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joesalw · 5 months

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This conversation about Taylor's downfall in 2016 and what led up to it, plus this lie that most criticism of female celebrities is just misogyny is really interesting to me because it's something I talk to people about in real life. There's this idea that in mainstream media people love to build female celebrities up and then rip them apart when they get successful, which don't get me wrong is absolutely true, but in some cases it's a little more complicated than that. There are times when certain celebrities brand and present themselves as "the ideal dream woman" of whatever period they're in, and then when the societal image of what "the ideal dream woman" shifts but the celebrity's image doesn't, the facade cracks.

I think a good example of this is Jennifer Lawrence. I was a teenager when the hunger games movies were coming out and was obsessed so I used to watch a lot of the interviews with the cast. Jlaw presentes herself very much as a "cool girl", she was the youngest of 2 older brothers so she was a "tomboy" that loves sports and drinking beers and shots. She also made it a big deal about how she doesn't diet and is constantly eating yet still has a slim body and doesn't know about designer clothes and is so above all this fame thing. Whilst all this was happening the Gone Girl monologue was gaining traction particularly the part about cool girls and how women alter their personality for men's consumption. Eventually people caught on about all the fictional women and celebrities that fall into the trope and were over it, yet jlaw kept up with the persona. Couple that with her continually working with David o Russell, the insensitivity to other cultures, the overexposure and people realising her acting ain't really all that, you have the general public getting sick of her and her having to take a break. She's sort of made a comeback now and people are just chalking her downfall to "misogyny".

I wasn't really following what Taylor was up to in the lead up to her crash because I'd gotten sick of her long before that and avoided her stuff like the plague, but I did see someone on Reddit talk about how her winning album of the year over Kendrick Lemar and then using her speech to shit on another prominent black hip hop artist over something that was a lie wasn't a good luck for her. Add in the racist undertones in shake it off and wildest dreams videos for good measure.

This time around I do think her not adapting to the political and societal change is going to be a major factor if (I hope) she has another downfall. Before I get to the next part I do have to say I'm from England (you may have heard of it but it is a very foreign country/s) so if I'm wrong about the American political atmosphere someone feel free to correct me. After the election of trump there was a whole knew political awakening and conversations happening, one of them being about how Hillary lost due to misogyny (not completely true) so there were conversations about patriarchy, sexism, double standards and all that. This was the perfect climate for Taylor to be able to swoop in and use all these buzzwords she's learnt and blame anything bad that happened to her on misogyny and made all of her problems into "women problems". You had her giving quotes like how women are only allowed to react or some shit and released "the man" (side note but does anyone else find the bridge to the song kind of racist? Especially the way she's constantly compared to black artists?). She was of course celebrated for all this and had successfully rebranded to politically conscious Taylor Swift.

I don't think she expected the political climate to shift so quickly once again. In 2020 we had those viral videos of white women calling the cops on black people and the conversations about how white women use their privilege and tears to harm others and get away with it. During BLM there were talks about how certain white women will present themselves as allies and progressive but still have friends and date people who are bigots showing their politics is skin deep *cough cough*. COVID had us talking about the disconnect from celebrities about the real world and how capitalism is just another plague that is killing us normal people. You had certain companies and people becoming billionaires during this time and this truly began the crumbling of the pedestal the rich and famous were on.

Flashforward to now, where there are multiple genocides happening in front of our eyes. A time where you can't open any social media site without seeing innocents being slaughtered in ways that fills you with a rage and sorrow I can't even put into words. A time where our world leaders are doing Jake shit like some Arab leaders or actively funding it like the UK and US. A large number of Americans are saying they won't vote for Biden next year, others are screaming if you do that we'll get a repeat of 2016. But people are rightfully pointing out that Hilary is also a war criminal and the DNC were told people are not going to vote for her so pick a different candidate, they didn't and lo and behold those people stuck to their word. Women being in power does nothing if they uphold the same system which is exactly what women like Taylor do.

So the women Taylor rebranded herself to is the exact kind of woman whos shit people are sick of. Her face literally being used as the face of the western media ignoring the atrocities happening to brown and black people and upholding the status quo is just poetic justice. Add in the absolute shallowness of that interview and the whole capitalism is okay when you're girl bossing and you've got people wondering who the fuck does she thinks she is.

There's obviously a lot more to any potential crash Taylor may have and this is all my observations that may be wrong, but I do find all this shit fascinating and I wish people smarter than me would look into it to see if I've got a point.

