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Reverse Trope Writing Prompt Summaries
I've seen these reverse trope prompts going around and they seem so funny, I've decided to write one. I'll list a bunch of little summaries and then do a poll to vote on one.
Too many beds! When Deuce gets the opportunity to visit Clock Town with his friends, he excitedly tells his mother all his friends will be joining him. He later discovers that only his wild pal the Prefect will join him. Too embarrassed to admit to his mother that the large hotel rooms she rented was for nothing, they decide to have such a wild party that no one will ever guess that there were too many beds!
Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss. You've just discovered that the animal shelter in your town is being closed so that a local restaurant run by a shady (rumored to be mafia) boss can open a branch location. You've seen a teal-haired menacing man going into the place with his timid looking secretary. On impulse, you decide to grab the secretary and use his life for leverage to get the mafia to give up their plan. Little do you realize the bashful gentleman you've kidnapped is actually the famous Don Azul himself.
Real nice guy who hates only you. There was a time when you remember actually wanting to be Silver's friend. That was before you got to know the residents of Diasomnia better. Now, it seems like every sleepover or breakfast date you have with your new bestie Lilia only makes the gentle Silver strike out at you in a ball of jealous rage. Just what is his problem with you?
Academic rivals except it's two teachers who compete to have the best class. Crowley brags about how he is clearly the best teacher on campus. Why, when he teaches class, the students never fail to gain a perfect score! Ha, he is so magnificent! Perhaps he should just take over teaching full time and let Crewel do the annual government audit instead, ha ha! To which Crewel replies, Hell no. The competition to prove themselves most worthy teacher (and avoid the audit) is on!
Divorce of Convenience. Marriage to Ruggie was everything you thought it would be; a tough life but it had its perks. Your hubby Ruggie always had an ear out to opportunity for his small family. That's why, when he told you about the new low income housing for unmarried residents he found, you couldn't rule it out. One quicky divorce later, you are now on the road to financial security...that is if you can convince the straight-laced inspector Jack that you truly are nothing more than the roommates you pretend to be.
True hate's kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse). You've become the assistant to Vil in order to make extra cash. One day, in a series of mishaps, Vil ends up drinking a cup of tea cursed with his Unique Magic that caused him to lose his voice. With an important interview coming up, it up to you to convince the proud Vil to travel to Royal Sword and ask his eternal rival Neige for a kiss to break the spell.
Dating your enemy's sibling. After a huge fight, your former pal Ace is now your worst enemy. You can't stop thinking about that fight and how you (maybe) didn't quite win it. The whole thing just makes you hungry for revenge. You spent a lot of time thinking of the perfect way to get under Ace's skin when you see a post on Magicam of Ace's older brother working his theme park job. Suddenly, you have the wildest idea on who you want to bring to the campus dance.
Love Triangle where the two love interests get together instead. No one was more invested in being a fan of Vil Schoenheit then you, the Prefect of Ramshackle dorm. Unless, it was your rival fan Rook. Vil is thoroughly fed up with you both. He announces that, from tomorrow onward, only one of you will be allowed to accompany him to class and help him at lunch. You now have one night to prove to Rook that your admiration of Vil surpasses his own. As the night goes on, you discover the allure of being totally in sync with another super fan. Can your love for Vil survive his ultimate fan?
Too hot to cuddle. There is a heatwave happening at NRC and the air conditioning magic is broke all over campus. It wouldn't be much of an issue except your dating notorious cuddler Leona Kingscholar. You've turned him down for a nap in the sweltering botanical gardens and denied him from resting his head on your sweaty lap in Savanahclaw. Will your clever boyfriend find a solution or be driven mad by the frustration?
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Listen, you should never film strangers in public without their consent, but I swear there need to be fines or something for people who do that shit in some spaces. For example: I had to go to the ER last night, and some jerk filmed a woman who just came in and was clearly having an asthma attack. She immediately got to go back, and he was unhappy about that. Believe me, I get that it sucks having to wait when you're in pain, but you don't get to pick who deserves care when. The medical system in the US is a nightmare, and the ER could be the worst moment of someone's life. No one deserves to be recorded because some jack ass believes someone doesn't look like they need care.
This is fine to reblog. People who film strangers should be shamed if nothing else.
#ccyy talks#sorry for posting this here but I'm pissed and this shit really needs to stop#For all I know he recorded me too cause I'm young and look healthy but got to go back next#Sorry about your cough buddy but the way things work I was a more immediate emergency#1k#5k#10k#30k#this post clearly has a life of its own now#and in case someone wants to know some clarifications for common points#people in a position of authority/actively hurting someone with the intent to protect/help the person is fine#so cops doctors nurses mental health workers and educators (to name a few) who actively are abusing their power and authority? free game#this post was filming random ass people for Content(tm)#random ass people more so those in distress aren't your content and you do not know the harm you can do to someone by posting that shit#50k
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People that make it their entire personality to hate Flynn’s writing are now acting like “the OCs” like Surge and Starline grinning looks like shit compared to Eggman thus really putting the nail in the coffin that they’ll just hate anything blindly and don’t actually have any critical thinking skills
#Imagine thinking Surge grinning looks like shit#Anyway theyve now taken to hating Stanleys writing too and putting her in the same boat theyve made up for Flynn of#'clearly they need to play some Sonic games' as if the both of them havent been lifelong fans that played the games#Not to say 'i called it' but I called it#Back when they were like 'AW YEAH FLYNN IS OFF THE BOOK FINALLY WE CAN HAVE GOOD WRITING'#I Knew that theyd be like 'surprised Pikachu' when Stanley has to#GASP??? Follow the rules and regulations Sega sets out for writing these characters???#And that theyd get pissed at the writing again#Thats exactly what theyre doing lmao#Sorry I just saw the most pretentiously worded post of my life#Go read something else mdudes. Likely your own writing since you think its the only way to write Sonic#Even though yall wouldnt last a day on the job
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YES I KNOW THAT HE’S MY EX! | TOM BLYTH
pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader
summary. you knew tom was your ex, and that you should probably stay away, but that’s never stopped you before
part 1 | installment of this au (please read for more context!)
ynuser :)
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user1 im loving the aesthetic
user2 THE BIKINI TOP IS SO CUTE
user3 put them toes awayyyy
rachelzegler i pay attention to things that most people ignore (this isn’t your car.)
➥ user4 PLEASE?? not rachel using yn’s own lyrics on her
➥ user5 IS THIS TOM’S CAR??
user6 i may be delulu but those r tom blyth’s mfing hands.
user7 he has her hair tie on; i repeat, tom blyth literally has yn’s hair tie on
When Tom had messaged you saying he wanted to talk, no matter how much you knew it was a bad idea, you decided to agree to it anyway.
The breakup had ended pretty badly. Although it was an agreement between you and Tom, that didn’t mean that’s what the both of you truly wanted.
The reason the two of you broke up in the first place was that Tom was talking too much about your future, which wasn’t a bad thing — but it overwhelmed you. You weren’t ready to settle down, not yet, at least. You and Tom had only been dating for a few months, and although it was all sweet and loving, you knew that getting engaged this early was like asking for a disaster to strike.
He was upset. Clearly. He loved you, you loved him, so why was it such an inconvenience for you to agree to take the leap in your relationship? That caused a blown out argument between you two, and by the end of it, you had agreed breaking up was the right thing.
You had a acting and music career to focus on, and Tom had an acting career that was just at the beginning of its success. You felt that it wasn’t right to put a distraction into his life.
“Is this a bad idea?” You ask breathlessly as you pull away from the kiss. You can’t help but stare into Tom’s eyes, which held a language of their own.
“Maybe,” he says, wiping the corner of your mouth. “But who cares?”
Who cares. Right. Well surely, it was a bad idea to meet up with your ex, much less kiss him, and although alarms were baring in your head that you probably shouldn’t—you go in for a second kiss, this time, Tom doesn’t let you go, cradling you close to his body.
“I don’t care if you don’t want to take the next step in our relationship, I’m fine if you’re not ready yet. I just want you, okay?”
And how could any girl possibly reject Tom Blyth when he’s begging so prettily? Certainly not you.
tomblyth and ynuser both posted an instagram story !
ynsbiggestfan THE GIRLS AND I AFTER SEEING THE STORIES ON INSTA
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user8 IM ACTUALLY DYING BC NO WAY WAS THAT A COINCIDENCE
user9 they’re connected they cant be far away from each other
user10 she’s my Heather 💔💔
➥ user12 fr i wish tom was that inlove w me
user13 so this is why rachel said that wasn’t yn’s car
➥ user14 ITS ALL MAKING SENSE NOW
sean.kauf photo dumpy
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ynuser pic creds ?? 🤬
➥ sean.kauf 🤓🤓
user15 wait im confused, is she together with tom again or is she with sean..
user16 Ykw i cant even be mad, if i was as hot as yn, i’d have two bfs too!
➥ user17 REAL SHIIT
tomblyth fun fact: the 2nd pic is sean third wheeling after forcing me and yn to speak to each other
➥ user17 TOM CONFIRMED IT IM DEAD
user18 all the yn haters must feel stupid asf rn after accusing yn of being with sean
➥ user19 literally cause all 3 of them are literally close 😭😭 like why would sean date yn, he’s literally friends with tom
user20 if yn isn’t dating sean let me have him omg
ynuser yes i know that he’s my ex but can’t two people reconnect !!!!!
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user21 this took the cake.
user22 time to cry again bc tom blyth is off the market
user23 she got him wrapped around her finger FR
user24 THE THIRD PIC OF THEM 🥹🥹
user25 THE CAPTION OUUU GIRLY IS BRAVE
tomblyth i only see you as a friend (the biggest lie i’ve ever said)
➥ user26 I CHOKED
➥ user27 THEIR SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGERS ARE CRYING RN
#coriolanus snow angst#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games x reader
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I've never asked for a request before and i dont have clout to write it myself so i thought id ask since i like some of your Mike stuff but
What about something like reader and Mike are friends and he goes to a wedding her as a favor cause i like the idea that he has like a messy suit, loose tie kind of hot mess vibe and smutty things happen lol I dont have much in mind but the idea of him in a messy suit trying to look cleaned up is just like ...drool idk
Plus One
Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 3.1k+
Summary: You invite Mike to be your plus one at your sister's wedding, but things go wrong during the reception and Mike uses you to take out his frustrations.
