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mamawasatesttube · 11 months

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11 timkon for the devotion ask 😁

11. “I’ve already died once. I would do it a thousand times over again to keep you safe.”

also prompted by @blueforget-me-not, @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write, and @chaoxfix !! (phew this one's popular!)

"Absolutely not."

"Tim—"

Tim whirls on him, glaring. "You," he hisses, jabbing one finger into the S-shield on Kon's chest, "are vulnerable to magic. That thing," and he points at the unnatural, glowing storm raging outside, "is full of insanely powerful magic that could fucking kill you. You're not fucking going."

Kon's jaw is set in that infuriatingly stubborn way of his; the glint in his eyes is nothing short of mulish. "Somebody has to get to the middle to stop that wizard freak. It's only gonna get worse if we don't do anything. And Cassie's already hurt. I'm going."

Not for the first time, Tim curses his own vulnerability. Curses that he's the best pilot among the four of them. Curses that the storm is raging too fiercely to just leave the plane on autopilot. Kon is determined to throw himself into harm's way, and Tim can't even come with him.

He turns back to the controls, glances at the anemometer; the wind is still rising. Ominous purple lightning crackles across the clouds all around them. The image of Kon flying down towards the sorcerer only to get struck from the sky by three hundred million volts of magic flashes through Tim's mind; it takes more self-control than he'd like to admit to not flinch.

"Cassie's hurt because she already tried confronting him directly, alone." At least his voice comes out steady, if a bit taut. "You think it'll go better if you do it instead?"

Another lightning strike shoots by, so close it nearly knocks the plane from the sky. As it is, everything outside goes bright white and the sensors scream; by the time Tim wrests the plane back under control, they've dropped five hundred feet, and he can see the churning, frothy waves down below.

Shit.

"At the very least, I can distract him while you find a place to land safely," Kon says, ever-so-graciously not rising to the bite in Tim's voice. "'Cuz you're talking a big game about me getting killed, but it looks to me like just trying to fly out here is probably gonna get you killed. And I mean, I've already died once. I'd do it a thousand times over again to keep you safe."

It would have been kinder if he just punched Tim in the gut.

For a moment, he can't breathe; panic and hurt and fury and terror all sweep through him in an excruciating rush, and his grip tightens on the throttle so hard it hurts.

"Really?" he hears himself say, lashing out in automatic self-defense. He hates this, hates fighting with Kon, hates what he's about to say because he knows it's cruel, but he can't stop himself in time as the words pour out. "You'd put me through the survivor's guilt and the grief and everything you know I went through once already, a thousand times over? Didn't know you had that kinda viciousness in you." He laughs humorlessly. "Kinda impressed, if I'm being honest."

For a moment, there's nothing but the sounds of beeping sensors and the howling wind. For a moment, Tim is terrified Kon has just vanished, thrown himself into the heart of the storm without another word—

But then warm, strong arms wrap around his shoulders and chest, and Kon's cheek presses against his hair, and Tim can breathe again. Kon is leaning over the back of his chair and just holding him, and Tim can breathe.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it, Rob," Kon murmurs. His breath against Tim's ear sends a shiver down his spine. "But I... you're right. I shouldn't have said... I mean, I... well, we can—we can talk about all that later. Right now, let's just..."

"Sorry." Tim takes one hand from the yoke to lay it over Kon's wrist, just for a moment. His heart is still thundering in his chest, a mirror of the storm outside; he doesn't need to ask to know whether Kon knows. "I didn't mean it. You're not—you're the kindest person I know."

"Tim." Kon holds him a little tighter. "It's okay, dude. Let's just focus on getting outta here for now, yeah?"

Getting out of here. Not confronting the sorcerer. Tim sucks in a breath. They do need to get Cassie some medical help, and some time to strategize can't hurt. Hopefully, he won't grow too powerful before they can double back and take him out.

"Okay," he says, and rubs his thumb over the pulse point in Kon's wrist before reluctantly dropping his hand back to the yoke. The wind outside buffets them relentlessly, despite even the formidable stabilizing tech built into the Batplane; he can't afford to keep his hands off it for too long.

Lightning flashes again. It's a little easier not to flinch.

"I'll run distraction outside," Kon says. "But I promise I won't confront him. Just get you a little breathing room to fly."

Anxiety spikes again in his chest, but Tim nods. He trusts Kon, and Kon is more than capable of playing a distraction while keeping a safe distance. "...Be careful."

Kon somehow, breathtakingly, manages to laugh despite it all. "C'mon, Rob, you know me. When am I not?"

He drops a quick kiss to the top of Tim's head, then vanishes before Tim has the chance to answer. Tim misses his warmth immediately.

It's fine. He'll hold Kon to that promise to talk later. For now, all that's left to do is to make it out of the storm.

50 Prompts About Devotion

#timkon #rimi writes #guy who has been listening to the totk colgera theme on loop: hey what about wind and storms as metaphors. what about--#ANYWAY hoo boy! idk if i like how this one turned out sorry but i hope it was fun all the same uwu #clambuoyance #blueforget-me-not #cas-and-their-refusal-to-write #chaoxfix #tim #kon

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skinnyazn · 1 year

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In the Bleak Midwinter

The sequel to this story: The Masks We Wear

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader Chapters: 1/5 Notes: brief mention of military grade hard drugs (I made the mistake of researching what the Americans handed out during the Viet war, do not recommend), graphic violence, gore, eventual smut in the later chapter(s) but we're not there yet lol, explicit content

The frozen landscape was soundless, not even a stray winter bird chirped, as you surveyed the small compound. Fresh snow was suspended over every tree and surface. The crumbling facades of the shacks all dusted in a hazy white. Your breath lingered in the air as you exhaled.

