#bad cooking trope

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

This isn't really a My Demon problem, but I'm getting really tired of the "can't make food" trope because it keeps being used in ways that I just can't believe. Do Do-hee is supposed to be a very intelligent woman, baking a cake is really not that hard, and sugar comes in much bigger packaging than salt, so that's a dumb mistake. Also, the icing job on that cake was 100x more difficult than baking the cake (as someone who has both iced and baked cakes) so it's ridiculous that it looks so good but tastes so bad. It would be more realistic if it tasted good but was iced poorly. Also, doesn't she operate a drink company? Shouldn't she be familiar with food???

Amateurs are most likely to burn food, overseason, underseason, and undercook. But the trope is always that they make perfect looking food that somehow turns out to taste terrible, which is so unbelievable. Most inedible food looks inedible. Business Proposal and Tale of the Nine Tailed also annoyed me with this trope, My Lovely Liar and Perfect Marriage Revenge did it well (he overcooked a steak and she overbaked a brownie). Also, the FL of PMR had a very strong aversion to food which made her lack of cooking ability more believable.

I also don't mind this trope if the is person nobility and is from the past. Because 1: no YouTube, 2: that is a servant job, and 3: cooking was much harder because you had to use open fires (those who have camped know). Alchemy of Souls did a fun twist on this trope without making me angry.

[littleliterarylesbian]

one-sided enemies to lovers jegulus my beloved <33333

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

you have learned that the palace nymphs call you alice, a woman bound by something unknown, she who is from nowhere yet is the center of attention, the universe. king gojo's universe.

the king takes a particular liking towards you. he's much more taller than you in the space of the library. wearing distinguishable clothes that alert you that you're not talking to just anyone. the way he moves tells you everything you need to know. he's the king.

"your majesty," with embarrassment, you bow your head down, but the king makes it evident that no such attitudes like that are required with him. alone, at least.

he has been kind, too kind to let you live in the palace, granting you a room that could place marie antoniette's to shame. even the maids have noticed. they sneer behind your back, how a foreigner could ever make the king do what would only be done for a queen. but if they ever send a direct dirty look your way or do anything against you, fae king gojo has already taken care of it.

the elaborate dinners, sweet cream pastries with berries are rich. rich in care, in quality, as if you've dreamt the finest of dreams, this place is a heaven. and you see it.

king satoru treats you like no man ever has. holds your hand with the upmost respect, as if you were made of porcelain, his eyes feels like the gentle rays of light from your morning window, or the cool breeze of the night. never too much.

"stay with me," he asks of you one night, outside his balcony. your white shimmery gossamer dress, made with the most precision and care reflects among the moonlight, reminding you of the life you could live if you stay with him. the elaborate dinners, finest of goods, and the romantic attention you've always dreamed of cause you to hold your breath.

and then you wake up.

[thedreadvampy]

The thing is. Bad/gross food is rarely a DISH - when food is bad it's because it's been badly made, whether because of skills or available ingredients. but a dish p much only exists recognisably and has a name because someone likes at least one version of it.

which is to say. there isn't really a way of naming a dish, school of dishes or specific food culture and going EW ISN'T THIS DISH UNILATERALLY CONCEPTUALLY DISGUSTING without denigrating quite a lot of people.

like you don't have to like it in any form. but it's eaten and shared because it's good to a not insubstantial number of people when cooked right.

(and I don't really understand how you approach that with total incuriosity when it's a dish you haven't tried like. ARE rocky mountain oysters good? Maybe! I would very much eat some to find out!!!!)

this is actually something the British food poll did in a way the American ones I've seen haven't really - they described how the food they're imagining is, specifically, badly prepared (grey meat and veggies; unseasoned shepherd's pie). which is wildly tipping the scales by calling it British Food but. like. that is an on point definition of why that food is gross.

(this also applies to American chocolate, which like. Broad category but I think most of us understand this refers to low-cocoa high-sugar chocolate, probably with bucolic acid. so we are being invited to imagine Badly Made Chocolate not. the concept of chocolate)

personally I just think it's very rarely a good or funny idea to shittalk how gross any given food culture is. partly because food is important and culturally evocative for most people, partly because it's very...alienating? to be like WHO COULD EAT SUCH A THING? just because you wouldn't, and largely because to be frank it says more about you than about the food that you have so little imagination or curiosity that you can't imagine why a food might be enjoyable to folks who aren't you.

yes this includes jello salad, I would like to try it. ONCE. if it wasn't appealing to someone it wouldn't be so widespread.