Warnings: 18+ CONTENT, okay so like reader and Mike are friends but also its kinda angry sex??? You’ll see. Manhandling (sorta), slight exhibitionism, degrading, praise, dirty talk, finger sucking, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap pookies)
Note: oh my GOD this one got away from me and i'm NOT sure about it, I feel like i could’ve written this a bit better but i just started babbling and now we're here. to the person who requested this: THANK YOU. i loved ur idea and him in a suit like makes me drool too omg. i also couldn’t help adding a little angst in here. also so nevry to post this?? so lmk what u guys think! enjoy :)
“Please, Mike. I swear this is the last thing you’ll ever have to do for me!” You plead, trying to reason with the very unimpressed looking man in front of you. You’ve been stuck in Mike's kitchen for the past half hour trying to convince him to be your plus one to your sister's wedding next Saturday. Clearly, your convincing hasn’t been successful so far.
“The last time I did a favour for you was supposed to be the last time.” Mike says with a knowing smirk, and you roll your eyes. A few weeks ago, you went out to a bar with some friends and you may have had a few too many long island iced teas. The owner had forced your hand into calling someone to pick you up, and it was Mike's number you had dialled that night. As he drove you back to your apartment with an unpleasant look on his face, you swore to him that that would be the last favour you'd ever ask of him. How you wish you could take that back right about now.
“Okay, well, I was drunk when I said that. So it doesn't count.” You say with a frown, crossing your arms against your chest like a child who was denied candy.
You can’t really blame Mike for not wanting to go. Your family is…a lot. You love your family, you really do (most of the time). But, they can be judgemental. You were the kid in school who always got the hottest new toys for Christmas, and had big themed parties for your birthday every year. It had never really dawned on you that you were more well off than other kids until you had met Mike. You became friends with Mike when you were both 15. When you first brought Mike over to your house to hang out, you heard your parents whispering about him that night when you were supposed to be in bed. Your parents gossiped about the kidnapping of his brother, the suicide of his mother, and how Mike and his sister were essentially left to their own devices with their father paralyzed and consumed by grief. It made you sick to hear your parents nitpick and discuss Mike's life like it was a reality tv show. Your parents never really approved of your friendship with Mike, and they tend to not-so-subtly make that known whenever you make the mistake of bringing him up in a conversation.
“I don’t think that’s how that works. Besides, when your sister offered you a plus one, I really don’t think she had me in mind.” Mike says as he reaches into his fridge for a beer. “In fact, I think she’d prefer you to invite that guy who works at the convenience store and catcalls you everytime you go in, instead of me.” He says, cracking open his beer and offering you a smile before he takes a sip.
“Well now you’re just being dramatic.” You huff as you walk over to the couch in Mike's living room and take a seat. Mike follows you from the kitchen and sits down in his armchair, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Mike sticks his tongue out at you and you have to restrain yourself from strangling the man. If it were any other wedding you would’ve just gone on your own. However, your family events tend to…take a turn for the worst. Your family's gatherings usually end with drama, and you know that even though it’s your sister's wedding, this will be no different. That’s why you're insistent on bringing Mike as your plus one, so you can have a little support if things go awry.
“Very mature.” You say with a shake of your head, once again rolling your eyes at the rude gesture.
“Listen, I’ll go. But, on one condition.” Mike says, and you sit up straight at his words.
“What’s the condition?” You ask suspiciously, but at this point you think you’d agree to almost anything.
“You babysit Abby for a month,”
“Deal.”
“And do my laundry for a month.” Mike adds.
“That’s two conditions actually, Mike.” You scoff as you get off the couch to leave.
“So you’re inviting the guy from the convenience store then?” Mike teases, knowing he's your only option.
You turn around to face Mike, squinting your eyes at him. God, you hate that cocky smirk he does when he knows he's winning. Bastard.
“Have a suit by Saturday. I’ll be over at 10am.” You sigh, flipping Mike off as you leave through his front door.
“Very mature.” You hear him mumble on your way out.
—-----------------------------------------
“Mike, it looks like you just came back from a bachelor party. Not like you’re going to a wedding.” You say, noting the way Mike’s tie hangs loosely around his neck and the first couple buttons on his white button up are left undone. Mike runs his hands through his hair and you quickly bat them away, scolding him for ruining the hair you had just attempted to fix in the car only moments before you arrived. You can’t deny that he looks handsome. He surely looks charming with the way his gelled hair falls messily on his forehead, and the way his dads old suit fits him almost perfectly.
“Well, hopefully your sister doesn’t mind.” Mike says sarcastically as he adjusts the cuff links on the ends of his sleeves and steps out of your car and towards the church where your sister is getting married.
The first half of the wedding went pretty smoothly. You and your sister have never really been close, so It wasn’t a surprise to you when she didn’t ask you to be a bridesmaid. You and Mike sat a few rows down, occasionally playing footsies under the pew when you’d accidentally bump feet. A kiss was shared between the bride and groom, and everyone left to go to the reception.
You were nervous about the reception, to be quite honest. Mike could tell, and he put his hand on your lower back, resting it there as you both walked into the banquet hall. You nearly faint when you see the sheer amount of people that fill the room. There have to be about 200 people minimum. It seemed like way less in the church, you think.
“I need a drink.” You mumble to Mike, dragging him over to the bar.
Both you and Mike order a drink, and you want to be swallowed by the ground when you hear your mothers shrill, sing-songy voice behind you.
“Darling! I didn’t see you during the ceremony, I thought you hadn’t come.” You turn around and she pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to both of your cheeks. She pulls away from you and you notice her eyes immediately land on Mike. “Oh, and what a surprise. Mike, how are you and your sister?” Your mother continues, and you bite the inside of your cheek.
You watch as Mike plasters a big, albeit fake, smile on his face and shakes your mothers hand.
“Abby and I are doing well, thank you for asking.” Mike says, and you almost laugh at his cordial tone. Mike sends you a ‘help me’ look and you mouth a ‘sorry’ to him.
“Gosh, it just devastated me to hear about your fathers passing.” Your mother says, clutching her chest like she's in pain, and you think she deserves an Oscar for the way she acts like she gives a shit. “I’m sure it must be so hard for you to provide for your sister alone.” Your mother adds and you watch the smile slowly slide off of Mike’s face.
“Why do you say that?” He asks, and you suddenly regret ever asking Mike to be your plus one.
“Mom-,” You start to say, but she disregards your voice, raising her hand as you speak to stop you.
“Well, I know you struggle keeping a job. You know, not everyone is cut out to raise a child.” If you could see yourself, you’re sure all the colour would be drained from your face. You’re left speechless, mouth half hung open at your mothers words. How could she say that? She doesn’t know him like you do. She doesn’t know how much Mike sacrifices to provide for Abby.
You look over at Mike and his jaw is tightly clenched. You brace yourself for Mike's next words, but they don’t come. Instead, you watch as he excuses himself and walks towards the mens bathroom.
“Well, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Your mother jokes once Mike is out of earshot.
“Jesus Christ, mom.” You say incredulously as you turn to go find Mike.
You walk towards the bathrooms, entering the men’s restroom with only one thing on your mind. Mike. Luckily the restroom is empty, save for Mike who is leaning over the counter. You slowly reach behind yourself, locking the bathroom door. You begin to step towards Mike, but you stop when you hear his voice.
“Do you think I'm not fit to raise Abby?” Mike asks you angrily, not even turning to look at you. You just stand there like an idiot, reaching down to fidget with the hem of your shirt.
“I-, no. Of course not.” You say, and the music that was loud in the hall, is now only a low hum in the bathroom.
It’s silent for a moment, and you’re not really sure what to say, or how to make things better. You resume taking slow, tentative steps towards Mike and you stop once you’re behind him. You place an uncertain hand on his back, softly rubbing it up and down to comfort him. He lets you touch him and you hear him let out a breath. He turns around to face you and you look up to meet his eyes. He studies your face for a moment, and you inch even closer to him.
“I’m sorry about my mom. That was inexcusable.” You sigh. If you were in Mike’s shoes, you probably would’ve left the reception entirely, and you’re not entirely opposed to that idea right now.
“Your mother doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.” Mike finally says, and there’s distaste in his tone. You don’t say anything, you know it's true. Your family, especially your mother, has never approved of your friendship with Mike.
“Do you think that?” Mike asks you, and you’re just now realising how close Mike’s face is to your own. You look up at him with furrowed brows and shake your head.
“No, Mike. I don’t think that.” You say quietly, and you swear the tension between Mike and you is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. You look down, but you feel Mike's hand grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look back up at him.
“You can’t even look at me when you say it. Pathetic.” Mike seethed. You let out a hushed whimper at his words..
“Sorry.” You say, but your voice sounds small.
“I know you are.” He coos, rubbing his thumb back on fourth on your cheek.
“I need you to do something for me, okay?” Mike says, leaning down to speak in your ear. His voice is sweet and the switch in moods makes your head spin.
“Okay.” You nod and Mike pulls away from your ear to look you in the eyes.
“Be fucking quiet.” He says, and he presses his lips to yours. You softly gasp in shock, but quickly kiss him back as he turns you around to hoist you up onto the counter. He grabs both of your knees, opening them to make space for him to stand between your legs. He grips your thighs harshly, and you sigh when he sucks on your bottom lip. He puts one of his hands under your jaw, using it to hold your head in place as he kisses you. His lips are slightly chapped, but you don’t mind. He kisses you with fever, and you can’t deny that you haven’t thought about this.