“Feels off,” you spoke into your comm.

“Agreed,” the gruff, Manchester voice responded through your earpiece.

Simon “Ghost” Riley. His callsign was fitting for a man as stealthy and menacing as he. On missions, The Ghost moved like smoke, an apparition with a penchant for death. Around camp, you’d feel his eyes on you, but then you’d turn around and there’d be no one there. And, like his callsign, he’d began haunting your waking thoughts too.

You can’t remember when it started—it’s only been a few months since you joined the task force. But since you started working together, had been assigned this mission together, Simon “Ghost” Riley had infiltrated your head—marked by one too many lingering stares and unnecessarily brushes of the hand when exchanging briefs. He’d insidiously worked his way into your thoughts, intentionally or otherwise: what did he look like under the mask, how would his calloused hands feel like under your shirt, what sounds would he make pinned between your thighs. It unnerved you. You didn’t mix business with pleasure. It was a susceptibility.

Your contracts were for your legendary tracking skills, propensity to gather intelligence, and ability to nail a target two and a half klicks away with a single shot. If someone needed a HVT stalked and scoped without leaving a trace, you were their go to. Which was how Kate Laswell reached out to you in the first place. She said there was a team, the 141, who needed help with a particular illusive target. Kept slipping through their fingers. The pay was good (of course, coming from the CIA), so you agreed to hunt for them. What you hadn't accounted for was their towering, beautiful phantom: Simon.

“Walk me through it, Jag.” The Brit’s voice cracked over the comm, interrupting your thoughts. Jag; Jaguar. You ignored the way your name rolled off his tongue.

She needs a callsign, Ghost.

Why do I need a callsign?

Cause everyone on the team gets a callsign! And it has to match. Can’t be something dumb, like Barbie.

Why can’t I be Barbie?

Cause you’re not blonde. Take me for example: got mine for my aptitude to clean a room, all spick and span like. And Ghost’s is… well, just look at the bastard.

Fine. Then what’s my callsign?

Mantis.

Nah, doesn’t fit her.

Jaguar? …You know, cause you’re smart, stealthy.

A smooth ride?

Dangerous.

Jesus, you two. Alright. Jaguar it is.

Your frozen fingers pressed your comm. “It’s too quiet, Ghost. We saw vehicles on the drive up, but there’s nobody in the town, not even a single light on.”

Months of hard work and intel pointed to this village on the outskirts of Kokshetau. The perfect place to lay low, forgotten by the world. The perfect place for an ambush.

“It shouldn’t be this quiet.”

Ghost was on the rooftop three buildings to your left, assessing the area too. You’d parked the jeep a mile and a half outside of town, in the forest, and trekked the remainder of the way through the bleakness. Every shell of a building you passed in this liminal village was vacant; it was like walking through an unsettling dream.

“Intel said he’d be here, right?” Ghost spoke. “You and Laswell traced him to these coordinates?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s gotta be here.” Ghost breathed into the comm. “I’m gonna to do an interior sweep. Eyes sharp; watch my six.”

Your thumb pressed down. “Copy.”

Tactically, it made the most sense. You were both snipers, but Ghost was a bear of a man. He towered over you and was build like a god. He’d hold up a lot better in a close-quarters ambush. Plus, this was his mission with the 141. You’d been key in tracking him here, but your specialty was picking off targets from afar. They wouldn’t even feel the tack of the shot that painted the snow with their pink matter. Wouldn’t hear the bullet that would breach the stillness of this place. But that only worked if they were out in the open, or visible through the decay of the buildings.

You followed Ghost through your scope as he climbed down from the roof. His winter camo was an efficient cover. It hooded his black balaclava with signature skull well. Ghost maneuvered through the buildings like a shadow.

“Clear,” he whispered through the mic with each sweep.

You flexed your hands to keep the blood circulating and the cold from seeping in. The fleece gaiter irritated your reddening nose. He’d gone through three buildings already. Patience was a strong suit of yours, but this waiting and watching left a burning in your tense shoulders. Part of you wished there was more backup, but Price wanted to keep it lean and quiet. Don’t want to spook the target with three in a car, should anyone be watching. It was a shit idea when there was already a towering, beast of a man wearing tactical gear and a skull for a face driving.

Ghost entered the fourth building below.

It was two stories, which left your heart beating a little faster than before. You were timing his previous sweeps. They were all one-story structures but Ghost was thorough and efficient; each sweep was just under a minute.

Your eyes flicked to the watch on your wrist. One minute, twenty three seconds. You didn’t have eyes on him from this angle.

“Come on,” you breathed quietly.

Two twelve.

“Come on…” you repeated, a little louder this time. You were holding your breath; knuckles white under the gloves.

You pulled back from the scope and scanned around the building. Stillness.

Two twenty six.

“Ghost, come in,” you whispered into the comm.

Three fifteen.

“Ghost, do you copy?” Blood pounded through your ears, filling the silence.

Three forty eight.

“Ghost, come in.”

Three fifty seven.

Unlucky, unlucky four.

The back door to the building burst open as a man—not your target and not Ghost—stumbled out. Bright crimson painted the snow beneath him. He was crawling now. You pulled the trigger. The sound of birds fluttering echoed in the distance.

