#like. yeah. that is intrinsic to the story.

[nenoname]

stan spending their childhood trying to make ford's polydactyly something positive in ford's life and genuinely believing its super cool....

[capricorndevil15]

My actual favorite fairytales are ones having to do with curses, getting turned into a beast, or accidentally/willingly/any-reason-ly marrying a beast or demon or monster. Prince Lindworm is one of my most favorite-est favorites. I had a pet corn snake at one point who I called Prince Lindworm (his real name was Slinky though). Other faves off the top of my head are East of The Sun, West of The Moon, The Demon in The Tree, and Featherflight.

[ladyluscinia]

I do have to appreciate (?) how hard the haters work to ensure their definition of bigotry is Izzy-escape proof. I mean, yeah, if you are saying that it's functionally impossible for him to not be some flavor of bigoted because technically the very concept of having socially informed ideas about ways to be a man and men's behavior is intrinsically linked to homophobia and misogyny and racism, and therefore expressing any negative opinion on how a male character is behaving counts as such...? Alright then? Telling a man not to sob over a breakup (even with a hypothetical woman!) is homophobia AND misogyny if you consider the social reason that would draw attention as a behavior to criticize and our society's collective idea of masculinity. You've defeated me with your social studies thesis logic on Every Insult Under The Sun Can Be Traced To Bigotry 🤷‍♀️

But in practice I still just don't think it's worthwhile to say the antagonist with the literal raison d'etre of not being 100% supportive and approving of the protagonists in order to cause conflict is being irredeemable or violently bigoted by *checks notes* insulting men in the story about men. Just like I don't think Stede or Edward or the rest of the crew are being irredeemable bigots by also having socially informed ideas about masculinity???

Like, looking at it that way Stede is a clear misogynist (and more, but we'll stick with just the misogyny bit). I don't think he even realizes he is one, but the whole Mary sequence and just being a man in the 1700s makes it pretty obvious. He might do less misogyny in the future on account of just not interacting with women (suspect behavior tbh), but fundamentally he has not remotely addressed or deconstructed the misogynistic ideas that shape his entire perspective. Honestly, he's probably not going to at this point. They drew attention to his worst behaviors under the framing of just kinda being a self-centered ass, made him realize he fucked up and apologize to the woman he hurt over the course of about 15 minutes, and then sent them both toward happier endings.

Is this story saying that misogyny is actually fine and misogynists are admirable and likable people? Or that misogyny is just a surface level form of bigotry that doesn't really affect your attitude toward women once you stop being an ass? Or, maybe, is the story just not about misogyny???

And if it's not about misogyny despite being literally incapable of avoiding characters expressing misogyny (since in reality that's not so cleanly excised), then why on earth does it have to be about homophobia? Is it just because the leads are gay men?

Like, I'm sorry, but media for 5-year-olds has long been able to tell stories about antagonists learning that it's okay for boys to cry and be emotionally vulnerable and it's mean to make fun of them without insanely complex layers of deconstructing homophobia or intensive requirements to overcome internalized biases. I bet OFMD can teach that lesson without explicit, targeted homophobia. No one is denying in serious meta that Izzy has been an ass? Or that character development to be less of an ass is the logical next step?

I'm not disputing their assertion that Izzy is homophobic because I think the writing team accomplished the impossible and erased homophobia from the background hum of existence for this one TV show. I'm disputing it because the essential second half of said assertation is that this is a meaningfully included and emphasized part of his characterization that will typically justify his future karmic punishment for bigotry and/or require much greater redemptive effort of him to get any sort of neutral-to-happy ending on the table. That's why they care about it. The effect on the story!

If the story isn't about homophobia, then no, the antagonist doesn't usually have "homophobic" as a character trait I need to account for.

And twisting that fairly straightforward narrative interpretation into some kinda gotcha about "So you deny insulting gay men with gendered insults has shades of homophobia?!?" is - to borrow a phrase Lucius used against Stede - "kind of a bitchy question."

[skecherss]

Wait what are your petty grievances with wfa

Well. They are indeed petty. My primary one being that it just feels like they're....having too much of a good time.

which isn't even so much a writing flaw as me knowing what i want out of a story; I tend to gravitate a lot towards fluff and snuggles myself but I gravitate to them as a balm for my spiritual aches. I seek comfort when I need comforting, and I want the fluff coming to the characters who ALSO need comfort. It's hard for me to empathize with characters who aren't feeling any of an ordinary day's stress that I might feel. especially when they're engaged in activities and experiences that realistically would result in MUCH higher levels of mental and emotional strain.

(also i have five siblings and it feels cruelly unrealistic for the Wayne sibs to hang out as much as they do and not fight. I'm not talking about the petty bickering. Bickering isn't the same thing as leaving a conversation with your brother and being filled with a genuine rageful desire to PUNT the little jerk)

[fellhellion]

Deep cut Tunes lore but as someone who was like. Genuinely into TJLC at age seventeen I promise you a story not ending the way you think it would is not the end of the world

[omegamoo]

found some of my essays from a world history class i took... you know the essays you spend two nights prepping and panicking for and then scramble to write during the bell period... well i found one about the universal nature of war in response to a class project and What the Fuck was I On when writing that. What The Fuck

[chewwytwee]

I forget how fucking crazy it is that bojack horseman casually made one of their main characters definitively and canonically asexual, like they center his asexuality as the center of several plot lines. It’s def a good example of how easy it is to just do “good representation”.

[arosnowflake]

[Image one: screenshot from Princess Tutu, showing Fakir and Ahiru in their bottom-of-the-lake pas de deux, Fakir saying to Ahiru: "Everyone is scared, of returning to their true selves."

Images two and three: screenshots showing Fakir writing while Drosselmeyer interferes. The first shows Ahiru's face, as a duck, overlaid on a lake, the second Fakir trying to stop his hand from writing, with great difficulty. Drosselmeyer's voice-over says: "Duck would live on in the prince's heart as Princess Tutu and not as an ugly little duck." End description.]

