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thr0wnawayy · 9 months ago

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Midoriya's Delusion

This is post that builds upon my previous one, I've copied many of the points I made there to here. Albiet with some corrections and tweaks.

To summarize, I have a bit of a crack theory that chapter 430 isn't as real as we've been led to believe. (As for when this actually takes place, that's up to you but I like to imagine the start of his third year marks the beginning of his mental decline.)

(As an update, I find it dubious whether 8 years have actually passed or if that's also a part of the fantasy. I can see Midoriya becoming so attached to the lie that his reference of time begins to warp)

This theory mostly comes from some inconsistencies in regards to the hero rankings and some other things I've found.

Corrections:

It's left ambiguous whether Best Jeanist and Endeavor are still active. However the fact that people view these two in a postive light (especially after Dabi and the war) still seems absurd.

2. Midoriya wasn't outright abandoned, rather their busy schedules make it hard for their days off to coincide. This falls apart when you look at this panel

"The rate of new villains keep decreasing and the number of heroes have stabilized"

Besides Ochaco who's funding a quirk counseling project, the rest of the class should be able to make time. Again it's stated that they aren't actually fighting.

There's no real threat to face. Besides PR and Community Service there's bot a whole lot else (besides the occasional natural disaster)

One could argue it's because the scope of what heroes do is increasing, thus keeping them busy. But again, we see heroes doing exactly what they did before, PR, Advertising and (implied) Showboating.

This leads me to believe that the lack of contact is based in reality, to some extent.

Whether it was by choice or forced by their (1A's) respective PR teams to preserve their images (can't be seen around the "freaks" for too long, now can we?).

The lie comes in the form of busy schedules.

Now whether that's what Midoriya tells himself or what he's been told, I cannot say for certain.

Disturbia:

For those of you who didn't read my last post, you may be wondering, so what's going on?.

Simply put:

Midoriya's having a breakdown fantasy to cope with the fact that he won't be becoming a hero due to the loss of his quirk.

Im aware it sounds crazy but consider the following:

1. Midoriya subconsciously knows the way he's been treated was wrong.

This manifests within the escapists fantasy in Bakugo's drop in the rankings + the attitude surrounding him (as well as his damaged hand never fully healing)

He meets a kid who just so happens to be in a near exact same position as he once* was (and still is to an extent). One could take this as his mind's way of trying to cope and heal itself, by having Midoriya do what he does best and help others, henceforth working though his trauma by using the kid as a stand in.

*Even the kid's "bully" seems to be a warped version of Bakugo (perhaps this is how Midoriya tries to fool himself into believing how it was)

2. We see Kota.

I believe that here, Kota serves as what Midoriya thinks he could have been had he not failed. Kota is the idealized version of Midoriya here, the unobtainable.

3. A lesson ignored

Apparently people forgot the connection between Endeavor and Shoto. You'd think this would be a good thing as Shoto would be able to become his own person.

This falls flat when you remember that also includes people forgetting the reason and happenings behind Shoto's existence, it feels like Midoriya is trying to have his cake and eat it too

To elaborate, this is a major copout, it allows Shouto to be unaffected by his family's past bith career wise and emotionally. While also feeding into Midoriya's rather toxic belief that forgiveness is required to be a good person.

(The fact that killing Tomura violated this only adds to my theory that this whole thing is an escapist coping mechanism.)

(You can also add the idea that Tomura didn't forgive society for what they did to him and his friends. That likely broke all the "rules" that Midoriya knew.)

4. The Mech Suit is a massive cope, it's the dying whimper of Midoriya's childish hope that All Might will save the day.

This time there's no magic quirk, no garrish mech suit, no plot twist.

No. There's only Midoriya and the consequences of his, his classmates and hero societies actions. It doesn't matter how shiny and seamless the illusion, how sweet the lie.

You can't hide the blood.

Concerning Aspects:

That was mostly the revised stuff, let me introduce you to some new points

1. A Frozen Lake

Something I noticed was certain characters seem to be almost frozen in time, as if someone tried to continue a story using scraps of the original text.

The curious case of Rei Himura:

This scene seems almost stagnant, what was most noticeable was Enji's bandages still being on and Rei still being there.

It's as if Midoriya hasn't seen them in years (or perhaps doesn't want to acknowledge what happened). So his mind uses what he last saw/heard of them, creating a sterile, static scenario. Little better than props.

Those surrounding her (with the exception of Hawks) also seem to be stuck in the past.

It's definitely strange.

2. See No Evil, Hear no Evil, Speak No Evil

Shigaraki is a representation of Midoriya's repressed guilt and his fears. I believe deep down Midoriya knows that, inevitably the cycle will repeat, so long as the system is allowed fester and wallow in it's complancy.

I find the fact that he's behind Midoriya to be ironic, as if to say: don't look back, don't think about what you've done.

A Symbol of Stagnation:

I should warn you that it does get lengthy from here, however I think it's important to get the full picture. Even if I tend to ramble here.

It's implied here that Lemillion's the top hero. This is awful for a variety of reasons. Mirio is a horrible symbol.

All Might was flawed for a variety of reasons, but a majority of these were byproducts rather than directly being his own doing.

Mirio on the other hand, has such a cancerous philosophy that it actively harms all who interact with it.

Mirio is a follower, he follows orders first and asks questions never.

Eri is the best example of this. Even after Nighteye's death, Mirio never truly reflects on the damage his actions could have caused ( only saved by the narrative, seriously it's a miracle Eri trusts anyone besides Midoriya after being abandoned like that)

You see, the difference between Toshinori and Mirio lies in their actions and principles.

Mirio left Eri to die, all for the sake of the "mission".

For all the heroes knew, Eri could have been a trafficking victim and either have been killed or relocated. But no, appearances and "gotta catch em all" take priority even after knowing Eri is in the Yakuza's clutches.

Lemillion made the worst decisions possible. He followed a known murder into a secluded, restricted area (with a hostage mind you) bringing his pupil with him.

Willingly ignored blatant signs of abuse (just look at the girl) and played hooky with thre leader of a criminal organization, who is known for his short fuse and willingness to kill.

He did all of that, when he could have easily detained Overhaul at any point (his quirk being a direct counter)

Toroshinori would fight tooth and nail in that situation. Consequences be damned if it meant saving Eri.

Part of the reason Toroshinori was so effective as a hero was 1. His sense of justice and 2. His compassion.

Mirio is a symbol that can be controlled, a weapon if you will.

The fact that Mirio is at the top shows that things haven't changed and are even beginning to decline. So this brings me to my next point

You may be asking, if Midoriya's losing it in his own mind, what's the outside world look really like?.

Allow me to set the stage.

4. Speculation

Within Midoriya's muddled mind, Lemillion represents both his toxic optimism and a subconscious understanding that nothing has changed. It represents denial and acceptance, a dysfunctional middle ground that's easy enough for Midoriya to stomach.

The truth of the matter is, delusion or not, the reality is soon to sink in.

Something that I don't see discussed is the lack of reactions from other nations or really any insight into how they were affected by everything that happend.

Here's the idea: Most likely they are foaming at the mouth.

Particularly it's the countries who suffered under Imperial Japan in the past (Korea, China, Singapore etc), however this also applies to every nation Nedzu brow beat into aiding with the rebuilding efforts, albiet their reaction would be latent.

Not not only is the attitude painfully reminiscent of how Japan handles it's past atrocities, Japan has had them clean up their messes. seen below:

(you cannot tell me Big Red Dot over here is having a good time)

From an outside pov. The Commission never told anyone about AFO, rather they suppressed any information, locked him up in Tartarus and then sat on the whole situation until it blew up in their (read: everyones) faces.

He then proceeded to: kill over 8000 people (+ those killed during the Blackout period), kill the top hero of one of the world's most powerful nations and incite mass panic. Destroyed massive amounts of infrastructure and transport nationwide, broke thousands of criminals out of prison, destroying those prisons in the process.

Meanwhile the heroes:

Abandoned civilians in mass by quitting in the middle of a war.

Left the public in the dark for months and allowing crime and paranoia to grow rampant, even (forcibly) bringing someone they knew was being targeted by AFO and his forces to the one place they could find shelter.

Mutilated a seven year old girl. Who has a history of being mutilated for the gain of others and patted themselves on the back. (Also having no holdup on how that may effect her physically via her quirk or mentally via her trauma)

Mic: tried to kill a docile prisoner who could be considered in comatose, based off of his emotional attachment to a dead man + viewing it as justified if it meant Spinner couldn't get to him.

Used hospital staff and patients as meatshields (Central Hospital) during a riot.

Most had no qualms supporting a child beating eugenicist and implied marital rapist, even with his one of his victims exposed him and citing it as his main reason for turning to villainy.

Held an illegal questioning* with said abuser while ignoring his main victim (Rei, who is probably the most reliable source of information there)

(*which effectively is like conducting an investigation on yourself and declaring you are not guilty)

And so much more! (But this post is getting too long)

My point is by the time everything was said and done, it seemed everyone but Japan was paying for it.

It's outright stated that the US president risked national security by sending every hero they had to help Japan. (Impeachment worthy if you ask me)

Endeavor's little plan to kill himself and Dabi in a blaze of death ended up disrupting the weather. Very likely it'll end up resembling an El Niño phenomenon, only vastly off schedule and even more destructive than normal.

For Reference [https://oceanservice.noaa.gov/facts/ninonina.html]

Very likely it'll lead to an agricultural drought in the northern America's and mass flooding in southern America's, likely starting at the west coast and bleeding inland. Leading to a domino effect where cost of living surges due to the sudden displacement of people and the rapid loss of products.

Worse still, because the US had no heroes (likely for months on end), crime has likely surged in the America's, which will further impact the rest of the world.

The rebuilding efforts likely emptied the wallets of most participating countries, leaving them unable to help anyone, including themselves.

Also keep in mind that Japan incriminated themselves with the Business Course footage. I don't think the general public (outside of Japan) is going to take too kindly to a known murder and abuse apologist being in charge of a system already known for it's corruption.

The end result is likely be a world that detests Japan, either from a moral perspective (Rei's treatment + the treatment of those society abandoned), a financial perspective (we can't afford shit and you contributed to that) or historical perspective (you do this everytime and ignore the consequences).

A world divided by struggle and united by an immense loathing for the Commission's Japan and the culture surrounding it.

Oh, don't forget there's no finding left for quirk research. Meaning that it's very likely no one will be prepared for quirk singularity to start manifesting in the upcoming generations (Thanks Nedzu).

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Update: Can I just say that Aizawa's lack of ownership infuriates me even though this is likely a fantasy and not grounded in reality.

Like what the fuck do you mean "with the way he talks, it was pointless" Fantasy Aizawa.

Because "Hey Asshole", You deliberately ignored his attitude and offenses!. And what? Now your just gonna shrug it off like it wasn't your fault. To hell with that you had two years, most teacher are said to only get one. As you so graciously mentioned at the start of this shit show of an epilouge.

Heres the moment I'm referring to btw:

While we're at it. Are you telling me it was too hard to get Momo some proper attire all three fucking years she was at UA for.

Not to mention Toru is still naked, how the fuck hasn't she died yet, she is literally exposed to the elements (and lord help her of she gets a cut)

Kirishima's costume is still his biggest liability considering it exposes his chest and back (also seeing as even when hardened he can't repell bullets)

Does Denki still fry himself with his quirk?

Before we move on Aizawa. How's that daughter you neglected, her horn still broken?.

Speaking of which let's look at the rescue team:

What the hell is this!?