You’ve got a great point

#anti taylor swift #anti swifties #swifties dni

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 4 months

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Top of the List [Part One]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Addison Goodwin

Characters: Elvis Presley, Addison Goodwin, Jessie Goodwin, Lisa Marie Presley, Original Female Character, Original Male Character, Jerry Schilling, Marci Cunningham, Colonel Parker [Mentioned], Joe Goodwin

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2197 of 9639

Summary: When you’re a kid writing a Christmas list is simple; toys and lots of them. As you get older however the wishes start to change and with a life as complicated as the Goodwin-Presleys those wants aren’t always easy to come by. For Addison it’s a family. For Jess answers. And for Elvis, well, as long as he’s got his girls he doesn’t have to wish for a damn thing.

Tags/Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Kissing, Sex, Penatrative Sex, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Handjobs, Morning Sex, Mentions of Death, Grief, Grieving, Absent Father, Single Parent, Working Parent, Christmas Day, Secrets, Festive Period, Teen Angst, Moods, Fingering, Christmas Morning, Kids on Christmas, Magic of Christmas

Notes: Okay so I’d been planning these as two separate fics but I decided to put them together because they parallel each other so well. All of them wanting something etc etc

I did want to make it sorta ghosts of Christmas past, present and future but working out the timelines of how to establish everything was too hard.

PART ONE // PART TWO // PART THREE

ELVIS & ADDISON MASTERPOST // TAG LIST

Addison could hear it, the snow outside flurrying past the windows as it made its way to the ground destined to leave the entire lawn blanketed in white. She couldn’t see it of course, her boyfriend’s need for perpetual darkness whenever he slept meant that the room was so dimly lit she could barely see her hand in front of her face, but she didn’t need to see it to know it was there. And just thinking of it made her feel cold. Even now, protected from Elvis’ Baltic bedroom conditions by the thick comforter and the furnace of the man himself beside her, she felt a tiny shiver run down her spine though she didn’t know why.

It wasn’t like last Christmas, when she had been cocooning herself in her blanket in order to keep in some kind of warmth as the wind whistled through the poorly insulated windows. She wasn’t listening to her father’s hacking coughs as he tried desperately to sleep off the chest infection that had been knocking him for six while he’d tried to keep working as long as he could so that she wouldn’t have to pick up more shifts at the movie theatre just to buy some food for Christmas dinner. When she went downstairs later, she’d no doubt be greeted by a wealth of presents underneath the tree instead of the one gift she had limited her father to buying her last year, knowing they could barely afford that.

Though as she lay there thinking about it, thinking of how far she had come from then to now, she realised why she could still feel that cold seeping into her bones despite everything she had done to stop it. It was because even now, laying in a bed in a literal mansion with Elvis next to her, pinning her to him as he snored lightly in her ear, she still felt as alone as she had in that bed last Christmas. She still felt hopeless, as though she were back in the same position because, like she had with her father, she knew something was coming — something bad.

She'd started to feel that around Christmas too, when his trips to the doctor had gotten more frequent but he hadn’t gotten any better. He’d kept her placated, telling her they’d gotten a new treatment, a costly one from what she’d seen on his medical bills, but a good one that was sure to work.

Elvis had done the same. Since Russwood Park he’d told her everything was okay, but there was something in the way he breezed around the details that told her it wasn’t. As her father’s conversations with nurses and doctors had ended abruptly whenever she came into a room, Elvis’ did too, the topic shifting to something trivial as he pulled her into him, holding her in ways she was sure were designed to make sure she couldn’t see his face. The way she had fussed over her father, watching everything he did in case he might need her, was the way Gladys now watched her son, who pretended not to notice her increased attention. And then there were his eyes. His eyes, that despite the smile on his face never seemed to light up the way they used to. Eyes that lost their sparkle every time he looked at her, guilt replacing that twinkle she loved so much.

That was why she was glad he was sleeping. That the weight on his shoulders was removed for now as he lay there oblivious, unlike her. It was dark, but she could just make out the contours of his face. The sharpness of his nose, followed by the plumpness of his lips that descended into the soft roundness of his jaw, down to his bobbing Adam’s apple. As she marvelled at each bit of him she found her finger following the path her eyes had travelled, and though she hadn’t meant to disturb him, she must’ve gone too far as he stirred, his eyes fluttering open blearily as he came to with a yawn, smiling at her sleepily as he got his bearings.

‘Good morning,’ she said, pulling her hand away quickly and placing it on his chest, hoping he wouldn’t think she’d been laying there watching him sleep. Luckily he didn’t seem to be bothered by the intrusion, instead preferring to reach for the lamp beside them so that he could see her face and marvel at her in the way she had him, only not in secrecy.