There’s a huge focus in tutu of defying fate but something I love is how again and again the characters choose to embrace Drosselmeyer’s tragic ending.

Even after learning Tutu can never be with the one she loves, Duck still puts on the pendant. Rue chooses to put on the black shoes and become Kraehe though it makes her miserable. Never once does Fakir consider leaving Mytho’s side, knowing it will most likely lead to his gruesome death. Even Mytho chooses to receive his heart and return to the story, inviting the capability to experience tragedy into himself once more.

Why cling so hard to these tragic fates?

In the eyes of the characters it’s better to immerse oneself in another’s bitter role than be stripped to the ugly, naked self. It’s like Fakir says: everyone wants to be given a role to play and no one wants a story to end.

Sure, Fakir could've left mytho’s side and likely lived, but without the legacy of The Knight be left with only Fakir. Better to be a doomed knight than a frightened young boy unable to protect those he loves and terrified of losing anyone else.

Likewise with Rue though It hurts to be Kraehe, without the security of a princess, she’s just a hurting, abused girl who could never hope to catch the attention of a prince.

Drosselmeyer even encourages Duck to let herself disappear in the lake of despair so she could live on in memory as Tutu rather than as a simple duck. This theme is taken to the extreme: even death is seen as preferable to true vulnerability.

Princess Tutu follows a cast of teenagers deliberately hurting themselves to hide from their fragile, vulnerable side. They'd more readily accept a gruesome fate than face themselves in the mirror.

[jonnywaistcoat]

What’s your opinion on the contrast between “silly” and “serious” spaces? Do you think people can have very serious interpretations about a genuine piece of media and also be goofy about it? I’m asking this particularly because I’ve seen people in the Magnus podcast fandoms fight about people “misinterpreting” characters you, Alex, and the many other authors have written. Are you okay with the blorbofication or do you really wish the media you’ve written would be “taken seriously” 100% of the time?

And follow up question, what do you think about the whole “it’s up to the reader (or in some cases, listener) to make their own conclusions and interpretations and that does not make them wrong”, versus the “it was written this way because the author intended it this way, and we should respect that” argument?

This is a question I've given a lot of thought over the years, to the point where I don't know how much I can respond without it becoming a literal essay. But I'll try.

My main principle for this stuff boils roughly down to: "The only incorrect way to respond to art is to try and police the responses of others." Art is an intensely subjective, personal thing, and I think a lot of online spaces that engage with media are somewhat antithetical to what is, to me, a key part of it, which is sitting alone with your response to a story, a character, a scene or an image and allowing yourself to explore it's effect on you. To feel your feelings and think about them in relation to the text.

Now, this is not to say that jokes and goofiness about a piece of art aren't fucking great. I love to watch The Thing and drink in the vibes or arctic desolation and paranoia, or think about the picture it paints of masculinity as a sublimely lonely thing where the most terrible threat is that of an imposed, alien intimacy. And that actually makes me laugh even more the jokey shitpost "Do you think the guys in The Thing ever explored each other's bodies? Yeah but watch out". Silly and serious don't have to be in opposition, and I often find the best jokes about a piece of media come from those who have really engaged with it.

And in terms of interpreting characters? Interpreting and responding to fictional characters is one of the key functions of stories. They're not real people, there is no objective truth to who they are or what they do or why they do it. They are artificial constructs and the life they are given is given by you, the reader/listener/viewer, etc. Your interpetation of them can't be wrong, because your interpretation of them is all that there is, they have no existence outside of that.

And obviously your interpretation will be different to other people's, because your brain, your life, your associations - the building blocks from which the voices you hear on a podcast become realised people in your mind - are entirely your own. Thus you cannot say anyone else's is wrong. You can say "That's not how it came across to me" or "I have a very different reading of that character", but that's it. I suppose if someone is fundamentally missing something (like saying "x character would never use violence" when x character strangles a man to death in chapter 4) you could say "I think that's a significant misreading of the text", but that's only to be reserved for if you have the evidence to back it up and are feeling really savage.

I think this is one of the things that saddens me a bit about some aspects of fandom culture - it has a tendency to police or standardise responses or interpretations, turning them from personal experiences to be explored into public takes to be argued over. It also has the occasional moralistic strain, and if there's one thing I wish I could carve in stone on every fan space it's that Your Responses to a Piece of Art Carry No Intrinsic Moral Weight.

As for authorial intention, that's a simpler one: who gives a shit? Even the author doesn't know their own intentions half the time. There is intentionality there, of course, but often it's a chaotic and shifting mix of theme and story and character which rarely sticks in the mind in the exact form it had during writing. If you ask me what my intention was in a scene from five years ago, I'll give you an answer, but it will be my own current interpretation of a half-remembered thing, altered and warped by my own changing relationship to the work and five years of consideration and change within myself. Or I might not remember at all and just have a guess. And I'm a best case scenario because I'm still alive. Thinking about a writers possible or stated intentions is interesting and can often lead to some compelling discussion or examination, but to try and hold it up as any sort of "truth" is, to my mind, deeply misguided.

Authorial statements can provide interesting context to a work, or suggest possible readings, but they have no actual transformative effect on the text. If an author says of a book that they always imagined y character being black, despite it never being mentioned in the text, that's interesting - what happens if we read that character as black? How does it change our responses to the that character actions and position? How does it affect the wider themes and story? It doesn't, however, actually make y character black because in the text itself their race remains nonspecific. The author lost the ability to make that change the moment it was published. It's not solely theirs anymore.

So yeah, that was a fuckin essay. In conclusion, serious and silly are both good, but serious does not mean yelling at other people about "misinterpretations", it means sitting with your personal explorations of a piece of art. All interpretations are valid unless they've legitimately missed a major part of the text (and even then they're still valid interpretations of whatever incomplete or odd version of the text exists inside that person's brain). Authorial intent is interesting to think about but ultimately unknowable, untrustworthy and certainly not a source of truth. Phew.