Let's see, we got a guy who can only do damage (and his sweat detonates on contact, destroying whatever it touches.)

A brainwasher who only got into the hero course via nepotism and who can only brainwash people who directly respond to him!. A person trapped underneath rubble either frantic or groaning in pain isn't going to be able to respond or even just give consent.

(On a side note what are the laws regarding mind control quirks, does some sort of waiver have to be signed, can a person sue for being controlled against their consent?)

Oh, but wait there's more.

Midoriya running headlong with experimental tech that has, very likely never seen the light of day. Let alone preform in an actual high stakes situation before.

You're trying to carry someone and oops! Something malfunctioned or was miscalculated, now there's an even bigger mess (hooray!)

Who could forget Mezo "they'll come for your kids" Soji. Who climbed the ladder and pulled it all the way up.

Yeah forget that Heteromorph's were getting hate crimed long before the war, ignore the fact that you yourself were maimed by an angry mob after doing one of the most heroic things a person can do. Dismiss Spinner's comment about being sprayed with Pesticide for walking in public.

Nah screw it, let's all sing Kumbaya while the Creation Rejection Clan runs wild outside the reach of the cities, then ignore that the discrimination still is prevalent in the countryside and it's only a matter of time before somone gets fed up and takes matters into their own hands. (talons, claws, you get the picture)

But your a hero now Soji, you got your's. So fuck the rest of 'em

And don't even get me started on Hawks. Congratulations you ignorant bastard, way to kill time and by that I mean for everyone but the heroes.

"Yeah life is great!, everyone hates us, we're rapidly falling into debt from all that rebuilding 8 years back."

"Speaking of which some of those buildings are staring to fall apart due to being rushed to meet deadlines set within the month they were started."

"Social darwinism is on the rise and people are becoming more complacent that ever before due to heroes applying bandaid solutions on decade long, deeply ingrained problems."

"All so the average person doesn't have to think about what's festering beneath society's floorboards, so thank you Safety Commission. Here's your star of positivity ⭐️." - Some random anti-hero civilian

So much for greatest heroes, huh.

_______________________________________

UPDATE 2:

A dark thought I just had, is that the main reason Izuku killed Tomura was because Tomura broke the rule of "Forgiving Your Abusers makes you Good".

When Tomura refused to relinquish his hatred, when he stood his ground, that is when Midoriya decided he had to die. If not to "stop" him, then to preserve Midoriya's perception of the world .

Shigaraki + The LOV by their very ideals went against everything Midoriya has had beat into him by Bakugo and Aldera over the years.

Makes me wonder how'd he react to a person refusing to forgive their abuser. If he interacted with Natsuo or Rei, I could see that delving into a complete mess.

Now that I think about it, The Midoriya we know now, he would have never tried to hold onto Eri back when they first met.

Ironically, he became what he named himself after, a Deku. A puppet attached to thorns of liquid gold, glistening and burning hot.

A slave to his own biases and belief system, now trapped in a stage of his minds own making.

First bound by his past, then by legacy and finally, now by his own hand.

木偶.

#bnha critical #mha critical #hero society critical #anti bakugou #midoriya critical #just a bit #hawks critical #anti shinsou hitoshi #anti eraserhead #anti enji todoroki #anti endeavor #anti aizawa shota #anti aizawa #anti mirio #lov #league of villains

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starberry-cupcake · 4 months ago

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GUESS WHO'S BACK??? Happy new year you bone-loving weirdos (affectionately)!!! Let's start 2025 with Nona!!!

previously, in this react series:

we (I mean me, but also you, alongside me) finished harrowcita del 9

we read some short stories

I made a gideon craft as a gift and the person I made it for told me that the recap I wrote in the back made it to some discord server somewhere

my legacy is being unfunny

NOW LET'S START WITH NONA:

(that's how I called 2 of my great-grandmothers)

I decided to skip all the praise for the book because some of them were getting a little too involved with the story and I don't want to know anything, thank you very much

I did however read the blurb in the inside cover that I missed the last time

I wonder if at some point I could make like an audio version of a recap as I read, because my reaction when I read the following was Something, but then again you'd have to deal with my pronunciation of the names and idk if I want that

anyway, blurb says "with Pyrrha, Camilla and Palamedes"

???????????????????????????????????????????

I thought it was judith and coronabeer twin??????

I'm gonna change her name from regina george twin to coronabeer twin now because she outlived her other nickname

she's the only nickname graduate so far

who took palmolive out of the tamagotchi river loft???????

who set him loose????

how is phyrrha there, she was with gideon/harrow/gideonharrow fusion??????

"each night, Nona dreams of a woman with a skull painted face"

don't we all

the list of books says "Nona the Ninth" and so does the title in the paratext

instead of dramatis personae we have a guest list for a party

there are a lot of dogs invited to the party, which is nice

one of them has six legs

there's also people with BOE names

and one kevin, love to see it, I'll remember him

lots of meme potential there

there are some camilla annotations beside all the people from BOE allegedly nona wants to invite

still not seeing coronabeer and/or judith

gonna imagine that, wherever they are, they're making out

good for them

we got two poems after, the latter of which is a bit heart wrenching, I don't wanna ask about it

then we got a title that looks like a bible verse

had to google it and it is a verse about peter and a disciple finding jesus's tomb empty

ice cube barbie is locked tomb jesus confirmed

I've never mentioned this before but this has happened to me ever since book 1, and since it's here again I'm gonna say it

I have noticed I have a bad knee jerk reaction to the adjective 'fat' being used so often for so many things, but I'm trying to work thought it

don't wanna project my trauma onto unintended narrators

we got a summarized recount of events of what might be how emperor asshat and some of his lyctors got where they got from maybe present times???

there's talk about cryogenics for a lot of people and an evacuation plan from earth

and names are erased but we have some initials that could be augustine, mercygirl, cassiopeia and gideon

I don't think c is not!dulcinea because she was meant to be a newer model lyctor

during this recount he's in the beach alongside harrow, who he says he's gonna hurt

harrow apparently says she still loves him

gideon would be kicking him in the nuts

also, I thought the emperor was with yandere twin

what the hell happened between the two books???? where's everyone????

DAY ONE (hot sauce and 5 days until the tomb opens) CH 1

we've got a recorded statement of what feels to me like the Pool Situation Wink Wonk You Know The One

is she harrow??? or is harrow in the river with the emperor and this is a new person???? who is this????? is harrow's soul in the river???? where is gideon's perfectly preserved body that we knew camilla was carrying around with coronabeer and judith???

I don't know anything

but my wife is here, so it's all good

also, she's apparently sharing a body with palmolive now

so now the wife ideal turned into a polycule situation, I guess

didn't have that in my 2025 cards

I have two hands, apparently, idk

turns out, palmolive was somehow freed from his tamagotchi loft in the river and placed in camilla's body so they share it

how? by who? when?

glad you asked, I don't know

they're sharing space now, that's all I know

it's kind of like the lyctors should have been if the emperor wasn't an asshole, I guess

because it seems they can also switch easily and like coexist without totally cutting the other one out

it feels a lot healthier and organic in their relationship, even though palmolive is a soul guest

palmolive says camilla's body is a temple, so I'm glad we agree

pyrrha is also there, I assume taking over og!gideon's body fully, since he died, afaik

they're taking care of nona, who doesn't know who she is and they don't seem to know either, but if she has harrow's memories, I don't know what to tell you

they're living in a complicated militarized situation with few resources and little light use

palmolive thinks he could write explicit materials for a living but camilla doesn't want them to be remembered for that

palmolive wrote a lot of Things to his bae in correspondence, so maybe that's already part of his legacy

nona is sent to her room while palmolive and pyrrha argue about BOE acting weird

camolive want to rescue people, pyrrha thinks it's a bad idea and wants to get nona away from the planet

pyrrha also mentions a "she" that's crazier than camilla and makes references to commander wake me up when september ends but that one died???? twice????? so idk who this new "she" is

let's remember, for the record, that both og!gideon and pyrrha were Intimate with commander wake me up before we go go

apparently there are more people who are planet refugees in this one planet than two houses combined

which doesn't surprise me in the least, because that's how oppression often works, but is good to have it confirmed

heralds are also still a problem and camilla wants to fight them

pyrrha thinks that's a bad idea, because there's data of that not being possible

but she doesn't know that camilla hect is perfect and can do everything right always

it is important for me to clarify that, more than anyone ever in this book series, nona is the true definition of what in my land we refer to as: "está en un cumple"

the literal definition of the phrase means "she's in a birthday party"

the idiom definition is that someone is totally unaware of what is going on, without understanding what's around them, often used for people in a content state while unaware of a problem everyone else is worrying about

I truly think it's a very good way to describe her and I can't translate it in a way that feels the exact way, especially due to the party context

I headcanon her wearing this shirt

she also wants to save the animals, while camolive want to save the people

pyrrha is just tired and wants to retire to a farming planet to live in peace

I get it, though, imagine having to serve emperor asshat for so long

poor cavalier deserves some rest, og!gideon had the right idea when he exited the entire situation

saw an out with that fight in the river and left the chat

pyrrha is also worried about BOE capturing and torturing camolive for interrogation

and there seems to be an underlying plan between camolive and pyrrha that I'm not entirely sure of yet

nona, apparently, goes to school, because she's in a cumple, as previously established

going to school on top of the eye in the sky and the military issues and the social strife and the potential torturing doesn't sound ideal but very glad there's still an education system in place among all that

AND THAT'S IT FOR NOW!!! It's proving a bit complicated to do recaps with a paperback but I'm gonna try to find my footing!! See you on the next one!!

#luly reacts to tlt #nona the ninth #tlt #the locked tomb #nona the ninth spoilers #long post #gif cw

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once-a-singlet-nevemore · 5 months ago

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Trans Feminism and the Human Domestication Guide

Wishing on a misogynistic star won't make your dreams come true

Thesis: A running theme in some parts of the HDG sphere is the unintentional chase and valorisation of misogynistic standards for women in the pursuit of validation.

“The most radical thing that any of us can do is to stop projecting our beliefs about gender onto other people's behaviours and bodies”

― Julia Serano, Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity

I would like to open by declaring my own identities, both as a shield against a particular kind of bad faith criticism, but also to demonstrate that I’m operating in good faith here. I’m a fat, hairy, physically disabled, transgender, butch dyke who writes within the HDG setting with great joy and greater love for the community. I’m also hot as fuck. That established, I’ll continue:

There is a particularly pernicious lie that revolves around the state of women's bodies; that there is a correct way to have one and that those who do not meet these standards are unfeminine or otherwise worthless. It must have a vagina, of course, but it must also be white, thin, able, hairless, youthful, fit but not strong and, of course, soft.

Trans feminism, and by that I direct my attention to feminist speech within trans and gender non-conformist spaces, has managed to, if not defeat, then at least combat one of the great evils of cis sexism, the necessity of the vagina. The ongoing and necessary validation of the girl cock as beautiful, as wonderful, as feminine is a wonderful, joyful thing. We (trans feminine people) exist as part of the spectrum of womanhood, and that means that our bodies also exist within and without that spectrum of womanhood as well.