“Fuck!” you cursed under your breath; gloved hands moved the sniper to your back. Your feet carried you quickly off the roof as you landed with a muffled thud; nimble hands reached for the pistol strapped to your thigh, quickly screwing on its silencer. Quietly, you rushed to the back door, stepping over the body and all the red. Ghost’s knife was embedded deep into his torso. You pressed your shoulder against the crumbling facade. Sharp breathe in. You whipped your pistol into the room as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was a body in a pool of blood near the front door, and a trail from the man you shot leading upstairs.

You stuck to the shadows, keeping silent as you peered up the steps. There was scuffling above. Deep breathe out. Your boots crunched over the concrete bits littering the stairs.

In your line of work, a second was the precipice between a grazed bicep or splatter of the head; between bleeding out or staying alive. So when you reached the top of the of the stairs, you had exactly one second to process everything before your fired your pistol twice: one to the shoulder, one to the head.

Ghost was bleeding all over the floor, struggling to right himself from his post-strangulation daze. Your target was supine next to him, twitching the last seconds of his life away. He was a hulk of a man, like the lieutenant. Quite the fight. You scurried to Ghost.

“Got me good on the head,” he wheezed. A concrete cinderblock was crumbled on the floor around him. Ghost’s skull-plate mask was cracked and there was blood dripping over his left eye. You surveyed the rest of his body: stab wounds in his bicep, a knife lodged in his right thigh.

You reached into your vest to pull out bandages to tourniquet the arm and leg. Your eyes stayed on the stairs as you synched it over his thick clothes, hoping it was tight enough.

“Knife stays in until we get you to a medic.” You reached for his mask. His large hand gripped your wrist with intense pressure.

“Mask stays on.”

Blood already darkened the fabric of his mask. You just hoped it would clot against the cloth. He released you as you reached into your vest and procured a vial.

“Need you to take this.”

Ghost grunted as he lifted the bottom of his balaclava clumsily and swallowed its contents. “What is it?”

“Amphetamine. Can you stand?”

“Christ,” he slurred.

You shifted under his right shoulder. “On three,” you wrapped his massive arm over you. He was heavy. “One, two, three.”

He groaned as you got him up. The sound etched itself into your brain. In any other situation, you’d beg him to make that sound again. For a split second you wondered if that’s what he sounded like when he—god, what the fuck was wrong with you?

“Fffuck!” he ground out. His weight pressed into your shoulder. Blood was soddening his pants where the knife was lodged.

“I need your help down these stairs, Ghost,” you said solidly as he hobbled with you. “Gonna be a gentleman and help me out?”

“‘M always a gentleman.”

The drug must have kicked in because he wasn’t leaning as heavily on you as before. You radioed Price as you struggled down the steps.

“Price,” you strained, “target is down. Need an emergency EVAC. Ghost is in bad shape.”

“Copy that,” his voice crackled over the radio. “Can you reach the backup rendezvous? I can’t land a chopper that close to the village.”

It was just under half a klick away. You looked at Ghost. He grunted. You doubted.

“Copy, on our way,” you confirmed, finally reaching the last step before the solid ground of the first floor.

Ghost was more coherent now; the adrenaline pumped its way through his veins. You helped him toward the back door that was still ajar. Dull winter light from the outside illuminated its silhouette on the floor.

“Stay,” you whispered, gripping the cold pistol again. He leaned heavily against the wall. You peaked your head through the opening.

The crunch of snow gave away the man outside who was surveying the top of the buildings—looking for the sniper. Looking for you. It was a clean shot to the back of the head, and his body crumpled to the snow. You hoped that was the last of them as you grabbed Ghost again.

“Let’s go.”

______

To your surprise, you made it farther than you expected before Ghost started to stumble. A steady trail of red saturated the endless white behind you. It was too much blood.

“Come on, big guy. Almost there.”

He stumbled again, falling into the snow this time. He rolled halfway onto his back.

“Jus’ need a second,” Ghost groaned out. Heavy lids and blonde lashes obscured those pretty brown eyes of his.

“No, no, no, Simon,” you bent over and whispered, “we gotta keep going, yeah? We’re almost there.”

He made an attempt to reach for you but his arm flopped like jelly. You hooked your arms under his shoulder and started to drag him through the dense snow.

“Hey, stay with me. Don’t give in to that concussion. That’d be a stupid way to die.”

“Sorry, sweet’eart.” His head started to lull to the side.

“Simon,” you growled as you continued dragging his body. “Eyes open.” Christ, he was so heavy.

“Tryin’.”

“That’s an order,” you huffed.

Your heavy breathing permeated through the silent forest. Time stretched on.

“I…” Simon’s head flopped back against your chest. His lashes fluttered as his eyes desperately tried to focus. Blood clotted over his left eye. “Don’t take orders… from you.”

“You do. When I’m dragging. Your fucking heavy ass. Through the snow.” Each sentence was a struggle. You were 5’6” and nearly 130 pounds of lean prowess. But Simon was a colossus. And dragging his dead weight through the thick snow for the past fifteen minutes had every tendon in your body screaming. Your lungs burned.

In the distance, sounds of the helicopter circling finally breached the trees. You looked behind you. The landing zone was still a couple hundred yards away.

“Stay with me, Simon,” you whispered against the crown of his head. Your quads seared with every backward step.

“Leg’s numb,” he managed.

Not good.

“That’s just the cold.”

You wanted to cry from the fire that encompassed every cell in your body. You were burning up; sweating. Every muscle strained to the max. You looked behind you. Almost there.

Simon’s head lulled forward again.

“Make you a deal,” you panted. The whirring of the helo was louder now. “You stay alive. And I’ll tell you one of my biggest secrets.”