[goldetrash]

INFINITY NIKKI CH7 SPOLIERS

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

GIOVANNI IS JUST AN ANTI-HERO I CAN SIMP FOR HIM FULLY NOW

GIOVANNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

[demolitionistic]

if i had a nickel for every time a guy ate his crush's badly made food and vehemently insisted on eating it up, i'd have at least two nickels, which isn't a lot but it is a trope that happens more often than you'd think

[augment-techs]

Self-Made Bingo Cards For Random PR Prompts:

Take one of the above or feel free to send an ask for one~

[neoprowl]

Terror food xx

Cole: yo everyone! Me and ketsuki just colab on a new dish

Ketsuki: I call it Terror food xx, since it is a halloween special dish

Terror food xx: *bubbling like poison*

Everyone: *scared and disgusted*

Pigsy: ya sure there ain't any other reason for that name?

Cole/ketsuki: nope, give it a try

[hours later]

Everyone: *Dead from food poisoning*

Ketsuki: maybe I went a little far on the sugar

Cole: I might have gone overboard with the sauce and spices

Pigsy who is somehow still alive: you...both...banned from...the... kitchen *pukes*

[goblinbugthing]

hi hi #6 for the oc asks for whatever oc you want

(Ask game here)

6. What is something they are absolutely hopeless at doing? Why?

i must talk about my bastard boy amy

he cant cook for SHIT. he doesnt trust himself with cookware after the last few times he attempted to make himself a snack.

this is because he is my self insert, making him just like me fr, and that means he is very temperature-sensitive and physically weak, and thus cannot cook without becoming overstimulated and/or exhausted.

he depends on hornet for cooking. or he just eats the fruits he can find in greenpath. not the best form of sustenance, but its food all the same.

(holly also cant cook, but to a degree worse than amy. dont trust them with kitchen equipment in any capacity.)

[b0rtney]

funniest trope hands down is a person whose cooking is god awful, just horrible, absolutely inedible, and a person who has no idea it tastes bad and is pissed that everyone hates their partner's cooking

[allpiesforourown]

Silly bingqiu idea: Binghe is worried shizun has someone on the side... CLEANING for him

He knows sqq is super loyal (shizun says in his hometown people don't have harems! They marry one person for life! How romantic!) so he will never worry about shizun looking at another person that way.

BUT. He refuses to let anyone else clean or cook for his husband!! BINGHE is the wife! HIM.

Just thinking of a lot of "cheating tropes" but they're turned really silly and ridiculous. Instead of finding lipstick on shizuns collar, he smells the robe and goes "Who washed this!? I don't use this detergent!!"

He'll see food in the kitchen and start crying "shizun ate another man's cooking!? In OUR HOME!?"

He can't accompany shizun on a mission because he has work in the demon realm, and he's stuck on the throne holding his head in his hands wondering if shizun is using this business trip to, gasp, frequent those terrible establishments. (Restaurants)

Meanwhile shen Yuan feels super bad about binghe having to do everything around the house, so he's slowly been trying to help more. He tried washing his own clothes and cooking a bit, but binghe seems to hate it. He must be really awful at chores! Hopefully he'll get better with practice

[flemingology]

neglected ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alexia has been neglecting your relationship for a while, but things blow up when she forgets about her own son

warnings: not too descriptive but just a bad relationship, alexia neglecting you and your son

wc: 3.3k

a/n: tried my hand at writing some angst. not my best work, but i love this trope lol.

When Alexia and you first started dating, the two of you couldn't get enough of each other. Between her busy football schedule and your busy work schedule, every single second of free time was spent together. Nights out, nights in, cooking together, lounging on the couch, it didn't matter to either of you what you did, as long as you did it together.

Dating Alexia was pure bliss. The Spaniard showered you with love, adoration and loads of affection every day again and again. She was away often, either on away games with Barcelona or on camps with Spain, but she made up for it in the time you spent together. Making you coffee every morning, doing household chores on weeks she was home so you could take a break, cooking for you, taking you out for dinner, Alexia had one love language and it was clearly acts of service.

With time your relationship only grew stronger, the both of you nothing short of adored by the other's family, steadily cruising towards your fourth year of dating one another. The topic of kids arose one night, and while you hadn't really talked about it before, you quickly agreed that it was something you really wanted. In the next few months you figured out the logistics, and you started your IVF journey. You decided it would be best for you to carry the baby, as you were able to continue your work from home and you definitely wouldn't want to take Alexia away from her career and doing what she loved most for multiple months while you could just carry the baby without too many problems.