However, trans feminism of a particular kind has - rather than continue the work done to uplift the gock - has embraced a particular kind of ugly lie we’re taught. In many cases - due to a perceived desire to be as close to flawlessly woman as we can be - the focus will instead fall on a particular kind of trans feminine person who manages to engage with and evoke those standards aside from the obvious. To paraphrase Julia Serano in illustrating this point:

“Whether unconscious or deliberate, the gatekeepers clearly sought to … ensure that most people who did transition would not be “gender-ambiguous” in any way”

― Julia Serano, Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity

One of the beauties of the class-G is that it allows the character to experience their body in an idealised form. I recognise and applaud this position, it is beautiful to see a writer able to imagine themselves completely idealised, completely transformed into something that doesn’t hurt. However, therein lies the rub; the ideal depicted displays some of that ugliness, some of the roots of misogyny that thread their ways through our brains like poison and make us into useful fools for its goals.

The thought that brought about this essay is a repeated phrasing that appears across several works within the HDG milieu; that to be hairless and soft is to be feminine. A character will have their body hair, all their body hair bar that on their head, removed and thus will be made ‘girly’. They, and other characters, may remark on how much more they feel like a woman, unconsciously or consciously linking womanhood to that hairlessness.

You may note that this directly plays into another cis-sexist standard of beauty; that to be feminine requires a certain girlishness, a pubescent budding that belies the possibility of cellulite or wrinkles or the consequences of living a life where one is not simply a doll.

What is my objection to that? Surely, every writer has the right to depict their own wish fulfilment fantasies. Certainly yes, but also… one must ask at which point we celebrate their dreams and at what point we ask people to engage with their biases and question what they consider to be true. Women, all kinda of women, are hairy. Women have pubic hair, arm hair, leg hair, chest hair, even facial hair. The seeming desire to be completely hairless is as ‘unnatural’ a goal as any other, as ‘unnatural’ as any expectation set for us by the white supremacist culture most of us are steeped in. To return to whipping girl:

“Rather than question our own value judgments or notice the ways that we treat people differently based on their size, beauty, or gender, most of us reflexively react to these situations in a way that reinforces class boundaries: We focus on the presumed “artificiality” of the transformation the subject has undergone.”

― Julia Serano, Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity

It must be noted that at least part of this problem is with what the reader brings to the table. When something goes unstated, we resort to the baseline of our biases and, due to the way society is structured, that baseline is generally white, thin and physically able. Beauty and femininity are racialised concepts, and I think we fall into traps headlong that white supremacy establishes for us. I am not the person to write an essay critiquing race in HDG, but I recognise the consequences of race and the expectations of white femininity on the work. Thus, then, we must consider the text, and the text is very often pretty clear about its characters.

How many protagonists of a human domestication guide story are textually fat? How many are stated in the text to be people of colour? How many of them are, if not stated to be, then implied through lack of mention, white, and thin? These questions ignore the many that are actively identified as those things. (I will pause here to note that Dog of War - notable as the most popular piece of work in the setting - features a protagonist who is both brown and fat, and I’m extremely happy to see it).

Collectively, as writers, we have seen a future where everyone is accepted and have created a world where the depictions of acceptance come with conformity to modern misogyny. We create a world without boundaries, where a person can be digitalised or made into a dog, and our characters are still aping their ancestors of five centuries prior in seeking validation of self. We are, I would argue (and borrowing heavily from Butler), ‘uncritically mimicking the strategy of the oppressor instead of offering a different set of terms.’

This is not, I would like to be clear, an attack on any particular story. You may recognise elements of several stories in this essay, and perhaps there are particular things I am drawing on, however, this essay does not charge the product of the writer's work with anything. That body of text can exist and be critiqued, but does not exist as a thoughtful, philosophical actor. Rather, I would charge us writers, all of us, with being more thoughtful as we engage with what femininity means to us and what is and is not feminine in a world where anything is possible.

Finally, a quote from Gender Outlaw that I direct at myself as much as anyone else:

“Let's stop pretending that we have all the answers, because when it comes to gender, none of us is fucking omniscient.”

― Kate Bornstein, Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation

#hdg #human domestication guide

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ghoulishhx · 29 days ago

Note

I've got way too many thoughts as of late but Frank Castle with an artsy girl gives me the serotonin I need given I do lots of crafty shit myself.

I've got a patch jacket with around 350 hand studded spikes on the shoulders and do my own embroidery, just the image of Monochromatic Frank Castle with a brightly decorated art girl just brings me joy. Especially if she slowly integrates stuff into his clothes like sewing a simple but endearing patch over one of the tears in his shirts or jackets is just too cute

aaah thank you SO much for the request. im finally gonna try and get some sleep after posting this and i will work on the others tomorrow! if anyone wants to leave me any more asks, you can do so here :3

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honestly, in my humble opinion I truly believe frank castle and an artsy girl go hand in hand. the juxtaposition between both personalities is just SO perfect to me. literally the ideal pairing.

a quirky, bubbly, artistic girl with tattoos, eccentric dress sense next to his stoic grumpy self, dressed in monochrome is just chefs kiss.

I can also imagine frankie is absolutely OBSESSED with his girl's work, calling each new project a masterpiece and genuinely taking time to look at every single stitch, brush stroke etc (he doesn't know a damn thing about any or it but you genuinely astonish him with your talent).

and the studded patch jacket omg I am SO jealous it sounds so cool!! thinking about frank watching you add all the studs one at a time-

"jeez sweetheart I dont know how ya do it, so much detail.."

him just wanting to assist you in any way

"ya need any help? lemme see doll, can't be that hard.."

when in reality he struggles massively. his big calloused hands fighting with the glue and the individual studs, cursing under his breath only wanting to help his girl UGH IM OBSESSEDDDD

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anyway here's a tinyyy little drabble to go along with my headcanon tehe

no content warnings, just pure fluff!

frank was a man of many talents, arts and crafts was definitely not one of them. and that's where you come in, his perfect girl.

he swears your work is the best damn thing to grace this planet, his words not yours. he takes your fingers and kisses them, tightly squeezing muttering how everything you touch turns to gold.

you wanted to repay him for his unwavering support. show him how much his words truly inspire you.

whilst putting away laundry on a Sunday evening, you look through his drawer full of his shirts, all as black as the night. but your eyes are drawn to one piece in particular.

it's old, you can tell he hasn't worn it in forever due to the sheer amount of cuts within the fabric. a light bulb goes off in your head, knowing EXACTLY what to do.

he catches you that evening, sewing away. the sight doesnt surprise him, youre always getting stuck into different crafts. he places a kiss to your forehead, trying to take a peek at your work but you shoo him away, not allowing him to see until the final result.

standing up from your chair, holding the material behind your back as you order him to close his eyes. he does, smirking not knowing what comes next as he is told to hold out his arms.

what he's met with when he opens his eyes, genuinely knocks the wind out of him.

his old favourite shirt, the one he wore on his first date with you (which he then foolishly decided to also wear on a work night, ruining it forever).

except it can't be, right? it was all torn up..

he hold the shirt close to him as he squints, noticing you've patched every single one of the slices. making it brand new.

this alone was enough to choke him, the gesture of you going through the trouble to do this, for him, fills him with a sense of importance.

you gesture to the long sleeve,

"frankie that's not all I did y'know" you giggle, raising the sleeve to his eyes. you watch as his eyes gloss over at the embroidery you added.

F C ♡ Y / N, followed by flowers. but not just any flowers.

peonies.

Maria's favourite.

"baby girl.. this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," he whispers, tracing each stitch with his forefinger, hardly believing his eyes. hardly believing anyone would do this for him. let alone someone like you. "thank you sweetheart. it's the most beautiful thing ive ever seen."

he pulls you close to his chest, stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. not once tearing his eyes away from the work of art you bestowed upon him.

"I love ya, my sweet girl. the most talented person on the goddamn planet."

in conclusion, frank + artsy girl, a match made in heaven.

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle fluff #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x reader #ask #anon ask #thank you for the ask!#the punisher fluff

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rwshfordgirl · 13 days ago

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OCEANO

"só sei viver se for por você."

pairing: jude bellingham x reader!

where he just wants to see you well.

warning: mention of cheating.

a/n: i dedicate this to all the girls who read this story and who by some chance, share portuguese as their native language, lusófona union hahaha i was really looking forward to starting this project, i've been thinking about it for months and i'm so happy to finally be able to share it with you. really hope you guys like it ;)

𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬✮

Jude remembers well all the times he heard you say that you would leave everything behind to go live with him on an island in the middle of the ocean. He felt bad every time he saw you stressed, coming home from work and college tired and still finding time to take care of himself. He wanted to reward you for that, he wanted to make you forget the problems that afflicted you so much and take you to the island that you wanted to visit so bad.

He saw the board on your Pinterest profile, you saved photos that other people shared when they had the opportunity to visit an archipelago in the Indian Ocean off the coast of the African continent. The islands that formed the territory of Zanzibar. Your dream destination.

As the end of the season approached, Jude made a plan. He booked an entire floor of a five-star resort on Kendwa Beach, for a week, just for you and him.

He didn't say anything, it was a surprise until the last second. "Babe, you mind going to Ibiza this summer?"

You did mind going to Ibiza, it's not the most special place in the world, it's not the ideal place to relax after a stressful season. But Bellingham likes going there, he likes it when he gets his friends together and they head off to the island, and you wouldn't want to be without him.

However, Jude wouldn't take you to Ibiza, when the question was asked during one random afternoon, he had just booked the room at the Resort. He saw you trying to hide the annoyance on your face and in your voice.

When the day arrived, when Jude boarded the jet with you, the resort's commercial posters were above the plane's seat.

"What's this, love?" You said as you flipped through the paper showing the beauties of Zanzibar.

The smile on Jude's face grew huge, he licked his lips before speaking, "Surprise. That's where we're going."

Jude couldn't explain what he felt when he saw her face, when he saw her eyes shine and her smile gradually grow in size, "Jude, are you serious? My God, but what about your friends? Jude, are you really serious?"

Jude ran his hand around the back of you neck, he pulled you close gently and gave a little kiss on the top of her head, "It's serious love, very serious. I know how much you wanted to go there. And my friends already knew that we wouldn't go to Ibiza, only you didn't know."

You looked out the plane window, already imagining yourself lying on the sun loungers on the beach and walking hand in hand with Jude along the sandy strip of the beach.

And sitting on the edge of the bed, with his hands on his head, he remembered the smile you gave him when he told you about the trip, the kisses you gave him that conveyed your happiness. But nothing would prepare him for what would come next, nothing would prepare him for what happened minutes after that.

Bellingham headed to the balcony of the room you were in, still thinking about the event that preceded your arrival. He could see you lying face down on the hayloft, your blue dress moving in the wind, and he counted how many times you brought your hand to your face, trying to wipe away the tears that were falling.

Jude made you cry, he made you cry out of sadness and not out of happiness as it should have been, as he had planned.

"What are you insinuating?", the vision of you crossing your arms and looking him in the eye with anger, will never left his mind.

"You like his pictures, comment on his pictures. What do you want me to think?"

You rolled your eyes, the smile on your face appeared but it only highlighted the anger you felt.

"What are you implying? Tell me Jude Bellingham, what are you implying with this."

Your hands reached out to Jude to push him away.

"Do you think I would cheat on you? Do you think I would be with someone else? You are such an idiot, such a fucking idiot."

Your fingers pushed Jude further and further back in the chair.

"No my love, it's not that...", his voice came out almost like a whisper, he was sorry. But I knew you were upset, almost heartbroken for hearing him insinuate that you were hitting on another man.

And on the hotel balcony, Jude couldn't stand to see you like this anymore, suffering because of his actions. Maybe you didn't want to talk at that moment, but he would try, he would try to get closer.

You felt Jude sit down on the lounger, towards your belly. His fingers gently walked over it.

