penny for your thoughts on dadmare and more fandom takes??
🪙
Tbh Anon you have to be a bit more specific with what fandom takes you want my opinion on cause I genuinely can’t think of any shshhshshs
But for dadmare… hmmmmmmm
It’s… I have complicated feelings about this trope
Like on one hand, I love the exploration of dadmare as a concept and would genuinely love for it to be explored in a deep meaningful way
On the other hand… the fandom never actually explores it in a deep meaningful way so everytime I come across dadmare a part of me dies inside
Like the fandom immediately settles for “tired generic dad trying to control his rowdy kids” and i’m here like :’)
Like i’d love for dadmare to actually be explored in depth, like the shift for Nightmare from being a bitch to being “dadmare” how does Nightmare deal with MTT in a dadmare way while staying true to his character
How did Nightmare develop and change and how does he feel about being “dadmare”, does he struggle to face the consequences of the abuse he put MTT through and how does he make it up to them? but like also for the love of god you can explore this trope without having MTT act like children, they’re literally +30 old men and you don’t have to infantilize them for the trope to work
Also hot take but everytime MTT call Nightmare “dad” unironically an angel loses its wings, it just ruins the vibes for me, like dadmare is a trope yet people genuinely take it too literally, which again just plays into the infantilization of adult characters
Hell, relationships aren’t one sided, how does MTT feel about Nightmare’s shift, do they trust him or do they take it as an opportunity to escape, do they hate Nightmare but warm up to him or do they not care for his change of heart
Like here’s an example, when people write dadmare, they write his ability to absorb MTT’s negativity to relieve them of their pain right? Ok cool, I LOVE THAT! What I hate tho is the fact every single person in the gang seems to “trust” Nightmare with their life and how all of them react the same way
Basically the MTT are reduced to cardboard cutouts that are literally just duplicates of each other, they all have the exact same reaction to anything Nightmare does, like you’re actually gonna sit here and tell me that Killer trusts Nightmare with his soul????? What did Nightmare do to earn that trust, and Killer isn’t a trusting person to begin with
Hell what did Nightmare do in the first place? Even when the interpretation of Nightmare is that he’s kind from the beginning and that he “saved them”, do you honestly believe that Murder would genuinely feel saved? Are you gonna tell me Horror is gonna stay and live with Nightmare by his own volition and abandon his brother where he only goes back to “visit” him? Since when has Nightmare become more important to Horror than Papyrus?
Hell since when can Murder, Killer and Horror communicate well?? Since when were they super close to each other and since when was Murder ok with Killer’s existence considering his very dangerous Determination and Chara-like nature?
Since when was Killer super emotional in stage 2 and since when was his other stages completely forgotten to fit the perfectly happy and healthy family that the fandom is trying to force onto these obviously unhealthy characters with unhealthy relationships and destructive behaviors
Like don’t get me wrong, people are obviously allowed to explore their fave characters however they like, but my point is, I can’t enjoy the trope of Dadmare even tho i want to, cause the fandom just settles for very straight forward answers to every problem, every little problem is immediately resolved with a snap of a finger
Everything is happy and rainbows and roses and any problems the MTT have they just go to dadmare and suddenly they’re no longer self destructive cause dadmare immediately saves them cause he always has the answer!!!
And i’m here still waiting for an interpretation of dadmare that actually pulls me in and actually interests me like
101 notes
·
View notes
take me back to the start
pairing: simon riley x fem reader
synopsis: simon is deployed to fight in a proxy war in lebanon, with christmas nearing - its weird you get a 2am call from him when he’s supposed to be fighting.
warnings: mentions of war, guns, violence, cliche meet cute, elf being named as the best christmas movie :), major character death :(
note: so im actually sick in the head, angst for a tuesday night felt right though. love you all, we can pretend this is a hea or maybe i can rewrite it as one? stay safe pumpkins! for ultimate angst play the scientist by coldplay. https://open.spotify.com/track/75JFxkI2RXiU7L9VXzMkle?si=DJVMJFadQ3-ixAJjib3i6w
a meet cute is what they call it in those cheesy romance movies: “(in a film or television programme) an amusing or charming first encounter between two characters that leads to the development of a romantic relationship between them.” it was too cliche to be a coincidence. you had a gun in your hands, pointed at your target, focus in your open eye as you shot and missed.
the laughing clown on the carnival stand wall. the loud sound of metal clinking as you hit a tin can instead rang in your ears and you sighed softly. you felt a presence next to you, confidence exuding from him. embarrassment flushed your cheeks, expecting a chuckle or a tongue in cheek phrase. but he spoke softly to you, despite his gruff manchester accent.