Your pregnancy went by without too many hiccups. You had the usual symptoms; morning sickness in your first trimester, backaches, joint pain, weird cravings, but nothing out of the ordinary. It seemed like you and Alexia grew even closer together during the 9 months that you carried the baby, and you'd never felt happier in your 26 years on the planet than now. You were starting a family with the love of your life and you were beyond excited to meet the little human that was growing inside of you.

You found out you were having a boy about 5 months into your pregnancy. Alexia and you held a little gender reveal for your closest friends and family, not wanting to go overboard with anything as neither her or you were all for the big reveals or parties. You kissed your girlfriend fiercely as blue confetti swirled around you, whispering declarations of love against her lips as the world around you faded for a moment.

Your baby boy was born a couple weeks early. Not prematurely, the nurses assured you many times that there were only little women that carried out their 40 weeks to a tee. 37 weeks and a half, nothing to worry about. He was healthy, and you couldn't have wished for anything more than that. Baby Matías.

Your first couple months with Matías really tested your patience. He wasn't an easy sleeper, didn't settle easily, needed nursing at irregular hours, you and Alexia struggled as she went back to being a full-time footballer and after a couple months, you had picked some work back up too. Only when Matías started going to daycare, things started to change a little. The little bundle of joy would use up all his energy at daycare every day, and would usually fall asleep quite quickly at night – allowing you and your girlfriend to get back to a slightly more set sleep schedule too.

When Matías turned one year, you invited all of both Alexia's and yours family for a birthday party. You decorated the house accordingly, had a cake made with all types of colors – Matías loved bright colors – and he received an abundance of presents. Shame he wouldn't remember.

In the couple weeks after his birthday, it felt like something had changed between you and Alexia. The Spanish midfielder came home late more often, and while you usually wouldn't bat an eye at that, 5 extra so-called tactical meetings in 6 days seemed a little overkill. She didn't make an effort to help around in the house anymore, coming home she usually just spent some time with Matías before going up to bed. Without waiting for you. That's what struck you most. Of all things that Alexia loved doing with you, snuggling up in bed, talking about your day, doing other things, was up there with her favorite things. But you decided to let it slide. Maybe the Barca team really needed that much more tactical meetings.

You don't know when it shifted. She started missing date nights. Her sacred date nights. If anyone had told Alexia a couple months ago that she would deliberately miss a night out with you, she'd have slapped them across the face with more force than her average penalty kick. 6 months after Matías was born, Alexia and you had decided to pick date nights back up. Not in the frequency of before, but twice a month. Your son would go to Eli or your mum, who'd both never say no to having their grandson over for a night. He was in good hands they'd assure you again and again. She missed two in a row. For the first one, you'd made a reservation at a little tapas bar that you knew she'd been eyeing for quite a while. It was new in town, and you just hadn't had the opportunity yet to go. You were waiting for her there, dressed in a new black dress, tapping your feet as each passing minute that she ran late made you feel more ridiculed. No text. No call. You ordered a drink, to be nice, gulped it down and left.

You argued that evening. Late, in bed, when she joined you at an inexplicable hour. No excuse this time. It was hushed, quiet, not wanting to wake Matías who was sleeping in the room next to you, but it was heavy. Alexia promised she'd do better. She kissed your worries away, but if it wasn't so dark in the room, you'd have seen in her eyes that she was just saying what she knew you wanted to hear.

Matías' second birthday was similar to his first. Despite, this time he demanded a Spiderman-themed party and cake. You went out of your way to pick up all Spiderman stuff, from cups and plates to napkins and balloon. Personalized cake, of course. If Alexia had been more around, she'd probably have bought even more stuff. But she wasn't. Busy. With football, you know. Somehow, busier than she'd ever been. Despite having told you when you got Matías that she'd take on less brand deals. Agree to less media. You were done arguing. You didn't want to fight for something that you knew you were the only one still wanting. It was clear that Alexia had fallen out of love with you. No more morning coffee, no more aid in the household chores, no more cooking when she wasn't home late for once. You stayed with her, for Matías. That's what you'd tell yourself. But deep down, you were staying because you wanted things to go back to normal. For her to see you. Really see you. To make her fall in love with you again.

You two had fallen into a rhythm. It would go downhill, you would barely see Alexia for a couple weeks and then it would explode, you would yell at her and she'd say sorry, make it up to you with hushed whispers, kisses and explorations of your body that made you feel like you were on top of the world. Only for you to crash down. Hard. Again and again.

That she was neglecting you, was something you'd get over. It hurt. It hurt really bad. The woman that you thought you were going to marry, had started acting like you didn't mean anything to her anymore and it crushed you. But the second she started neglecting and forgetting about her own son, is when you knew it was getting out of line.