‘Mornin’ baby,’ he said, as his other hand moved up around her to her shoulder, pushing under the material of her night gown until he was touching her bare skin, warming her from the outside in.

‘Merry Christmas,’ she said with a weak smile. He faltered for a minute, as if the whole thing had snuck up on him, before he wiped his eyes wearily and said, ‘shit yeah. I forgot there for a minute.’

‘Merry Chrissmus baby,’ he said, offering her the most genuine smile she’d see in days, though it was immediately torn away as she watched whatever thought he’d have come and go, taking whatever easy-natured conversation they’d been having with them. She could feel him tense, pulling away from her as he said, ‘We, uh, we should head downstairs.’

‘It’s still early,’ Addison said, as he shifted away, pulling his touch away from her, leaving her colder than she had been before thinking about the snow.

‘I know,’ he said, as he threw back the covers, keeping his gaze away from her as he thought of an excuse to extract himself, ‘but everyone will be up soon.’

‘And they’ll wait for you,’ Addison countered, pushing herself up and pulling the covers back over him, her hand on his chest to keep him in place.

‘Still, can’t waste the day, right? Not on Christmas,’ he said jovially, glancing at her entrapment before he continued, ‘aren’t you wondering what Santa brought ya?’

‘I only asked for one thing,’ she said earnestly.

‘Oh yeah, what’s that?’ he asked, genuine intrigue plaguing his handsome face. She debated it for a moment, telling him that all she wanted was for him to tell her what was going on so that she could start getting over whatever devastation lay ahead, but as she watched him, his blue eyes holding the only genuine sparkle she’d seen since his last concert she couldn’t bring herself to. She couldn’t bring herself to ruin a moment, not when she had just been struck by the realisation that had been what he had been doing all along. He was trying to protect her the way her father had, and though she knew it would happen eventually, she decided to let him. To push the inevitable away for just today.

‘You,’ she said, moving until she was draped across him, their breath intermingling as their noses touched.

‘Ads,’ he whispered, but she didn’t listen, and instead she leant in, their lips touching gently as she kissed him, hoping he’d take the bait. He was tense as she kissed him deeper, shifting until she was sitting atop of him, but as her fingers trailed down his torso, working his pyjama shirt open as they continued the route they’d been headed before he’d awoken, she felt him respond, his dick twitching against her leg without his permission. He wanted to stop her, well, not entirely, but as she pulled back a smile on her pretty face, he knew he probably should. It was what he’d been doing the past few days since every touch and every kiss now filled him with guilt, given that she didn’t know that they were soon to be rationed. Every minute of every day since he’d found out about the draft he’d wanted to spend holed away in this room doing exactly what she was now, and yet he hadn’t. In fact, he’d pushed her away more than he’d intended to. Which was why her touch felt so good now and why his toes curled as she pulled him out of his shorts, her hand gliding effortlessly up and down his length, causing his breath to get heavier and her smirk to grow.

‘You like that?’ she asked with a giggle as her thumb ran over a sensitive spot, causing Elvis’ hips to jolt without warning.

‘You know I do,’ Elvis said, pushing himself up until he was sitting, his arms wrapping around her as their foreheads pressed together. It was enough to stall her movements, his cock nestling between the warmth of his own belly and the heaps of chiffon from the night dress he still hadn’t managed to get off of her yet. It was also nearly enough to make her come clean, to have the words on the tip of her tongue, but she found the only thing she could say was, ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘M’right here,’ he said, though he knew what she meant.

‘Promise?’ she asked. He didn’t say anything; she just watched as that familiar guilt swirled in his eyes before he moved in and kissed her. After that it wasn’t certain who needed the other more. Who needed distraction, warmth, love. She let him lead though, his hand guiding the tip of his cock through her slickened folds before he inched inside her, holding her firm in his lap for a moment as they became one. Even when they could hear sounds of the house coming to life and people waking ready for Christmas, neither of them rushed. Instead, he laid her down on his bed, moving his hips at an agonisingly slow pace, just watching her as she took him.

He was going to miss this. When he ripped the band aid off and changed their lives forever, it would be this he missed the most. Because after today they’d never be like this again. Sure, they could do this a thousand times over, yet it wouldn’t be the same. When her hand ghosted his cheek it wouldn’t be just a loving gesture; it’d be trying to commit the feel of it to memory. When he buried his face in her neck next time, he’d be trying to remember to make a note of the perfume she wore so that he could buy a spare bottle to take with him, just to have some reminder of her in those lonely barrack bunks. In fact, he doubted he’d ever get her like this again, breathlessly calling his name as she clenched like a vice around him, her chest heaving as he spilled into her, unable to hold back. No, he’d never get her like this again because when they did this again she’d be looking at him with the same look she had now, as their heads pressed together, that knowing look of sadness. Every minute from now would be chalked with worry. He knew her well enough to realise that once he told her the truth, she’d pull away, and that was worse than the idea of going away at all.