"Baby girl, can we talk?", the question came cautiously.

No answers, the only sound was that of the ocean waves. Jude took a deep breath, his hands ran through his hair, a gesture that represented the anguish he felt inside.

"I can pack my things and leave.", it was the first time he had heard you voice since the incident hours ago.

"No, no.",Jude felt a wave of despair invade his chest, "You can't leave, you don't have to leave. I want you to enjoy it here, I want you to relax, I want to see you well."

Your face was turned towards the forest that surrounded the beach, without the courage to look Bellingham in the eyes.

"Love, I'm so sorry, okay? I'm really sorry, I hate knowing that I was the one who left you like this. I just didn't know who he was, I was scared, I felt insecure."

Jude was being honest, that was really how he felt. Insecure and vulnerable.

"Jude, you are the most perfect man in the world. It would be crazy to think of another man having you, knowing that I am loved by you.", you finally managed to compose yourself, got up from the lounge chair and sat in front of him.

"I'm really sorry about that, I'm sorry for doubting you.", it was Jude who couldn't look at you, he was embarrassed.

"I felt terrible hearing you insinuate that the likes I gave to the photos of a friend of mine who I haven't seen in years, represented to you a sign of cheating.",

"I don't know what happened to me, really. I trust you, I trust you with my eyes closed, I trust you to be my guide on a path full of thorns.", he took a deep breath, his hands found yours, "Don't think about leaving me, don't think about leaving me without you please...please, my love."

Bellingham felt he could get on his knees in front of her and beg for your forgiveness.

"Promise me, Bellingham. Promise me that you will never again be able to doubt me, to doubt my love for you."

His fingers tightened around yours.

"I will never do that again, never again. I promise you, I promise not to do what I did today ever again.", he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it.

"You mean everything to me, everything I love the most. I can't be without you for a second and see you here, alone, not wanting to talk to me... it hurt me. It hurt me because I knew I was the one who caused all this pain."

Tears streamed down your face again, but this time they were tears of relief, Jude's words really sounded right to you, they were sincere words.

"Jude?" you said as you felt him caress your face.

"Huh?" he said, not wanting to be distracted from what he was doing.

"Thank you for this, thank you for bringing me here."

Bellingham rested his forehead against hers, happy that he could finally do this.

"You deserve this, you deserve this and much more. I want to make you happy, I want to make you very happy every day.", again he kissed the back of your hand, "I don't want to make you cry like that ever again, it was the first and last time, i promise to you.I want to see you cry because you are happy to be with me, to be here."

Jude hugged you, a sincere hug that for both of you meant the end of a complicated situation. Neither of you felt the urge to let go, to leave.

"I love you.", you whispered in his ear, "I love you too much."

Your words made Jude let go of you, but he didn't pull away, he just took his hands and brought them to your face.

"I love you too, my dear love. More than you could ever imagine."

#Spotify #football imagine #football x reader #football one shot #footballer imagine #football blurb #ol imagines #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham fluff

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shmisky · 3 months ago

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Of course you guys would vote for the hardest meta to write! 😭 ✨

Okay, let’s go! Teen Stans + “suffocating,” an attempt to understand the issues of their relationship from teen Ford’s point of view and the reason(s) for their separation. This is going to be long, but hopefully all the pictures and gifs make it an easier reading! There’s just so much to unpack...

It’s a sad subject in and of itself, but I did my best to wrap it all with a happier stancesty note! So trust the process! 🩷

I don’t think I need to point out, to most stancest shippers, where the word “suffocating” comes from. It was a very memorable scene, if nothing else, since a lot of people hated Ford for it.

[x]

I think it’s so obvious that Ford was projecting and actually talking about his and Stan’s relationship here that I won’t even attempt to prove that, hahah.

Now, is this Ford... A) talking about his true feelings regarding his and Stan’s relationship when he was young, even before the science fair incident, or B) lying to himself, as he presumably started to do ever since (but only after) the science fair incident?

First, I’d like to invite you to actually listen to Ford’s voice/watch his mannerisms as he says this, here (timestamped). The thing is that... he doesn’t sound very bitter! He doesn’t sound like he’s throwing shade at Stan. Instead, he sounds and looks—pay attention to his eyebrows—like he’s genuinely puzzled. Does Dipper... really think he’s not meant for something more? Why! He’s so brilliant, with so much potential! Just like Ford when he was younger! The poor boy must be really attached to his sister...

Second, I’d like to invite you to not be so harsh on Ford, as he says that it, nor she is suffocating—the relationship Dipper has with the girl, not the girl herself. Not that Ford can’t be mean! He can be terribly mean, sometimes, especially out of spite. But the man has some limits. He wouldn’t say this about his twelve-year-old niece.

Another thing to be taken into consideration is that Ford was convinced Mabel would be fine, since she had a magnetic personality. This is a trait he very likely also attributes to Stan! In TBoB, for example, he was convinced of Stan’s ability to make the waitress laugh. There’s a lot of evidence for the fact that Ford had no idea of how badly Stan was faring and/or would fare without him, due to the idealized version of Stan Pines in his head.

That said, here is the behind-the-scenes commentary on Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future:

Alex Hirsch: Ford offers Dipper [an] apprenticeship because Ford sees Dipper as somebody who’s special like himself. And that’s Ford’s great flaw, that arrogance. He believes there are special people and everyone else.

Jason Ritter: And that you can be held back by your siblings, maybe.

Alex Hirsch: Yeah, he believes that attachments are actually weaknesses.

It has been said before Alex is too harsh on Ford, hahah. Perhaps he is. But that’s something also made canon in J3 in many, many excerpts, and stated by Ford himself quite plainly here:

“I thought being a great man meant being alone.”

When did he start developing this mindset, though? Before or after the science fair?

I think some of you might have read the (in)famous TVInsider 2016 interview in which Alex states Ford saw his brother as a “bumbling leech” (ouch!) his “entire life.”

In terms of Stan and his brother’s conflict, we always wanted a moment where Ford saw that he was wrong. Ford’s spent an entire life imagining himself as this lone solitary hero and imagining his brother as this bumbling leech. From a narrative point of view, for Ford to see Stan be the hero finally lets Ford see the true side of his brother that he’s been too blinded by pride to see.

Now, an important fact is that—I think many people fail to grasp this—Ford looking down on Stan doesn’t mean Ford not loving Stan. My boy can and will multitask!

And, of course, “entire life” didn’t actually mean Ford’s entire life! It was definitely an exaggeration on Alex’s part, meant to convey that for most of Ford’s life, presumably from late teen years old to the current age, Ford looked down on his brother.

We know for sure that baby Ford never looked down on Stan, and in fact defended him from the Sibling Brothers in the last Lost Legends comic!

But one thing we also see is how baby Ford already shares, to a certain extent, adult Ford’s ambition:

Another trait, equally important, early on: the tendency to think he was special and/or different from everyone else, for better or for worse. Like one of the very first things Stan told us in his childhood retelling in AToTS, “As if his abnormally high IQ wasn’t enough, he also had a rare birth defect: six fingers on each hand. Which might have explained his obsession with sci-fi mystery weirdness.”

As he grows up, he also grows, understandably, very proud of his accomplishments. In Stan’s words, “Ford’s brains seemed to get more impressive every year.”

He grows to embrace the “freak” part of him more and more, both ashamed and proud of not fitting in. Like Bill so gently phrased it in TBoB: “The ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak.”

But what does this mean for his relationship with Stan?

I think the first thing we have to know is that Stan is Ford’s identical twin, something that is heavily alluded to in canon and confirmed by Word of God. The first comment from Alex regarding this matter that I could find was this tweet from 2015. Then it was further confirmed in the DVD commentaries.

Why is this even important? Twins of the same gender, especially identical aka monozygotic twins, tend to struggle with identity issues. Not only the same birthday, but the same face—that without having to share even a name.

The second thing is that they only ever had each other. I talk more about their codependency here.

Again, I borrow Alex’s words when asked about Shermie’s role in the family as Stan and Ford’s brother in a 2023 interview:

In terms of Shermie, I remember asking Rob or somebody at some point, like, “Would Shermie be here, logically? Do we have to see him?” I don’t really wanna see him. I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in Stan and Ford being—sort of having only each other and then losing each other because of their different life paths.

The best example we have of this in the show is probably Stan’s line in AToTS, “Those bullies may have been right about us not making many friends, but when push comes to shove, you only really need one.” Stan not only acknowledges their dynamic, but sounds very content with it.

Was Ford content with it, tough? That’s... more complicated.

Like we’ve established, these two were identical twins (unlike Dipper and Mabel, fraternal and of different genders) and only had each other (again, unlike Dipper and Mabel), which not only exacerbated their codependency but also their identity issues. They were used to being two halves of a whole. It’s very telling that in AToTS, “the Pines twins” are both called to the principal’s office, even though only Ford should have been called. They were seen as a single entity.

And don’t get me wrong, Ford has always loved Stan so much. Perhaps part of him even enjoyed the fact his brother trusted and leaned on him so much, depended on him both emotionally and to... get a passing grade.

But for some reason, even before the science fair... things still grew quite awkward. From Stan’s Land Before Swine commentary (DVD extras):

Anyway, cut to high school, the guy’s never kissed a girl, prom is coming up, and he asked me for advice. “Stanley, I know things have been a little weird between you and me with college, but can you talk to me about girls?”

The interesting thing here, to me, is that Ford... straight up recognized the “weirdness” between them to Stan’s face! And the fact Ford felt the need to mention it, as if he couldn’t simply ask his own twin brother for advice about girls without making a sort of acknowledgement first! These brothers once told each other everything! How did things get to this point?

But wait... Stan says “prom is coming up”... The same prom at which they laughed together and shared a moment of camaraderie after Stan threw punch at himself to share Ford’s humiliation.

Which to me points to the fact it was something gradual, happening little by little, hand in hand with the sweetest moments in their teen years. It’s truly like this song in my (locked) stancest playlist:

Two birds on a wire

One tries to fly away

And the other watches him close from that wire

He says he wants to as well

But he is a liar

Imagine you’re Ford Pines. You know you are special. You’re both a genius and a freak. You are always praised by adults around you, by teachers, and finally, by your very difficult to please father. This starts to go to your head. You cling desperately to the “genius” part of your identity, so you can be more than a bullied freak. You grow even more ambitious. You can see a future for yourself.

You have a twin brother. You love him more than life itself. But everyone talks, and... aren’t they right, somewhat? Just a little bit right? Stanley isn’t a genius, like you are. That’s a fact. Stanley also doesn’t have ambition, like you have. Stanley isn’t a freak, like you are. It doesn’t mean Stanley isn’t cool! But you are... different from him...

And yet, despite all that, he’s your identical twin brother! You can only ever be one half of a duo. A single entity. Even your name, you share with him. He doesn’t seem bothered by that, but you are. Can’t you just be Ford, for once, no Stan? (Ironically, you miss the fact that your brother was always more under your shadow than you ever were under his.)

You start to think that the Stan O’ War isn’t anything more than a beautiful, but ultimately childish, dream. It isn’t very realistic, is it? You could be so much more than that. You could actually make a difference. You could prove everyone wrong about ever calling you a freak. You try to breach the subject with Stanley, but all he wants to talk about is this damn boat. And you care about it too, of course you do, but... Doesn’t he care about anything else?

I can see, so easily, the influence of other people on Ford slowly (and subconsciously) growing, even though his love for Stan didn’t diminish. I can see him noticing the mismatch between his ambition and Stan’s ambition, his academic achievements and Stan’s academic achievements... or lack thereof. Again, this is the teenage version of the little boy getting starry-eyed about seeing his own face in the papers. Except now, the possibility of Stan being there with him... doesn’t seem as likely.