Oh, and blorbofication is fine, though it does to my mind sometimes pair with a certain shallowness to one's exploration of the work in question.

[delirious-donna]

Happy Endings And An Unusual Suspect [Part Ten]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: One year on where and what are you and Kento up to? The story might be over but not every part has been told... what happens when you find out that life might not have been as serendipitous as you assumed?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: fluff, NSFW, smut from the start, happy endings with a little reveal, literally just tooth rotting fluffy and sexy times

Part Nine | Series Masterlist

“They’re waiting on us… fuck.”

“Let them, I want this. I need this. Move this a little—yeah, like that.”

“Kento! Oh… god, don’t stop. Right there!”

“Someone changed their tune…”

You would smack him if you weren’t holding on to his shoulders and neck for dear life. Plumes of rich champagne skirt bunched around your waist and gave the man holding you against the wall the look of someone being devoured by a rampaging marshmallow. Laughter caught tight in your throat, every time it threatened to squeeze out, a sharp thrust punctured it like a pin into a balloon.

Kento shifted, his stance widening as far as the dress slacks around his knees would allow, but enough to throw your leg over the crook of his arm. He was buried balls deep in you, holding on to the last vestiges of his orgasm by sheer force of will alone. He kissed you, punch drunk and sloppy, taking the colour of your lips with him to stain his mouth and cheek.

“Mrs Nanami,” he crooned.

The clench of your cunt around him made his smile grow wider, white teeth showing through his parted lips and your eyes rolled to the back of your skull at the pure decadence of it all.

“It’s—will you let me—speak!” Kento only doubled down at your request, snapping forward at a pace that stole the words right out of your mouth. An orgasm built with fierce determination, making your voice falter and shake. “—only been ten minutes.”

He couldn’t care if it had been ten minutes or ten years, Kento knew you were his, now in name as well as heart. His forehead rested against yours, chasing his end that hurtled closer with every contraction of your walls around his cock.

A year ago, he wouldn’t have thought this possible. It wasn’t a part of his plans, a wife and family, that was something to be attained once he was financially stable and as high up the ladder as he dared to climb without suffering from burnout.

Yet, as he waited for the ceremony to begin and for the harpist to start the beautiful melody you had picked for your entrance, there was no doubt in his mind that he was exactly where he was meant to be. He was taking a big risk in many aspects of his life, but the one part he was certain about was you and he might have never found his courage had you not ended up in his bathtub that fateful day.

If he thought back to when he walked out of his office for what turned out to be the last time, he recalled the weight that eased from his shoulders. Did he know that at that moment he was changing the course of his future? Definitely not, but with his decision made to find and apologise to you for his mistakes, he fell into an understanding that otherwise might have never become clear to him.

You were his counterbalance. The sunshine that tempted him back into the light when his world felt dark and full of shadows. Perhaps if he had been willing to admit that you saw a side of him that he refused to acknowledge from the start, it wouldn’t have come to such a dramatic head. Except… there was a part of him that knew, deep down, that had things not broken so intrinsically, that this day he was living right now might have never come to exist.

Images of you flashed through his mind, a litany of Polaroid pictures capturing moments that would remain with him until the end days.

Your panic-stricken face and flailing limbs submerged in bubbly water. Laying by his side at the museum as you watched the stars twinkle overhead. Cuddled into his arm when you were scared. Tucked into bed after he carried you there, asleep and smiling. Your tear-stricken face when he pushed you away. The hurt expression that had taken away part of your glow and wounded his soul. Your blissful expression when he made love to you that first time. The most radiant smile when you walked down the aisle.

A knock on the door brought him back into the present with a bump. Kento pressed his palm over your mouth to stifle the surprised squeak, not pausing in his thrusts to answer. “Who is it?”

“You’re wanted for photographs,” a stern and not-too-familiar voice announced, adding a fist to the door in emphasis. “The photographer is getting antsy…”

“We’ll be—” he paused when your tongue darted out to lick his palm and he damn near moaned, “right out.” His jaw set firmly, eyes narrowing on your sweet face and the slow blink you offered without a hint of remorse. You would be the death of him, and he’d be happy to meet his maker knowing you were the one that sent him there.

When a set of footsteps retreated away from the door, Kento relented in uncovering your mouth to reveal a saccharine smile. “That was—reckless.” The word was punctuated with a sharp forward thrust that sank him into what felt like the depths of your belly.

He watched as the smile slipped, your jaw slackening to form a perfect oval of pleasure and without warning, you erupted. The leg draped over his arm twitched and spasmed, but it was nothing compared to your silken pussy milking him for his seed. Kento shuddered and let go. Your orgasm tripped his own, balls drawn tight to his pelvis whilst he filled you with his spend. Every moment of release made him reminisce about the very first, where you had playfully chastised him for painting your stomach and asked that he finish inside you in the future.

A promise that he had kept since that day.

“I love you, Mrs Nanami…”

“I know, and I love you too, Mr Nanami.” You traced the curve of his jaw, smiling at the kiss he pressed to the inside of your wrist. “Now let’s go fulfil our duties, yes?”

Kento helped you back into the perfect semblance of a blushing bride, fixing your underwear back into place and smoothing down the skirts of your dress. There was a dark glint of satisfaction in his eye, knowing that you would spend the day with his cum inside you, that you’d be clenching to keep it from running down the inside of your thighs.

“Don’t give me that look, mister,” you said suddenly, knowing. Kento glanced up, sheepish in being caught so readily in his filthy daydreaming.

“I don’t know what you mean, my love.”

You scoffed. A finger caught beneath his chin, drawing him to full height and closer to your face. “You think I don’t know what you’re thinking?” You teased with a purr, “How about if you can behave yourself until tonight… I’ll let you check if I’ve managed to keep your little gift, hm?”

“You are a devil incarnate.”

“A devil you married. What does that say about you?”

“That I am not above temptation.”

“Took you long enough to realise.”