‘I love you,’ she murmured as he lay against her, his body entirely too big for her to hold properly though she didn’t care. Having him close was enough.

‘Love you too, baby,’ he whispered, not looking up from where his head rested on her chest, her fingers weaving through his hair. She watched him, wondering whether to ask him what was going on or not, but as she lay there, her head clouded with love and lust, she still couldn’t bring herself to. She could see that guilt over coming to him once more, beckoning him to pull away from her, and that she couldn’t bear. So even though she knew something was coming—something bad—she decided to let him play it his way. If he wanted to keep her in the dark for now, he could. If he wanted to give her a Christmas, she’d let him.

‘We should get up,’ she said thickly, trying to force the tears in her voice away before he looked up at her, his head snapping up as she spoke, watching her with those guilt-ridden blue eyes. ‘Your mama will have our heads if we don’t.’

‘You’re right,’ he said with a weak smile, ‘I’m gon’ hope in the shower.’

‘Okay,’ she said as he pulled himself away, allowing her to push herself up until she was sitting, wrapping the comforter around her in the hopes it would mirror the warmth he provided. He jumped out of bed, shivering in the crispness of the air but he didn’t run away. Instead he lingered by the edge of the bed, looking down on her for a moment. Whatever he was going to say gone as he made the executive decision to lean down and kiss her.

‘You’re what I wanted for Christmas too,’ he said, offering her a cheeky smile which she returned before heading towards the bathroom. Though as the door closed behind him, she sighed. It was coming soon; she knew that, but she could give him the day. They could have Christmas.

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121

#my writing #elvis presley #elvis and addison #elvis #elvis x ofc #elvis presley x ofc #addison goodwin #top of the list #jessie goodwin #lisa marie presley

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put-me-out-of-my-destiny · 4 months

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Family is an important theme in every DMC game. Dante and Vergil are always grappling with Sparda and Eva's legacy, and now Nero has to deal with Dante and Vergil's baggage. It seems DMC characters tend to have complicated relationships with their parents, and the supporting characters are no exception.

Lady is an obvious example. She became a devil hunter in DMC3 because her father, Arkham, murdered her mother in a bid for demonic power. Near the end of the game, Lady kills Arkham, which a line in DMC5 suggests has weighed heavily on her since. On the note of family, an ancestor of Lady's happened to be a priestess who aided Sparda in a ritual to seal away the demon world.

Side note, I've been told it's canon that this ritual killed her, but that doesn't make a lot of sense to me. Sparda didn't have to give a lethal amount of blood for the sake of the ritual, and Lady didn't give a lethal amount of blood to break it. Neither did Dante or Vergil, for that matter. It means little either way, the sacrifice was almost certainly willing, and she'd be long dead by the present anyway, but it still bugs me a little.

Trish doesn't really have parents in the traditional sense, but she was created by someone: Mundus. But Mundus saw her as expendable, easily recreated, little more than a tool to lure Dante to his death. Ultimately, Trish aided Dante in defeating him, and she became a devil hunter herself.

Trish was also made in the image of Dante's mother, Eva. While Trish never met the woman, it's an undeniable fact that Trish wouldn't exist in the same capacity without her - one could also consider her to be a parent to Trish, or at least like some kind of magical sperm donor.

Wether you choose to look at it that way or not, Trish has definitely endured both Dante and Vergil (as V) projecting their feelings about Eva onto her, though the former seems to have gotten over that, and the latter hasn't interacted with her much at all. Despite this, Trish continues using Eva's face, even though she can change her appearance.

On the subject of Dante, one could assume that she was adopted into his family in some way, given that she was trusted to wield Sparda's sword and his pistols. She carries his legacy just as much as Dante does, even though she doesn't share his blood.

Lucia, like Trish, was artificially made, in her case by a human sorcerer named Arius. Mundus only remarked that he could easily recreate Trish, but Arius actually proved it - Lucia is one of many "secretary" demons, and a defective one at that. She was discarded by Arius, and adopted by Matier, who raised Lucia as her own daughter. Later, Matier directly states that Lucia being adopted doesn't diminish their relationship, and that shared history is more important than blood.

