more towards Shigaraki Tomura, hand erupting in a more accurate show of your true power.

Once again, he simply guides your attack away from him into empty space, this time with a deft shove of his index finger. Silent and calculating. You stumble on your feet as you land, ignoring the insulting sting, and turn to face them at a pace you know isn’t up to Hero standards but unable to even fake it anymore. Your eyes, though.

They fucking call to him.

How could he dust you? A Pro-Hero, coming at him alone, a deadly ally at his side, with what he knew from his research to be nowhere near their quirk’s power and potential?

Nevermind the look in your eyes he’d recognized immediately—this Hero was asking to be killed. Cracked lips twitch to grin at the situation. His mind works at full throttle to balance the possibilities.

“Heh…” The small breath leaves him, a smirk winning out and pulling at already taught skin, “You’re looking to die, aren’t you, Hero?”

Your brows furrow in… Fuck, you can’t identify your feelings at this point–they shouldn’t matter–they’d become obsolete the moment you took a swing at the supposedly impulsive and irrational Villain in charge. All you can feel is the overwhelming sense of weight, of pressure, of absolute and total CHAOS destroying any semblance of unity you’d pulled together to end this.

“What the fuck does that matter to you, Villain?!” Your glare is full of a rawness you can’t recognize, let alone mask, “Fucking fight me or die!”

His smirk, now fully on display, stretches to the smuggest of smiles as he takes his experimental first steps forward, casually retrieving the hit hand and placing it safely in his trench coat pocket. You weren’t immediately attacking him—hell, you weren’t even defending yourself! You’d only be more obvious if you’d delivered yourself to his doorstep tied in a bright, blood-red ribbon labeled “do what you want, I don’t care anymore!” It made his blood simmer, his skin itch in excitement at all the optional routes opened up before him.

Quickly, too quickly to deploy your defense {even if you wanted to}, he’s in your face and encircling your neck in a four fingered grasp. Your eyes vaguely mark Dabi looking on with a detached interest, and you can’t help but mirror his lack of understanding—your emotions and thoughts unfortunately too far past controllable to be hidden behind the usual Heroics.

“You could still serve a purpose, you know.”

Narrowed (e/c) eyes meet piercing, analytical rubies set to freeze and crumble enemies. You have no answer to that, none at all—if you hadn’t come across another anything while you’d been searching in earnest, how could it be tossed into your lap from the hands of a Villain? Your clear disbelief doesn’t deter him in the slightest. It only gives him the subtle signals he needs to ensure a dedicated new member of his team. This situation could only go well for him and the League, if he plays it right, and he’s thankful Dabi knows when to shut the hell up and take the back seat when he truly should.

He’s never seen Shigaraki’s version of recruitment before. After Dabi's climate destroying display, he could use a lesson.

On the edge though this Hero is, the line is thin and the touch needed is delicate and calculated.

“You can make a real difference in this rotten world,” Shigaraki slowly lowers his defensive arm and loosens his grip on your neck, conveying his intentions to calm you. He notices this strikes an especially sore nerve that you’re too unhinged to recognize. You’re taken over by your emotions, unable to distinguish that you’ve offered your weaknesses to your enemy on a silver platter. Disgusted rage he’s now certain is self-focused meets him, only bringing him a step closer to your frozen and highly panicked figure. His free fingers fidgets on the clammy skin of your neck, tapping a pattern across your throbbing pulse, expectant and soft while the other stays loosely, carefully, against your clavicle.

It's constant.

It's… calming?

No, it's fucking overwhelming and uncomfortable and— As if your body’s acting on the last vestiges of your studies, you struggle in his grasp and pull your dominate arm back, channeling all your sadness and panic you’d been unable to expel into the attack you hoped would just fucking end this fucking end this it’s done—

Another four fingered grip captures your wrist, directing your power away from anything important and only ruffling Dabi’s clothes as he watches on. You choke on a cry, near your mask’s end with Shigaraki’s unexpected patience. You’d been told this was nothing more than a spoiled, raging, calloused young man entirely unable to connect with any feelings other than his own selfish need to destroy all Heroes he came in contact with. The only conclusion your racing mind can come to is that he doesn’t even view you as a Hero worth destroying. Thick and torrid tears rush from your eyes, betraying your need to be recognized and being denied that luxury in your final moments.