“first time handling a gun?” the man asked and you turned to look up at him. 6’5. holy shit?
“is it that obvious..?” you sighed softly, laughing and covering your face in shame.
“not a bad thing love, you wanna learn how to shoot one properly? i can help ya.”
“you shoot guns? are you even qualified to do that?”
“you’d be surprised.”
“yes please..” you smiled softly, laughing at your attempts as he nodded, walking behind you and putting his hands on your hips, lining you up properly.
“this okay?”
“mhm” you said softly, focused on the task at hand, not his huge hands on your hips. you looked back up to meet the eyes of the teenager behind the jump, i mean obviously this was a scam but you thought it would be fun. he looked about 15, can of coke in hand, gaze elsewhere clearly not wanting to work at the carnival of all places.
simon’s foot moved between the small gap between your ankles and kicked one of them to the side slightly and you yelped, but he braced you in his grip, a chuff escaping his lips.
“now dont be gettin skittish when you’re holdin a gun, not a good look, huh?” you nodded laughing softly as he lined your hands up.
“uh-uh, bend this one.” he tapped your left up softly and you bent it, the other one straight.
“atta girlll, lookin like a sharp shooter now. m’kay, need ya to pretend you’re cutting a slice of pie, one arm bent, one straight, focus on the target and adjust your aim by moving your arm softly up and down across to the target like you’re cutting pie.” you smiled to yourself at the sweet analogy and you complied.
“slow- slow..” he added softly and you slowed your pace.
“shoot.” he spoke softly and you hesitated
“i really dont think im gonna get it-”
“shoot for me love.” this time you didnt hesitate, but you yelped as a loud “YOU WON!” automated winning message rung out through the speakers of the carnival machine.
“gosh!” you sighed, clutching your heart and laughing, shocked from the sudden noise. he laughed with you. the rest of that night was spent on the beach pier, long after dark where numbers were exchanged and names were shared. a year later he put a ring on it. mrs. riley.
it was the first snow of the month. 23 days and counting until christmas, and you could not contain the excitement. tucked up in your king sized bed, covered in blankets, bedsocks, flannel pajamas and the weighted blanket you used when simon was on deployment. it was comforting, made you feel like he was right there beside you: waking up next to his blonde stubble pressed against your neck as he rested on your shoulder. it was 2am, you had just stayed up to watch elf, because its a fact that's the best christmas movie to exist, and those idiots who say home alone clearly suck the fun out of things. because m&m spaghetti? yes please. 11 more days until you could run into his sweaty grimy arms, being poked by his tactical gear and not giving two shits, because your husband would be home. christmas could finally come. you tossed and turned thinking about holding your husbands cheeks in your hands, he was probably beyond exhausted, deployed in lebanon, you weren’t allowed to know, so you didn’t ask, but he called you when he could: always during the late hours into the night for him, so he wouldnt wake you in the middle of the night. a gentleman. time zone differences sucked.
you huffed as you flipped your pillow over to the cool side and laid your head down annoyed at your inability to fall asleep. your phone’s screen lit up the room, your lockscreen making you smile, a photo of simon teaching you how to chop wood in your backyard, your head was back, laughing as you wore a typical ‘lumberjack’ flannel because you thought they were sexy, simon refused much to your demise to wearing one as well. the lockscreen was replaced with his name, an incoming call. your eyebrows furrowed, it was late. but you supposed it had been 3 days since he last called, this was probably because he just got access to reception. you lazily reached over, hitting click and closing your eyes, falling back onto the pillow and smiling when you heard his voice.
“didn’t think you’d answer, you should be asleep, baby.” he spoke into the phone.
“always answer for you, si. what, late night booty call?” you giggled into the phone, you were joking of course, but you wanted to hear him laugh. and he did.
“hilarious one, you are.” he shook his head, laughing heartily.
“mhmm thats why you married me.”
“thats why i married you.” he parroted back to you, softer this time.
“i missed you, its been 3 days.”
“i know baby, im sorry- it’s been tight here.” you sat up softly, leaning up against the pillows
“is everything alright?” you asked a little concerned.