Finally in the clearing, the snow fanned across your back. Two medics rushed from the helicopter toward you with a stretcher. They started strapping Ghost down as you nearly collapsed from overexertion right there. Price’s arm wrapped around you as he hurried you back to the copter, shouting over the comms.

The metal of the floor was cold against your face as you collapsed. The helicopter ascended. Price was hovering over the stretcher, and red crosses on white patches blurred as you finally succumbed to your exhaustion.

#uwu #I hope you guys like #again #never played COD #but I'm feral for Ghost #my fic #my writing #simon ghost riley #simon ghost Riley x reader #simon ghost Riley x f!reader #cod ghost #cod fic #mw2 fic #ghost mw2 #captain john price #oc #ghost x female reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader

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daeley · 7 months

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#qian qiu #yan wushi #shen qiao #thousand autumns #yanshen #danmei #old stuff from deviantart and tw #slowly migrating uwu #that guy was writing a fanfic in his head lol

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96percentdone · 4 months

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It is deeply frustrating to me that it is a relatively common opinion that Amame murdering Uru was a moral good because it was "justice", and she "stopped Uru." To be clear, they're right that he needed to be stopped. His plan was evil, whether he has the sanity to parse that or not (and he demonstrably does not), but I think that's entirely beyond the point of the claims about the morality of Amame's actions. Whether or not Uru was in the wrong (he was by every possible metric) is not a worthwhile question to ask when it comes to evaluating what justice is.

First, and I cannot emphasize this enough, Amame literally didn't stop him. She just objectively didn't! Yes, he died, but the present day half of the plot plays out fucking anyway because it turns out the genocidal maniac had contingency plans to carry out his scheme! His guys do it for him! He says in his own tapes he planned for this just in case! Is that stopping him? The Nirvana Initiative gets as far as the genocide missile launching before his plan is actually ended. I cannot stress this enough; ya boi straight up almost won at KILLING EVERYONE posthumously. Sorry, but the in universe team "Amame did nothing wrong" is like suffering terminal hindsight bias, which is hilarious, because all of them were literally there when Uru almost killed everyone on the earth from beyond the grave.

Moreover, because Amame (and Gen who is helping her) spend that entire period of time trying to keep the murder a secret, she ends up actively getting in the way of stopping his plan until on the day of the initiative she finally steps forward because she can't take the pressure and the guilt any longer. She keeps critical information about the exact problem they are dealing with--like the fact that the guy they're looking for is fucking dead--a secret on purpose! Whether or not the police would have gotten anywhere faster if he lived is irrelevant; her actions for what actually happened made things worse. And there's a good reason for this! It's the same reason she is utterly ravaged by guilt for her own actions, despite how hard she tries to convince herself and the world she has no regrets: murder is always wrong, and Amame wanted revenge.

Revenge murder really isn't this incredible healing force people can hype it up to be in their heads. Amame says she went because she wanted to hear what he had to say. She wanted closure. Now of course he's severely out of his mind and everything he said in that moment pissed her off, understandable, and she'd have to wait like 100 years for him to maybe parse he was wrong, so okay, but did the revenge work? "I'm going to make you suffer the same pain..." She waits for him to be conscious when she kills him, she is explicitly out to make him hurt, but like...was it actually effective? No, lmao. The funny thing is, that first line we see of that flashback where she kills him is Uru referencing his own torture: "Yes, this world is an imperfect one. I was put through much hardship." At this point, even if he didn't tell her the details, we the players know he was held prisoner in a cell for over two decades and had his organs harvested so frequently anesthetics stopped working on him. We are being deliberately reminded of this fact so that when Amame says her classic one-liner, we'll know it was for nothing.

Revenge isn't justice. You can convince yourself that it will be satisfying, it's what he deserves, it's what you deserve to do, but what's left when it's over? What did you really gain? Amame didn't gain anything. This didn't heal her at all. She still mourns her father the same, only now she has to deal with new, worse problems of her own making. She spends the last of her free days catatonic from fear and guilt, she hates that she betrayed Shouma and Gen and her actions will force her to leave them, because she lost sight of what matters most in the name of punishment. It will never matter that Uru was wrong. Amame killed Uru for the same reasons he killed her father, and Horadori, and Jin; how could she ever be right? The fallout of her actions on her own psyche and on the world at large is the greatest proof of that.

If your definition of justice is just "we destroyed the bad guy most responsible for the problem" your definition of justice is worthless. The world is not meaningfully made better by punishing wrongdoers, but by healing the social and political ills that lead to their creation and that ravage to the victims they left behind.

#hope.txt #doi amame #amame doi #aini #nirvana initiative #aitsf #my meta #truly the most frustrating part of this is this is a common opinion with amame likers #and its like #do you guys actually like the character that was written or what #do you respect her story at all #do you respect the immaculate tragedy to her writing at all or just the idea of sad killer girl uwu #i forgot to tag uru #to be fair to me tho im the only bitch who posts in there #uru somezuki #somezuki uru

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ladyluscinia · 2 years

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Who are all of these people who are drowning in pro-Izzy content to the exclusion of all other characters and have they been in a fandom that actually has a ridiculous overrepresentation of some shitty guy? I see posts like this:

And the problem sounds a lot more like they are objecting to any Izzy content. Because I certainly can't find this overwhelming dominance. So fine. Let's see how popular Izzy is...

There are 12072 OFMD works on AO3 as I type this.

"Israel Hands" is character tagged in 5393 of them. That's 44.7%. Lower than I would expect, seeing as that includes every fic where he's the choice of villain as well as simply present or a focus. 122 of those are tagged "Major Character Death" (out of 225 in the whole fandom), and I suspect that's undertagged by people who don't think Izzy's fate is that important.