He kisses down to your jaw and neck, sucking the skin in a way where you know there will be bruises. Jerk. You run your hands through his hair, throwing your head back at the pleasurable feeling of his lips gliding over your skin. The hand that was on your thigh is now trailing up your leg and under your skirt. You clench your legs around his hand and he softly bites your neck, wordlessly scolding you for your actions. You reopen your legs and his hand comes up to make contact with your clothed clit. He rubs slow circles and you let out a soft whimper.
“You gonna let me fuck you?” He slurs in your ear, and his fingers move from your clit to the waistband on your panties, pulling it back and slapping it against your skin. You nod and he’s pulling you off of the counter and flipping you around. Mike bends you over and your chest meets the cold granite. You look in front of you and you can see Mike behind you in the mirror on the wall. He pushes your knee length skirt up and around your hips, and groans at the sight of you bent over for him.
“You okay?” He asks genuinely, running his hands along the sides of your body in a comforting manor.
“Yeah, keep going.” You breathe out and he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling them down. You clench around nothing as the cold air hits your cunt. You moan softly as Mike spreads your pussy open with his thumbs, groaning at how wet you are. Without warning, he inserts his pointer and middle finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds of Mike fingering you fill the bathroom and you suck in a sharp breath as his fingers curl up into your sweet spot.
“Apparently your pussy thinks I’m good enough.” Mike says and you look up into the mirror to see his jaw slack, watching the way his fingers move in and out of you. You can feel Mike's erection brushing against the back of your thigh as he rocks his hips with every thrust of his fingers.
“Mike, fuck me.” You whine, and Mike takes his fingers out of you. He brings them to your lips, pushing them inside your mouth, and you can hear him undoing his belt with his other hand.
“Thought I told you to be fucking quiet.” He murmurs and you watch in the mirror as he shoves his pants and boxers down just enough to pull his hard cock out. He removes his fingers from your lips, using your spit as lube to pump his cock a few times before lining it up with your pussy. He slowly inches himself inside of you, pushing you down onto the counter. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and you hear Mike let out a whine at the feeling of being in you.
He starts to pump himself in and out of you, and he pulls you up by your shirt into his chest to make you watch yourself in the mirror. He fucks into you like he can’t get enough of you. Like being inside of you isn’t close enough.
“What would your mother think? Hm? About her sweet little angel getting fucked in the bathroom?” Mike says in your ear, with a sickeningly sweet tone. It's like he just knows how to push your buttons. You let out a low moan at his words.
“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” Mike adds and your legs shake when he uses the hand that was holding you up to rub your clit. You drop back down on the counter and Mike grabs your hip with his free hand, using it as leverage to bottom out in you with every single thrust. He throws his head back in ecstasy and you clench around him, signalling your impending orgasm.
“You wanna cum?” Mike asks, and his voice is raspy and fucked out. You nod your head ‘yes’.
“No, want you to say it.” Mike says, and you can tell he’s close by his sloppy, less rhythmic thrusts.
“Please, Mike. Please, can I cum?” You beg, your voice hoarse. The filthy sounds of skin against skin echo throughout the bathroom, and if someone has tried to enter the bathroom since you’ve been in here, you’ve been too fucked out to hear it. Thank god I locked the door, you think.
“Cum, baby, Fuck.” Mike chokes out. Your legs shake as you cum around his cock, your orgasm only heightened by the feeling of him filling you up. You bite down on your hand to muffle yourself and you swear to god you hear Mike whimper, pussy drunk as he continues to ride his high thrusting in and out of your sloppy pussy.
After catching his breath, you feel Mike pull out of you and you wince at the feeling of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. You slowly tilt your head up as you watch Mike get some toilet paper to clean himself up. He tucks himself back inside his boxers and pulls his pants up. You flinch a little as you feel him come up behind you, cleaning you up with more toilet paper.
“Sorry, was I too rough?” He asks softly, looking at you through the mirror and you shake your head.
“No, just sensitive.” You say as Mike finishes cleaning you. You pull your panties back up, letting your skirt fall back over your legs. Your knees buckle a little bit as you try to stand straight and Mike rushes over to you, lending you a hand.
“You know, I actually think you’re one of the only people who genuinely thinks I am good enough.” Mike says, and you look up at him.
“Of course I do. I always have.” You say softly, gently touching Mike’s cheek.
#smut#mike schmidt#josh hutcherson#josh hutcherson smut#fnaf#fnafmovie#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt smut
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The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain
As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.
This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.
Part one. Fanon.
The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe.
Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”.
(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)
Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours.
And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.
(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)
We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we?
Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals.
Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.
(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)
The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.
Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation.
So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.
I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth.
Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space.
Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality.
Part two. Microanalysis
Here are my two suppositions on the matter:
1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling.
Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season.
Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal.
2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.
And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal.
Too much metaphor?
Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.
Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.
If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works.
If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time.
As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever.
So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.
Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding.
But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.
One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs.
Part three. The Conspiracy Brain.
If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.
So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?
One, Because We Have Been Lied To.
All conspiracies start with distrust.
If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another.
We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership.
And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.
(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)
Two, Cognitive Dissonance.
The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.
Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:
A) this is not good
B) this author could not have made a mistake
C) this must be done on purpose
D) here is why
(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)
This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another.
Three, Intentionality
I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.
However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed.
The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.
It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media.
When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.
If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.
(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)
And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic.
But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking.
Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way.
Four, Wildfire.
Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness.
Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here.
So where are we now?
I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all.
All I am saying is… listen.
Do you hear that echo?
I do.
#fandom thoughts#fanon#good omens#good omens 2#bbc sherlock#merlin bbc#think piece#it's been years and I still have no idea how to tag#conspiracy theories#fandom content#all fandoms
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so this post has been made unrebloggable now (shocker) but ive been feeling the need to address it since i saw it on my dash multiple times, so let's explore how lying on the internet works. more specifically, how blending truth, lies, and omissions to whip uninvolved people into anger works, because i think this is an excellent example and that pointing out the misinformation and the tactics used to spread it here is important, both in correcting the specific falsities but also in helping recognize similar tactics in the future.
so here we have several things that are technically true: staff has been very openly shitty to trans women for a long time and them banning predstrogen is clearly part of that, there is currently a movement regarding discussing transmisandry/transandrophobia, transmisogyny and transphobes sending transphobic asks is by far nothing new, and baeddel is/was a slur. however, among all of this are half-truths, unprovable speculation, or outright lies made to make you believe these events are originating specifically from transmascs.
firstly, the transandrophobia movement has been drastically misrepresented here in the same way it has been for the whole argument, "they're just trans MRAs" has been repeated so many times now that i'm gonna be hearing it in my dreams when i'm 80. i can understand not being willing to address the nuance of that whole discourse in one post that isn't directly focused on that, i'm certainly not, but in this example it's not unwillingness to address a complicated topic, it's a deliberate misrepresentation to frame one side of the discussion as The Evil Bad Ones That Can't Be Trusted. additionally, this post IS about that discourse and is just pretending it isn't to mislead a wider audience, so refusing to address it at all beyond this brief mention is deliberately misleading people about the goals of the group because They're The Other Side Of The Discourse. "transmisogynists" is used as a buzzword here, it doesn't actually refer to Anyone Who Hates Transfemmes, it refers to Transmascs Who Discuss Transmasc-Specific Oppression Using A Word They Coined To Point Out That Queer Spaces Have A Big Problem With Masculinity and just. doesn't tell you that's what it means, relying on the structure and framing of the post to create the Transmisogynist = Transmasc association in the audience's head so op doesn't have to say it outright (and of course the implied Transmasc = Transmisogynist association that follows because creating THAT association is the Actual Point of this post). the mentions of transmascs in this post are designed to look like afterthoughts, op says "typically those who espouse transandrophobia" to make it look like they're saying there's other people they're referring to here too, but almost everything in this post draws from the transandrophobia discourse. some random cis transphobe in texas has never heard the term baeddel in their entire life much less used it in a debate about transphobia, this is an intercommunity argument through and through, but op is trying to mask the fact that they're just referring to "transmascs who disagree with me specifically" and make it look like it's part of a wider trend. and again, i'm not going to go into the nuances of transandrophobia here, but i highly recommend reading some of the theory on it by @nothorses (x) and @genderkoolaid (x) because the "theyre just trans MRAs" argument kinda just collapses under its own weight as soon as you look into it even a smidgen. i've linked a couple broad overviews there but they both discuss it frequently and in-depth, specifically nothorses has a pinned post linking to many different discussion threads that i would recommend checking out if you do want to learn more about what the actual conversation surrounding these words is.
so, after framing the movement this way, they go on to say that the reason predstrogen was banned wasn't /just/ because staff has a long and established hate boner for trans women, but because the transandrophobia movement was teaming up with TERFs to mass-report her and other transfemmes, and implies that this is part of a deliberate conspiracy between Transandrophobia Truthers™, TERFs, and staff. you'll notice that there are no, say, screenshots of transmascs saying theyre deliberately reporting her or of that they're working with TERFs, behind-the-scenes lists of people who reported a certain account, or any evidence for this beyond "she was a trans woman, they're trans men who hate trans women, she got banned, so these must be related". which i find especially funny now given that photomatt has continued melting down about this since it happened and made it pretty clear it yknow. was just part of staffs ongoing hate campaign against trans women that has been going on much longer than the transandrophobia debate? and that maybe the fact that The Literal CEO is having a personal meltdown about this might explain where that could be coming from or at least why it's been allowed to continue for so long, moreso than any individual users reporting someone could? but i digress.