Learning of her true nature was disastrous for Lucia: believing she would eventually become a threat to innocent people, she attacked Dante and demanded that he kill her. She later volunteers for a suicide mission because she sees herself as "expendable". I'm not aware that she ever came to terms with these feelings, and I wonder what would become of her if she no longer had Matier to support her.

I suspect that Nero and Kyrie's dynamic - as it's been said, Nero wouldn't be so well-adjusted without her - would be relatable to Lucia.

Moving on from characters who've been playable (so far), Nico's parentage is extremely important. Her father is Agnus, a scientist who created many kinds of artificial demons for the Order of the Sword, even becoming one himself. Agnus abandoned Nico at an early age, and when her mother died, she was adopted by her uncle, Rock Goldstein, who happens to be the son of Nell Goldstein, the gunsmith who made Ebony and Ivory. Nico became a gunsmith herself, and later used her biological father's research for the benefit of a devil hunter, Nero.

Finally, Kyrie's parents were killed before the events of DMC4, so the only family she had left was her brother Credo. In that game, Credo turns out to have become a demon, and to be involved in a plot by her religious organization to open hell gates in Fortuna to draw out and destroy demons (or something). Once Kyrie is used as bait to capture Nero, Credo turns on his superiors, and is promptly killed for it. Suffice to say, Kyrie must have some very complicated feelings about her family, as well as her religion, but such feelings haven't been made known.

It's also worth noting that Kyrie, along with Nero, has taken in three children - Kyle, Carlo, and Julio - further continuing the theme of adopted family.

With the exception of Lady, all of the characters above have some relationship with an adopted or chosen family. With the exception of Lady and Kyrie, all of them have had apathetic father figures who abandoned, discarded, or used them.

So if we ever get that female-led spinoff game (and it's actually any good), then family should be a major theme. But unlike the main series, this entry should have an additional emphasis on chosen families. And whatever tangible threat the cast faces, it should be one that can be a vehicle to explore those themes.

#devil may cry #my thoughts #lady dmc #trish dmc #lucia dmc #nico dmc #nicoletta goldstein #kyrie dmc #quen speaking

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teabookgremlin · 9 months

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i have been having so many thoughts recently about van and her relationship to her appearance. are these thoughts coherent? not particularly. am i going to try to make them somewhat coherent to share with you all now? yes. will i make any sense or say anything that hasn’t already been said? that remains to be determined

i first really started thinking about this when i started my fic feel like me again but honestly it had been floating around in my mind since we got our first look at adult van and the debate over if she was butch enough began (she is btw that is not up for discussion here and not the point of this post). anyway lets get into some of my thoughts.

first i wanna talk about her hair. i know recently people have been pointing out how before the wolf attack we most commonly see van with her hair tied back (with the exception of just a few occasions) and how after the wolf attack it is always down (except for during doomcoming but then her scars are covered by a mask). it’s very clear that her hair becomes a shield for her, using it as a way to hide her scars. even as an adult it’s never up and we see it hanging in her face a lot. especially back in society it makes sense to me that van would want to hide her scars somewhat, i mean her whole thing is trying to live in a past where none of the bad shit happened. as for before the attack, her hair being pulled up often, first of all same, i do this and for me its bc i’m sick of my hair and just haven’t gotten around to cutting it yet. it could be similar for van or she just prefers it out of her face. i feel like it’s unlikely that she wouldn’t have cut it if she wanted to as she already presents pretty butch and presumably is not overly bothered by people clocking her (kind of drawing this from both her appearance and that she is so much less concerned with being caught by the others than tai is) but there is still the possibility that she just doesn’t want another thing about her to scream dyke as she is living in an american suburb in the 90s.

onto her scars specifically. i love how she stops covering them after tai tells her that she’s beautiful. i’d imagine that van is not someone who is used to compliments on her appearance (or at least not ones that are affirming to her). i also know that a lot of us have headcanons that her mom is shitty to her about her appearance (or at least i do and i’ve seen it in a few fics) so hating how she looks would have become internalized and the scars would just make it worse. and there’s how she storms out at the suggestion of a party, hiding off in the woods until tai comes, bringing a solution and way to support her. and she clings to tai as they first walk out at doomcoming, holding her arm, kind of tucking herself against/behind her until the kiss. in this moment van is shown that she is still desirable despite the scars and this is just further affirmed when tai asks to see her without the mask and calls her beautiful. and going forward she doesn’t directly hide them anymore, even as an adult when in society, where facial scarring would get her more attention than among a group of teenagers who all know exactly what happened and are too busy trying to survive to care about appearance.

this is all i’ve got for now but i certainly think that there is so much to talk about concerning van and her appearance both because of her scarring and because a complicated relationship with presentation is not uncommon among lesbians. idk i have lots of thoughts but putting them into words is hard so feel free to add on your own ideas and happy van vednesday

#is this also me projecting slightly bc i have been trying to figure out how i wanna present? yes #but i prefer talking about van than myself so <3

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lunarlegend · 15 days

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controversial opinion time

as i play through the game yet again, i doubt the "love story" between Noctis and Luna even more (and i know it was rushed and thrown together due to the complications of the game's release, so for the sake of these observations i'm leaving FFXV's meta out of it and focusing solely on the in-game lore).