I can see, also very easily, Ford having some intrusive thoughts, then immediate guilt over them. For example, after someone mocks Stan for his grades, Ford comforts him while thinking, “but yeah, maybe Stanley could really put more effort in—wait, what? He’s my best friend! I can’t think like that about him!”

Stan’s narration: “The future was looking bright... for both of us.” Oh, Stan... Ford’s smile looks painfully awkward.

Just notice the difference between Ford’s posture and body language there and here in college!Ford’s picture (and, again, look at Ford’s eyebrows, but also the way he leans in Stan’s direction):

It’s important to remember that this, too—the scene in which Ford smiles awkwardly—was before West Coast Tech.

But now, with West Coast Tech, he finally has something solid. Something tangible. A real way to make a name for himself. And he loves it. Now this is the face of true happiness, hahah!

He manages to win even the approval of his famously “not impressed” father!

But...

He’s visibly very upset by having his brother insulted like that, and he didn’t know Stan was on the other side of the door overhearing their whole conversation. But he also doesn’t defend his brother, like Stan likely would have, and Stan doesn’t see Ford’s facial expression, here. He just hears silence from him.

And then... Oh boy, the swingset talk.

“Joke’s on them if they think you wanna go to some stuffy college on the other side of the country,” Stan says, then proceeds to boast about their future adventures, only to end it all with a painful expression that shows he doesn’t believe what he is saying. He knows what Ford is truly going to choose.

Stan asks him what would happen if the college board was impressed with his experiment. “Well then, I guess you better come visit me on the other side of the country!” Which indicates he clearly didn’t expect Stan to come with him, either.

Then The Accident happens, and Ford reacts accordingly.

[x] [x] [x]

I’ve mentioned this on another post, but it’s fascinating to me that Ford knew what would cause Stan to do something like sabotage his machine. He doesn’t accuse his brother of feeling jealous of his success! Oh no, that’s not your typical sibling drama of competitiveness, nor lack of communication. Instead, he accuses Stan of sabotaging his machine so Ford would stay with him! And, while it had been just an accident... He’s right about Stan’s feelings.

We know Stan’s feelings about this. He says, with all the letters: “Without Ford, I was just half of a dynamic duo. I couldn’t make it without him. And now, thanks to that dumb college, I was gonna lose my brother forever.” I know the “forever” was perhaps Stan being a bit melodramatic (understandable considering his distress) but it also shows us he didn’t expect their relationship to go back to normal, or for the college to be just one passing fancy. He knew it would be just the start of his brother’s career.

And perhaps this is the last thing you’d expect me to bring up at this point, but...

Do you remember this episode? Little Gift Shop of Horrors?

We talk about Ford projecting on Dipper about a relationship being “suffocating,” but Stan was doing some impressive amount of projecting here too, hah, considering that he was more likely than not making up all the stories.

Just. This entire conversation:

Stan couldn’t be more unsubtle if he tried. And of course, Waddles chooses Mabel, his favorite person in the world. We know whose “favorite person” Stan wants to be...

I bet you would’ve liked for Ford to jump into your arms, Stan!

But again, back to Ford.

Yay, Ford is free of his suffocating relationship with Stan! Free to do things like looking at pictures of Stan with yearning! Writing that he misses Stan in code while yearning! Staring at the Gravity Falls’ lake with yearning because it reminds him of Stan! The last one in particular is very amusing to me because to study anomalies was basically Ford’s dream job and he loved Gravity Falls and... and yet! (You might want to read this for the full extent of Ford’s clownery.)

Free, too, to actively attempt replacing Stan with Fiddleford, Bill, and then Dipper! Because, again, he yearns!

Yeah, I know... Ford is quite confusing. What does he want? Everything and nothing, at the same time?

And now I need you to bear 🐻 with me and read this entire excerpt of the 2023 interview, most important parts highlighted in bold by yours truly:

Ford was very much us building backwards. The same way you know a black hole is there by the light warped around it, it’s like, you know the damage someone’s family has done to them by all of their weird tics and behaviors. So who is the character who would result in Stan being this hurt and needy and mad and also longing?

And so we came up with this guy who kinda seemed too perfect. And is distant. He’s aloof, and distant, and he’s too perfect. And it’s like, “oh! I think he’s also aloof and distant from himself.”

I think he is, uh, deeply deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships. He doesn’t have friendships, he doesn’t have romantic relationships, he is someone trapped in a tower of his own mind and estranged.

(Alexa, play Oh No! by Marina and the Diamonds. Love using old memes.)

The stancest fandom has had for some time (as early as it existed!) a very interesting theory that Ford’s romantic feelings for Stan were the cause of Ford’s “suffocation.” And while I do subscribe to this theory myself—I mean, if you read the excerpt above as a shipper, especially my highlighted parts, it is extremely validating of this interpretation—I prefer to not disregard the other reasons why Ford might have felt this way, either! To me, for a better understanding of Ford, even cesty Ford, you have to put all the puzzle pieces together. Identity issues, an explosive mix of ego and self-loathing, growing ambition, and only then, as the cherry on top: Ford’ incestuous tendencies. You have the perfect dessert! Or a recipe for disaster...

My headcanon might even read as a bit contradictory, I know. Teen Ford growing more in love with Stan and growing to look down on Stan? At the same time? But this is Stanford Pines, you guys. A walking contradiction. The man is basically made of conflicting feelings. Cognitive dissonance is his hobby.

We know Ford has always loved Stan very deeply—and yearned for his company just as badly—through his entire adult life. So what, exactly, changed in old Ford for him to invite Stan to sail away together again, post-Weirdmaggedon?

Well.

First, he spent forty (40) years separated from Stan, and then almost lost him forever (or at least their relationship), from a certain point of view. Have you ever heard that saying that you only know the value of something or someone after you lose it? Teen Ford had never lost Stan, and didn’t know how much he would miss him. (Alexa, play Let Her Go by Passenger...)

On that same note, all those years separated allowed him to develop a personality and identity of his own, and a very defined and strong one at that. (Yes, poor Stan meanwhile spent that time pretending to be Ford. Ironic.) The Stan twins have also managed to be competent at what was once their weak spot, something they relied fully on their brother for. Stan has managed to learn and understand complex physics to fix the portal. Ford, on the other hand (and we’re focusing more on his feelings, here), has definitely learned how to defend himself physically.

Second, Ford was severely humbled by the narrative. He thought he would get to be the hero, when the hero was actually his brother. “Stanley Pines was the man who saved the world, not me.” His pride was a great barrier between him and Stan. And on what regards his self-loathing and subsequent thirst for external validation, he has learned to seek love in the right places! His family. Stan.

Stan, who always loved him unconditionally, who never considered him a freak in the first place. Stan, who is now his priority, above his scientific ambition.

And finally, third—the incestuous feelings headcanon. Why repress, Ford? Jump Stan! 😌 💋 That is something they can... resolve between themselves, if you catch my drift. They have all the time in the world stuck together, just the two of them, on a small boat.

Have I finished yapping? No, not yet, not quite. I need to wrap things up with another excerpt from the 2023 interview, aka my favorite interview ever:

[...] and it’s always sweet to see them come together again, because they’re so full of themselves, but they are also both so damaged they desperately need each other.

Diversity wins! The codependency of your gay incestuous ship is mutual! 🥳

After all, like Ford himself said, “I don’t just want someone to come with me, Stanley, I want it to be you.”

#stancest #stancest meta #the bunny analyzes #teen stans #i’m really proud of this one #probably the one that took the most effort to write so far

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worldsetfree · 2 months ago

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Aizen Sōsuke in Love headcanons

I'm so happy that Kubo is so careful with my sexy evil king (god?). He seems to value a lot of the things that I value as a writer/consumer. I really feel his love for this character!

Here are a few thoughts of my own on this beautifully complex man, in the context of romance, because I'm powerless against tall, dark, and handsome. Y'all know me.

Feedback and discussion welcome.

Some spice below. I'm slowly building up confidence...

Contrary to the belief of some, I don't think Aizen's an emotionally vacant sociopath. He's just deeply, obsessively measured in all things, including his own image. We often gain insight into his feelings through Gin, in fact!

I think he's secretly deeply emotional, honestly. INTJ, but the T is not as dominant as people think. People don't develop Aizen's level of conviction and dedication without passionate hearts.

And I would expect the wisest of men to not discard their emotions. It's better to know thyself, after all. Aizen strikes me as the type who values internal harmony.

Plus, he's too good at controlling others to be emotionally out-of-tune. He gets people.

To fall in love...

The first question one must ask: "Is Aizen Sōsuke capable of falling in love?" To me, the answer is yes, but like all things, Aizen has carefully crafted designs and constraints for such a scenario.

Despite his apparent patience, people as ambitious as Aizen are prone to feeling urgency. In the ruthless pursuit of his goals, I would not be surprised if he felt he had to deny himself companionship (especially given his implied struggle to connect).

But Sōsuke, you don't have to have your foot on the gas at every step of your journey!

He can take time to find peace in good company in his time as a Captain, or after he gains immortality. Times when he's been forced to slow down and wait for his plans to unfold.

Honestly, he's probably craving some TLC at this point. Isolation in Muken's a horrible thing, even if he enjoys the silence.

You must have done something to spark his interest and make him see you as something more than a peon. Subverted his expectations, or did something foolishly courageous, perhaps.

Either way, he's going to pay close attention to you going forward.

Intellectual jousting jumps out as a good opportunity to catch his attention! Look how he speaks during Fake Kurakura Town, for example. He's got ideals and philosophy bursting at the seams. He wants people to understand him! Get in there!!

In turn, Aizen seeks to understand all things around him, yourself included. Interest blooms into fascination and captivation, and in time, he admits that you've become a problem.

He is not confused by this feeling, but he doesn't really want to fall in love. Imagine opening himself up to something like that... With an insect like you? Preposterous.

Are you truly an insect, though? Or something he's been craving in a deeply repressed part of his soul?

After some deep contemplation, he'll decide to examine this feeling blooming in his chest further.

But if he has to be open and vulnerable to have you, he's going to make damned sure he still has the upper hand.

To be with him...

Loving this man is not for the faint of heart. Aizen Sōsuke is faceted like a jewel, and in being his, you will see all the colour and reflections he projects.

He's a wild, tempestuous sea, and all but the most worthy will drown in him if not careful.

Expect him to test you and experiment in all manner of ways. Some of these tests will be at the expense of your safety and sanity, unfortunately. But were you ever really in any danger...?

He's the type to play with the heart- roll it around in his teeth, and squeeze.

He's testing himself just as much as he's testing you. Feeling out what makes the knots twist up inside him and what makes his heart flutter.

That's not to say that will only toy with you, though. No, if he's chosen to be with you, he's going to love you. He never does things in half measures. This will become especially prevalent as time goes on.

You'll experience beautiful stillness and tenderness- quiet moments locked away from time and responsibility that he dares not share with anybody else. Think of summer rain, tea leaves, and the way his scent clings to his haori.

This peace inspires reflection, but confiding in you is very difficult for him. I think some part of him would fear the rejection. But he's developed a hypothesis, weighed the risks, and chosen to open up to you. You should be honoured.

Don't betray his decision to share. Be genuine and gentle, and you'll be rewarded with another piece of his ever-elusive heart.

On the flip side, you'll also end up lost in currents that threaten to rip you apart.