Comparably we have Lucius at 3560 (29.5%), Jim at 2226 (18.4%), and Oluwande at 1935 (16%). Lower than Izzy, yeah, but how many of those Lucius fics have him tagged just to get violently killed off or verbally wrecked and sent away for everyone else's happy ending? How many times does the crew show up untagged individually? I'm guessing the numbers of positive fics are probably a lot more equal... But let's see if we can look at this another way.

How about ships?

Izzy's ship fics are probably more likely to be pro-Izzy / significant content, yeah? So I'll break those down.

The most popular ship in the "Israel Hands" character tag is - to no one's surprise - BlackBonnet at 3183 (so 59% of "Israel Hands" character tagged fics, and 26.4% of all OFMD fics are tagged BlackBonnet + "Israel Hands"). I'd guess that number includes a lot of the "villain Izzy getting defeated" stories. Ships that actually have Izzy in them go:

Edward/Izzy at 1287 under "Israel Hands", 1374 (11.4%) total

Stede/Edward/Izzy at 762 under "Israel Hands", 812 (6.7%, probably with a good amount of BlackHands overlap) total

Stede/Izzy at 482 under "Israel Hands", 509 (4.2%, with overlap again) total

Izzy/Lucius at 477 under "Israel Hands", 514 (4.3%) total.

Lucius/Pete btw? 746 under "Israel Hands", 1188 (9.8%) total. Oluwande/Jim has 579 under "Israel Hands" and 1023 (8.5%) total. They both outrank every non-Edward/Izzy ship inside Izzy's tag, and are not far behind Edward/Izzy in total.

Another consideration I can attest to as a BlackHands reader... a lot of those Edward/Izzy fics are labeled "one sided" in various ways (which gets tag wrangled as the ship). 107 are just plain tagged "Unrequited Love". 94 have "One-Sided Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Israel Hands". Or they are toxic / abusive with a different ship endgame - BlackBonnet (tagged on 656 of them, with 389 as SteddyHands) or Izzy/Lucius (tagged on 70) or a negligible ship like Izzy/Frenchie or Izzy/Sam Bellamy.

These numbers are just NOT an overwhelming surge of fan attention. Izzy is not a third protagonist, no, but he's the most developed antagonist with easily 3rd or 4th most screentime / characterization. Having maybe 1/5 or less of the fandom content that you could call "focused" on him is not much or unusual or proof of bias 🙄 (the tag "Israel Hands-centric" is on 341 fics, or 2.8% of OFMD fics, "POV Israel Hands" on 176 so 1.5%, "Soft Israel Hands" on 107 or 0.9%... These are not big numbers).

Do people want to know where all that attention they think is owed to Jim or Lucius or Frenchie or Ivan and Fang is going?

8705 works tagged as BlackBonnet. That's 72.1% of all OFMD fics. Running the "otp: true" search for BlackBonnet ONLY fics pulls up 5764 results, so still 47.7%! Almost half of this fandom's content is ship fic that only covers the OTP without even tagged background ships.

"Blackbeard | Edward Teach" is character tagged in 9698 OFMD fics at 80.3% and "Stede Bonnet" is next in 8889 at 73.6%.

In the 1188 Lucius/Pete fics, BlackBonnet is tagged in 936 of them. That's 78.8% of all Lucius/Pete.

In the 1023 Oluwande/Jim fics, BlackBonnet is tagged in 788 of them. That's 77% of all Oluwande/Jim.

Those BlackBonnet numbers are insane. Fucking Destiel - the biggest ship on AO3, in a show insanely hostile to side characters - is tagged in 107526 fics of 268568 in the Supernatural fandom. That's 40%. You read that right. Less than half. Maybe some more recent tumblr darlings?

Catra / Adora from She-Ra hit 10248 out of 16141, so 63.5%. And they are canon.

Newer, but I've seen Dream / Hob Gadling surging and it's at roughly 500 (the tags need wrangling) out of 1743 in the Sandman (TV 2022), hitting 28.7%

Never watched The Owl House, but Amity Blight / Luz Noceda is the top ship at 7650 of 16277, so 47%. Pretty sure that one is canon too.

Stranger Things has 51424 works, with top ships Steve/Eddie at 10266 (20%) and Billy/Steve at 9046 (17.6%). Again, I don't watch, but I'm pretty sure these are a lot more accurate examples of minor character takeover ships, and Billy especially is the shitty white guy breakout with barely any screentime. Who has been dead for multiple seasons. And it's still beating Edward/Izzy's percentage significantly.

I'm sorry that your fave isn't getting the content you want. It sucks. But this supposed unfair focus on Izzy just does not exist at any level that would actually be impacting other character content.

Anyone complaining about it is not making a complaint about fandom bias grounded in reality.

And anyone who is proposing "solutions" for this lack of content (a questionable proposition already) better have the bulk of their list as "More BlackBonnet writers need to try branching out" or they are just making up reasons to complain about minor content focused on a character or ship they don't like.

#our flag means death #ofmd meta #i could put a cut in this but idk where so you can all just admire my math #tldr izzy is probably a bit *lower* in popularity than i would expect because blackbonnet dominates too much #he's certainly not even remotely threatening the amount of pure uwu content that he keeps being accused of threatening 🙄#if authors aren't writing enough lucius or jim content for you it's because they are on their 5th blackbonnet reunion fic #the anti handwringing about how many fans love the evil problematic guy is not rooted in reality. and filtering tags is easy as fuck #fandom culture #shipping #statistics are good and fun #izzy hands ofmd #ladyluscinia #my meta #ao3

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insurged · 5 hours

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i apologize for the person i'll become playing baldur's gate 3. but also while i fall into the depths of this stuPID FANDOM that my mutuals dragged me into, please like this if you'd like a starter & would like to plot out things. <3 i'm going to do writing tomorrow for sure.