It was Matías' first day of school, the first time it happened. You had dropped him off together, neither of you wanting to miss out on the moment. You hugged him goodbye, wiped a couple tears away and Alexia promised that she'd be there tonight. To pick him up, because you had a meeting that would run past 3pm. Alexia was supposed to be at the club until 1, so she would have the time. However, for some reason that she tried to explain to you late at night, she didn't. That reason was bullshit, though. You knew she forgot. You could tell by the way the kitchen sink was littered with a couple coffee mugs and some plates. She'd brought some of the girls over for an afternoon chat. She forgot about your son. You got a call from the school at 4pm. You usually didn't pick up your phone whilst in a meeting, but you excused yourself. For obvious reasons. They told you that no one had picked up Matías yet. She asked if you were still coming. You tried not to sound annoyed over the phone, not wanting to direct your anger towards Alexia to the nice secretary. You promised her you'd be there in a minute. Matías was sad. Clearly. He clung to you in a way he never had before when you went to pick him up. "Where is mami?" he asked again and again. You wondered the same thing.

When you entered the house a little past 4, meeting long forgotten, with Matías on your hip, Alexia's eyes widened. She palmed her face and cursed under her breath. You didn't give her the time of day, let her apologies fall on deaf ears, and played with Matías in his room for the remainder of the afternoon.

You fought that night, again. Less hushed. Less whispered, and Matías definitely heard it this time. No kisses to make up for it. Ice cold silence. Alexia knew she'd lost you. She never wanted it to come this far. She knew she had been neglecting you, and it was nothing but her fault. All she needed to voice to you was that she needed a break. Not from you, but from her life. Her day-to-day job took so much of her energy that she just didn't want to deal with what was waiting for her at home anymore, and that was wrong. She had a 2 year old son and a girlfriend of 6 years waiting for you, both always hopeful of spending an evening with their respective mami and girlfriend. But recently, she hadn't found the energy to do anything but put her clothes in the laundry and fall asleep. You'd take care of the rest.

It wasn't until one random evening in the middle of the summer, that all hell broke loose between the two of you. Matías had a play date with his nephew at Eli's, leaving the two of you to your own devices for the night. You couldn't remember the last time you and Alexia were alone. Bi-weekly date nights long forgotten. You came home from an excruciatingly long day at work, wanting nothing more than to just flop down on the sofa and get your weekend started with a glass of wine and some take-out.

Entering your shared apartment, though, you were met with a sight you'd nearly forgotten still existed. Alexia was standing behind the stove, stirring into something that smelled suspiciously much like your mother's chicken soup recipe. "What are you doing?" You questioned sharply. Alexia was startled by your voice and looked at you sheepishly. It had been a while since you had spoken to her so directly. "Uhm– I'm cooking?" You scoffed, turned on your heels and left. Alexia hadn't expected the chicken soup to be some sort of magic healing potion for your relationship, but she had hoped that you'd at least show a little appreciation. She had no idea of how deeply rooted the problem was. She'd been distant, yes. Absent. But she assumed you'd understand. Understand that she hadn't kissed you more than a peck since a couple weeks. Understand that she hadn't hugged you in ages. Understand that you hadn't had sex in what felt like months. You finally understood what people meant with "the spark being gone". You always thought it'd never happen between you and Alexia, but you figured your relationship wasn't as perfect as you once thought it was.

Alexia emerged a few moments later, a bowl of steaming soup in her hand, placing it in front of you on the coffee table. "Para ti," she said, with a small smile. "What are you doing, Alexia?" You repeated your words from the last time. "I cooked for you." "Yeah, I can tell. Why? You haven't done anything for me bar give me laundry in months."

You'd been co-existing. Living your own lives, in the same space. You didn't know how it had been at football, you wouldn't know how they were performing if it wasn't for the social media of the club. You didn't know how Mapi and Ingrid were. You didn't know what awards she had or hadn't been nominated for and you certainly weren't in the loop anymore with how things were going with the Spanish federation. Alexia didn't know you got promoted. She didn't know you'd been drowning in work for weeks on end. She didn't know that her lack of help in the household had lead you to overworking yourself, having an online therapy session once a week whilst she was at training. Or in a meeting. Or God knows where. You didn't know anything bout each other anymore, and as much as you tried to hide it to the outside world, people started catching on. You were never ones to be very public with your relationship or showy with your affection, but when you stopped coming to bonding nights with her and when she stopped coming to your work events, it was clear.