Aizen's quite mercurial, and part of being in love means seeing a bit of the mess below the surface (at least, what he allows you to see).

Making you swoon is simple for him, and he'll thoroughly enjoy leaving you breathless. He's going to work you up meticulously with perfect touches and addicting lips, and then leave you craving more.

He's masterful in all things he attempts, and he will prove that acts of hedonism are no exception. Should he deign to indulge in intimacy, he will be your undoing.

Sex is not a successful endeavour for Sōsuke unless you're rendered unable to think. He's going to delight in leaving you ruined in his bed, legs and lungs and consciousness having utterly failed you.

He'll cherish every sound and sight he steals from you. Allow himself to dwell on the taste of your skin, the warmth of your insides wrapped around him, and the feeling your thighs in his hands. You're heavenly to him. A work of art.

To some extent, it will dismantle him, too. He finds succor in the space between your breaths, and strangely welcome surrender in release.

If you catch him in the right headspace, he'll stay with you in his afterglow and succumb to gentle affection. His arms will pull you in and hold you like he wishes you'd meld into him.

But these moments are rare. He's so very busy and ever-focused on the next objective. But you don't mind, right...?

Overall...

Expect Aizen to be a committed partner that lifts you up and sweeps you off your feet in his own wicked ways.

He's going to challenge you, push and pull you, and enjoy the web you will weave together. You will be his prized possession and confidant. In return, he'll be your everything.

He will also be your tutor, your cultivator. Much like himself, he holds you to the highest standards, and he's not afraid to mould you into (what he considers) the greatest version of yourself.

You will be consort to a god some day, after all. He's going to refine you into something capable of standing at the top with him.

Just don't disappoint him, or you'll find yourself discarded when you least expect it.

Wow, I wrote too much for this. Can't help it. He's got me in his hypnosis. How shameful. 😅

Thanks for reading! Writing these out helps give me a backbone for future works.

#bleach #aizen sosuke x reader #tybw got me down bad #ngl he's been my secret shame for years #so handsome #so evil #kubo makes such beautiful people #ramblingsfromzawarudo

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plaidos · 7 months ago

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why do all tumblr tboys headcanon characters that are already guys in the source as transmasc? like why is the lore that they're already fully transitioned? my theory is that tumblr users are scared of everything

tumblr users are scared of everything this is true. i think this comes from the belief that transition itself is disgusting or horrifying but Being transitioned is a good thing; a goal state. i imagine that the vast majority of these guys are pre-transition or even in the closet; if you’re a trans guy who is girlmoding and struggling with that, and with taking the first leaps towards transition (which is the hardest part!) then i think it makes sense to project “this guy is already transitioned and everybody even his enemies respect that about him” and “he likes to dress up as a girl because he’s a GNC trans guy” because that is like the ideal actualisation; reimagining themselves as a trans guy who is already transitioned but presents the same way he did girlmode as a way to reclaim having to girlmode as a personal choice rather than the shitty circumstance he’s currently stuck in.

it makes sense!!! but it is still frustrating. i wish trans guys could just relate to transfem characters without saying “he has to be the exact same as me”. it’s a shame they can’t just… relate to women who are also trans?

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osiiiris · 19 days ago

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2025 is Meliora’s 10th anniversary and I’m not going to be quiet about it.

Recently, I’ve been focusing a lot (…again 😅) on the cultural movements that inspired the entire Meliora era, especially Futurism.

Knowing from Bishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis II that Terzo studied the Futurist manifestos during his formative years in Krakow (most likely Marinetti’s), I like to believe that the main inspiration for Meliora’s aesthetic came from the architectural drawings of Antonio Sant’Elia. The parallels between Filippo Tommaso Marinetti and Antonio Sant’Elia with Terzo and Necropolitus are quite evident:

(...) We would sit down to studying exciting Futurist manifestos, sketched the blueprints of utopian metropoles, spiked with shiny skyscrapers stabbing at the heavens belly... Wantonly swollen zeppelins would to carry our gospel of indulgence to the farthest corners of the globe to summon and enslave.

BP Necropolitus

We had stayed up all night, my friends and I, under hanging mosque lamps with domes of filigreed brass, domes starred like our spirits, shining like them with the prisoned radiance of electric hearts. (…) Alone with stokers feeding the hellish fires of great ships, alone with the black spectres who grope in the red-hot bellies of locomotives launched on their crazy courses, alone with drunkards reeling like wounded birds along the city walls.

F.T. Marinetti - Manifesto of Futurism

Easy to imagine Terzo and Necropolitus—half stoned, half dazed, and inexorably intoxicated by a party that had been going on for hours—retracing, for the hundredth time, the highlights of the Futurist Manifestos they had read over and over, fervently discussing the future and the modernity they dreamed of bringing with his papacy.

Sant’Elia was a contemporary of Marinetti, fathers of the Futurist movement, and his Manifesto for Futurist architecture shares much of Terzo’s vision for Meliora, the city he created.

Each generation will have to build its own cities. Sant’Elia said.

that, just as the ancients drew their inspiration from natural elements, we – materially and spiritually artificial – must find our inspiration in the new mechanical world we have created, and our architecture must be its most beautiful expression, its most complete synthesis, its most effective integration; (…) by architecture, I mean the effort to freely and audaciously harmonise man with his environment, that is, to make the material world a direct projection of the spiritual world;

A. Sant’Elia - Manifesto of Futurist architecture

(...) Forged in nostalgia of steam and fire, this brave new world of ambition, vice, lust and greed - all so inherent to the enlightened modernity, was always with him through all these years.

BP Necropolitus

The Futurist movement embraced all forms of art, from painting and sculpture to architecture, music, and literature. It was characterized by a burning hatred for the past, which they wished to destroy, and a glorification of machinery, new technologies (we’re talking about first 20 years of 900), dynamism, speed, modernity, and rebellion. Nothing was meant to stay still, everything had to move, transform, evolve… very much in line with what Terzo seemed to believe.

But there was a downside. The original Italian Futurism became closely tied to fascism. It also celebrated violence and war, seen as tools to “clean up” and make space for the new. Most of the founding artists died in a war (World War I) that they had glorified and willingly taken part in. And when the dictator fell, so did the Futurist movement.

The lives of these artists were brief, but they remained true to their ideals, for better or worse, from beginning to end.

Erect on the summit of the world, once again we hurl defiance to the stars!

F.T. Marinetti - Manifesto of Futurism

At this point, I’d like to explore the association between the shapes in Futurist painting and the shapes of Terzo’s face paint, slipping swiftly into Cubism and Piet Mondrian’s simplification of form as a parallel to Terzo’s geometric, minimalist design… but that’s a story for another time.

#the band ghost #papa emeritus iii #terzo emeritus #bishop necropolitus cracoviensis ii #meliora #I love his era your honor I’ll never going to shut up about him #Happy anniversary Meliora

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idkyetxoxo · 4 months ago

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Criston Cole - A Halo of Ruin

Summary - Sworn to oaths, he finds his unshakable honour shattered the moment he lays eyes on her. She unravels him, making him forget his vows, duty and the very essence of who he is. What follows is a dangerous obsession, where honour takes a backseat to forbidden desire.

Pairing - Criston Cole x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2202

Masterlist for Criston • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Ser Criston Cole prided himself on his unwavering adherence to the sacred oaths of the Kingsguard.

He was a man defined by honour, loyalty, and an unshakable sense of duty—or at least, that was the image he had long projected, the ideal he had worked tirelessly to uphold.

Never, in his most fleeting moments of weakness, did he imagine that his resolve could be so thoroughly undone.

But then, he saw me, and everything shifted.

To him, I was beyond compare—radiant in a way that seemed almost otherworldly. I defied the realm of reality, a vision too perfect to belong to the mortal plane.

The first time I crossed his path, Criston felt time itself grind to a halt. I moved with a grace that made even the wind envious, a book held close to my chest and a deep crimson rose delicately twirled between my fingers.

My smile lit the air around me as if the sun itself had descended to bless my presence.

He could have sworn that it was as though the gods had reached down from the heavens and gifted him a glimpse of an angel.

He stood frozen, rooted in place by a spell he did not understand. And then, compelled by something he could neither name nor resist, he pursued me.

Disbelief warred with hope in his chest. Surely, I could not be real. Surely, no earthly creature could possess such captivating beauty.

"My lady," he called out, his voice tight with a mix of awe and nerves.

His gloved fingertips lightly brushed against my shoulder, and I turned to face him.

The world seemed to fall away when our eyes met. My smile was both a promise and a peril—a curve of lips that could coax saints into sin and unravel the convictions of even the most disciplined souls.

My gaze held him prisoner, binding him tighter than any vow ever could.

"Yes?" I replied, my voice a melody of silken notes, sweet as honey and as delicate as a whispered secret on the wind.

Criston faltered, words catching in his throat as he stared into the depths of my eyes. The armour that had always felt so heavy now seemed insubstantial.

He withdrew his hand as if burned by the intensity of his own emotions. "I—I just... what is your name?" he managed, at last, the question emerging more like a prayer than an inquiry.

I continued to smile, and in that moment, he knew with every fibre of his being that he was lost.

Criston was bewitched—completely and irrevocably captivated by me. There was no other word to describe the hold I had over him.

He began to seek me out whenever he could, his gaze searching rooms, hallways, and gardens for any glimpse of me.

To his immense relief, and perhaps against every cautious whisper in his mind, I met his attentions with a warmth that mirrored his own desire.

It was as if fate had entwined our paths, and for a time, he dared to believe himself the luckiest man in the realm.

Honour? To the flames with honour. Oaths? Let them be scattered like ashes in the wind.

Between us, there was no room for rules or regrets—only the fire that burned whenever we were near one another.

"Stop staring at me," I murmured, my fingers caressing the petals of a white rose he had pressed into my hand earlier.

We were alone in his chambers, a fire crackling gently in the hearth, the night still young and full of promise.

"How can I?" he replied, his voice low and rich with unrestrained adoration. His eyes roved over me, drinking in every detail as though I were a vision that might vanish with the next breath.

"Close your eyes," I whispered, my voice teasing yet soft, an invitation more than a command.

Criston's jaw tensed; he never thought there would come a day when he would resist anything I asked. But he shook his head, refusing to look away, his gaze dark and hungry.

"Do it," I pressed again, a playful pout forming on my lips.

He drew a sharp breath at the sight, his resolve shattering like fragile glass. With a reluctant sigh, he obeyed, his eyes fluttering shut. Trusting. Surrendering.

The rose slipped from my fingers, forgotten, as I moved closer.

I climbed onto his lap, my hands cradling his face. He leaned instinctively into my touch, as though the warmth of my palms alone could anchor him to this moment.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against his cheek—a feather-light caress—before capturing his mouth with my own.

Time stilled. His breath mingled with mine, and his pulse raced, beating out a rhythm of longing and disbelief. This was real. He was not dreaming.

His hands found my waist, gripping with equal parts need and reverence.

Slowly, I guided him down, our bodies sinking into the softness of the furs spread before the hearth. Shadows from the fire danced around us, a flickering testament to the heat we shared.

Criston's eyes opened, darkened with emotion as they met mine again.

In that gaze, I saw the man beneath the armour—the one who had torn away every shield for me, who would risk everything for just a moment longer at my side.

And in the dance of flames and whispered promises, we both knew there would be no turning back.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his voice a reverent whisper, the weight of his words soft but potent.