Lunafreya has been a prisoner of Niflheim for most of her life. even if she had not been kept in captivity, she is still a public figure due to her role as the Oracle, and has never gotten to live a normal life or experience regular human relationships (unlike Noctis, who did get to experience these things growing up in Insomnia, however limited).

the memories Luna has of Noctis are so old. they're from when they were kids, and Noctis is four years younger than her. i feel like those memories (and the remaining correspondence with Noctis via the notebook) are important to Luna because that's all she has.

when your life is shit, and your future is shit, and you're constantly surrounded by people who treat you like shit, of course your mind is going to want to keep going back so it can cling to one of the few healthy connections you had.

but, i don't see how any of this would lead to "true love", like the story wants us to believe.

Umbra's messages aside, Noctis and Luna, as adults, don't know each other. they've never actually interacted as mature people, just as young children. the views they have of each other are based on those childhood memories, and on wishful thinking. they both have a lot on their shoulders, and are both destined for fates they don't want...neither of them have any choice in the matter. the illusion of an ideal wedding that would fix everything and bring peace to the world is just that--an illusion.

i see Luna's love for Noctis as her escape from her miserable life. and i see Noctis' love for Luna as an escape from suffering like his dad. i don't think either of them is in love with the other one...they're in love with the idea of the other one. and with the possibility of a happier future, which they both already know is impossible but choose to keep believing, because it's all they can do.

i think Noctis has great chemistry with Prompto. and i think Luna had great chemistry with Nyx...both people who they met as adults (well, Noct & Prompto really started hanging out as teenagers, but i digress), and whose presence impacted them in present day, rather than through hazy memories of happier times.

i dunno, this game is eight years old now, and this issue has been picked apart a hundred times already, but it becomes more and more glaringly obvious to me each time i play. contrary to popular belief in the fandom, i don't think Luna herself is a useless or empty character (she deserved waaay more screen time and her friggin DLC though), but i do think trying to make her a love interest for Noctis rather than a guide/mentor/maternal figure/etc. was a bad move. and especially in a game where most of the focus is on brotherhood/platonic bonds, it really didn't need a love story to begin with, i don't think.

i'd even argue that Noct & Luna's relationship would've been more impactful had it been written as platonic, because at least then it would've been believable...missing a childhood friend who was removed from your life in a traumatic way and wanting to help them is already a very powerful motivation to have; turning it into a longstanding crush on someone you haven't actually seen since you were a kid, that's...pushing it. and in my opinion, it does nothing but detract from the connection.

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mauesartetc · 6 months

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Hi, hope you're doing well. I'm creating planet ocs, and I kinda have a problem with one of them : venus.

So a theme I wanted for all of them is for them all to have some changes in their body (body patterns, wings, etc) because it's important to their story. but I haven't really gotten good ideas for what to give venus. And I'm also worried if whatever I give her will just make her design look more complicated. For help, she has love based powers ( hence the hearts) and she can create poisonous gas (hence the clouds on her skirt)

Also bonus question: is her design animation friendly?

Nice! You might try researching how the planet Venus has changed over the eons to give yourself some hints for how the character might change. Also, it would probably help to figure out what her arc in the story looks like. What's the lie she's telling herself, and how will she see past that lie? What does she need to learn, and how will learning it help her grow and change as a person? Once you know the inner change, you can reflect it in the outer change. And yeah, if you add things to a design, it's only natural it will grow more complicated (though not necessarily in an unmanageable way). But what if her transformation subtracted from her form instead? What if, in casting off the trappings of who she thought she was, Venus becomes who she was always destined to be?

(Just spitballing, obviously; it might not be right for the tone of the story, but it's something to think about.)

To be honest, because the color of the hearts is vibrating so much against that orange, I couldn't read them as hearts at first. I thought they were just circular spots. And because the hearts are so saturated, if we look at the image in grayscale, they disappear completely.