who reported what account is completely unprovable as a casual user unless people directly admit they did it, so to bring it up like this begs the question of what actual reasoning they have for saying it beyond trying to tie a current display of bigotry into an unrelated discourse. that's not to say it's impossible people who discuss transandrophobia were wrongfully reporting her, because again, thats something we have no way of knowing, and the internet is a shit place so i wouldn't be surprised. but given the circumstances and the rest of the lies here, i have my doubts about this being an actual yknow. Thing That Happened rather than just another lie to make people mad at transmascs. now one could make the argument that op wasn't saying transmascs are /deliberately/ teaming up with TERFs/staff, that "teaming up" was just a poor choice of words to refer to multiple groups who happen to have the same goals in mind at the same time but aren't actually coordinating with one another, but given the deliberate misinformative slant of the rest of the post and the overall phrasing in this section, i have trouble extending that grace. regardless, however, that doesn't change that who is reporting who isn't something verifiable, so stating it here as a confirmed fact is disingenuous at the absolute best, and a lie chosen specifically because it's unprovable at worst. if op /does/ have proof that transmascs have been teaming up with TERFs to get trans women banned, not including that with this post is just uhhhhh dumb, and if op /doesn't/ have proof then Why Would You Go Around Telling People That's What Happened Unless You Were Lying To Them On Purpose With Ulterior Motives.
next, op goes on to discuss the rise of the term baeddel. now as i said before, the truth here is that it certainly was a slur and certainly can still be used as one, again the internet is a shit place so i would be a fool if i tried to say "no one is using this as a slur". however, this is once again a drastic misrepresentation of the situation. baeddel's rising use is due to certain trans women reclaiming it and aligning themselves with the original group's politics, namely that femininity is good and masculinity is bad (aka terfism 101), with the added caveat that by abandoning femininity for masculinity, transmascs are evil and betraying devine womanhood and their community by putting more Evil Manhood into the world. of course that in turn is a drastic oversimplification of their politics and i highly recommend checking out this post with an actual in-depth exploration of the history (and without my added flavor), but the important part to note here is that this is not a term transmascs just Started Using one day because they hate transfems so very much as is implied here, its use is directly tied to a group of people saying "hello, here is what i am, and here is what this word means about what i believe," so others went "ok, these specific beliefs are called this." bringing up the fact that it historically was a slur is misdirection here, when you look closer this is almost a 1 to 1 translation of TERFs crying that TERF and radfem are slurs because People Don't Like Their Politics And Therefore Them, so the name for their politics is used negatively, so therefore it's a slur. that argument just has a little more oomph behind it this time because It Was A Slur Originally. and again, that isnt to say no one is now using it as a slur, the rate of decay for online discourse is ridiculous so it being boiled down to and used as "evil transfemme" has certainly already happened, but to act like /every/ use of it is a slur is literally just a lie, when you self-identify with a term based on your shared politics with the original group then you do not get to claim everyone using that term to describe those politics is doing so exclusively to attack you. also this part is entirely speculation but given that op's url is basically just. baeddel switched around to dae bel, i would hazard a guess that they perhaps are indeed aware of the origins of its re-use? but again, that's entirely unprovable and based just on wordplay, but like. given the Everything here i wouldn't be surprised. now, there's definitely an argument to be made about calling users baeddels based just off of their politics when they don't personally self-identify with it, if that constitutes calling someone a slur and if TIRF should be used instead, but crucially, that is not the argument being made here. the argument being made is "ANY AND ALL use of this term is calling someone a slur," and that literally just Isn't The Case.
finally, to tie the whole post off, op reminds us 1) if you hear anything bad about any trans woman ever, it's probably a lie to make her look bad, and 2) if you hear anyone say anything about transandrophobia, disregard everything else they have to say because they hate trans women. not "be critical of the things you see or get sent" or "be on the lookout for things following a certain pattern," a unilateral "anything bad is probably fake and anyone who uses the bad words is probably evil." that is not something someone does if they are genuinely trying to raise awareness of an ongoing trend, that is what someone does when they want you to turn your brain off and be mad at a group no matter what they say.
so yeah, in summary, do be critical of the things you see and be on the lookout for certain patterns, because sometimes people will just Lie to you. or, sometimes people will tell you portions of the truth while leaving out crucial bits so that you'll come to the conclusion they want without anyone being able to say they lied to you without typing up a thirty paragraph long hell post. transmisogyny is absolutely a problem on this site and there are 100% valuable conversations to be had about it and its presence within the trans community, but this post is not that. this post uses real transmisogyny and the wrongful termination of a trans woman's account as set dressing to say that it was all because of evil transmascs who run the trans community behind the scenes conspiring to take out transfemmes, so you should ignore anything they have to say because All of it is secretly motivated by transmisogyny. they're never discussing transandrophobia because it's something that actually effects them, they're doing it to hurt trans women by saying they have it worse. they're never telling you about shitty things a trans woman did to spread awareness, they're lying to make her look bad, or even if it's true they're only talking about it as part of a hate campaign because she's trans, they wouldn't care otherwise. they're never using a specific term because People Use That Term For Themselves, they're calling someone a slur because they hate trans women. there's always an explanation you can think up that ties it back to transmisogyny, and op says that instead of assessing all of what someone says and the context behind it to determine if that's what's happening, you should assume transmisogyny is the answer and refuse to engage any further as soon as you see a word you've been told is bad.
this post is discourse recruitment masquerading as a public service announcement that doesn't offer you any routes to actually learn more about what's going on, it just tells you Here's What's Happening, Here's Who's Evil And Should Be Ignored, And If You Disagree You're Also Evil And Should Be Ignored. content of the actual post aside, i think anything framed that way should be taken with a MASSIVE grain of salt and this would have raised my alarm bells even if i wasn't already pretty familiar with the arguments, people who genuinely want you to know something just because it's good to know will give you options to learn more or encourage you to actually use your critical thinking to assess things, not tell you to sit down and shut up and ignore anyone who disagrees with them.
anyways i guess tldr
#trans#transandrophobia#transmisogyny#now the question is do i leave anon on after posting this#origibberish#and its interesting too how the lies here cast doubt on other parts too#like i didnt click through the link op posted but just based on everything else theres a part of me thats like#everything else you said here was a lie to make transmascs look bad and transfemmes look good. why exactly should i believe you#when you say some rumor about your friend is fake. like your friend could be entirely innocent but because /you/ are the one saying it#its like. is it actually fake or is that another lie and your friends are just shitty people?#but again i didnt click through the link and know nothing abt that aspect its just. something to note about how lying about some things#makes it very difficult to believe others#long post
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Same anon asking for more dad!neteyam x reader + babies - can we have them learning about their mom being pregnant again and learning about having a new sibling. Or maybe hunting lessons with grandma and grandpa. Whichever one inspires you!
how about both! well, sorta. i’m gonna post what i have written for this so far, and if you are all interested in the fishing scene, i’ll post that too :) thank you for all of your support!! 🥰
⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰
morning sickness wasn’t something you were fond of. it had you up in the early hours of the morning, doubled over with a carved wooden bowl in your hands. the remnants of some bladder polyps you had neteyam fetch in the middle of the night had made their way up your throat and into the bowl. “i’m never eating another one of those again.” you thought to yourself, trying to focus on anything besides the slimy, green goop in the bowl in front of you.
neteyam was sound asleep for a couple hours, but the sound of your heaving woke him up instantly.
“my love?” he questions, sitting up beside you as his large hand runs down the length of your spine. “why did you not wake me sooner?” as he rises to his feet, he grabs the bowl from you, heading outside your marui to discard its current contents.
“oh, i’m sorry, i was a little busy ridding my body of my late night snack. i don’t think our little one likes bladder polyps very much.” you reply in a snarky tone, laying back down to curl up on your sleeping mat in a fetal position.
neteyam sighs, as he grabs a bowl of fresh water for you to sip on. he carefully hands it to you, settling next to you.
“no more bladder polyps, then.” he nods, gently rubbing your back again. a few moments of silence pass, before his ears perk up at the sounds of your sniffling. he sits up immediately, tugging at your shoulder to examine your face.
“why are you crying?” confusion is plastered all over neteyam’s face, searching for the reason you’re so upset.
“i don’t want the children to see me like this. i have no appetite, and they wanted me to take them hunting today, and i-” you cry out, throwing your arms around your mate as you sob into his bare chest.
“shhh, shhhhh. it is all right, my love. do not worry. i will page for my mother and father to take them hunting. they’ll love to spend time with them today. do you want me to call for them now?” neteyam glances outside through the open flap of your marui, knowing it’s a bit early, even for village life to start.
you nod into his chest, sniffling hard as you cling to him. “yes….please. before the children wake.”
“shhh.” his large hand brushes over your hair, smoothing it gently. “i’ll send for them now.”
neteyam raises his other hand to his throat comm, and with a click of a button, you can hear your father in law’s voice through your mate’s earpiece.
“son, clearly someone must be sick, injured, or dying for you to be paging me this early in the goddamn morning. which is it?” jake snaps, though his voice has a tinge of grogginess to it. he was never a morning person as a human, and it certainly didn’t change when he became na’vi.
you hated to interrupt your in laws, especially when he was your olo’eyktan, with his own duties to tend to. your ears pin back against your skull as you bow your head, ashamed.
“dad, it’s y/n. she’s not feeling well. this….pregnancy is taking a toll on her.”
“ah, shit.” jake grumbles on the other line, and you can envision him rubbing his hand over his face, as he does when he’s stressed. “she okay now? want me to send your mother over to help?” jake’s voice has a tinge of worry to it as you hear your mother in law’s voice speaking to jake, mumbling something you can’t make out.
“actually, i was hoping you and mom would be able to watch the children for a bit. they wanted y/n to take them hunting today, but i think that’s out of the question for her. at least until she’s better.” neteyam continues to run his hand along your hair, trying his best to calm you as he speaks with his father.
“give us fifteen and we’ll be over soon.” the line clicks, and you’re left with the guilty conscience of your in-laws covering for you. again.