~

You smiled at the photographer who was wringing his hands together in panic, his eyes widening and shoulders sagging when the two of you appeared from the naughty little bubble of your private tryst.

Kento had changed; in ways you had never thought possible, but he was still the same man you met and fell in love with. There were still times his posture stiffened at your antics, and his eyebrow would not-so-subtly arch if he thought you were in some way being ridiculous. However, he appreciated his own happiness more than financial gain. He worked on himself internally instead of only focusing on the outside. No longer was the time it takes to read and enjoy a good book considered wasted time, and he pursued hobbies he assumed would never be touched again.

Would you have suspected him to indulge in a fevered moment of pure lust and desire back when you first met him? No. But it hadn’t taken you long to discover that he possessed certain buttons that would drive him to almost any lengths, and becoming a savant at playing him was your ambition in life.

Gazing wistfully at your husband—heart skipping a beat at the new term that had yet to sink in—you considered just how far you both had come in little over a year. You had graduated from college with honours, started an internship at a small independent company that was growing quickly but organically, and you were newly married. That part was going to take some time to get used to.

After the dramatic events that led Kento to your apartment door that spring afternoon, you took things slow but steady. It was nice to date him like you might do any other person, and he tried so hard to impress you that you fell even harder for him. Home-cooked dinners in your apartment’s cramped kitchen, long lazy walks where you talked for hours about everything and nothing, and so many hours spent rolling around the sheets. Not always in the pursuit of sex, sometimes just indulging in one another—watching his chest rise and fall, connecting the little freckles that dappled his shoulders.

It wasn’t until a month into your newfound relationship did you step past the threshold of his apartment again. Something was holding you back before that moment, a sense that if you returned it wouldn’t hold the same magic that it once had. Except you were wrong.

The apartment held a pivotal role in what had brought you together, and that was no more evident than when you returned, and everything was exactly how it had been. The same aroma of expensive coffee beans mingled with a fragrance that you knew now to be Kento’s favoured cologne. The panoramic windows offered the same undisturbed view of the city, and the sprawling couch with its basket of blankets would forever remind you of when you clung to him during a scary movie, and that first experience of his lips gracing your skin.

It felt like coming home after far too long. Since that first trip back, you hadn’t spent a night away until last night—the night before your wedding. Kento’s proposal was a story in itself, but for another time, you mused.

Speaking of your darling new husband, there was a part of you that still couldn’t believe that after he took off all his allotted, and well-overdue vacation time, he had handed in his notice with immediate effect. No one was more shocked than the man himself, and the panic that followed his decision had been a rollercoaster ride of euphoric highs and crushing lows.

He wasn’t happy with what he was doing day in and day out, the work was physically draining the vibrancy out of his life, but what does one do when they cannot do?

They teach.

So, in what felt like role reversal, Kento joined your alma mater as a junior professor, and you entered the working world. Teaching suited him far more than you had anticipated. His stern façade and seeming indifference towards difficult students had a way of drawing out the potential in his young charges. It was only a few terms into his first year of teaching and the feedback was already far beyond the expectations in place.

What a difference a year makes…

The evening was finally drawing in, the sun setting behind the cherry blossom trees to paint the sky a beautiful pale pink and you couldn’t wait to retire for the evening and get out of this dress. As exquisite as it was, it was cumbersome for someone used to the comfort of jeans, oversized sweaters and casual dresses.

You caught Kento’s eye from across the room and he nodded in complete understanding without the need to say a word. He gave his apologies to the couple he had been conversing with, pointing towards you and they inclined their heads in your direction. All you could do was watch the majesty that was the man of your dreams walk to you. His suit was deep navy and paired with a buttercup yellow tie and pocket square. Thankfully it was not the yellow splattered tie of your memories, though he had tried to persuade you, unsuccessfully so.

Like a male model he walked with a grace you dreamed of, and before you knew it, his palm was beneath your elbow.

“Ready to call it a night?” He asked with a tone in his voice that assured you that no sleeping would be taking place anytime soon.

“It’s like you read my mind. I’ll just say goodnight to my parents and yours,” you started before someone caught a hold of your wrist.

Looking down you saw a feminine hand with a simple gold bracelet adorning flawless skin and pretty manicured nails.

“Karin,” Kento said, startled by her sudden appearance. “I haven’t seen you since the ceremony, where have you been?”

Kento’s sister loosened her gentle hold to place your hand into her brother’s hand with an unreadable expression. She was tall, always had been taller than you even when you wore heels, and her hair was darker than Kento’s corn wheat blond. Their eyes were their most similar feature, hazel in colour and almost alive with warm flecks that intensified or darkened depending on their mood.

Your friendship had survived you dating her brother, although it would be a lie to pretend that things hadn’t changed. However, it could be said that no matter who you had ended up with or that she had met and fallen for, things would be different. It was the next chapter of your lives and whilst you both embraced a friendship that went beyond the trappings of young adulthood, if you didn’t shift with the momentum then it wouldn’t last.

“It worked then,” Karin said with an awfully self-satisfied smile.

“What worked?” Kento asked whilst your eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Karin clicked her tongue against her teeth and rested her chin in the hold of her thumb and finger. “Oh, y’know… my plan.”

“Stop talking in riddles and spit it out, I can tell you’re dying to,” you said with an exaggerated eye roll at her antics.

“You, dear brother,” she pointed dramatically at Kento who raised his eyebrows, “have needed someone in your life that would remove the stick out of your butt and remind you that life was worth living. Work is not the epitome of existence after all.”

You snorted loudly, drawing a wider smile from your friend and a scowl from your husband. Kento nudged your hip, and you patted his arm dutifully. “On the money with that assessment but what does that have to do with anything?”

“And you,” she rounded on you as if you hadn’t spoken, “needed a little more stability in your life and someone that you could depend on no matter what.”

“What are you—”

“Karin! Are you saying you planned our meeting?” You interjected across Kento, who snapped his head around to his little sister with alarm.