“I can’t even get what I need from you fuckfaces—!” Your cry rings out, eyes shutting tightly, shaking with the force of your emotions finally finding the breaking point they need to crash through into the real world, “What the fuck can I do to make a fucking difference?!”

Shigaraki pauses to assess your sobbing. You’ve all but folded into yourself; you would’ve disintegrated against his hold on your neck if he hadn’t been paying attention. No… he sees you. He sees you. His fingered grip on your neck slides up to force your head to follow, meeting his sure gaze. You’re lost. You’re anxiously grasping at anything you can to stop the burning, itching need to destroy your own mind… And he gets that. He knows what it took to hook him tightly into his own mindset. He knows of seeing a seemingly impossible goal set before him, of feeling unworthy and needing to prove himself to his peers and himself. If anyone could reshape you... it would be him. If anyone were to reshape you... it should be him.

“It isn’t fair, is it…?” He starts slowly, voice dripping with cooing understanding, gauging your expressions and body, “You work so hard to be what others want you to be… And never feel enough, even when you put your all into it.” Your whole being shudders at his words, breaking down and melting into the pressure of your expectations for yourself. You choke on another messy sob, tears blinding you, snot nearly reaching your lips, a trail of drool unknowingly slipping from the corner of your grimacing lips.

“We’d never expect more than you can give, you know,” He all but whispers into your ear, his words echoing with staying power. You miss the tiniest bit of excitement he lets slip into his tone at the thought of corrupting a fairly strong Hero to his cause with mere psychological one-upmanship. The power over your entire existence is an intoxicating prize and he’s not about to let go of it if he can help it.

A sad cross between a whimper and a cry escapes you as you crumble even more into a hold you’d only come to for annihilation. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why weren’t you dead? You’d wanted to die, needed to just stop everything and just—just STOP, finally, just stop. He was a hardened criminal with no need for heroes, what the hell kind of use did he see in you? You still the tiniest bit. You just need a use, a tangible use, is that what you’ve been missing? A clear direction set before you by an overwhelmingly liberating, intelligent, capable force… Could he see it through all the absolute shit you covered yourself in?

A tentative spark lights the furthest parts of you as you finally meet his confident and knowing gaze. Fuck if you don’t feel seen for the first time in your life, finally seen and accepted for the absolute mess you see yourself as. The conflicting, philosophical doubts you’ve had about Heroism, and your own heroics in the existential race you call a life, find a peaceful place in Shigaraki Tomura’s vision.

It's an alien calm, a powerful sedative on your mind, leading you to melt into his look—telling him all he needed to know and more. The grin he sports widens and his eyes shift to give a silent command to Dabi, still (surprisingly) observing quietly, before changing your life indefinitely, “Follow me, little hero. You'll never be lost again.”

A deep, swirling purple warp gate you’d only seen in footage appears at the entrance to the alleyway.

The loose grip on your neck finally leaves completely, giving you ample room to escape up and out across the rooftops. You’re frozen in your battling thoughts at the suddenly very real decision in front of you.

You knew you weren’t good enough to be a Hero. You’d been struggling with the core beliefs on what the word even meant, if the world you’d been taught was even so black and white. Did you even want to die or did you just need someone to come and give you a purpose, some great refocusing direction? Someone to swoop in, recognize and acknowledge your pain before wiping it away and giving you something definite to live for? You knew you couldn’t make it as a Hero. You were nothing in that world. But maybe you could make that nothing existence, doomed to the weaker, better…?

Eyes nearly blinded before blinking down more streams of tears, you sniffle and take a tentative step towards the man looming tall over you, an umbrella shielding you from a brightness you couldn’t stand to be seen in. You harshly wipe your falling tears to watch Dabi walk swiftly into the portal, an unlit cigarette of some sort dangling from his patterned lips. Shigaraki steps to it much slower. He stops before he reaches it, twisting subtly to look at you from over his shoulder. He shouldn’t have to say anything more for you to follow, if his assumptions are correct—

They are.