"Look, I'm sorry. I know I've been neglecting you. I'm here to make it up. Por favor."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Alexia was apologizing for the past couple months with chicken soup. You closed your eyes, took a composing breath and locked your gazes.

"Are you fucking serious, Alexia?" Her eyes widened in response and she gave you a sheepish look. "You're fucking kidding me." You stood up and looked down at her, a pointed look in your eyes. "You've been acting like I don't exist for the past couple months. God forbid you let me know where you are, when you're running late, what you're doing. God forbid you greet me when you come home, let alone your son! He asks about you every day. He asks where you are, what you're doing, when you're coming home, and all I can say is that I don't know. That I don't know where you are, that you're probably fucking some other bitch again while we're waiting for mami to come home."

Alexia tries to interrupt you at that, but you hold up a hand and give her a challenging look. "Let me fucking speak, Putellas. That you're neglecting me, I've put that past me now. You know, you've fallen out of love. Shit happens. I'll get over it. But forgetting Matías? Really, Alexia? Your own fucking son? Something died inside me that day, honestly. Getting that phone call from school was one of the most disheartening things I'd ever experienced in my life. You wanted this boy just as much as I did. You spoke to him in my belly for 9 months. You cradled and hugged him for hours on end after he was born, you bought everything for him that he wanted, never one to say no to him. What the fuck happened, Ale?" The nickname slipped out before you could even register what you were saying. "Alexia."

"Honestly, I don't know what happened between us or between you two, or between you and whoever you're fucking, but this needs to stop. I'm nothing more than a fucking maid to you, Alexia. I'm good to cook, clean, do the dishes, do your laundry, but besides that you don't even look at me anymore. You wouldn't stop looking at me when we first started dating. I'm good to take care of your child, the child that, let me remind you, you wanted just as much as me. But this honestly feels like i'm a single parent, Alexia. You don't take him to school, you don't take him to his grandmothers, you don't go with him to his football practices or games. I get that you're busy. You've always been. I knew that when I started a relationship with you. But you always found time for me. For us, especially. I can't do this anymore, Alexia. Not with you. Not with the way you're treating me right now. I deserves so much better. Matías deserves a better mami." You see hurt flashing through Alexia's eyes at your last couple words, but she knows you're right.

You take a deep breath and sit back down, eyeing the now mocking bowl of soup that was still on the coffee table. You consider trying it, you knew she went through the effort of perfecting it with your mother's recipe, but you don't want to give her the satisfaction. It's quiet for a while, until she speaks up.

"Look, for the record, I know it's not the most important thing of what you said, but I'm not fucking someone else. I promise you. I'm faithful to you. Always have been, always will. I love you." You scoffed at your words, but let her continue. "I was always this busy, I just used to move or cancel my appointments. I know it's wrong for me that I'm not doing that anymore. I know I've been the worst. I've been a bad partner and an even worse mami. And I feel so bad about it. But I don't know how to fix it." A tear escapes her eye, but you can't find it in you to care. Not when you've cried so many about her, that she didn't see. "I want to be better, truly. For you and for him. I fucking hate being so distant from you. But I don't know how to get you back. I've been thinking about it for weeks, how I'm gonna try and win you back." You process her words but can't help but think that she's just trying to rope you back in, without actually meaning what she's saying. She wants you to say for her own convenience, not because she loves you. So before you can get lost in her apologies and promises, you get up. Alexia's eyes follow you and you can see the unshed tears welling in them. "Don't," she whispers.

You move towards the door, and you should probably be thinking about this a little longer, you don't even have a goddamn back-up plan, but you need to get out of here. "I'm picking up my stuff tomorrow. I'll tell Eli that Matías can stay over at hers and I'll pick him up there." Alexia crosses the room in a quick few strides and hovers behind you, her eyes sad as she watches you slipping away from her fingers. "Por favor, quédate," she says softly. "I can't, Alexia." You shake your head and meet her eyes one final time. "I can't. You're ruining me." Your voice is harsh, too harsh, when you say your final words. You open the door. "Come back to us when you can find it in you to start moving your stupid media appointments again. Or celebrate the birthday of your son. Or pick him up from school, for God's sake."

You slam the door shut.

[reality-liver-n0]

This needs to be heard more often. Fiction never equals reality.

Do not base any relationships or people on fictional stories or this romantic blur of something perfect.

Every person and relationship is different with each other or you.

Please don’t try to attempt or attack anyone for not following the “image” you placed on them. Seriously, people or relationships should not be aesthetics or something to rave about for how cute they are.