If the hearts had more value contrast against the orange, they'd stand out more clearly. When one color is indiscernible from another in grayscale, that's how you know one of them needs to change.

It's also worth considering if the heart shape that's so ubiquitous with earthlings would mean the same thing to someone whose theme is based on another planet. Are hearts a common symbol of love in her culture? Might she represent love with something else? If she'd keep the hearts, though, you might make them more present in the actual form of her skirt rather than just markings on it, so they have some sort of impact on the silhouette.

It might also help if her eyes were spaced farther apart for visual clarity. They kind of blend together when viewed from a distance.

Went ahead and tightened up the overall anatomy a bit as well (especially in the shoulders), just for a touch more naturalism and believability. (Also note that knowing a character's basic forms will help immensely in animating them.)

In terms of animation, I'm realizing that when people ask me if a character design is animation-friendly, the most direct yet all-encompassing way to answer that is with another question.

"Would you animate it?"

If the answer is no, the design needs to be streamlined, because it wouldn't be fair to give yourself (or others, if it comes to that) an unnecessarily laborious task. Animation's already a ton of work on its own without overly-complex designs making it more difficult, though of course the level of detail will also depend on the budget, deadlines, and the story's tone. I mentioned in another post that the Castlevania series had some pretty detailed characters, BUT the team cleverly compensated for that by using limited animation the majority of the time, only pulling out the big guns during the action scenes. So there are a lot of variables involved, but ultimately I think the first question to ask yourself is if you would be okay animating this character.

Hope that helps!

#character design #redline #ask #lockedwith-care

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leighiche-moved · 5 months

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@frser

the walls of lallybroch had always been home , though now ? he finds the walls altered with the passing of time. jenny , and ian not quite as he remembered them ... memories that linger and do not quite match what has happened in his absence , absence there's guilt. an air to jamie that he knows stems from the desire to be once more known to tenants , to uphold his fathers name whose untimely death never quite sat right in heart. the idea of his father watching him as randall unleashed hell upon broad shoulders was enough to weaken any man with a strong constitution. his father had been the only man whom jamie wished to measure himself against. ' are you saying you don't like who i've become ? ' his brows knit as an eyebrow arches , ' claire i cannot turn my people away .... perhaps it is ego that rules me , the want to be everything that my father once envisioned for such a place ' his voice steadfast , stubbornness and pride swell. ' for i can see the past and present within these very halls and i don't think i was ready for such a thing , it's my fault you don't know jenny ... my fault that i have perhaps been drinking more than my fair share - my father's shadow is one that is more painful than i care to admit ' the fireplace etches his features in such a light that make him quite vulnerable , the idea that he is but three and twenty. in later years he'll look back with the knowledge that he hadn't been the best husband , that marriage was more complicated than one could imagine.

' i love you sasanach , i'm sorry if my fear of the past has mixed with the present ' an arm going to rest upon the hearth of the fireplace that resides in their bedroom , a room that had once belonged to his parents , ' what can i do to put you at ease ? '

"The problem isn't who you've become." A young and uncertain husband, unsure of what to do with his time traveling, forward thinking wife - in his position, she's not sure what she'd do either. However, they have grown into their dynamic. They had well before their wedding was ever arranged. No, that's not what she refers to here. He took her past the threshold of Lallybroch and became someone else, that someone is not Jamie.

"Jamie, if I had the opportunity to meet Jenny sooner then who is to say I would have gotten to meet her at all. You wouldn't have been at Leoch, your shoulder wouldn't have been injured. I'd probably be dead in the ditch because Murtagh wouldn't have been there to find rescue me in my confusion." The pieces had fallen just so for their meeting. She isn't religious, never put so much faith in a singular being in that way, but for Jamie and this mysterious connection, this constant need to be near to him that puts a shame to her marriage with Frank and all the love she thought herself capable of wanting, needing, and able to give. "Jenny and I will come to terms with time. I am a sassenach," there's a sting to the word that bites unlike the loving way Jamie says it, "In her home. I will have to gain her trust just as I di the McKenzie's. I only hope that there will be less crass language in the process."

Claire removes herself from the bed. Arms dragging quilt from it with her where she bundles herself up in its warmth. She stands behind Jamie. "It's not the drinking. I think I know my way around a drunk Scot by now. You're trying to be someone you're not." A hand braves the cold, thankful for the comfort of the hearth to keep the nipping cold at bay, and takes one of Jamie's hands. "I stayed to be with you because I love you, James Alexander Malcom McKenzie Fraser." It's an admission that still stings deep in her heart. A spark lit by the gold band she still wears upon her finger, shaming her. "I want you to come back to me, but I'm not sure what would ease me would ease you. What if you told me about your father, I'm sure I would have loved to have met him."