“But you couldn’t have. No one knew I wasn’t going on that trip apart from me and…”

“Satoru,” Karin finished his sentence for him. “I must admit that I hadn’t foreseen that little snag in the plan, but I had him keep you in the office until I knew your beautiful bride was already in your apartment. Didn’t you think about it even a little? That retreat was only a weekend long, you were always going to come back to find someone in your home.”

You looked at Kento. Kento looked at you. His mouth gaped open then shut like a fish out of water.

“You two became so wrapped up in each other that you didn’t even put two and two together. Not even when you both blasted my phone, it only lasted one night then I barely heard a peep from either of you! It was like you were happy with the arrangement…” she supplied easily, too easily.

Goddammit. You had been played and you didn’t even realise. For a whole year, Karin had gone along with your stories of the time you spent with her brother, lamenting his frustrating lack of intuition when it came to the opposite sex and steering away from the spicier moments that any sibling would rather be buried alive than listen to.

Honestly, you didn’t know what to say, but thankfully Karin was happy to continue in your stead.

“I couldn’t exactly make you like each other, and what happened once you were both in the apartment could have been anything. All those decisions and regrets,” she eyed Kento with a cold, piercing look and you felt him squirm uncomfortably by your side, “they were yours to make. I did nothing but set the pieces on the board, you played the game and you won.”

Should you thank her or be utterly appalled? It was hard to tell. In the end, you gave in to the third option of the laughter filling you like a helium balloon. It burst forth all at once until others started to turn their heads and watch as the bride doubled over clutching their stomach from the sensation.

You hugged her, arms flung around her neck in a genuine display that she reciprocated with a warmth which was familiar and comforting. “We’ll talk about this another time, Karin, but for now… thank you.”

As she departed to rejoin the throng of people on the dance floor, you turned to your husband who was ashen and unblinking. “I feel like she just pulled a Keyser Soze on us,” you whispered, tugging on his hand and making to move off in the direction of both sets of parents who were waiting for you both.

“And I feel like most people your age wouldn’t even know who that is,” he teased, finally coming out of his startled trance.

“Tch. You say that like I’m decades younger than you instead of a measly five years. Five years is nothing, y'know.”

Kento smiled down at you, emotions filling his gaze until he looked away and caught Karin’s eye from the other side of the room. He mouthed ‘thank you’ and meant it. His sister had given him the greatest gift he could ever receive, and he would be grateful until the end of days.

He had started as your best friend’s brother, but Kento had become so much more…

[nix-nihili]

matching piercings for payneland (alongside wedding rings), send tweet

okay but seriously. years down the line, Charles convincing him to get a piercing. "try it out, mate. you can always remove it if you don't like it, yeah?"

and Edwin's all "alright, if you insist. I suppose it will not hurt to indulge." and he pulls some ghost manipulating-their-appearance bit and manifests a piercing and it's something small, a stud, a hardly noticeable weight, but it's there, the first big, semi-permanent change he's made in his appearance, even if he cannot see it.

but he can feel it between his fingers as he brushes the pads of his fingertips over it, trying to familiarise himself with the piece of jewellery, his first piece (because the wedding rings are soo happening).

he's oh so familiar with Charles' earring, that bright gold star that flashes in the light, so intrinsically Charles, so beautifully Charles. he's run his fingers over it enough times, the small length between each point ingrained into his memory where he could sketch it out to size without reference. it is always a delight to feel when he cups Charles' face when they kiss, the bottom point passing over his pointer or the junction where his pointer and thumb meet. it's a metal he can feel, a metal that doesn't burn like iron, a metal that's always cool to the touch.

"how's it feel?" Charles asks, curious, expression strangely placated. "d'you... like it?"

Edwin thinks about it. the only piece of jewellery he's ever adorned was the Cat King's bracelet and that had been a whole affair. mostly unpleasant – restrictive – but this was none of that. this was a choice, one Edwin was realising he did not regret making. "I am not particularly averse to it. but..."

Charles suddenly grins as if he'd been waiting for Edwin to decide how he felt about it before expressing his own opinion. he moves his hand up and up and up until it cups Edwin's cheek, thumb hovering over his ear. "oi, give it to me straight, yeah?"

"it will take some getting used to." Edwin lets Charles' thumb settle, trace the earring, allowing himself to shiver under the gentle ministrations. "but I do not mind it."

"you sure? because I know I asked you to try it out but you don't have to say you li-"

"I'm certain, Charles."

and Charles lights up, and pulls Edwin into a kiss, short but nonetheless sweet. Edwin cannot help but smile into it.

"that's brills," Charles murmurs, an appreciative glint in his eye as he pulls back to look at it again, hand still cradling Edwin's cheek, thumb still gliding over Edwin's ear. "it looks proper mint on you."

he laughs because he cannot help it. "you can hardly see it, darling."

that earns Edwin a proper smile. "d'you want something different?"

Edwin mirrors Charles' hand, finding Charles' own ear, that earring expectedly there, stilling as he pinches it between his fingers before letting it go to catch Charles' gaze. "I shall figure it out. we do have forever."

Charles grins, impossibly wide, and kisses him in promise.

(several months later, Charles pulls out a matching pair. they don't wear it often, because Edwin learns he doesn't like having the piercing permanently, but sometimes he wants to have something reflected between them. the rings are a different story entirely.)

[mudstoneabyss]

the Jimmy analysis calling to me like the green goblin mask

when I get over my moral ocd telling me i deserve to kill myself about it and post some character analysis it's over for yall-

[dalishious]

How they handled Taash's multicultural background infuriates me as I'm in the same boat as they are.

My mom was born outside of the US, while I was born in it. I have strong ties to both Chinese and American culture. I am both. Maybe not always simultaneously, but i've never chosen one over the other.

Taash was raised with Rivaini culture just as much as Qunari culture.

Not being "enough" for either is something I can relate to heavily. So it really fucking sucks that Veilguard dropped the ball on this.