I offered him a smile—the very smile that always unravelled him, reducing every carefully crafted piece of his composure to dust. It was the smile that made his heart stutter and his breath catch, leaving him no choice but to believe that, in this moment, he was the luckiest man alive.

"You're too kind," I teased, letting my fingertips trace lazy patterns over his chest as I perched delicately in his lap.

"No—no, I mean it," he insisted, his voice trembling with raw sincerity. There was a hunger in his gaze, but more than that, there was awe—a reverence that both humbled and exhilarated me.

I laughed softly, turning my head, but the pull of his gaze drew me back to him like a magnet to its source.

Still meeting his eyes, I reached for the hem of my dress. With deliberate slowness, I lifted it over my head, the fabric slipping away like water to reveal bare skin.

I placed it beside us and settled back atop him, exposed and vulnerable yet somehow powerful under the intensity of his gaze.

His eyes roamed over me, drinking me in as though he feared this might be the last time he could. They lingered on every dip, every curve, memorizing me as if I were a sacred text he wanted to learn by heart.

He swallowed, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips, and I couldn't help but grin, my palms gliding over his chest in invitation.

"Touch me," I whispered, the words soft but insistent. He remained frozen, captivated by the sight of me, as if reality had suspended itself.

I leaned closer, repeating with gentle demand, "Touch me."

Taking his hands in mine, I guided one to my waist, pressing it firmly against my skin, and placed the other against my chest.

I watched as wonder crossed his features, and then, as if a spell had been broken, he moved.

His fingers traced paths of fire along my bare skin, his touch tender but laced with urgency. As his hand slid lower, gliding down my stomach and between my thighs, I drew in a sharp breath.

My hips lifted, offering more of myself, and his touch deepened. His fingers explored, a soft caress turning bold, while his thumb circled my clit, sending ripples of pleasure through me.

A breathless moan spilled from my lips, the sound a sweet melody that spurred him on.

He quickened his rhythm, each stroke a promise, each caress a spark that sent me spiralling higher.

I moved against him, seeking, needing, craving the release he teased from me with every touch.

Through it all, Criston watched me, captivated and triumphant, the sounds of my pleasure his victory, the sway of my body his masterpiece.

He didn't stop until I shattered, my climax crashing over me in waves that left me trembling in his arms.

Only then did he begrudgingly withdraw his fingers, leaving me gasping and blissfully spent, my body still humming from the intensity of it all.

"I suppose I owe you now," I whispered, my voice ragged, chest rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath.

Criston shook his head, his eyes soft with something deeper than lust—a reverence that made my pulse quicken again.

"You owe me nothing," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Your company has placed me in your debt forever."

I laughed, a low, sultry sound that vibrated between us. "So you don't wish for me to return the favour?" I asked, teasingly arching an eyebrow as I watched his lips part, then press together again, caught between words and raw need.

His silence spoke louder than anything he could have said.

"That's what I thought," I purred, shifting down his body with deliberate care. I felt his muscles tense beneath me, anticipation coiling around him like a vice.

My fingers traced the waistband of his pants, and with one smooth motion, I slid them down, releasing him. His hardness pressed urgently against my thigh, every inch of him ready, waiting.

I took my time, trailing my fingertips lightly over his length. The touch was barely there, but it drew a sharp intake of breath from him, followed by a soft, unbidden whimper that sent heat pooling low in my belly.

Smiling, I guided him inside me, our bodies aligning perfectly. I paused, savouring the exquisite sensation of him filling me, before beginning to move.

I rocked my hips slowly at first, relishing the friction and the way his hands gripped my waist as though anchoring himself to reality.

With every roll of my hips, his fingers dug deeper, marking me as his. I leaned back, letting the motion take over, each thrust sending pleasure radiating through me.

My hands found their way to my hair, pulling it back as I closed my eyes, losing myself to the rhythm, to the feel of him buried deep within me.

Soft moans escaped my lips, mingling with the low groans that rumbled from his chest. The sounds of our pleasure filled the room, an intimate symphony that neither of us could resist.

"Gods, you're..." he began, words failing him as his eyes roved over me, unable to tear themselves away.

His gaze was full of wonder and desire as he watched every undulation of my body, the way I moved with a sensual grace that seemed effortless and yet completely intoxicating.

His expression was rapt as if I were the only thing that existed in his world.

A lopsided grin curved his lips, desire tempered by something softer, something achingly tender. "So beautiful," he breathed, his voice rough and trembling.

I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his, and our movements quickened, our bodies moving together with desperate, unrestrained passion.

Each thrust brought us closer, every touch, every breath a reminder of this moment, of the connection binding us so completely.

As the rhythm of our movements intensified, the world around us blurred, leaving only sensation, only the overwhelming need to chase the rising crescendo that threatened to consume us both.

I rode him with a fervent passion, each thrust building upon the last, until our bodies were taut with anticipation, teetering at the edge.

His grip on my hips tightened, his breath ragged against my skin as he moved with me, into me, our bodies entwined in perfect sync.

The tension snapped suddenly, and together we tumbled over the precipice. I cried out, my body shuddering around him as the pleasure surged, wave after relentless wave.

He followed, a low, guttural groan torn from his lips as he found his own release, his grip on me tightening as if he could somehow hold this moment forever.

We clung to one another as the intensity washed over us, hearts pounding, breaths mingling, until finally, spent and trembling, I collapsed atop him.

Slowly, I slid off him, my limbs heavy and languid. I nestled into the soft furs beside him, feeling the warmth of the fire's glow against my skin.

The flames danced across my naked form, casting flickering shadows that played over every curve. The heat was a pleasant contrast to the lingering warmth of our bodies, a reminder of the fire that smouldered between us.

Criston turned to me, his gaze soft but intense, as if he couldn't bear to look away.

In the dim light, his eyes traced every line and hollow of my body, as if trying to memorize me all over again.

There was no shame, no hesitation—only awe and desire, mingled with something deeper that neither of us dared to name.

"Honour, oaths be damned," he whispered, his voice low but resolute.

He was entranced, lost in the heat, the need, and the undeniable truth that this, whatever it was, was worth everything.

A/n - Very sloppily written smut I will admit so sorry about that x

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #team green #criston cole #criston cole x reader #criston x reader #hotd criston #ser criston cole #criston cole imagine #criston cole x you

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chaichaiiskai · 1 year ago

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NO PICKLE X MALE READER??? I GOT YOU.

pickle x prehistoric! shot male reader who's like his most precious s/o and overprotective during the prehistoric times and then now in the future. it can be fluff with a bit of angst.

almost the same height as baki or something.

notes: okay okay okay, I'm so sorry I'm late on this but I now have the brain capacity to write somethin' worth readin'...

yandere-ish! possessive! pickle x prehistoric! male! reader

warnings: violence, blood, body horror (not to reader), pickle is a lil' yandere ngl—, possessive and protective behavior, angst, kidnapoing, mention of smut but no explicit descriptions, male reader, amab reader, mxm, mlm, homophobes dni, mdni, 3.7k+ words (I went a lil' ham ngl)

Unexpectedly, the Jurassic research team had never expected to have a primitive man at their fingers, suspended in time and saline— not just one, but two. However, strangely enough, they both looked distinctively different, one was much taller and muscular than the other, causing the researchers to question the periods in time in which both had existed. That was quickly disproven despite this, seeing how the two of the men were encased in the very same saline rock, back to back as if they'd been frozen in time in the middle of protecting each other from an outside threat. On the outside looking in, it was quite poetic in a way, a clear display of humanity in its ideal form, hardened in resin. It was almost a shame that they would be carefully melting away the rock to get a better view of the two men encased in the saline.

The biggest theory amongst the researchers was that the two men could potentially be siblings, the taller one being the oldest brother while the younger was the shorter one; even if they didn't explicitly look alike. There was also the theory about them being father and son, there was no definitive answer— yet.

And so, with as much excitement as most scientists who were ready to discover something new, the thawing process had begun on the saline rock that held two great mysteries.

It took a bit of time for the researchers to thaw the rock with pure caution, wanting to keep the two beings intact as much as possible and so, they'd decided to thaw one side at a time— starting with the smaller man first. About two days later, they had managed to thaw him out completely and get him onto a gurney that surprisingly creaked and squeaked under his weight. They hooked the man up to monitors and machines, eager to see what exactly was going on with him, and to their shock— there was a faint heartbeat which required more close surveillance from them. The man looked almost as if he was stuck in a peaceful sleep, seemingly unable to wake up.

Half of the research team found themselves debating on whether or not they would apply modern technology to this man, wanting to reanimate him while the other focused on melting away the rest of the saline and getting a better look at the beast of a man while keeping the smaller man under surveillance.

And to their astonishment (and horror) the beast woke as they had managed to melt the saline away, stopping about halfway past his torso. One could only imagine the look of terror on the faces of the small, everyone was small compared to this creature, scientists as they stared up at him. He simply stared back, unmoving, but blinking, glancing around briefly at his confusing new surroundings that looked nothing like what he knew when he was younger.

Project Pickle was a success, but could the same be said about Project Cucumber?

Despite the looming and watchful eyes of the eight foot tall man who watched each and every one of them as they worked, the scientist continued to melt away the saline while Pickle remained still. Based on instinct alone, he did not sense any imminent danger, therefore, he saw none of the people in the room as immediate threats.

That did not last long, when he was completely free, he began to look around more, almost as if he was looking for something specific, tendrils of dark locks swinging as he looked rather perplexed. Then, he briefly sniffed the air, pupils dilating as his gaze zeroed in on the high security door that kept him tucked away in a metal box he didn't care to think about. And he began to walk towards the door, unknowing of what he was doing exactly, and stared at it, sniffing the air once again.

Surprisingly, the military personnel that worked as security on the premises didn't even bother to move, not even when the beast of a man snatched the door clean off it's securely bolted in to get a peek inside. He then crouched under the doorway to walk through it, almost like he was walking into a cave and made his way towards the gurney that held Cucumber's sleeping form. The scientist in the room all audibly gasped, shuddering in fear as he took some steps forward, standing at the foot of the gurney that still held your body.

The silence in the facility was deafening, even a single needle would be heard if it were to hit the cold tile floor.

And that's when Pickle moved, grabbing a hold of your calf to give it a squeeze that would have surely shattered the bones of a modern hero. Coincidentally, it had only caused your eyes to shoot open, a sound of anger coming from your mouth that was accustomed to a growl as you sat up, grabbing at the hand of the being who'd rudely woken you from your sleep. Only then when you were awake did Pickle loosen his grip and your eyes met for the first time in over hundreds of millions of years. The moment was wholesome to the two of you, but somewhat eerie to those looking on the outside in.

From then on, Pickle and Cucumber were given their own special area where they spent all their time together. There was one thing that was quite noticeable about the pair, Pickle did not like it when people got too close to Cucumber, often growling and baring his teeth at anyone who came too close. On the other hand, he would let the scientist get close to him so long as they kept their distance from you. Their interactions were simple enough, no words were exchanged but there was the occasional grunt and groan as they seemed to speak to each other in their own silent way. The original theories of the scientist believing that you were siblings was proving stronger and stronger with each day.

That— however, would soon change upon witnessing an... interaction between the two of you.

One late evening, the scientists were simply busying themselves with their research, not even paying much attention to the two men in their makeshift habitat. That was until the sound of growling, hissing, and other wild, animalistic noises coming from one of the monitors that was watching over the Projects. Curiously, the several scientists turned to look at the screen, mostly with mystified looks on their faces.