When you’re in a relationship of any kind, do not try and force barriers on top of it just because you want to add to your story, or tell some achievement or some big medal you achieved.

What do you want as a person from them? What relationship is best for both of you? What do you agree on in terms of boundaries? Can you realistically distance yourself emotionally if they don’t do something you envisioned them to do or be.

People are HUMANS. People with their own set of everything that you have. They are not side characters or some love interest in a romance. They literally see themselves how you see yourself. They have thoughts, feelings, ideas, fears, wants and needs.

Take it into account and consider them as a person, as someone who has their own world, their own life that does not involve you at all, with things that you can realistically never figure out unless you talk to them and learn as much as they are willing or capable to give.

Never invalidate someone just so you can validate yourself. It’s wrong on so many levels and can cause major or serious harm to someone that doesn’t deserve it or isn’t even aware of what they did wrong.

All I’m asking is to at least try and be self-aware and just literally talk to them. Learn about them and see what they want, and what you want. If both of you agree on the same thing then great, that’s awesome.

Maybe the solution is to be self-aware and learn what you want, what would be best for you given the circumstances, the reality and the desire, along with the probable outcome. Love yourself first and mature, understand your flaws and all the good.

Take one step at a time and indulge in a fictional work or any ideas/thoughts/fantasies if you need it. All you can do is how to better yourself and reach a point where you feel happy by yourself, by who you are, then you can at least prevent further harm to yourself or another if you do ever want a relationship or see one as possible with someone.

Sorry for the rant, I just really wish stuff like this, where critical or even common sense could literally make or break a life should be heard and boosted to reach everyone as much as possible.

Whenever people try to tell me to ship "moral ships" I like to think about how inherently immoral it is to flirt with service workers at coffee shops where they're obliged to be nice to you so... many coffee shop AUs are like. Immoral. But given that they are a fantasy where this is instant romance without the fear of trapping a service worker in an uncomfortable situation that's tantamount to workplace sexual harassment, I enjoy the cutesy coffee shop AUs immensely.

And that's basically my attitude towards all fantasy. There's lots of things I enjoy in fantasy that wouldn't work IRL. Enemies to lovers. Sudden kisses. Miscommunications in relationships. Codependency. Fight sluts who physically assault each other while emotionally connecting.

Once you start ascribing your morals to the fiction you consume, you tend to miss the issues in even the most innocuous, innocent seeming scenarios. It's easy to judge other people's fictional enjoyment until someone points out your innocent coffee shop AU is romanticised workplace harassment.

But it's all fiction. It's a fantasy. That's why it's fine.

A lack of education around things like consent, healthy relationships, self respect and respect of others, bodily autonomy, etc, has made people think they can rely only on fiction to tell them what right - but that's dangerous. And unsustainable.

[akoyaxs]

Forget Her

✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!metkayina!reader x Neteyam?

✮ Trope: Friendsish/sistersbestfriend to voyeur lovers

✮ Tags: talk of sex, Aonung's pov (literally cooked, he's so in denial but he wants her so bad), jealously, oral (fem recieving), kissing, biting, munchiness, p in v, voyeurism (yay!)

✮ A/N: Siri, play "Forget Her" by Jeff Buckley, NSFW MDNI

Aonung wasn’t entirely sure when he first started seeing you. Sure, you were Tsireya’s little friend at some point, then you were Ronal’s little assistant at some point. And then some time after, you became his fixation.

Maybe it was that day by the fire, the one at the festival where you were dripping in pearls and the sway of your hips to the loud ceremonial music was nothing short of hypnotising. Maybe it was that day he was irritated that he hadn’t caught any fish, and you had laid a hand on his shoulder, knelt beside him and helped him repair that hole in his net he hadn’t noticed.

Or maybe it was when they arrived.

Oh, there was a reason Aonung had been so unwelcoming to the Sully’s, and it wasn’t because he wasn’t unfriendly. No, it had to do with the way that eldest Sully boy looked at you, and the way you looked back, holding his strange yellow gaze until Aonung’s eyes on your back had drawn you back to yourself.

That Neteyam was going to be big fucking trouble - Aonung just hadn’t figured out why yet.

And ever since, he felt you slipping away from him. You had never been that close, always hanging beside Tsireya and being perfectly polite to him, yet your sudden growing absense from his marui and the training grounds and even the bay was beginning to irk him.

You no longer tended the warriors in the case of an injury - instead your gaze was preoccupied with watching the darker, thinner form of Neteyam training. You no longer hung around the Metkayina on hunts - instead he found you gravitating towards Neteyam, who would smile lightly at you and ask for your assistance with navigating the reef.