#mutuals you all know who you are :')#i....... may already have a bias for astarion #i want to boink him already #not sure if the octupus guy is for me but i won't say no outright #without giving him a chance *eyes you you know who you are*#i'm sorry i can only write starters with some plotting #but i hope everyone has a good evening #uwu #* ⟢ 𝐎𝐎𝐂 ━ ( clench your asshole super tight & scream it from your heart )

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queercodedvillains · 28 days

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Wake up babes, new chapter of mallrats just dropped <3

Mallrats (23114 words) by QueerCodedVillains Chapters: 3/9 Fandom: Naruto, Naruto (Anime & Manga) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Deidara/Sasori (Naruto), background kakuzu/hidan Characters: Sasori (Naruto), Deidara (Naruto), Hidan (Naruto), Kakuzu (Naruto) Additional Tags: SasoDei Week 2023 (Naruto), 90'S, Akatsuki - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Claire's AU, Mafia AU, If You Squint - Freeform, we are taking liberties translating the akatsuki into a modern setting here, Drug Use, Drug Dealing, Blood and Violence, POV Alternating, Bottom Deidara (Naruto), Top Sasori, BDSM, Impact Play, Praise Kink, Edging, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, Sasori is still a puppet master but only in the loosest terms, if you catch my drift, Shibari, Suspension, Fucking Machines, Porn With Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Bratting, brat taming, Dom/sub Series: Part 1 of Mallrats Cinematic Universe Summary: In which the Akatsuki are 90's mallrats by day, crime syndicate by night. All the best criminals have a day job to launder their rent money, but the real fun only starts once they're off the clock.

#deidara #sasori #sasodei #claires au #mallrats #i dont wanna give any spoilers but #if you didnt know the difference between power dynamics vs positions #aka dom/sub vs top/bottom #hopefully you will now uwu #smut now plot later #head empty just these guys going at it like fucking rabbits 24/7 #we'll get to the plot when i say so until then we're all just gonna be happy the muse caught me on a day off #okay? okay <3 #my writing #mallrats!akatsuki #its my au i get to pick the tags #yes i am still working on my sasodei2023 fic after already posting another sasodei2024 fic #ariana grande and what about it dot gif #sighs deeply #when will i be free #when will i be cured of the brain rot #i really gotta carve it out with my own two hands and post it on the internet #its just me and a few dozen fellow inmates of the sasodei unit of the psychward #we are in this together lads #smh i gotta do everything around here if i wanna read it i gotta fuckin write it. and i WILL. its rotten work but christ alive ill do it

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hyyyperfixated · 24 days

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Sometimes I'll click on a Tim-centric fic and it's like damn. Has the author of this even been in the same room as a Robin comic.

#I don't know what character you are writing about but this is NOT tim #he is not the uwu baby crying sad drinking coffee all night best friends with jason guy y'all think he is....#caroline is talking #Robin 1993 #tim drake #red robin

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jessicas-pi · 9 months

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I conducted a vote on which fic snippet to share, and you chose the shipfic I'm writing out of spite!

(Sooo, just for a little context: this is from a short fic set in the same setting as my main Medieval AU, but not in the same universe/continuity as my main Medieval AU. Kinda like what SW Legends is to canon, yknow?)

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“I’m the PRINCESSSSS!”

Ahsoka’s flailing arm nearly hit Rex in the face, but he dodged, and caught her around the middle, stopping her tipsy swaying. “Yes, Your Highness, we know.”

She threw an arm around his neck and squished her cheek against his pauldron. “I’m prettyyyyy.”

“If you insist, Princess.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

She swerved wildly, and he redirected her. “It would be unseemly for me to answer that, Princess.”

“Seemly. Seeeeeemly. Stupid Seemley Ress,” she said, slurring his name, then trying to correct herself. “Stupid Seemly Ress. Resss. Ressss! My tongue’sss not workin’, Ress!”

“So I hear.”

“I’m pretty. And I’m strong.”

“As everyone knows.”

“And I’m tall!”

“Acknowledged.”

“And I’m orange!”

“Correct.”

“AND I’m… I’mma walk on my own now!”

She shoved him away and took two wobbly steps forward before he had to catch her again.

“I can do it!” she whined. “I’m a lady. I’m twen’ny yearssss ol’. I can walk!”

She very clearly could not, so with a sigh, Rex bent over and lifted her completely, carrying her down the hallway. “All due respect, ladies do not get sloshed at formal dinners.”

“Isss no’ my fault,” she muttered. “Issstupid Korkie’s fault.”

“Right,” Rex said, ignoring her and the looks he was getting. Mostly sympathetic ones; everyone knew the Princess was trouble and was used to her getting into worse predicaments than this.

“Korkie says you liiiiike me,” she continued, singsongy. “He says you’re—you’re not sssaying an’thin ‘bout it cause of, uh. Uhhhhh. Clones! People don’t like you. Stupid people don’t. Good people do. Korkie says I like you.”

“That would be surprising, considering the amount of complaining you do whenever I’m around,” Rex deadpanned.