YEAH.

Also like. As someone who's gender identity is intrinsically linked to my cultural identity… the fact that literally so much gender talk comes from Taash's story and yet not a single shred of acknowledgement that culture can be a healthy part of it as well is just... Sad.

[ghost-bxrd]

I’ve been getting really into magical stuff recently and also DC so I’m just gonna drop this here:

Fae Dick Grayson

F A E

okay so fae stories are special to me because I grew up on hearing pagan folklore and fairytales about fae and fae adjacent creatures as good night stories so hooo boy yes I adore that trope! (I mean, I made Dick a Banshee in my fic Shuck so… hehe)

Anyway, Fae Dick Grayson! There’s just so many things you can do with it ✨

Robin appears from one day to the next, following in Batman’s shadow like a mischievous sprite, so honestly rumors have been going wild about him since day one. Robin actually being something non-human doesn’t really come as a surprise!

The fae folk are known for being awfully good at blending in with regular humans when they put their mind to it, the only thing that puts them apart (in most stories) is their otherworldly beauty, and Dick Grayson? Well, he’s definitely got that in abundance.

Just sometimes, when the light reflects off a surface in just the right way, when someone pours a glass of water and you happen to look right through the spray, or when you think you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye and you spin around— but there’s only Dick Grayson, even if a second ago you could have sworn you saw eyes where there weren’t supposed to be any; colors that aren’t supposed to exist; feathers where only skin has any right to be.

And, gods, all the talking. Dick is terrifyingly good at talking to people without actually saying anything, to the point where you walk away from the conversation feeling utterly drained after spilling your entire life story but when you think back on it— you can’t remember him ever telling you anything about himself. You know there were the usual pleasantries of “hi” and “nice to meet you” and “how are you doing?” but anything beyond that just kinda… seemed to spill out of you? It’s very strange. It’s very unnerving. By the end of the evening you other convince yourself you’re overreacting or you simply push the incident out of your mind altogether.

And there’s another thing about Dick. His name.

He only ever introduces himself as Dick Grayson/Robin. Never Richard. Never. Especially not Richard John. Names are sacred for the fae folk, names have power, so while Richard John Grayson may not be Dick’s true name, he treats it as such to honor his parents. None are allowed to use it. None except Bruce or Alfred on special occasion.

Of course, Dick’s “true” name isn’t exactly a secret so when someone does happen to use it… well, Dick may be… other… but he’s still intrinsically good in a way many of his kind don’t have the patience to be. Dick judges on a case by case basis, just like his parents and Bruce taught him. And usually people do not mean it maliciously when they use his name so he kindly corrects them and that’s that. But oh man, if they still insist on calling him “Richard”? Well..

“Oh no, it seems your credit card is being declined, sir!”

“Sheesh, you tripped over a root? In Gotham?!”

“What do you mean ten birds flew into your window last night? You live on floor level!”

“Dude I’m telling you that rash doesn’t look normal.”

“I… don’t think crows are supposed to follow you like that.”

It’s little things (most of the time, unless you really pissed Dick off) but they keep piling up, slowly driving you insane. You feel like you’re being watched, but it’s just a bird sitting on the window sill again. You feel like someone moved all your furniture just slightly to the right even tho you checked all the cameras.

The fae are kind, but they are also vindictive when crossed.

(Thanks to Bruce, however, I think Dick’s bouts of “vengeance” rarely go much farther than that though.)

Dang ok that ended up being an entire rant… wow. Anyway, yeah. Fae.

[auriidae]

LIFESTUCK ?!?! (pt 2 here!) (pt 3)

i was sick a couple days ago and spent like 12 hours straight doing nothing but classpecting life series characters and then was like Yeah i have to draw this now. so here's some sillies 👍 (super long classpect ramble under cut because i spent far too long on it not to share hfshjf)

quick note: i really really love @/classpect-navelgazing's theories and used them for a lot of the ideas here. go check their blog out it rules :]

ok you guys flower ranchers (scott tango jimmy) are making me so insane for this au specifically because of this idea i had about doom/life players. doom in true canon is related to inevitability, fate, and knowledge of the specific rules that keep the characters trapped within their story, right. and life is sort of related to healing, physically and mentally, within the confines of the game. so within this au, the aspect of life refers to the rules within the game that the players can see and are aware of (last life’s trading lives system + boogeyman, third life’s soulmate mechanic, secret life’s tasks, etc.). life players have some amount of dominion over these elements (depending on their class, of course). doom on the other hand refers to everything surrounding the games (stuff like admin powers, the world barrier, and whatever happens to the players after they die). 

as a mage of doom, scot (his name is so funny to me. like yeah he sure is) has a bunch of intrinsic knowledge about the way the games function on a logistical level. he’s like a guy who read the script a while ago and forgot all the characters’ names but knows the basic plot and how it’s going to end. or who knows all the ins and outs of tech crew and for whom the apparent magic of the show for the audience is lost on, since he knows how it’s being done. the thing is, scot isn't especially able to act on this knowledge during the game. what director wants someone in the audience — or one of the actors — taking all the magic out of the show, spoiling how it works and how it ends? no, it’s best if they keep that knowledge to themselves — and so scot’s narratively unable to affect the stories of those around him, even his close friends who he’d want to help. he’s aware of this, of course, which makes him more than a little depressed, as he can see the futility of it all and can’t even explain to anyone what’s going on and how the game works. (the only story he’s able to affect, of course, is his own. which. depressed doom player + mage martyr complex + guy who Really cares about his friends is not necessarily a good combination.)

the amount of stock i put in the idea of gendered classes is close to zero so tangoe gets to be a maid of life because ohh my goodness. i like the theory (thanks classpect-navelgazing) of life as “the aspect of affluence,” where life players usually enter the game with some kind of material wealth or status that helps their position in some way. i also like the idea that maid players start the game with a surplus of their aspect but often end up feeling as if they’re only seen as a provider of that specific thing as a result of this, and so end up longing for something else instead. this primarily applies to last life tango because that’s the season i’m most familiar with lol, but i thought the way he started out with so many lives there and quickly dwindled as a result of everyone taking from him and only him was Really interesting. mans has all the luck of the game he could need, but only wants friends to actually be able to live with. being a life player also ties into his little gambling games and things (again, dominion over stuff within the overarching game/story, but nothing beyond that).