Your first steps are slow but pick up speed quickly, feet nearly throwing you into his right side, at the mouth of the portal to a place described by your thoughts as no return. His eyes widen in delight, a manic grin following as he places the fingers of his left hand onto your head in a semblance of comfort. More than he ever got. His right arm wraps confidently around your waist, absurdly consoling to your rapidly evolving morals and needs.

It allows you to let it all go, though. It tells you someone more capable, more prepared is there. That he sees you and is keeping you alive because you’re useful to him. You can’t seem to care why when the overwhelming realization that such a powerful man saw you as you were, truly were, and still found a profound use for you in a world you were dying in takes a strong hold. You’re practically weightless as he guides you into the inky blackness of his caretaker’s portal, mind clicking into place and recognizing the distinct choice you’re making with a calm acceptance of this development in your life.

You were a useless hero. Perhaps this is your chance to prove you could make a difference to someone as a villain.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! :) hope you enjoyed~ happy birthday, Shigster! maann I wish he'd take me away ;w; drop of a hat, I'm gone lol. the ultimate escapism... yandere!Shigaraki! xD annyway, I hope you have a wonderful day~ <3

#shigaraki tomura x femaie!reader #shigaraki x reader #tw sucidal ideation #tw depression #tw manipulation

68 notes · View notes

stellocchia · 3 years

Text

So, I’ve been thinking: where do the characters of the smp actually fit in the morality spectrum?

We’re all always pointing out how everyone is “morally gray” in the smp, but it’s not too hard to see that the level is different in different characters, for example: Puffy’s light griefing when she first arrived on the smp is in no way comparable to Dream blowing up a country 3 times... so how about we take an objective look through this characters actions?

First let’s establish what are the categories we’ll be talking about:

Morally gray characters: they are the intermediate between a villain and a hero. They are neither wholly bad nor good.

Anti-Hero: someone who may perform moral actions but always for selfish reasons. Basically morally gray but with bad intentions.

Anti-villain: someone whose desired ends are mostly good, but their means of getting there range from evil to undesirable. Basically they think they have good intentions, but they’re actually villains.

Sympathetic villain: an immoral character who’s backstory/character arc makes them sympathetic to the viewers. We can’t agree with their actions, but we can understand how they got there.

This is more or less the spectrum we will be moving in, as it would actually be rather hard to define anyone in the smp as a classic black and white hero or villain (with 1 exception). Also I believe we all kind of understand what the definitions for those terms are.

In this I will be only going over the characters I know the most about as there are way too many people and, I’m afraid, it’s impossible for me to cover everyone properly as I would need to watch their povs. Anyone though feel free to add on to this!

Also I won’t be going in any precise order because that would take more effort then I’m willing to put in, so here we go:

Tommyinnit: He is a bit of a trouble-maker. He has been involved in the most conflicts out of everyone in the server (although he didn’t start the big majority of them). He has griefed, stolen and caused a whopping total of 3 canon deaths (1 to Jack Manifold and 2 to Dream). He has however sacrified himself multiple times for his friends (both literally and by giving up his possessions) and he apologized and tried to make amends for his worse actions. He is mischevious but he also often proved that he can be very selfless. No doubt he earns a morally gray stamp.

Willbur: He is a difficult one because of the big split between his character pre and post election. That said, while Willbur was rather power-hungry before the election he also was very caring for those under him (sometimes slipping into being downright demeaning towards Fundy). He upheald his principle of “words over violence” and mostly wanted to build a peaceful nation. After the election however (because of his declining mental health) he did turn to violence and manipulation and ended up blowing up his own country. So I’d say he went from a morally gray character to a very sympathetic villain

Ghostbur: This one is being considered separatedly from Willbur, as it has been said multiple times that they are separate entities. Ghostbur, you would think, has never done anything bad in his life, he has however hurt some people. He refused to have an actual talk with Fundy or with anyone really when it comes to what Alivebur did, hurting them as a consequence and while they are separate entities, they’re still very much connected. His intentions in general though are good, he just wants everyone to be happy, he just doesn’t realize his incapacity to fully understand other people’s struggles can hurt them at times. He has however never intentionally caused harm to anyone and tried to help whenever he did so unintentionally. He lacks the qualities that would make him a “hero” but he’s morally good

Tubbo: While people in this fandom have a tendency to portray him as a poor innocent bean he’s not entirely squeacky clean himself. He steals regularly, he has partook in Techno’s scuffed execution attempt and organized a festival with the clear intention of killing Dream. He has however, more often then not, done what he thought was right and what he felt he needed to do in order to protect his people. Even now he’s built a safe heaven away from everyone because he wanted a safe place for anyone wh needed it. So there you go, morally gray stamp of approval.