“they will be here soon. do you want to try drinking more water?” neteyam asks gently, still cradling you in his arms.
you sigh, sitting up to shake your head. “it’s not right, nete. i cannot ask this of them. they have their own duties to tend to, it’s wrong of me to-”
neteyam cuts you off right then and there. “-yawne, you do know they are their own person, capable of making their own decisions. my mother and father adore you, and they are more than happy to help. our family is more important to them than their daily village tasks. you know they’ll take any excuse to see the children. they love them. now please, don’t fret. they’ll be over soo-”
neteyam’s voice is drowned out by a shriek from your youngest daughter.
“GWANDPA!!!” nima squeals, running over to the front of your marui where jake and neytiri now stand.
“shhhh, shhhh babygirl! you’re gonna wake the whole village.” jake chuckles lightly, taking a knee to open his arms wide for her.
nima runs straight into them, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and kissing the tip of his nose. “why hewe, gwandpa?” she asks, confused as to why her grandparents were here so early in the morning.
“no way! grandpa and gramma are here!!” txonuk says happily, nudging se’ayl and tsantu awake.
“we’re takin’ you guys on a little huntin’ trip today.” jake explains, as neytiri kneels down to hug se’ayl, txonuk, and tsantu.
“but, i thought momma was taking us?” txonuk says, confused as he glances over to the drape that closes off the space where you and neteyam sleep during the night.
“your sa’nu [mommy] needs to rest. she is not feeling well.” neytiri gently explains to them, as neteyam slips through the drape.
“thank you for coming.” he says quietly, walking over to give his mother a hug, and his father a handshake.
“dad? is momma okay?” txonuk asks, tugging on neteyam’s loincloth.
“mama will be fine, don’t you worry about her, okay? come, let’s get your bows.” neteyam suggests, as jake and neytiri walk with him to where the bows are stored.
“which one’s yours, nima baby? is it……this one?” jake asks, holding up your bow.
nima bursts in a fit of giggles, thinking grandpa’s the funniest na’vi she’s ever met. “noooooooooo, gwandpa! that’s mama’s! you siwwy.”
jake chuckles and sets your bow back in its place. “is ittt…..this one?” jake holds up txonuk’s bow now.
“nooooooo! that ‘nuk’s bow!” nima giggles a bit more, shaking her head no multiple times.
“hey! that’s my bow, grandpa!” txonuk says, pointing to nima’s mini bow hanging up toward the end of the wall. “this one’s nimas!”
jake chuckles again as he hands txonuk his bow, rustling his curls before grabbing nima’s bow. “this one’s yours?”
“yea, yea!” nima says happily, taking the bow and holding it to her chest tightly, hugging the object.
“come, children. we must head out now, this is when payoang [fish] are most active.” neytiri urges, gently guiding them to the front of the marui.
“here nima, go to daddy for a sec. i’m gonna check on your mama, okay?” jake says, handing her off to neteyam.
“daddyyy!” nima says happily, playing with the beads on his necklace.
neteyam chuckles at this, kissing the top of her forehead gently. “good morning, nima baby.”
inside, jake makes his way over to your closed off bedroom sheet, stopping just outside of it. “babygirl? you decent in there?”
your eyes flutter open, glancing at the shadow cast on your bedroom sheet. “dad?….come in.” you croak softly, clearing your throat.
jake pulls the sheet back, slipping inside as he kneels beside you. he takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb gently over the top of your hand. his eyebrows push together in concern as he sees the current state you’re in. “jesus, kid. you look terrible.”
you let out a soft laugh, looking down at his hands as you shake your head. “gee, thanks, dad.”
“i’m not sayin’ it to be funny, sweetheart. we need to get you some help. d’you want me to call for mo’at?” he asks, concern laced in his voice as his thumb still strokes the top of your hand gently.
your eyes water at this, unable to control your hormones. tears stream down your cheeks as you look up at your father in law, defeated. “it’s been so hard. i don’t know why this pregnancy has been so difficult, but it is. i don’t want to worry neteyam, but….i’m worried.”
“shhh, shhhh. there’s no need for that. worryin’ doesn’t do anyone any good.” jake starts to say, as neytiri pulls back the sheet now.
“oh, my sweet child…” she says gently, kneeling on the other side of your sleeping mat. “how are you feeling?”
you can only answer with a sob, turning into your pillow as you cry. “it hasn’t been easy.” you cry out, as neytiri holds your other hand.
jake and neytiri both exchange a worried glance, before looking back down at you.
“i will call for mother. she will bring the right ‘umtsa [medicine] for you.” neytiri reassures you, wiping your tears away with her other hand.
“thank you…both of you, truly…..i feel terrible for waking you up so early-” jake shakes his head and cuts your sentence short.
“don’t you dare apologize, babygirl. you’re sick. we need you to get better, and that’s our top priority, okay? nothing else is more important.”
neytiri nods in agreement, squeezing your hand gently. “ma ‘ite [my daughter], please, rest. we will take care of the children, do not worry.”
jake leans in to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, as neytiri follows suit. neytiri even fluffs your pillow for you, squeezing your hand one last time before they both rise to their feet, giving you one last look.
“promise me you’ll rest up, kid? you need it.” jake asks, squeezing neytiri’s hand gently as they look over your sleeping mat.
your lower lip trembles as you nod. “i promise, dad.”
jake and neytiri head out of your marui, as jake scoops nima up in his arms. “ready to go hunt, babygirl?”
“wes, wes!!” nima says excitedly, plucking the string of her bow.
neytiri squeezes neteyam’s arm gently, halting him from heading back inside. “neteyam. i called for my mother, she will bring ‘umtsa. make sure y/n takes it. it will help.”
“thank you, mother.” neteyam nods, before giving his children one last look. “have fun with grandma and grandpa, my little ones.”
all four of his children wave back to him, as neteyam slips through the marui opening, lacing it shut before making his way back to you. his strong arms wrap around you, gently rubbing your arm as he holds you.
sleep comes to you eventually, after what seems like hours of dozing off. you’re grateful that jake and neytiri are able to take your children hunting, plus it gives them a chance to spend time with their grandchildren. you can only hope that they’re behaving for them.
⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆
#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam sully x y/n#neteyam sully x you#neteyam sully x na’vi!reader#neteyam x reader#neteyam x you#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x na'vi!reader#neteyam x omaticaya!reader#dad!neteyam#dad neteyam#dad! neteyam#grandpa!jake#grandpa jake sully#grandpa! jake sully#grandma!neytiri#grandma! neytiri sully#tsantu sully#se’ayl sully#txonuk sully#nima sully
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Making this a separate post because the idea has evolved a bit:
(Was talking about this in the discord if it looks familiar)
I’m thinking less of a 1 to 1 Greek god au. I’m thinking it’s more of a theme to their dynamic and in parts of their story.
Johnny is a reincarnation of some ancient, nameless (or many-named) god, associated with dark forces. He’s not evil incarnate. But he is something of a representation of “darker” human nature. Anger, bloodlust, impatience, selfishness.
Persephone!reader, by comparison, is sort of a personification of gentler human nature. Patience, mercy, altruism, gentleness. She is less “awakened” so to speak because her mother has been a major limiting factor in her life. Like, helicopter parent to the extreme.
Persephone!reader goes to her aunt Laswell as a sort of compromise. See the world, the real world, in a controlled sort of way with her aunt watching carefully over her shoulder.
Problem is, no one is expecting the dreams to start as soon as she gets to base. Dreams of a man that scares her as much as tempts her, and encouraging the worst and most selfish of her impulses. She doesn’t tell anyone - why would she? They’re just dreams.
Captain MacTavish scares intimidates her, even though she insists that he doesn’t, looking him in the eye with her chin tilted up defiantly. When he’s on base he finds all sorts of ways to cross her path, sometimes teasing her into an indignant fluster, other times telling her off for “distracting recruits”. Always, always has an eye on her, even if it’s not his own.
Once things come to a head (I haven’t figured out how yet) Persephone!reader insists it isn’t fair. And just because they’ve been something in the past doesn’t mean they have to now.
Johnny, of course, is utterly amused. She’s barely got any idea what’s going on, but sure, she’s going to deny forces beyond life and death.
They strike a deal. When he’s away (for months at a time… a season’s length, even) she can run and hide and do whatever she wants to “escape” him. If he cant find her within a week of coming back, then he’ll leave her be and she’s “free”.
(She scoffs that he’s going to cheat, using her aunt and all of her connections but he just scoffs. As if Laswell would help him over her own niece. And as if he needs the help.)
He always finds her within a day of coming back from a mission. No matter where she is or what her name is. No matter how well she covers her tracks (even with Laswell’s help). He comes to her with gifts.
At first it would be sweet if not for the smirk on his face and the realization that she’s “lost” again. He brings flowers of all kinds, and green plants in little pots. Then it’s a new sweater, a nice coat, a piece of jewelry.
And then… and then they get worse. A bullet is the first sign. It’s just a whole bullet, her name engraved in its side. Then it’s a casing, the bullet clearly having been shot. He tells her it went right between someone’s eyes. The “gifts” become patches from enemy jackets, pretty stones splattered with dried blood, a human tooth.
It’s awful. She hates it. She can’t ever make herself say it (or believe it). And when he’s gone, she physically can’t make herself throw them away. Shes tried and tried, and the last time she put a real effort into it, she ended up on the floor having a panic attack, sobbing and calling Johnny.
(He purrs at her through the phone, gunfire background noise while he soothes her back inside. His voice keeps her company while she makes a tea, readies a bath. Tuts at her to call him again when she’s tucking into bed. She refuses to acknowledge that she does.)
Similarly, she finds herself getting or making things for him. For his inevitable return. Cigars and his favorite whiskey. Making patches for his uniform. A leather bracelet with her initials on a silver charm. A ring with an inlay the color of her eyes. Doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until she’s home or the thing is done. She’ll hide them away for months with no plans of giving them to Johnny. He inevitable finds them within his first week home anyway.