then we get to jimi (again fantastic name). the basic premise of an heir is that they’re played by their aspect, right and Oh Boy is jimmy played by life in the life series. i don’t personally know much about anything he’s done other than heehoo canary guy but along with the previously stated points it’s So fun to see him as a life player because it allows for some really clearly contrast between the way he interacts with tangoe and scot based on their aspects. i really like the idea of scot being like “you’re a life player jimi. it's in your name. the game is not going to let you die” and jimi like “you really think so? aw thanks man” neither of them knowing that dying as a life player in this game is literally like in the job description. (ok. i kind of feel like i’m letting jimi down by basing his story so far around other people.. but this is just for fun and i can always change it later)

(also i could easily have put tangoe and jimi as doom players too but for the fact that i don’t think they necessarily see through the game as much as scot does (or at all). and so life it is.)

feel free to ask me questions abt them!!! i have so many thoughts about this bro 

[zykamiliah]

hey! i haven't seen mha in a looong time and i've never payed attention to bakudeku (mostly because i'm not the biggest fan of bully romance), but i'd love to see your take/interpretation/analysis on it? i've been a really big fan of your svsss metas and so i just thought, "hey, you know what, i'm curious to see zykamiliah's take on a ship i've never been interested in from an anime that i haven't seen in years! maybe i'll see something?"

not too sure if you already made a post explaining it (so sorry if you did!), but i've seen enough of the sudden rise of bakudeku reblogs on my feed from your account to ignite my curiosity lol

i just really enjoy hearing about ships because they're an amazing opportunity to explore dynamics and perspectives i've never given much thought/thought about before (coming from a rare pair lover... oh gyx/lbg, my sweet...) so i'd love to see bakudeku, a ship i don't quite understand (yet!) in a more understanding, different, and interesting light! and in complete honesty i trust your judgement with insightful character and ship analysis stuff, so... yeah!

heeey jade! sorry for the wait, i've been busy with work and irl stuff :DDD but i'm here now!

where to even begin lol... well, it's important to note that the relationship between midoriya izuku, the protagonist, and bakugo katsuki, the deuteragonist, is one of the main narrative lines of the manga, at the very core of the story. katsuki is izuku's narrative foil, their character developments are intrinsically connected (specially katsuki's!), and the same can be said about the themes of heroism, of what makes a hero, who can be a hero, what type of hero society needs, or if it needs them at all, etc., questions that also tie to the evolution of their relationship.

so from the start i was sold on this dynamic because i really like relationships that are at the center of a story!! i also like relationships with a complicated history with lots of drama and ups and downs, and i like that each character has their own things going on in their lives even if they are connected and one of the most important persons in each other's lives. big big bonus guaranteed to get my full attention if they are obsessed with each other lol

the thing is, deku and bakugo are in a bad place when the story kicks in. bakugo isn't an active bully, in the sense that he doesn't constantly seek deku out to hurt him, but he IS horribly mean and hostile, and that's because for years he's felt threatened by deku (and deku's heroic qualities), and wants to push him away, because he also feels that deku is looking down on him. the story doesn't shy away from showing and acknowledging that bakugo's behavior is atrocious and needs to change, and it works towards it consistently: he eventually atones, apologizes, and changes. on the other side of the coin, deku has always been paying attention to bakugo and, despite how the latter treated him, would chase him, observe him to the point he has bakugo's moves memorized, takes inspiration from his fighting style and even imitates him to give himself courage to do something specially daring and when he wants to "win" more than "save"; bakugo is his image of victory, ever since they were kids.

i scrolled through my bkdk meta tag, since it's been yeeeeears since i was involved in the fandom, lol, and found this post that tackles the bullying issue specifically and makes some very good points, if you wanted to read it! :D

the manga eventually addresses the problems in their relationship in "Deku vs Kacchan 2" (chapters 117-119), at the time bakugo is feeling turmoils for the part he played in All Might's end. to the question of "why does deku chase and care about bakugo if bakugo is so mean to him?" ch 119 has deku answer that himself:

this fight is the turning point for their relationship, and for the rest of the manga their individual and dual development is mostly upwards. reading bnha is worth it, if anything, just for the beauty of bakugo katsuki's development.

another big aspect that got me hooked in their relationship from the very first anime episode (and first opening) is that they are

✨Childhood Friends✨

(strap in this is gonna get loooooooooong)

Childhood friends (Osananajimi) is kind of a huge trope in manga/anime, often as a romantic interest. According to some sources i quickly consulted in the internet, and some of the manga/anime I've watched, in Japanese culture osananajimi is considered one of the purest bond formed between people, with a level of closeness equal to that between blood relatives; formed at such an early age, at a time when societal restrictions didn't apply yet, the relationship is genuine because they still didn’t need or know how to hide their true feelings from each other. As the childhood friends grew up together, this is considered a special connection, somewhat different to those formed after societal norms and perceptions take precedence. Or, as makeste put it:

here we have two very young children who are introduced to each other at an age when they’re still young enough to have absolutely no secrets. they’re young enough to have not yet learned to be shy or self-conscious, or to downplay their enthusiasm so as not to let others know they care. kids that young don’t hide anything. they don’t lie or deceive. they don’t have agendas, and they assume that others don’t either. it is, in short, a very pure type of relationship in the sense that it’s honest and uncomplicated, that it is exactly what it appears to be at face value. their personalities are fully out there with no attempt at reining anything in. Katsuki witnesses the full force of Izuku’s boundless hero-worshipping energy and enthusiasm. Izuku witnesses the full extent of Katsuki’s relentless confidence and Peter Pan cockiness. both boys see each other for who they are in their entirety, and accept each other. this is a fundamental bond. there is trust built between the two of them at a critical, formative age. it’s a relationship formed so early on that it’s likely that neither of them can actually recall a time before they met the other. they are and have always been a constant in each other’s lives. they’re a lot like siblings in terms of that kind of closeness and complete understanding of the other, both the good and the bad. in fact I’d say that Izuku’s use of “Kacchan” (and Katsuki’s automatic acceptance of it) isn’t that different from a younger brother’s use of “Niisan” for his older brother. it’s very revealing of the type of relationship they have. and that includes the typical sibling squabbles as well. it’s very much a relationship that’s taken for granted; there’s no filter, no effort to hold back, no attempt at trying to tone down their behavior around one another. there is whining and bragging and squabbling and name-calling and tears, just as much as there is cooperation and respect and trust. because at the end of the day, the assumption is that the relationship will endure no matter what, so they can go at each other as hard as they can and it doesn’t matter. the other one’s presence is just a given. that’s the kind of relationship that this term “childhood friends” really encapsulates, I think.

The sudden change of their statuses when the quirks start to manifest is a major factor that placed them on opposite sides of the social hierarchy, and conditioned the way society and their peers would treat them. But despite this and the misunderstandings that happen between them and the falling apart of their relationship, the subconscious understanding between them remains intact through the years. They always flashback to their earlier memories. They probably didn't interact much in elementary or middle school, and even if they did, they interactions were already tainted by their social status and Bakugo’s hostility. They don't share their innermost feelings with anyone but each other. Like when Deku gets angry or determined to win and to surpass him, or when Bakugo screams and cries out his emotional turmoil at Deku. According to Japanese social rules those are selfish things to do. This relates to the concepts of honne and tatemae.

Japanese society is more regimented than one might believe just from watching anime. By middle school age, and even to some degree in primary school, children are expected to interact with their peers in a relatively professional way. This is especially true of relationships between students of opposite sexes. Such requirements aren't held for family or close friends, but for everyone else one is expected to be polite and not share their true feelings or say things too directly. This concept of dividing people into an in-group and an out-group (内外, uchi-soto) is somewhat hard for non-Japanese people to understand, but is central to interactions between people in Japanese culture. In fact, you can find plenty of examples of this and of the related concepts of honne and tatemae in anime if you look, but if you aren't looking for them specifically it's easy to miss. (source)

So, for example, you shouldn't show your true feelings/thoughts to other people, even more if they aren’t socially acceptable, because that may disturb the peace in the community. But because Deku and Kacchan are osananajimi that have known each other their whole life, that doesn't apply to them. By stating from the very beginning that Kacchan was Deku's childhood friend, Hori put them in a close relationship with each other with a level of intimacy, trust and a subconscious understanding not like any other. Kacchan is, in fact, closer to him than All Might himself.

Like, Deku has been calling Bakugo by his childhood nickname, Kacchan ("Ka[tsu]" from Katsuki + "-chan", which is usually used to address children or females in an affectionate way), even past the age he was excepted it to drop it. When they were 4 years old, the other kids called him "Kacchan" too, but growing up it would be seen as childish or disrespectful so they start to call him "Katsuki" or "Bakugo". This puts a level of distance between him and his peers that, regardless of what happened between them, didn't extend to Deku and Katsuki. And it had to cross Deku's mind at some point ( "Should I start calling him Katsuki/Bakugo too?") but he didn't or simply couldn't. Despite everything, he wasn't willing to put even more distance between himself and Bakugo. He deliberately refused to put formal distance between them, and more importantly, Bakugo just LET THAT BE.

___

Like, this was a great set up from the beginning for me. I knew there was a story there from the first episodes, and then "Deku vs Kacchan 1" happened, showing their childhood flashbacks and the misunderstandings that would persist until DvK2, and i was really into that lol They relationship was one of the main reasons I followed the manga.

i mean LOOK at THIS!

how i could NOT ship it i mean come on

Even their color schemes complement each other, and their costumes have the same/similar colors. they are are complementary opposites that share the same core: to become a hero, their admiration of All Might. Each of them has a quality the other lacks and needs to work on to become the heroes: heroes that win and save, as All Might put it. Selflessness and Selfishness: to help and save others, in one side, and to care for one's personal victory, in the other. Bakugo was obsessed with victory and glory, and Deku was willing to do anything to save others, to the point of self-destruction. These isolated qualities didn't made them good heroes, but combined, as the two learn them from each other, by the end of the story they really become two of the greatest heroes.

This connects with their rivalry, which is richer than any other in the manga because of the many layers to their relationship: they are obsessed with each other, want to compete with each other (for the rest of their lives!!!) and don't want the other to fall behind, specially after their misunderstandings are resolved. They also don't want to be left behind by the other. Because they love each other too much! Whether people interpret it as platonic or romantic or whatever in between (secret third they are like like four different types of greek love categories combined), they are each other's More Important Person outside of family members. Hell, Kacchan getting hurt is basically Deku's berserk button: he punches All Might in the face to save Katsuki during the end of term exam; he goes crazy protective and possessive when Katsuki gets kidnapped by the League of villains(Mr. Compress even calls him out lmao)

he goes crazy when Katsuki is hurt in front of him

and when he thought katsuki had died...

i mean. look at this romantic shit.

_

lol and i feel like i'm leaving many other stuff behind, like Bakugo's apology, and all the little moments after DvK, and all the times in the last arc where Bakugo was thinking about Izuku constantly, and the finale where Katsuki cried because Deku had given up OFA and was going to be quirkless again, and the fact that he was at the heart of the mecha suit years-long project because he wanted Izuku's dream, their dreams, to come true. but tbh I only read them the one time and need to reread the whole manga again to refresh my knowledge. and i already shipped them before all this haha.

they are amazing characters in a really well done shonen manga they have a beautiful story 🧡💚