Techno: And here I already know there will be some contentione... oh boy... anyway! Techno undoubtedly thinks he’s always doing the right thing. He thinks that destroying the governament was the only way to get rid of corruption. He thinks he’s doing something good. He has however released weapons of mass destruction (aka withers) in L’Manburg 3 time, caused the most canon deaths in the server (yep, more then Dream) and he’s been manipulative (wether intentionally or not doesn’t really matter here). In general he’s caused so much pain to so many people that it cannot go ignored. For this reasons he gets an anti-villain stamp

Phil: He’s also one of the characters deserving of a split, in his case it’s pre and post Techno’s attempted execution. Pre execution he was a mostly uninvolved member of L’Manburg, he did however help greatly with the rebuilding and tried to give a family to Fundy when he realised he needed one. He did also kill Willbur. ater the execution however he joined Techno in committing atrocities for what he percieved to be something good (”teaching how bad governament is” was his perceived goal). So I’d say he went from morally gray to joining Techno in the anti-villain gang

Quackity: He is a very complex character and I’m sure opinions about him are rather split. He joined the election to insure it’s fairness. He stayed by Shlatt’s side to try and make the governament fair until he realised that he would never be litened to and then he joined Pogtopia to take down a tyrant. He tried to protect L’Manburg in every way he could, but did get carried away with the attemted execution and the festival, even arriving to suggesting executing Ranboo. Now he wants to build capitalism and is trying to fight the Egg in his own way. He is the definition of a morally gray character

Ranboo: Another split opinion incoming here! Ranboo does mostly have good intentions (at least in his non-enderwalk state, which we won’t talk about here, because there still isn’t enough lore about it to understand it). He would like to have a united server with no conflicts. In trying to achieve this however, as he noticed himself, he actually went against every single one of the people he cares about: not sticking up for Tommy at the trial, assisting with Phil’s arrest and Techno’s execution, giving back Techno’s weapons and armour with no fight and, in general, giving him resources, helping to plan the Green Festival and so on so forth. That said all this things are “bad” from one side but “good” from the other. He has also kept company to Tommy in exile more then anyone else and he was there in the final fight against Dream. In conclusion he gets a morally gray stamp as well

Punz: Punz fights for money and his own self interest. He showed before that his alliance was with those who paid him, even though he actually seemed to care and consider Dream his friend until a certain point. He fought in a few wars but was never overly involved in the petty conflicts. He did however end up being the reason Dream was defeated (athough that was also for money). This was also before the Egg’s corruption as we won’t be considering that as part of the character since, you know, the Egg literally mind-controls people... anyway he gets to be in the anti-hero club

Sam: The warden of the prison is someone with a great work ethic (though he doesn’t seem to care much were the money are coming from once a project gets commissioned to him) and a very kind individual, always ready to offer pumpkin pie or his help to anyone who seems to need it. He’s also building a bank with the express purpouse of building an economy to take control over the server... he is morally gray as well is what I’m trying to say here

And, our final one:

Dream: This man also actually needs a split to better understand him, and that split is before and after he received the necromancy book from Shlatt. Before that he started a few conflicts (Declaring war on L’manburg and the whole railway skirmish thing) nut in general he had mostly sound objectives. Toward the start he didn’t want trouble in his server and he went to extreme leghts to ensure there wouldn’t be any (stealing Tommy’s disks, the whole declaring war etc). He did try and help Pogtopia at the start for this very same reson, because he was hoping that the two indipendent factions would cancel out each other. At one point however the objective in his actions seems to have shifted between wanting to obtain unity for the server to wanting to obtain control for himself. It’s after this shift happened that he committed his most heinous crimes (blowing up L’manburg other 2 times and all the manipulation that went on). After the shift there is not a single redeeming thing he did. He went from an almost anti-villain to a straight up villain, he is, in fact, the only one aside from the Egg that I’m willing to deine as a true villain.