It looked like Pickle and Cucumber were battling, roughhousing in the dirt of the carefully constructed enclosure, biting and scratching at one another. Almost immediately, the scientists were ready to jump into action to find some way to subdue the two of them before something horrible happened and ruined their research, but nothing could have prepared them for what came next.

The winner of the wrestling match was Pickle, and he was eager to claim his prize. The scene that played out on the monitor was enough to make every single personnel who was watching blush like roses in a garden.

Welp, there goes their family theory... The last thing they had ever expected was that these two primitive men would be engaging in a romantic partnership, yet here they were— the sounds the two of them were making was proof. And surely, they should have all looked away, but they couldn't seem to look away, only doing so when the two men had both tired each other and decided to fall asleep, cuddling together as if they hadn't just violated each other in the most criminal and animalistic way. The two of them looked almost innocent in a way, Pickle easily dwarfed Cucumber in the spooning embrace but at least the two of them seemed comfortable.

From then on, the researchers that watched you both seemed to look at your interactions under a new light, noticing the romantic undertones with everything the two of you did together.

Pickle had a refusal to eat things that he did not actively hunt and seeing how there were no animals in the enclosure, he did not eat. And fortunately, considering the differences in biology, the primitive man was able to withstand being without food for a much longer period of time than what modern day people could do now.

A few weeks after being thawed from your saline sanctuaries, and constantly being observed by the weirdly skinny people with their weird furs, you were beginning to become more and more curious yourself. So much so that while Pickle was sleeping and one of the massive walls moved, your eyes immediately flew towards it and watched as one of the skinny people came into the room cautious and careful, holding something in their hands that seemed to be carrying other things. In interest, you stared at them, watching their every move, staying completely alert as they set the thing with things down and scurried away behind the moving wall.

Pickle was still slumbering deeply as you stared at the new thing in your enclosure before slowly approaching, sniffing around so that you could safely close the distance. As you got closer, familiar scents filled your nose and a sound of approval, similar to the sound of a chirp, was heard before you picked up a familiar fruit, peeling it off its skin and beginning to happily indulge in the fruity flavor. You sat beside the thing of things, the bowl of fruit, and happily ate the delicious treat, crossing your legs in a comfortable manner.

The eyes of your lover soon fluttered and he felt around on the ground, using his touch to try and find you, and when he is unable to, an angry growl is the only sound he makes before getting onto all fours, glancing around like a predator on a hunt. That was until he felt your presence and smelled you again, along with some strangely familiar scents and so he crawled in the direction of whether the scent was strongest.

If there was one thing to give credit on, it was the enclosure that the scientist has carefully constructed for the two of you looked like a forest, filled with trees and dirt and patches of grass, but there was an area where you often would relax— a clearing where the trees were a bit more sparse and the dirt was more abundant. That was also where Pickle and Cucumber were able to see the wall move and keep a close eye on the scientists and researchers who entered the enclosure.

The man crawled his way towards where he could smell where your scent was strongest and soon stumbled upon you hunched over, back facing him, and shoving things in your mouth, stuffing your cheeks with your newfound feast. Be that as it may, upon sensing Pickle's presence, you paused and in your squatting position, you shuffled your feet around, pivoting so that you could face Pickle. Soon enough, you flashed him a grin, mouth drenched in sweet juices as you beckoned him over with a hand.

He trusted you completely, but the same couldn't be said about what you were consuming, his eyes peeking between you and the fruit as he slowly crawled towards you. As soon as Pickle was within reach, you were quick to pluck one of the grapes from its stem and shove into his mouth, almost as if you were nonverbally saying 'try this!'

Caught off guard by the strange thing shoved in his mouth, he nearly spit it out but you quickly gave him a pleading look, puppy eyes causing his shoulders to slump, holding the grape in his mouth rather awkwardly. Huffing in frustration at him, you pointed a clawed nail towards your mouth and pretended to chew before pointing at Pickle, a look of concentration on your face as you nodded at him, hoping he'd get the message— he did.

At first, you couldn't tell how he'd felt about the grapes based on his facial expressions alone but that soon changed when his eyes widened, and then an approving sound followed.

"Hm!"

You couldn't agree more, grinning as you plucked a few more grapes, making a sound similar to a laugh when Pickle basically unhinged his jaw as you threw grapes in his mouth, one by one like a childish game.

This was another thing that the researchers had noticed, the two of you were easily amused by the simplest things, acting rather childishly despite both being full-grown adults. It was almost endearing in a way, watching the two of you, mostly you, feed each other fruits, enjoying yourselves with no active threats of danger in your lives. It was almost something to be jealous of... And that was when the researchers' curiosity seemed to spark, and perhaps an experiment would lead to some interesting results, as dangerous as they may be, but it would take an intricate amount of planning for every possible outcome.

Weeks pass.

At the exact same time every day, more bowls of fruit are brought for the two of you, the amount of fruit only seeming to double in sizes each and every time. The two of you actively seem to enjoy the fruit, the grapes being an especially popular fruit between the two of you. You were often feeding Pickle and yourself the fruit, happily enjoying them each and every time.

And just as usual, one of the skinny people brought in more bowls of fruit, with even more fruit than you could ever imagine. And naturally, you both dug right in, enjoying the sweet flavors wholeheartedly. That was until the world began to spin around you and Pickle, your vision growing spotty and blurred. Before either you or Pickle can register, your body's hit the ground and the last thing you see is Pickle attempting to crawl over you, wishing to protectively drape himself over your body but you lose consciousness before seeing if he's made it.

Much to the surprise of the researchers, the tranquilizers they'd injected into the fruit had finally worked! And now they could perform their experiment in peace— a great number of security personnel piled into the enclosure and grabbed a hold of your body, carrying you out of the enclosure and shutting the door behind themselves, carrying you to somewhere else within the facility.

The door was then properly amped up with the greatest technology the facility could offer, mostly looking to measure the strength of Pickle and his partnership with you.

When the next day came, Pickle awoke, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the enclosure he was entrapped in. He slowly sat up once his senses were back at their full use, though his body was still a bit drowsy and tiredly glanced around. Naturally, he was wondering where you were, causing him to click his teeth together in a particular way, calling out for you in his own special call.

And when he got no response, usually an excitable chirp, he got on all fours and began to crawl around the enclosure, sniffing and looking for where you could be hiding. Having been in the enclosure for so long, your scent was still lingering and he knew that you liked to play games— hiding from him, but with each passing second of him calling you and climbing up a few trees to find your usual hiding places, his panic was becoming more and more apparent. And before anyone could register the true terror of Pickle, the man stood on his two feet and roared at the fake sky, the power from it was enough to shake the entire enclosure.

The pure, unfiltered rage could be felt even through the security cameras currently being observed.

Perhaps this was a mistake.

Another growl followed before Pickle could be seen barreling towards the moving wall // enforced door with great speed and animosity, almost as if he knew that they were withholding his beloved from him. A line of personnel were on the other side of the door, prepared for what was to come next, and when he came in contact with the door, slamming his head into the metal, a noticeable dent from the outside was created but the door did not immediately give out. Another roar of anger came from him as reared back and began to repeatedly pound his fists into the door, dent after dent being put into the door that would not budge like the one he'd destroyed after waking up.

On the other side of the facility, you weren't doing any better, having woken up about an hour after Pickle, you were surprised to see the new enclosure, confused on where you were and most importantly— where Pickle was. Nothing smelt or felt familiar and you couldn't sense him. And unlike Pickle, you didn't immediately react with rage, instead, you reacted in a rather panicked way, climbing up the nearest tree for a better vantage point. When you saw no sight of Pickle, the anxiety began to set in, not even considering the possibility that he was still somewhat close by and that you'd been forcibly separated from him by the researchers who were still observing you both with keen eyes, notebooks and pens in hand.

They keep you separated for days, watching as Pickle's rage only grows and your anxiety seems to be eating away at you, almost deteriorating you at a rapid pace. Watching your differing reactions was proving to be even more interesting than they'd originally hypothesized. And while doing this experiment, the scientist had not revealed themselves to either primitive men, but about four days after the experiment started, one of the researchers had offered that they go back to sending in the bowls of fruit to see how they'd react.

Naturally, they chose to give you the fruit first.

And when the wall opened, your gaze immediately snapped up and you moved faster than they'd anticipated, hurriedly approaching the person with the bowl of fruit on all fours. The scientist is horrified at first, watching as you stare at him with pleading, puppy-like eyes. And then, you open your mouth before closing it, almost as if you were trying to say something but were hesitating.

Every scientist was on the edge of their seats, not expecting your reaction in the slightest.

Your mouth opens and closes a few more times before you finally speak, though the words are a bit broken, syllables are a bit hard to comprehend for you at the moment.

"Hmm...hm...hi—him." You move your hands above your head and begin to mess with the air, almost as if you were playing with long hair, obviously talking about Pickle.

"Wh...wha...wha...here..? Whe—whe...where?"

You did not get the reaction you wanted, watching as the scientist dropped the bowl of fruit and ran away, the wall shutting quickly behind him. As soon as the door fully closed, you lunged at it and slammed your fists onto it, broken words soon following as you pleaded, eyes beginning to water.

"Plee...plea— plea..? Please?!"

The sight of you whimpering and pounding your fists on the door is nearly enough to make the scientists sympathetic, watching as you crumble in on yourself, clearly suffering from some kind of abandonment issue. So much so that you were willing to speak their language to try and communicate. They wondered if you could learn more words and perhaps even sentences in the future. Perhaps they should have separated the two of you since the very beginning.

On the fifth day, Pickle had stopped pounding on the door, the amount of dents he'd left in the door was a concerning amount and the personnel had even grown fearful that he'd end up breaking through it soon, but they were fortunate that it seemed he'd given up. And instead, he simply sat down in front of the door, crossing his legs and his arms over his chest, waiting for the wall to open, almost as if he was expecting it.

It never opened.

Not that day.

Not the next day.

And not the next day.

The doors would open often for you, the scientists would bring you fruit and strange things while they spoke to you, trying to get you to talk to them again but your eyes were always wandering behind them, looking for Pickle in hopes of seeing him again. You do not remember the last time you'd been with him for such a long period of time, your anxiety seemed to build with each day.

"If you can just say one word— we'll bring you back to your mate, okay?"

The scientist said, waving their hands around as if that was going to help you understand what they were getting at. You simply furrowed your brows at them, trying to understand the weird noises they were saying to you. The language barrier was obvious.

As one would expect, the scientists were frustrated by the progress, trying to express to you their desires and what they wanted. They were getting nowhere.

Pickle had remained seated like a statue in front of the door, unmoving and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He had to find you, and he wasn't going to let this strange thing stop him from doing so.

Though he may not be the smartest, he knew that his fists had worn down this strange stone wall and just a few more shoves would soon bend to his will. And so, suddenly, he stood up and got into a fighting position, bringing his fist back before shooting it forward at the speed of a bullet that breaks the sound barrier with a clap and the door goes flying, crushing the line of personnel on the other side against the nearest wall, turning them into mush.

He steps out, a blank, uninterested stare on his face. An alarm soon goes off at this, seeing how he'd just brutally murdered some of security, but that didn't stop Pickle from continuing to walk, eager to find where you are, wanting nothing more than to have you back safe in his arms. And if that means crushing the skulls of small people, he wouldn't mind, so long as he got back to you.

#— chai’s asks. !!#male reader #x male reader #— anonnie. !!#amab reader #baki hanma #baki the grappler #pickle baki #pickle x reader #pickle x you #pickle x y/n #pickle x male reader #mlm #mxm #yandere baki hanma pickle

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