#korkie didn't even do anything poor guy #ahsoka's just throwing him under the bus like 'yep it is definitely korkie's fault that i got drunk.'#and rex doesn't buy it lol #soooo anyway. this is my very first foray into writing rexsoka and they're both firmly in the denial stage rn!#(I don't normally ship it due to the age gap but since they're only 3-4 years apart in this au and they met when she was 17 and not 14 #I figured if i was gonna spitewrite a rexsoka fic then the medieval setting would be the one to do it in!)#fun fact! i had contemplated actually having them be a couple in the ACTUAL medieval au and even came up with a few fun scenes!#but i scrapped it in favor of a funnier idea #but that meant i had to scrap the scenes too #BUT by writing a fic in the same setting but not the same universe i can still write those scenes!#fic snippet #fic sneak peek #spite writing #ahsoka tano #captain rex #rexsoka #annnyyyywaaaaaay posting now before i overthink and doubt myself uwu #cause writing semi-controversial ships that i know some of my tumblr buddies might not like makes me nervous lol #but hey i'm just turning it into a game. i'm calling it 'will i lose followers for posting about this ship and how many will i lose'#star wars medieval au

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iconsumethesoulsofthedamned · 10 months

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It’s driving me up a wall you guys. Imagine being literally just some guy who randomly happens to be an eldritch horrors best friend, and you have so much sexual tension with this guy over a period of 10 min of screen time that you get permanently fannnoned as his bf. To the point that in any other Dream pairing you are immediately written as the bad guy/stalker/kidnapper basically a yandere. ALSO REMEMBER THAT WHILE YOU MAY BE HIS BEST FRIEND HE IS NOT YOUR BEST FRIEND. HES JUST SOME WEIRDO YOU HAVE DINNER WITH EVERY HUNDRED YEARS HES THE SIDE CHARACTER OF ALL SIDE CHARACTERS IN YOUR LIFE. It’s driving me mad yall HOB IS NOT OBSESSED WITH DREAM. Dream obsessed with Hob? Sure. But permanently fannoning Hob as Dreams bf to the point where ppl feel like they have to get him out of the way by making him dead or evil before writing a different Dream pairing is just insanity.

#the sandman #Dreamling #corinthius #dream of the endless #hob gadling #GUYS it’s driving me wild.#writing wildly ooc Hob to be the villain of every goddamned Corinthius fic is so tiring #hob and dream can just be #ya know #FRIENDS #just putting that out there #and don’t get me wrong #i love Dreamling #but this is just madness #if I read one more uwu human au Dream needs to be saved by the Corinthian from obsessive stalker Hob I will pass away #Consider that there are other better villains #Consider that Thessaly is right there #consider that some one else could be evil for once and consider that HOB GADLING IS JUST SOME GUY OMFG

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amzarashi · 11 months

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there's this thing where you can't say certain words or phrases or breathe a certain way or touch something for too long or nudge the book that's been collecting dust on your bedside for two years because anything and everything could turn the world against you

i can't sleep at night because my breathing doesn’t feel right and the prayer i said five times in row doesn’t feel right so i have to get up open the door turn the lights on retrace my steps until my feet start aching from how bad i need it all to make sense to fall into place to not hurt the people i care about because guilt makes your heart sink like stone and i still haven't learned how to swim

fox reads me poetry until fox is all i think about until the world isn't so scary and the static in my brain is quiet i tell fox good night i say i love you but it's rarely there so i say it again over and over because repetition speaks things into existence until it piles up on top of each other until i can gather it all in my hand and squish it together like putty and use it to close up everywhere the hurt is leaking through

exposure therapy sucks. it's not that i can't touch door knobs or cross the threshold or have to wash my hands so many times or that i have to click the lock and turn the bathroom lights on and the bedroom lights off and the doorway lights on and the people around me have to say good night with an inflection that tells me i won't die tomorrow because i don't know what my brain wants more often than not

words have so much weight and i haven't told anyone i love them and meant it because i’m scared if i do i will doom them to my fate of picking at nails and skin so i use loopholes like my life depends on them. i say it with breaks in between. the pauses are periods so it's a string of words not a curse set into motion it'd be nice to breathe without having to think about what i can or cannot say

instead i send poetry, i say read the orange by wendy cope listen to 400 lux by lorde it's not a love language because language was made to share love babel was a death sentence there are many words i want to say but can't say but roland barthes says, i've got nothing to say to you but it's to you i want to say this nothing

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #usersari #usermish #gryewaren #userheidi #spilled thoughts #*my writing #obsessive compulsive disorder #actuallyocd #i forgot most of my tags but whatever #this was first posted mid breakdown on my personal instagram and i thought why don't i share it here;//#ocd sucks my guys this will either end me or i end it #my ocd/bpd/cptsd fighting with each other to see who gets to pull the plug on my life #at this point i don't have any fight left in me but i'm trying so hard to hold on #i read a story where the protag had ocd and they couldn't say i/love/you and i then proceeded to cry for five hours #no one ever talks about that you know and i hate that i can say anything to the people i love because i think i bring doom and suffering #posting mid hiatus like a champ uwu

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mamawasatesttube · 2 months

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this isn't like comics-fandom specific by any means, but one thing i do think about semi-regularly is that like. some people are so insistent on stuff being "for fun" so that they can justify never actually thinking about what they're doing, and that's... idk man. in a world where we are inundated with propaganda and bullshit all the time, media literacy, critical thinking, and reading comprehension skills are pretty important. and yeah like no one can have their brain running at max capacity 24/7 but you still gotta like... put in SOME critical thinking. otherwise you just get people being like SO WHAT if this comic is really racist??? you can't ask me to think critically about how it portrays characters of color!!!!! im just here for fun!!!!!! and it's just like. dude.