(There’s the one time she bakes for him, humming as she measures and mixes ingredients. Lets him steal tastes from the bowl and lick flour off her cheek. Only realizes what she’s done in a domestic haze when he’s eaten the sweet treat and thanked her for it.)
And when he’s home…
The deal is that when he’s home, he gets to treat her like his. Climbs into her bed, grumbling about pillows being a poor substitute for him. Steps into her shower midway through, ducking his head so she can shampoo and condition his hair with her gentle hands. Dresses her in his clothes, in his dog tags. Always has a hand on her, even in her (their) home.
And he delights in yanking her into his lap - especially in public. When his team comes to visit (and they always do) he lounges with her on his thigh. He’s also kind of a dick. Like he’s courteous to servers (mainly female ones because chances are they won’t flirt with his girl) but pretty much any stranger talking to him or his Persephone is met with smarmy asshole behavior.
It’s to the point that she just fusses at him to let her talk to people. And he’s happy to do so, amused by the way she charms people. He only intervenes when someone is rude or a little too friendly with her. She’s had to break up bar fights before because god knows his men won’t try to stop their captain.
She is literally the only being in all of history that can tell him no and stop and he’ll listen regardless of the situation. She has to actively remind herself that it’s not healthy and she should not be a little flattered about it. And she’s not. (She is.)
#cod#thoughts™️#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#dark fic#hades and persephone#Persephone#hades John mactavish#captain mactavish x you#captain john mactavish#Persephone reader
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Could i ask for HCs of Mizu with a mommy kink? Like her liking to be called that? Thank you!
Mizu with a Mommy Kink (18+ mdni after the line) gender neutral! reader
ALRIGHT
Honestly, the kink stemmed from the fact that she's a natural protector
She may have a contradicting personality with regards to socialization but overall, it's probably because it's influenced by the values and mindset that she learned from when she was young
Violence had never been the right answer and while the world continues to change influenced by the bloodbath in its history, why can't she make use of it as a way to save others?
yeahh getting philosophical in a fucking nsfw post YEAHHH
anyways, you and Mizu had been acquainted for a while now and she respects you enough to be somewhat vulnerable with you
It's the same with you as well, you regard Mizu as a close confidant of your life stories
It's safe to say that you know each other well enough despite how it looks
There have also been quite close calls that made your relationship with Mizu border something more than acquaintances slash friends with a question mark in bold (its for the emphasis)
So imagine to your surprise how worked up she gets over a joke you made after commenting on her natural need to protect
"Y'know," You lick your lips, eyes squinting as you assessed the woman before you quietly drinking her tea. "You have a natural sense of protecting. Kinda like a mommy."
The blue-eyed samurai freezes in her place
It was a look of horror at first and you were quite tipsy during that time (you two were lounging at your home)
So your thought process was, heyyy why not make fun of this mf while I have no shame
so you did
The look of horror, turned into being uncomfortable until her cheeks flushed to a deep shade of red
You've never seen someone change emotions in just a few seconds
You were enjoying this clearly
Mizu was having none of it and while the term did fluster and invoke horrors worthy enough of the judgment of Izanami no Mikoto
Fueled by her emotions, her secret-not-so-secret attraction towards you, and her need to shut you up, Mizu moved towards you
And now you're where you are now
NSFW
Soft dom with a hint of sadistic tendencies
She likes making you beg and plead for her to do something, then turn a 180 and praise you for your work
loves loves loves overstimulating you
I think its because she hasn't gotten any action over the past few years that all she's doing is take take take from you
You're writhing and shaking in the sheets with just her mouth and she hasn't even gone to her fingers yet
She loves looking down at you, reveling in the superiority that your submission to her brings
It makes her menacing tbh but its hot okay
This mf eats you up like a champ
Fast learner
Has a good stamina but her refractory period can take some time
so yeah it ultimately ends up with you overstimulating a dozen times before she finally gets to have her own release (also probs bc she prioritizes your pleasure over her own)
she loves it
She gives you reigns at first, just to let her know what to do and a few seconds later, your eyes are rolling in the back of your head
Quite manipulative in bed
Says a lot of things like, "you're mine right?", "say you want me", "tell mommy that she's all you need"
you indulge her manipulative tendencies tho
all of this is making you develop a praise kink omf
Sometimes gets overwhelmed by the pleasure and pushes you too far but thats okay cuz its mizu
Stops completely and stares you down when you stop saying mommy
That completely just puts you in your spot
Then her voice drops to a chill and calm tone and suddenly you're shivering and flushing at her stare
Know how people's eyes get duller when they're in the state of lust or smn
Hers get brighter for some reason
She likes positions that allow her to wrap her arms around you or where her body is either on top or covering you
yeahhh stems from the need to protect
After you and Mizu establish this kind of relationship, she begins to act more mischievous around you
MIZU IS MISCHIEVOUS damn, that mf will tease you like its nothing
she will eye you up with no shame, whisper in your ear like its not bothering you, and then act like she hasn't done anything at all
Esp when she gets joke gifts from the brothel like sex toys and what not
She will use them on you and you will limp for a week
More of a service-top rather than receiving
She likes the reactions she's pulling out of you and when you return the favor, she pampers you with so much love and affection and you just flush in shyness
yeaaaaa, its okay to be a red flag in bed as long as it's mizu
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Since she has now flown off I am obligated to post the order of potato fairy extra large that I looked after for several days. Aka a gloriously chumby Polyphemus moth— the second one I’ve seen alive in over a decade— that decided to hang around our porch for most of its adult life. I saw the first live one on the same day, but he flew away when I tried to get close. But still, that’s a great sign that their population in my area is finally starting to recover! Anyways, here’s the wonderful big little creacher where I found her, which should probably make it clear as to why I moved her. Ants don’t mess around and I wasn’t gonna just leave her inches away from danger.
I was pretty glad I did, as even after her wings were fully dried and extended and everything she couldn’t actually take off. See: her first “flight”.
Big fan of the loud impact PLAP sound, really added to the already very good demonstration of gravity. Worry not, she was totally fine afterwards. Here she is that night and the day after! Very cute and fuzzy, 1000/10.
The next day I thought she had flown off, but then the day after that she was back on the porch! I could tell she was the same one because of her damaged antenna. She started laying eggs on the house and I realized that wasn’t going to be good for the caterpillars that might hatch, since it was a relatively long distance to any host plants even without including the vertical climb to reach branches of leaves. Since she clearly felt safe where she was, and I was also worried about ants and birds and possible insecticides, I ended up making a little “baby box” for her out of a thoroughly rinsed plastic container that initially held salted honey-roasted peanuts. I gave her a stick to hold on to which also gave her a route to climb out of the box if she wished, and provided various fresh oak leaves to lay her eggs on. Figured it would be a good setup because I could easily move it to a safe place once she was done, and keep an eye on the eggs until they hatched. I might even try to raise a few caterpillars if the eggs are fertile. However, during the process of me setting that whole deal up, she decided I looked like a good egg laying spot.
You can see the “glue” that sticks the eggs to surfaces! It was cool to see up close: she’d lay an egg, wait for it to dry, and then lay the next right by it. She ended up sticking four on me before I was able to gently nudge her to the egg laying box. The stick was eventually deemed an acceptable substitute, and over night she… made an egg stalactite of sorts on it? Very weird, I think, I dunno; most of what I read online said their eggs would be laid in spread out clusters of two to three on suitable host plants. I know it wasn’t because she couldn’t get out, as when I went to check on her she had already made her way to the top of the stick and was hanging off of it outside the box. I didn’t think to take a picture of that as I needed to drive to college, but source: dude trust me. Here’s a picture of the egg sculpture I took when I got home.
When I was done with that I went to move her off the porch where she had been staying safe for the last 5 or so days to the more wooded area of the yard, but she ended up flying off to the treetops on her own after I brought her into the open. I guess laying a bunch of eggs made her finally light enough to fly. Maybe she was feeling upset at me for not being able to pay child support and making her lay her eggs on a stick instead? Or she was just doing normal moth things or whatever. It was bittersweet to watch her go, but I’m glad she had the chance to soar the skies at least once before her time was up.
@onenicebugperday
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.
Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut
Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore
Chapter Word Count: 668
—-MDNI—-
A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.
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I’m Not Your F*ckng Maid
-Prologue-
Dean was awoken with a slam inches from his face and he sprung to life, almost losing his balance before he realised where he was. He’d fallen asleep at the table with his face in a book and surrounded by heaps of paper - many of which he hadn’t even started to read through yet. Blinking awake and gaining his bearings, he heard a familiar voice ring through the room.
”You boys are disgusting, how do you live like this?” The older Winchester finally looked up to see Charlie lifting a plate of half eaten, day-old pizza whilst kicking several beer bottles aside so she could pull out a chair and take a seat next to Dean, who was pinching the bridge of his nose.
”Yeah well, we’ve been a little busy recently if you haven’t noticed,” his voice was gravelly from the sleep. Charlie put down the plate of old food and sat down, worry crossing her face as she looked at the man next to her. She knew they’d been under a lot of pressure lately with their work, so much so that the brothers were starting to neglect themselves. It had been months since they’d eaten proper food that wasn’t instant or take-out, they rarely went outside, always locking themselves away in the bunker to do research and the bunker itself was getting cluttered with bin bags and pizza boxes. Not to mention the piles of laundry that she’s noticed slowly starting to form its own ecosystem in the washroom.
“Yeah I get that, but you really have to look after yourselves. When was the last time you ate a vegetable?”
Dean scoffed.
“Yesterday, obviously,” he gave her a look like she was from another planet, and she rolled her eyes.
“The pizza sauce doesn’t count, Dean.”
He looked puzzled, raising an eyebrow, “Why not?”
Before she could even humour him with an answer, Sam emerged, rubbing his eyes.
“Oh hey Charlie, when did you get here?” His voice was equally as gravelly as Deans, so she assumed he’d also just woken up.