It was getting seriously irritating.

You had never been anything to him, and now suddenly, Aonung felt irked every moment you weren’t in his line of sight, your dark curls bobbing beside him, the watery tinkle of your laugh trickling over his skin.

Until that day. The one by the fire - again - where he and everyone else within a 5 kilometre radius could see that something was happening. You spent all night by Neteyam’s side, barely an inch between you two.

He would whisper something in your ear and you would giggle and laugh and look away so he wouldn’t see the light flush dusting your cheeks. He would lean right in to speak, and you’d turn nervously till your faces were ghosting by each other.

And then you left, turning back to smile tentatively at Neteyam, and slipped into the tree line. Neteyam’s face split into a wide grin and he followed without a moments hesitation, taking a careless glance back at the party before ducking after you.

Well, Aonung wasn’t going to stand for it. Were you going to be alright? What were you thinking? What were you doing?

To be truthful, Aonung knew the answers to all his questions, but he tactfully decided to ignore them. Ahead, your giggles darted through the trees. His scowl deepened and his mind settled itself.

He was careful to be quiet, and the moment he saw you, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to breathe.

Neteyam had you laid out on the ground, head pillowed against leaves and body spread over the earth.

The coverings of your top were sparse to begin with, but in this position, the strings of beads were rolling over your supple skin in a way that was in no sort discreet. He could see everything, and the pretty little peaks of your nipples were something Aonung never could have pictured.

Nor could he have imagined the look on your face with Neteyam’s face kissing lower and lower down your stomach, until finally he reached your hips and grinned up at you.

Aonung can’t hear what Neteyam whispers, but you nod feverishly in response with a breathy, desperate yes.

Fuck. Your voice was doing something dangerous. It was just one word - not even spoken to him, not even aware he was watching - but the shiver that the sound of you all breathy and hoarse and wanting was unbearable.

Aonung felt both chilled and aflame, and he contented himself by melting into shadows and watching with ruthless fervour.

Neteyam’s head dipped between your thighs, and the sound that tore itself from your undeniably kissed lips was all but lecherous.

Aonung wondered faintly how much you knew about all this. The way you were gasping and rolling your hips against Neteyam’s face and grasping for his braids, his hand, his neck - anything to tether yourself to him - left little to imagination.

Oh, the things Aonung could teach you. But instead, he’d watch from the shadows as Neteyam enjoyed that paradise between your thighs.

From where Aonung’s standing, he can’t see nearly enough of what he needs. But he’s near enough to see the shine of slick against Neteyam’s face, his hand ghosting up and across your arched chest, the points of your fangs digging helplessly into the pillows of your lips.

Your breaths are growing louder, your moans hungrier, your mewls more pathetically desperate. Your grip is tighter and your thighs are closing tighter around Neteyam’s face, as though the thought of him pulling away was too much to bear.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Aonung doesn’t think he’s felt anything more erotic in his life. It’s so lewd and wrong and intimate, and that tent in his tewng is growing unbearably irritating. Still, he ignores it. He doesn’t deserve to get off from this, he’ll have to wait until he can taste you himself.

That’s fine. He’s happy to wait. Besides the fact that he is the most impatient man to ever live, and the fact that it’s taking every fibre of his being to not tear forward, discard Neteyam and take up his glorious mantle.

He’d cradle you close and whisper everything you’d want to hear. His hand would never leave your waist, your breasts, your hair. Your chest would never leave his, his lips would be resting on your skin for every moment till eternity.

Instead, he watches from the shadows as you cry out, and Neteyam grins in an infuriatingly self-satisfied way, before pushing himself up your body.

“Can I-” he’s barely asking before you’re nodding your feverish consent and reaching for his own tewng.

You look so desperate and eager and good, waiting for whatever Neteyam decides to give you.

Aonung would give you everything.

Instead, it’s Neteyam slotting himself between your thighs, dipping his head down to your chest as he pushes in, reaching up to brush his thumb over your lips as you let out a little whimper at the stretch.

Neteyam’s too fast with it. Not in any unreasonable way, just in a way that contrasts starkly with how Aonung would take you.

He wouldn’t look away from your face. He’d take his time, sinking into your velvety heat with agonizing, tortuous patience until his muscles were burning and you were mewling and whining beneath him. He’d make you feel every twitch and vein and inch of his length, and in return worship every clench and embrace you’d offer with dangerous enthusiasm.