#dream smp #/rp #character analysis #tommyinnit #tubbo #wilbur soot #dreamwastaken #awesamdude #punz #ranboo #philza minecraft #technoblade #quackity #and I believe that's all the ones I talked about #god this was long #long post #if anyone wants to add on with other charcaters feel free #I know I haven't added a lot of them #but I didn't feel like I knew enough about other characters to give them a fair analysis

89 notes · View notes

infjsnightmare · 3 years

Text

This will be chapter one of the Fyodor×female!SO amnesia fic that I am working on. I haven't posted a fanfic in who knows how long so the quality is probably on the poor side. Any feedback is appreciated! I'm hoping to continue this, but it will probably be on the back burner of my schedule. I also am not used to tumblrs platform, so any advice for formatting would be greatly encouraged. I'm not adding character tags to this since I don't want it to clog up the fandom, but if you end up liking it and would like me to tag you in future updates, don't hesitate to ask. Anyways, I think that's about all in the way of introductions!

*************************************************

She glanced over at the dark-haired man as he worked, yet again, into the early hours of the morning. The pale blue of his various monitors was the only thing to illuminate his snow-white skin. His tired eyes barely blinking as they scanned the database in front of him while his long slender fingers danced along the keyboard. She sighed knowing that arguing his work schedule would prove futile. In all the years she'd known the man, he would never put himself before his cause, even for a few hours of needed rest. Still, she wouldn't sit well with herself without at least a half-hearted attempt.

"Fedya", the shorter woman lightly placed a scarred hand on the back of his swiveling desk chair, "you'll never create a promised land without proper sleep." Her tone was sharp and came out as an order as opposed to a suggestion. The woman winced upon realizing her terse composition, a remnant of her time as a child soldier. "Hmm?" The man hummed his response, inflection rising as a question. He was being gracious with her, giving her a chance to correct herself. There was no doubt he had heard what she said, but this was a mercy he spared for only her. "I mean to say, that your promised land will wait for you, but I worry that your health may not," She turned his chair to face her, pleading eyes betraying her stoic expression. "Please come to bed." Her eyes were always a point of weakness for the Russian. Her straight posture, tight jaw and tense shoulders could never take away from the pure wealth of emotion her eyes gave away. "This is important work," Fyodor began as he already saw those precious eyes relax in resignation. So, she was fully prepared for him to reject her offer. Noticing the puff of air she let slip, he decided that perhaps he had been too persistent in his goals the past few days. He tilted his head thoughtfully, stray black hairs like a silk spider's web swaying over his crimson orbs. "But, since Decay of Angels will be moving into its next phase soon, it couldn't hurt to prepare myself and rest." He punctuated his decision with a soft smile, grabbing her hand from the chair to lead her to bed. Eyes widened the faintest amount, the only hint of shock she portrayed. "Thank you, sir." She nodded while examining his pale elegant hand in her much rougher calloused digits.

Everything about him spoke of grace. An angel among men, with the unfortunate disposition of a demon. But that's what she admired in him. When they met all those years ago, her rifle placed directly at his temple. Even then, she couldn't fathom the young man in front of her leading such a dangerous life. But, when their eyes met, he had just chuckled lightly, grabbing the barrel. "Would you like to see this world burn?" All it took was one question from his lips and she knew she would follow him to the depths of hell. Being a soldier, recruited for her ability that never let her miss a mark, forced to kill from such a young age, the world to her was a pile of rubble, but this man, this god, would show her paradise. When she stared back into his eyes, she knew it was the truth. That was the day she left the Russian Special Ops. That was the day she massacred the rest of her division and escaped. That was the day she vowed her body and mind to Fyodor. At the time, she believed she no longer had a heart and so it was not something she could offer, but now, looking up at his tired profile, feeling that tightness in her chest, realized that he already possessed it.