“Five minutes ago.”
“She called us disgusting Sam. And she said the sauce on pizza isn’t made from vegetables,” Dean gestured to Charlie like she was the fool as he looked up at his younger brother who now stood across from him on the other side of the table. Sam went to open his mouth to respond, but closed it again quickly and furrowed his brows, clearly unsure how to reply to his older brother without opening a can of worms. Charlie huffed.
“You guys need to sort yourself out. I only dropped by because I hadn’t heard from you for a while and thought you might’ve worked yourself to death. I can’t stay long because I’m meeting a friend for a drink. She’s already at the diner waiting for me”
“A friend?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and the redhead smirked.
“I wish, sadly she’s into dudes,” she paused, a thought crossing her mind, “Come to think of it, she’s actually looking for work, you guys might be able to help.”
Dean and Sam shared a glance.
“She’s a hunter?” Sam asked.
“Not exactly. Her uncle was, so she knows about stuff, but from what I know she was just a research girlie,” Charlie peered at the mess of papers on the table, “and it looks like you could use the help.” She looked between the brothers as they stared at each other, like they were having some sort of unspoken conversation. A few moments passed before Dean slapped his hand on the table and stood up.
“Sure ok, but we’re coming with you today to meet her,” he went to grab his jacket from the back of his chair, an eagerness in his movements before Charlie put her hand out to stop him.
“Great!” She grinned, before raising her eyebrows and pointing to them both, “but first you guys have got to shower, because I can taste your BO from here.”
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Up Next
Chapter 1
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x female!reader#Dean Winchester x reader smut#Dean Winchester x you smut#dean x reader#dean x you#dean x y/n#dean x female!reader#dean winchester smut
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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— marry me + katsukl bakugou.
૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — katsuki bakugou knows two things for certain. that he loves you and that he’s not afraid of anything… so why are these two simple words so hard to say?
⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, fluff, high school sweethearts, proposals, pro hero!bakugou, fem!reader.
⭑ words — 2.2K.
⭑ notes — ok so this is an older commission that was clearly written for valentines day but i loved writing it and its super sweet and i think bakugou deserves some sweetness on his birthday so pls take it and enjoy!! ( thank you to @quaranweeb for letting me post!) - m.list ✩
love is weird.
love makes you do crazy things.
at least that’s what bakugou thinks, standing here, in the middle of a cotton candy pink shopping aisle— bombarded with obnoxious and in your face bouquets of roses and cards with love hearts or corny messages inside. there’s an entire day dedicated to the celebration of love— rolling around every year instead of being celebrated constantly throughout. he finds it weird.
but here he is, a little lost and confused in the middle of an aisle dedicated to valentine’s day looking for the perfect bunch of flowers, the perfect card, the perfect little gift for the most perfect person who has ever stepped foot into his life.
you.
you’re something, someone, worth indulging even on this silly holiday. you’ve given katsuki more love than he could ever ask for and more than he thinks he deserves. so, of course he’d want to spoil you with his big plans today, even if they make him nervous or cause a burning bright red blush to spread across his cheeks and neck just at the thought of them. big plans on the day that couples play charades and pretend that they’re happy for the sake of social media. pretend that they’re like you and him— eternal, well and truly in love.
katsuki bakugou used to hate valentine’s day , never believed in the commercialisation of it all— nor the kids in class squealing over who had gotten love notes or little chocolates in the shapes of hearts and cupid’s arrows. it almost embarrassed him, to have people he’d never met fawn over him and confess their affections towards the blonde. he didn’t deserve it, he had always thought.
loving someone isn’t supposed to fix you, it’s not a tool but instead something beautiful to be shared. yet somehow, on that valentine’s day all the way back in katsuki’s third year, you’d mended him. put a bandaid on his broken heart and healed him when you confessed your admiration for him— how strong he was, how brave he was despite all that he’d been through. your speech had been heartfelt, not superficial, meaningful in the way that made the blonde feel like his soul was being seen for the first time.
you’d taken his hands, albeit a little sweaty, under one of the winding trees outside of the U.A dorms and said. ‘i like you, katsuki, even if you don’t feel the same— or can’t say it back. i want you to know that i like you.’ there was no pressure in your voice or whiny insistence like the other’s who had been in your position…even back then katsuki had known you would love him for the rest of your life if given the chance. and he had known it too, murmuring his mutual feelings back to you under the grumbles that sat heavy on his tongue.
from there, he’d opened up a little more— accepted kisses from your sweet lips without flinching away again and craved the type of hugs where you buried your face into his chest because the scent of him comforted you. you embraced the cold together, passionate embers of your young romance keeping you warm for years to come, and now the chilly month of february has become his own solace. it holds his happiest memories, most of them pertaining to you.
but even after many years down the line with handfuls of valentines days underneath katsuki’s belt— he still stands in the middle of the cotton candy themed aisle, a diamond ring burning a hole in his pocket as he freaks out. he’s on the verge of tearing his hair out, deliberating on which flowers you might like the most for today. this day. the one that could determine the course of your lives together.
bakugou needed this day to be absolutely flawless. he’d ordered cheeses straight from italy and fruits from some of the highest rated farmers’ markets in japan just to make sure his girl got the best of the best. he’d even called up your mother from your hometown, asking her for the recipe to that strawberry shortcake you could never stop raving about. the cake that reminded you of summers back home before the chaos of high school and your pro hero career alongside the booming dynamight.
‘you’re good to her, katsuki,’ your mother had praised him over the telephone line just hours prior, the blonde could practically hear her faint smile. ‘please, keep her happy. look after my little girl.’
it’s only after he remembers those words, that katsuki decides on a beautiful arrangement of calla lilies, tulips and peonies— the symbols of romance, a declaration of his love to you.
nothing in this life is promised, but the blonde swears he’ll do his best to look after you just like your mother had asked.
for as long as you both shall live.
“suki,” you breathe, hand on your beating heart, looking up at your boyfriend fondly. “what’s all this?”
the minute you’d stepped in from work, dropped your duffel bag and locked the door behind you— scarred, rough yet tender hands had guided you deeper into your shared apartment only to arrive at a candlelit dinner set up in the centre of your tiny living room. bakugou rubs soothing circles into your bare arms, traces his infield and the shape of a heart around them before he speaks— his chest warm against your back while he towers over you.
“made dinner,” he rasps against the shell of your ear, kissing just under it with the ghost of his lips.
you turn your head then— away from the flickering candle wax flames and up into the heat of his vermillion eyes. a blistering shade of red like the colour of romance. “i can see that, suki,” you tease with a coy smile, as if you’ve already found him out. “you usually do. but this is…it’s just… it’s pretty. is there some sort of special occasion?” you’re right, he may have gone overboard.
your special selection of flowers sits at the centrepiece of the table draped in a linen tablecloth, pink wax candles and the finest silverware accent the set up and of course— your favourite slow song plays in the background, it’s mellow tune vibrating in the air around you as you sway with your boyfriend under the warm yellow light.
the way you stare up at him knowingly has the big bad hero in a shambles. you’ve always been able to get him like this— flustered and shy, shades of rose blossoming on his cheeks like that of a spring bloom. katsuki grumbles with faux annoyance, pinching your side harmlessly. “i just wanted to look after you, spoil you a little since you always take good care of me.”
your all-knowing expression shifts to one of adoration, the creases in your features softening as they’re masked with love for your blonde boyfriend. “oh, suki!” comes your swooning sigh before you stand on your tiptoes and do your best to reach up so you can plant a smooch on his cheek. bakugou grants you some mercy, bending down so you can reach him— long, curly lashes fluttering against his sun-spotted cheeks at your silent ‘i love you.’
he still can’t get over that, how much you love him— how you make sure to let him know that you do, in every single way possible. big or small.
“you wanna eat with me or not, princess?” he asks shyly, bristling with happiness when you kiss him again to show your agreement.
the explosive pro hero is quick to take the rest of your things and have you seated, falling to his knees to undo your work shoes as he places loving kisses from your ankle up to your hand— more specifically, your ring finger. bakugou knows that you’re staring at him while he dishes up your three course meals. you’ve told him before, you loved to watch him cook— it’s the way his arms move and his lips twist into a concentrated pout and his gaze stays honed in on every movement of his knife against the chopping board.
you’ve told him you admire him. you’ve praised him for every dinner he’s ever put in front of you— tonight is no different. over the orange-yellow hue of the candles, content lights up your pretty face with each mouthful you take of each course. your face twitches with excitement, doing a little jiggle of happiness when bakugou serves you up another plate— playing footsies with your boyfriend under the table all at the same time. when he sets the strawberry shortcake in front of you, you practically shiver with delight and latch onto katsuki’s hand to give it a squeeze. another silent i love you. even as you babble on about your day, your load of interns straight from U.A and how you’d had to clean up their messes.
and even though you vent between bites of food, bakugou having to wipe the corner of your mouth with a gentle swipe of his thumb— there’s nothing but a motherly smile on your lips and a caring tone laced into your voice while you talk about them. you love your job and your students; you take care of everyone around you and it only makes the blonde want to pamper you more— make sure you’re cared for too.
katsuki is confident in his career as dynamight, as a hero and as your boyfriend— but cowardness creeps into his veins and he forgets about the ring in his pocket all throughout dinner. it was meant to be a big surprise for the end of it all, but every time he looks at you, his heart drops to his stomach or beats so fast he thinks it might tear a hole through his chest. you end up washing the dishes together, fingertips brushing beneath the cherry-blossom scented and soap sudded water in the sink. a tingle runs down bakugou’s spine whenever your hands touch in the slightest, your delicate fingers passing him wet dishes while he dries them for you.
he can only hope for more sweet scenes of domesticity with you, he dreams of them throughout his day and when he lies next to you at night. katsuki bakugou is so in love with you it feels like he’s suffocating, like he’s desperate for air because all he wants to breathe in is you. all he wants to taste is you. all he needs is you.
you’re still chattering up a storm, washing the last of the cutlery when the blonde hero drops to his knees a second time, fumbling around in his pocket for the ring.