“yeah. uh-” you heard him wince softly, hearing shuffling in the background.
“si? what’s- are you hurt? where’s johnny?” you said seriously, eyebrows furrowed.
“baby..need you to listen to me, can ya do that fr’ me?” he said pained.
“simon?” you choked out, out of bed, pacing out the bedroom.
“mission went south. i uh-..” he paused and you held onto your phone for dear life. “i don’t think im gonna make it back to you sweetheart.” he almost whispered. you didnt respond for a moment, choked sobs filling the room, and his end of the call.
he was pressed up against a sandstone wall, his men were killed in action, he avenged them, but at what cost? he lay there, shot in the abodmen, cuts all over him, laboured breathing as he held his stomach.
“nono- no.. baby, i dont- we cant- .. i dont.. we’re running outta time, yeah? cant have my last time hearing ya be hearing your sobs.” he began to break down, his voice shaky. you wailed.
“you cant do this! you cant- how, i dont- im not even going to be able to bury you! this isnt fair, we were.. this wasnt supposed to happen.”
“sweetha’rt- please listen to me. dont have time. we dont have time” his voice pitched as he winced in pain. “fuck.” he choked out, head thrown back. “i love you, you know that? more than anything in this fucked up little world. you’re keeping me going here.” he said softly into the phone.
your hands were cradling your head, ear pressed to the phone as you accepted this fucked reality that the cards dealt you with. you finally found it. safety, love all for it to be ripped out from underneath you for some fucking proxy war he had been tasked to fight in. his stocking hung up by the fireplace next to yours, already filled with new cologne and underwear.
“i love you- iloveyou more than i could even put into words. please simon, please dont do this to me.”
“i dont have a choice lovie. you’re my strong girl, you can be brave for me, yeah?” you didnt speak into the phone, too pained.
“honey.” he said sternly.
“i promise i will be, of course i will be.” you responded breathing erratically.
“tell me about today.” he said sternly.
“what? no, simon.. thats”
“please. need to hear you speak to me.”
“i-.. i um, i got the oil changed today for the car, and i know you said you wanted to do it because i get ripped off at the mechanics but i couldnt wait… i made gingerbread today, and i gave some to the next door neighbours because im used to you eating what i bake within seconds, and it was too much for one.” he smiled softly into the phone, you could hear it in his voice.
“what i would give for some of your fuckin gingerbread right now.” you sniffled softly, nodding.
“it snowed. it snowed today, a whole foot. i thought of you.” you smiled into the phone, your nose dripping and your cheeks streaked as you blubbered.
“you’re in the snow, im in a desert.” he laughed weakly at the irony.
“simon i cant do this, pretend this is a normal conversation, i cant let you die. dont die, dont leave me here.” you wailed loudly, clutching at your heart.
you could hear him sigh, not out of frustration but out of defeat, he cursed the fucking suicide mission he had been sent on. what about this shit fight was honorable? this wasn’t war, this was just killing for the sake of killing.
“yes you can. you coulda been a fuckin soldier, stubborn as one. you’re so strong baby, so strong. you can do it, for me you can.” he said sternly. “baby i-.. i gotta.. i gotta go soon..getting cold.” he added.
“close your eyes” you whispered into the phone softly. “close your eyes and pretend you’re with me, its okay honey. you can rest now.” you tried to be strong for him, even though your voice was shaking.
“mm.. beside you. does the house still smell like gingerbread?”
“yes” you breathed
“i can smell it. when i close my eyes and imagine… i betcha the kitchens covered in icing sugar and gumdrops.” you laughed, hiccuping as you tastes your own tears.
“i love you baby. im sorry i brought you into this. not how i wanted to go. you know that.”
“i know, dont apologise. its okay. you cold?”
“colder.” blood loss.
“i know. its okay. rest, you can.. you can let go.”
“dont hang up.”
“of course i wont. not leaving you si. you’re stuck with me.” he laughed weakly, and went quiet.
“still with me honey?” you asked, fear in your voice. a grunt of approval rung through the phone. running out of time.
“i love you simon riley. more than anything in this fucked up little world.”
the line went quiet. he died peacefully, hearing your sweet words, phone cradled into his chest as he drew his final breath.
p.s. while you did never get to bury his body (it was never found), you were given his badges from the base and his spare dog tags.
“S. RILEY”
31 notes
·
View notes