She followed him wordlessly through the corridors until they came to their shared bedroom. Her hands moved to his shoulders, lightly massaging his exhausted body, while removing his jacket. "What is it that's on your mind, Milaya?" The deep voice disrupting her thoughts. "I was just thinking of all we've been through. I truly would do anything for you, Fedya." She stared straight into his eyes, and any lesser man would've cowered under her gaze. Instead, he let out an airy chuckle "You say such sweet things as though you are about to kill a man." An amused smile played at his lips while tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "If all goes according to plan, there shouldn't be much for you to do in any case." Fyodor dismissed the though with a wave of his hand as he dropped to the bed, all his muscles giving in to the plush bed and warm blankets. "If all goes according to plan, you'll be tucked away in a cell in Europe." She smirked playfully pushing him until his head hit the pillow. Her smile faltered briefly at the thought of how far away he would be. Sure, he'd been gone on missions before, but she always knew when to expect him back. This time was different. This time relied on the other members of the organization to play their part.

"And if I'm captured? I've heard that there are abilities that could extract information about you from me. Similar to Sigma." Her brows furrowed as she continued "I've been thinking a lot and I believe that if I am to be found, I will need to forget you.... to protect you." She finished and looked up at him, seeing the faintest trace of worry etched in his face. "Don't be ridiculous. It will never come to that." His voice was even, though his agitation was apparent to her trained eye. "Now isn't the time to discuss such matters." She nodded in agreement. "You're right, you need to rest. We'll talk about this in the morning." She wrapped herself around him, laying her head on the space between his shoulder and chest. He rolled his eyes at the prospect of continuing this discussion at any point in time but planted a chaste kiss to her temple regardless, as they both drifted off to sleep.

The warm smell of steeping Lady Grey roused the young woman from her slumber as she blearily rubbed at her eyes. Sleeping next to Fyodor was the only way for her body to relax as she rested. She knew that she was safe. Her training had taught her to always be on alert and for a long time she could have awaken at the drop of a pin. But, whenever she slept with him next to her, she would wake to find him already dressed for the day, tea on the bedside table and she would not have the faintest inkling of how long she must have slept through his routine. "Good morning." Fyodor's voice sounded like honey to her as he traced a gloved finger underneath her jaw. She lazily scanned the room before her eyes settled on his form sitting next to her bedside. "Good morning, Fedya. How long have you been sitting there?" Pressing her cheek lightly against his hand before straightening her posture, slowly reverting to her tense state of being. The raven haired man smiled watching the remnants of his dazed princess slip away into the strict stance of his loyal soldier. "Not long." He gave a quick reply, his façade nearly perfectly covering the truth. He'd been watching her for about 32 minutes at this point, memorizing her rhythmic breathing and the delicate parting of her lips. He wracked his brain for every possible scenario of how last night's conversation would play out this morning and every route led him to the same conclusion: he wasn't going to change her mind. She was his soldier after all and she was loyal to a fault. If she believed her own mind could put him in danger, then she would destroy it. If she believed her love for him would put him in danger, then she would let go of her own heart.

"Milaya, I-" "You've already deciphered how this conversation ends, haven't you?" She cut him off before he could even start. The way his eyebrows slightly contorted on his soft features relayed his worry. He must have been recalling last night and she knew if she gave him too much room to talk, there was a chance his silver tongue could change her mind. "I have." Lowered voice, clipped. He was unhappy with her decision, but he wasn't going to waste time arguing around a pre-determined outcome. Maybe he could change her mind, but not without manipulating some aspect of their conversation, not without toying with her emotions and using her like a pawn. He frowned bitterly at the thought. She was a queen in his chest set and he could never allow her to be set like a pawn. A queen was always there to defend the king, roaming the board freely, but always returning back by his side. Against the odds, he would have to trust that she would do just that. That if she were to throw away their past, throw away her memories, that she would still find him again and return to his side.