“marry me.” bakugou whispers, so quiet that you almost miss it underneath the volume of water sloshing about in the sink and your own ramblings.
“so anyways i was thinking about getting either you or izuku to help train up my interns some— wait what?”
swallowing thickly to level his strained and shaking voice, bakugou tries again. “marry me,” he repeats simply, forgetting his big speech and all of his words about forever, always and perfection. instead he holds out the engagement ring for you to see, smiling slightly as its glint matches the shimmer of fresh and surprised tears in your eyes. “i love you.”
you nearly drop the soapy glassware you’d been rinsing off, letting katsuki pry it away from your unstable grip before you cup your own face. “b-bakugou! k-katsuki! i mean suki,” comes your reply, each name clinging to the ridges of your throat as your emotions choke you up. “are you serious? w-what are you doing on the floor? get up! k-katsuki bakugou, you better not be playing with me! stand up!”
but bakugou does not budge, setting the wine glass on the floor beside him carefully before he takes your hand with the same amount of care and slides the diamond ring onto the correct finger. “marry me. aren’t ya hearin’ me right? i love you, there’s no one else who’s loved me like you— maybe that’s a selfish reason t’want to marry ya…” his lips, though slightly chapped, brush over your knuckles with each word as if to seal them as an eternal promise into your skin. “but i’m in love with you. always have been. always will be…a-and i wanna spend the rest of my life by your side. so marry me. i love you.”
there’s a moment, a quiet one, where it feels like you’re the only two people in existence before you launch yourself at your boyfriend— swatting at him until he falls back onto his butt and you're able to crawl between his legs. you grab at his cheeks, the metal band of your ring cool against his handsome face as you tug katsuki into a slow and passionate kiss, pouring every word you can’t think to say into it.
when you pull apart there’s soap suds lingering on his golden skin and a look of adoration etched across the slope of bakugou’s features. you take a moment to admire him, tears free flowing, blood rushing through your ears carrying happy hormones and whisper back—
“i’ll marry you, stupid. i love you, too.”
#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou fluff#bakugo x reader#bakugo fluff#bakugo x you#bakugou imagines#bakugou fic#bakugo drabble#bakugou drabble#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou fluff#bnha x reader#bnha x you#bnha fluff#mha x reader#mha fluff#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#tteokdoroki
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STORIES TELLING: THE BREATHTAKING EFFICIENCY OF WRITING IN OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH
One of the things I most admire about Our Flag Means Death is the efficiency of the writing. So much happens so fast, but nothing is dissonant or feels like it comes out from left field. I think part of the reason it works so well is that the subtext does a lot of heavy lifting; setting the foundation for what comes next. There is always more than one thing being conveyed. It isn’t simply storytelling, it’s stories telling.
Case in point: Ed's stories about underwater beasties...
S1 E6, The Art of Fuckery - Ed telling the crew a story about the Kraken.
S2 E5, The Curse of the Seafaring Life - Ed telling Stede a story about fishing.
S1 E6 Young Ed sees the kraken (himself). It’s foreboding, powerful and uncontrollable.
S2 E5 Ed clearly delineates between himself and the beast (rage, violence, protection). He is the man (an adult, above the water), conscious and in control. The beast is beneath the sea (subconscious).
S1 E6 Ed describes the kraken as hideous, rising out of the water (of its own volition) while young Ed stands nearby, powerless.
S2 E5 Ed describes pulling to bring the beast out of the water. This is a conscious act, over which he has control.
S1 E6 Ed describes the kraken attacking, before Ed even knew it had done so.
S2 E5 Ed describes triumphantly pulling the beast from the water.
S1 E6 Ed describes his warning about the kraken coming too late, and the kraken takes its victim. The kraken is in control.
S2 E5 Ed shows Stede the beast he subdued: a small fish.
Why is this so damn heartbreaking and funny and touching?
We have two stories that are highly entertaining and work within the context of the episodes to move the narrative forward. But they also say a whole lot about how Ed sees himself at each moment in time.
In season 1, the beast is safely underwater, but it can always rise, with overwhelming strength and power, to wreak havoc and keep Ed safe. It’s not something Ed is fully in control of, and it can (and later does) do tremendous damage.
In season 2, episode 5, the beast is safely underwater. Ed has to put effort into keeping the beast on the line and reeling it in, but he is in control of it.
And, while the small fish silhouetted triumphantly against the moonlight is beautifully sweet and funny, what made me crumple on the floor is what it says about how Ed is beginning to manage the kraken (himself) now.
The kraken is still there, under the water, and maybe Ed isn’t ready to control it in its full form, but he’s working on it. He wrangled a small sea (subconscious) beast and is celebrating his success in that.
And then Stede says this:
(Sob. You're such a good boyfriend right now, Stede!)
Yeah, Ed. That is really beautiful. Good on you, mate. Keep going.
This post was written before OFMD season 2 fully airs. No idea what’s going to happen in episodes 6, 7, and 8 (and I’ve generally fled social media to avoid spoilers). I’ll be back, looking at everyone’s fascinating posts after the finale airs.
#JFC the OFMD writers have game#OFMD parallels#OFMD subtext#OFMD meta#The kraken#The beast#Fishing#Edward Teach#Stede Bonnet#Our flag means death#OFMD S1#OFMD S2#OFMD S2 E1-5 spoilers
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Since I've been talking about it here and have been asked about it, I want to give you all a short health update. The short version is, we've finally figured out why I'm so fatigued, and unfortunately, it's not gonna go away, and I can no longer do as much art as I want to.
I want to keep this short: Very basically, most of you know that I've been struggling with fatigue for over two years now, and that every doctor's been telling me that I'm actually perfectly healthy, even though I'm clearly not.
Now, after a year of running to different doctors in vain, I've been diagnosed with Crohn's Disease. This explains not only my fatigue, but also my funky digestive issues, bizarre eye inflammation and other stuff I've had for a while and just thought heal on its own eventually.
Since it's a chronic disease, it won't go away, but we hope that it'll at least get a bit better once this flare up has been treated. What this means for me, is that I can never go back to drawing for hours as I used to. As much as that hurts me, I have to come to terms with it. I want to put my time into finishing commissions now, and dedicating the energy I do have into my comic project, and anything else like fanart and other doodles is going to be completely up to the spurts of energy I occasionally get.
It's nothing new, you all know how little I've been posting over the last year and longer, but now we at least know why. I'm still here ofc, nothing really changes, I just have to adjust my personal life and get used to this.
I'm okay, the people treating me are very kind and helpful, and while I am genuinely very upset at the prospect of likely never feeling fully awake again, I am too relieved to finally have closure and start treatment to be sad right now. Gonna have to move forward, there's no other choice anyway.
Thank you for reading, and thank you for being patient with me. I'm a private person and I don't like sharing too much about medical shit on here, but I know lots of you struggle with fatigue too and had asked me about my progress in the past, and I wanted to make sure that you know the conclusion to that whole odyssey <3
Love you all, take good care, I wish you the Best!
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I hate how much heteronormative storytelling links romance and sexuality together, because I just know that that’s why it took me so many years to figure out that I’m ace.
And yes, I’m specifying heternormative storytelling, because that’s the thing we get force-fed in media pretty much from the day we first get put in front of a screen.
Once we move past the fluffy Disney movie stage of life and enter the teenage years, where sexuality becomes a part of the storytelling to varying degrees of explicitness, we hit the real problem zone. *
(* For this particular issue. The forced romantic narrative in every single children’s movie is its own problem zone when we’re talking about aromanticism.)
A thing I complain about quite frequently is the lack of m/f friendships, the way whenever A Guy and A Gal are friends, the heteronormativity kicks in. Unless they’re both in explicit other (stable! not ‘this ship is meant to be broken up for The Main Romance’) romantic relationships, it’s virtually impossible for the straights to just... keep them friends. There have to be some kind of romantic feelings involved. No other possible reason why A Guy might like A Gal or vice versa. The notion of pure, actual friendship goes over these writers’ heads.
Anyway. To the point of the post. Once The Gal and The Guy realize that they aren’t ~just friends~ but really have romantic feelings for each other and once the will they/won’t they stops and they actually will... More often than not do the writers forget to actually include any romance at all.
I mean, genuinely. Their relationship continues the exact same way it was before they got together. But now they have sex. The only discernible difference between “friendship” and “romance” in pretty much every TV show or movie I grew up on was that they now fucked and kissed.
Very often highlighted even more by the fact that they’re portrayed as so fucking horny, they barely got the confession out before immediately stumbling into the bedroom to get it on. Not a single date. Not even a full conversation wasted there. Just going at it like Noah just herded them onto a big ship.
And if you grow up watching these things during your formative years of what constitutes a relationship and they influence you during your “what the fuck’s going on with my own identity” phase, they paint an incredibly conflated image of romance and sex.
Namely, that romance not only doesn’t work without sex, but even more so also a notion that the only real difference between friendship and romance is sexual intercourse.
So, even if the term “asexual” somehow crossed your path at any point prior to the “what the fuck’s going on with my own identity” phase, that gets immediately dismissed as even vaguely being a possibility if you do experience romantic attraction. **
(** And also if you experience aesthetic attraction, seeing as absolutely nobody and nothing really prepared 90s kids for the difference between aesthetic and sexual attraction. Kids nowadays have more resources more readily available thanks to the internet and I’m genuinely so glad for them.)
Clearly, I can’t be asexual because I find people pretty and finding people pretty means wanting to have sex with them and having sex is the requirement for romance and I do want romance in my life. So, I guess I’m a “late bloomer”?
So. Yeah. My two cents on how heteronormative storytelling has harmed not just homosexual kids figuring themselves out but also asexual kids, because of the ways in which heterosexual relationships have been and still are being framed in media.
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