#rimi talks #kinda rambly but im thinking about a post i saw yesterday. and also a post i saw a few weeks ago. and a different post i saw before that #comics ''fans'' who go ''there's just so many comics so every single interpretation is valid and i don't have to think about anything--#--bc im just here to have fun uwu'' my beloathed. one of the posts i refer to was about morrison's talia lmao #''dont call me racist for preferring the racist version of talia so i can make manpain for white guys!!!'' is an actual take i have seen.#and like there's a difference between writing shit that's inoffensive but just poorly written vs writing shit that's racist #but if you don't have critical thinking or reading skills. can you tell the difference?#and if you espouse the view that critical reading skills don't matter in hobby spaces. you sound white lol #anyways like i said this is kinda rambly and not about any specific thing #but i am very sleepy in a library so you get my unfiltered thought process. jazz hands

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dickytwister · 7 months

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WIP DAY

tagged by: @nuclearstorms tagging: @stars-of-the-heart @perseus-veil @stacispratt @paralytic-states @shellibisshe @strafethesesinners @judasofsuburbia @hopecountyisforlovers @wewillryesagain and whoever wants to do it!!! in an unprecedented turn of event, i will finally post a wip on wip day,,,,,,, i have fallen deep inside the psych rabbit hole and i am now writing shassie fics so this is what you're getting god bless and amen 🙏🏼🙏🏼 i'll try to post oc writing next time i'm posting a wip teehee!!! and thanks for tagging me bones mwah mwah and mwah

It all happened incredibly fast, and yet Lassiter could still see the last ten minutes play out behind his eyelids like detached scenes from a movie.

Shawn had called him at an ungodly hour of the night, rambling like a madman about a psychic vision so strong it had woken him up—Lassiter highly doubted that, just as he did the mere fact of Shawn being a psychic in the first place. He’d given him a location and had nearly begged him to come as fast as possible.

The Riviera Parlour was the kind of high-end restaurant that Lassiter had only ever dreamt of setting foot into. With a waiting list the length of his arm and a menu that averaged his bi-weekly salary, dining there had simply been out of the question. He’d only considered the idea once, a few months after his separation, hoping that Victoria would have seen in this gesture just how devoted he could be, if given another chance.

Shawn, with his green Henley shirt unbuttoned at the neck and pale blue jeans, had seemed out of place in front of the gold ornaments that decorated the facade of the restaurant. What’s more, the torrential rain had soaked him from head to toe, his hair matted to his forehead and clothes sticking to his body like a second skin. He’d looked all the part of a mutt left to sleep in the doghouse, and Lassiter had had half a mind to scold him for taking his bike in such weather. He’d instead held his tongue, had stared expectantly at the other man with a pinched grimace.

The door had been unlocked—Lassiter had glanced at Shawn with a raised eyebrow only for the latter to shrug and squeeze past him into the restaurant. The glow of their flashlights had casted eery shadows on the walls as they’d wandered, Lassiter forcing Shawn to stay behind him even as the faux-psychic had held his fingers to his temples and guided him deeper into the restaurant and into the kitchen.

He’d ‘divined’ that the evidence they’d needed to tie their suspect to the murders was in the walk-in freezer. How he’d come to that conclusion, Lassiter had no idea, and he hadn’t bothered to ask. Cautiously, gun held tightly in his fist, Lassiter had pushed the freezer’s door open and walked in. Shawn had stayed behind to hold the door, peaking curiously with his head tilted sideways, eyes darting across the room with barely concealed interest.

And then, just as Lassiter had been about to complain about the flagrant lack of evidence, Shawn had yelped and stumbled forward, holding the back of his head with one hand as the door had banged shut.

A deafening silence had hovered over the room for two, three full seconds before Lassiter had launched himself at the door. He’d pulled and pushed at the handle, banged his fist on the cold metal and the thick glass of the window, yelled himself raw, to no avail; the door had remained firmly shut, and their suspect had fled, taking with him their only chance of getting out anytime soon.

Leaning against the door with two fingers pinched against the bridge of his nose, Lassiter forced himself to remain calm, even as Shawn’s rambling, which had been going on since Lassiter’s attempts to open the door had failed, went on and on with no sign of stopping.

“Think anyone’ll get mad if I eat some of these frozen raviolis? I didn’t eat before I left and I’m getting a tummy ache, which is seriously messing with my psychic abilities–”

“If you’re not going to help me find a way out of here, kindly shut the hell up,” Lassiter snapped, glaring intently at Shawn as the latter examined the contents of the shelves. There was no mistaking the tremor in his shoulders, previously soaked clothes now frozen solid on his body.

“Don’t worry, I already have a plan,” Shawn assured confidently, though that didn’t mean much when his voice trembled with every word he spoke. “We turn into icicles and, in ten years, they bring us back to life Michael Beck style.”

“Can you be serious for one second? It’s your fault we’re in this mess.” Then, with a frustrated huff, “And who the hell is ‘they’?”

Shawn shrugged with a vague wave of his hand, and Lassiter had to physically stop himself from reaching for his gun.

“Did you tell anyone else about your hunch?”

“You mean my vision.”

“No, I mean your hunch. Answer the goddamn question, Spencer.”

#tag games #my writing #shassie #yes i am a fan of locking two men in a walk-in freezer so they'll have to share body heat to survive. what abt it #dw i have shules and shawngus fics planned too. this lil guy is getting shipped with everyone uwu #posting this is so embarrassing like have this ig. OUGH.#and if the movie reference makes no sense. shhhhh. i googled “80s movie with guy locked in freezer” and that's what came up

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