A squeezing pressure against his hand brought him back out of his own head as she gripped his hand with hers. “I promise you, I will return to you. We will stand together in the new world. Just promise me, no matter how long it may take, that you will wait for me?” The sincerity held in her eyes shown brightly before him. Not just sincerity, but something else. Love. The most basic and most complicated on the spectrum of human emotions. It had the ability to make weak men strong. To make strong men crumble. To make a feeble man think. And to make even the most genius of men fall into stupidity. And here he was, staring into the eyes of the only being he gave merit to, stupidly agreeing to let her follow through with her plan. He stared into her eyes with such intensity she was sure that her soul was bared naked before him as he made his promise. “ya obeshchayu tebe, moya lyubov.” The air in the room hung heavy, and it almost seemed as if time had stopped as the pair gazed, entranced by one another. She felt her jaw clench and tighten with an emotion she wasn’t sure how to name, lost somewhere between heartache and contentment. “Thank you, Fedya.” Standing abruptly, she wrapped her strong arms around his slender frame, face pressed firmly into his chest. A rare display of raw emotion from the woman, fighting her natural composure. It was only in these moments, just the two of them, that she could be this weak. It was only times when they were alone, that he could allow himself to be this warm. And, as much as the lovers could wish that time had actually stopped, it would continue on regardless. “Of course, that is only in the event that I even be captured.” She straightened, fixing herself with a quiet confidence. “I never miss a target. I would never be taken easily.” Her expression remained void of any defining emotion, but her eyes held the credence and self-assurance that a soldier of her caliber is sure to possess. “Good.” The simply reply held the acknowledge of her skill and all the weight of an order. The implication that she would raise hell and only enact this contingency plan as a last resort was not lost on her. Cool lips brushed delicately over hers in a chaste kiss, faint and fleeting as though it were a ghost. Her lips were warm like fire against his as she chased the kiss adding the slightest pressure. The pair exchanged one last fervent glance before regaining their aloof composure and exiting to continue their work.

18 notes · View notes

supercharmed-forever-mine · 3 years

Text

Today I will be addressing SuperCorp and some of the issues that have been floating around about fandom. And I will be saying some stuff that both is for it and could be used against it even though I am ultimately a super big supercorp fan. Like it says in the tags you're free to express your opinion but they will not be changing mine but I am always open-minded to opinions that can actually be explained and eloquently expressed (receipt's needed) and aren't just basic. Also just so what is noted I have been a part of this fandom since the first episode I have literally shipped Kara with everyone from Lucy to Cat even James.But Lena has just stuck out the most for me but I'm Equal opportunity.

Number #1, Lena's character in no way shape or form has ever been xenophobic she has never once shown any hate towards aliens her problem with Kara in season 5 Wasn't because she was an alien it was because she was a "Super" like Kara could have been a flying purple fucking octopus from the planet of shzjxfdf and Lena wouldn't have gave two fucks but no she was a "Super"but let's dig deeper on that point if we really look at why she was mad it wasn't even the whole alien aspect it was because she wasn't told and no I don't think she's entitled to it but I do think it played into the fact of a trust issue she has with the fact that people would think she would be just like Lex if she had been told Sooner. Which is disproved in 5x13 (also personal note: I also think she wouldn't have reacted half as bad if Kara had just told her that night at game night or the next day when she wanted to probably still would have been pissed but not to the same extent). But okay with that being said I do disagree with the kryptonite entrapment torture scene and basically half the s*** she did in season 5 it was shown that she truly can tap into her Luthor side and be dark when wanted but fortunately she does always return to the light and in all fairness it has been shown several times that Kara has a dark side of her own that could rival the luthors.

Number #2, I do disagree with the abuse of actresses and actors just because of a ship and or character they play don't blame them it's just a job they have I think Melissa and Katie do a beautiful job of bringing Kara and Lena's characters to life couldn't imagine anybody else playing them.

Number #3, I also will say about the reason bombarding of comments on Nicole's social media at least I saw the video via tiktok in that video was fucking hilarious I love Nia, Dreamer,and Nicole in general she's funny and beautiful and is an advocate for everything good in life and well it is normal to even ask other actors if they have the scoop on anything it does not mean we need to be bombarding them in videos on something relating to their character or their love of something a simple comment or so maybe but what I saw NO.

Number #4, The William of it all well I think though his character seems like a nice gentleman he also seems to be bland as hell also I did not know he was a POC to be honest I thought he was a tan white man and we'll be doing further research on people in the future as I can learn from my ignorance also but unrelated I did not know that the woman who played Maggie was apparently just a tan white woman I thought she was of some sort of Hispanic descent but apparently not according to various things I've read on here tonight... But anyways back to William I feel like a lot of people might have perceived him as a white man therefore that might play into the whole scenario of people hate that they just want two white woman together when it proves if she was a man they wouldn't give two f**** about it whether that's true or not I don't know but mine two cents.