Neteyam’s hips draw back, snap back in, and then he’s lost. Neteyam doesn’t particularly care - his groans low in your ears in a way that makes your eyes roll and hands tangle in his own. It takes everything in Aonung not to moan along with the two of you at the mere sight of your bare bodies embracing and tangling and melding into one another.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You’re moaning unintelligible words, and Neteyam groans praise back to you, of how pretty you look, how good you feel, how well you’re doing.

Aonung would take it differently. He’d tell you how the moonlight glows over your slicked skin, how he wishes he could sink into you and stay there for days, weeks, years. How he wants to kiss you raw and bare, and carve himself into you so you can’t blink your pretty lashes without remembering how well your future Olo’eyktan loved you.

But instead, it’s Neteyam who speaks to you, guides you through your growing peak, until you’re arching against the earth, fangs sinking into your lip, knuckles turning white around Neteyam’s skin.

The sound you let out is animalistic - nothing Aonung ever would have expected from Tsireya’s pretty little friend. It chills every inch of his skin, etches itself deep into him, blazes straight through his control and tears him apart.

It’s unbearable.

So Aonung retreats, stepping back quietly before tearing back through the forest. Back to the beach, back to the moonlight, away from you and Neteyam and everything he had just witnessed.

What had you done to him?

Aonung, the best warrior, the best hunter, the best lover, was utterly destroyed at your feet. And all he needed was for you to pick the pieces back up and kiss him better.

Please.

Let me forget her.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Yknow the trope ‘yandere!hunter finds you injured and lost in the woods and kidnaps you+nurses you back to health’? Love that trope 10/10 but hear me out…yandere!hunter finds you injured and lost in the woods except you are a very powerful fae immortal.

Despite being a fae, you like to revert to a more human-like form when you’re down in the mortal realm. When you accidentally trip into the yandere!hunters many many traps, he takes pity on you and takes you to his secluded cottage.

He does the usual creepy things yanderes do to their captives but since you’re basically a God…you don’t find him all that threatening. If anything, you misinterpret his actions as genuine kindness. You don’t know why fae hated humans so much cuz this guy is a total sweetheart! He cooks for you, he runs you a warm bath, you get clean clothes, a warm bed. Sometimes he watches you while you sleep to protect you! He’s so caring!

Eventually, you get tired of living life in a cottage. As much as you like the warm meals, you do have an immortal life to live. When you casually mention about leaving, he naturally gets super upset and tells you that you can’t leave. He goes so far as threatening you with his knife to stay with him. Since you’ve experienced worse, you laugh it off and condescendingly pat his head and transform into your true form.

Naturally, he’s stunned. He’s used to being top of the food chain. For years he was sure that he’s the most powerful thing around. So seeing the helpless girl he’d cared for suddenly turn into a powerful deity kinda breaks him. And thus, he breaks his nature.

He begs you not to leave him. Guilt tripping, threatens to kill himself, etc etc. On your end, you can’t just abandon him. You do owe him a debt.

So you just kidnap him.

Now, you’re back in your lavish castle and you have a doting househusband who is obsessed with you! Yay!

He’s still a little upset about the sudden power imbalance, so most of your wines and food are usually poisoned. He doesn’t want to kill you, he just wants to weaken you so he can go back to caring for you again. Sometimes you feel bad about his failed attempts and pretend to ‘fall’ under any potion he’s put into your food today. It’s definitely not the most healthy relationship but at least it’s a symbiotic one. You get great food and he isn’t alone anymore.

[neoprowl]

Taste of despair

Ketsuki: ....hey, rock man, squid man... I've made a new dish....would you like to try it

Cole: uh...sure, but what's with your demeanor?

Kalmaar: and why do I feel in danger?

Ketsuki with a bowl of fride squid tentecals in penut butter and frosting: ....this idea was submitted to me by Nya

Kalmaar: WHAT! OH NO! I'M OUT IF HERE!

Nya with an evil grin: *ties kalmaar down* c'mon kalamari, he worked very hard on this dish

Kalmaar: AND YOU CALL YOURSELVES HEROS!?

Ketsuki off screen: I kinda don't

Cole: *tries it* mmm, this is actually not bad

Kalmaar: ....wait really? *Takes a bite*

Cole who suddenly turned green and blind: nope, but if Im going down, then your coming with me

Cole and kalmaar with green skin and blind: *dies with tears of pain*

Jay: whats going on? Whats this? *Eats it*

Nya: JAY NO!

Jay with green skin and blind: *dies with tears of pain*

Ketsuki: ....*takes a bite*....maybe I made it too terrible

Nya: how are you-

Ketsuki: *faints*

Nya: never mind