Number #5, I will never bash someone for being for or against a certain ship and or character and well I am allowed to certainly disagree with their opinion all opinions are valid because we all see the world a different way some see it bright and shiny and others like I'll admit myself see it through the glasses of trauma. And I think that's why we all have the opinions we do most of the time when you like a shipper character it's because you relate to them somehow even if it's the most minor thing to someone else it might be huge for you. You never know what the person on the other side of the screen is going through in those characters or ship or fanfiction might have literally saved their lives.

Sidenote: Like okay personal story I was been both mentally and sexually abused as a child so I relate to both Kara and Lena respective childhood trauma so that draws me to them. And I kind of see them both as the opposite attract trope (two side of the same coin) because well we never fully get over trauma Kara had a great support system with the Danvers whereas Lena didn't get that with the luthors I mean sure she had Lex at first but even that was only to a certain extent because of his psychopathy that was starting to manifest he couldn't perceive human emotions the same as Lena who in my opinion is just a big mushy nerd who can be a badass when needed as evident by the season 6 episodes after she's quit L-Corp she's constantly trying to help out inventing new stuff and she's wondering how Nia's suit works and it just shows that she just has a curious mind and also she looks happier even with the guilt she feels over Kara's phantom zone incident when Nia called her a part of the family that smile could lit up a city all she's ever wanted is to belong and I can relate to that therefore to her.

Number #6, I feel like this should have been addressed in earlier number but as far as sexuality goes I would want to believe Kara is pansexual because of everything I've ever read and saw I don't believe she perceived sexuality like humans do because of her Kryptonian upbringing for the first good chunk of the life. Like even though she says she's not gay in the first episode, A. It was the first episode so they didn't even know where the story was going in future seasons if they got them also that means maybe she just didn't perceive herself as the Earth's definition of gay. B. Even in the first season she made a comment about how she bought Lucy was gorgeous and hell she would date her. C. She made some comments about Irma and other woman that don't sound totally heterosexual and don't get me wrong women can admire the beauty and intelligence of other women without it being sexual but as a bisexual woman it just struck a cord in me you can tell the difference when it's coming from a straight woman mouth. Now on the subject of her and Lena strictly I do think there are instances of "queerbaiting"because just because you perceive they haven't been promised to us doesn't mean that some of us haven't picked up on things or the fact that they're simply queerbating because somehow they do hype up Kara and Lena to keep a nice chunk of the audience who ships them mainly those of the gay variety interested in the show which is also considered queerbaiting. Also the fact that they've been called sisters or family or my personal favorite "that's what friends are for"doesn't mean crap because honestly at this point the overuse of friends just sounds more like they're trying to convince themselves than us.*** Also I don't know about you but even on the basic level of things they've done I've never shown half those feelings towards my friends and the ones I have it's because I started to think of them as more than friends.

Now with Lena's sexuality no they have never shown her as anything besides straight canonically but don't get me wrong she totally sends off that college experimentation vibe especially with Andrea for some reason but that may just be me.

Number #7, my main point is let's just be kind to one another because guess what there is toxicity from every ship in a fandom there will always be shitty people on both sides and then there will be those of us who just want to see the characters together for one reason or another and yes I'm not afraid to admit that part of my reasons I want to see two gorgeous woman kiss sue me LOL.

Number #8, the conclusion of my rant is that how about we leave the hating to the ones who want to do that and the rest of us like adults or whatever your age is in the fandom that has any type of maturity behave because I truly do wish the best and in the end well I hope they end up together I'm realistic that they probably won't especially due to the CW Network motto of "homophobia and racism"because they've already broken up several good gay and interracial couples on that show. But at the end of the day my true wish is just that all of the characters end up happy and healthy.

Best of luck to all shippers out there anti and supercorp and or any other couple alike may we try to make it out of this with a modicum of sanity and even if they fail us we always have fanfiction thank you and good night.

#SuperCorp #anti supercorp #anti lena luthor #supercorp endgame #melissa benoist #katie mcgrath #william dey #supergirl #wlw ship

32 notes · View notes