#frser #☤ . we go where the wind takes us ／ threads #☤ . all that was me is gone ／ v. 1740s

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gammagoop · 6 months

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my recent fixation has been the wings of fire book series since ive been rereading it, which i feel is not very related to any of my other interests and so i havent posted much about it. but i literally have “post whatever i want” in my bio so i’m not going to let the whims of an audience stop me any longer

all that to say heres some of my series opinions in the form of tierlists

(not including 3rd arc bc i havent gotten there on my reread and i dont remember it very well)

character tierlist! (added the legends: darkstalker characters manually since they weren’t in the tiermaker version)

notes:

mightyclaws is my background character fave. category 10 glup shitto event

i need to do a long post on how much i love whiteout. another day

i realy like clay in the first book and if he retained the same level of depth throughout the series he would be in the top tier-- its just that his writing makes him so shallow in the rest of the books it makes me so sad :[ i was listening (audiobook) to hidden kingdom and like. 90% of his lines/actions were about food and the other 10% were about protecting the other dragonets..... i related so much to his anxiety in the first book and his empathy and his ability to see both sides of things... gah. sad.

jambu is also one of my glup shittos. i love his whimsical ass

foeslayer is a hard one for me because she never did anything wrong she's just..... not as present as i wish she was. she's treated as a very vital character with how many large plot points hinge on her, but she doesnt have much agency herself. its stated a lot that she's extremely important to darkstalker but in the legends book we dont see much of them interacting? idk. i like her but she always feels so uninvolved

the 'beat you to death (funny)' tier is just for characters who i like on some level but are also pathetic and worms. out of that tier i like deathbringer the best and mastermind the worst

tier after that are for characters who i have a positive opinion on but not really a strong one. anemone and sora are more complicated, but i do generally like them. i really just feel bad for them if anything. i think i like clearsight more than the other characters in this tier, but she's not in the 'wonderful :D' tier because i dont think she has a very strong personality

the 'conflicting feelings' tier is kind of a trainwreck because it means a lot of things

obviously riptide is the outlier since he hasnt done anything nearly to the degrees of coral, glacier, and albatross-- but i do have conflicting feelings on him. riptide is completely inoffensive, hasn't done anything wrong, i just dont like him because he has no real reason to be in the story. like you could write him out very easily. his only purpose is to be a love interest for tsunami which is like...... gh. dude. she doesnt need one. if she's gonna have a romance it should come naturally. not "wow this seawing is handsome and also he's the first one ive properly met as well as a guy do im in love with him now" like girl do better

coral and glacier both have done bad things and obviously have bad intentions but also.... theyre not the worst. bad but not the worst.

albatross is a victim of emotional abuse and even though that doesnt justify his actions it does explain how they could have been negated

next 3 tiers are self-explanatory. i forgot to put her on there but queen vigilance goes in 'the grime beneath my shoe'

actually no i wanna talk about scarlet and battlewinner: i think the thing that i like about them is their theatrics. they bot have such a huge presence, like a disney villain. whenever i read scarlet dialogue it almost feels poorly written with how over-the-top she is but. no other character talks like that. its just how scarlet is. and i think thats so good. whereas battlewinner's situation conceptually is just cool as hell. i love how she struggles to speak because of the ice in her throat, her rage, the way she's hinted at but her reveal is completely unexpected...... very very good

no one likes morrowseer

when im in an emotional abuse and classism competition and my opponent is queen lagoon 😧

ship tierlist! (made on ms paint since i couldnt find any good ones on tiermaker. turned out to be nice since i can mess with the placement more)

notes:

top tier is /j i just dont really like how tui writes romance

i was kind of against glorybringer at first for the same reason i dont like tsunami/riptide but honestly it grew on me. their dynamic is so fun

anemome/tamarin is good i just think tamarin could do better if she wanted to. but i understand the "i can fix her" mentality and i do genuinely think tamarin could help anemone

sunny/fatespeaker is kind of a funny concept but also i can totally see it

i genuinely forgot turtlejou was a thing in canon ... it does not make sense to me. who came up with this. in the words of my friend "forced heterosexual on both parts tbh"

i love turtle and peril as friends so so so much if i saw someone romantically shipping them i feel like i could get mad

smolder/thorn is like if glorybringer was bad. mostly just because thorn can do way better than him. smolder and vermilion should kiss each other and bond over being wimp princes who havent actually done anything wrong themselves but bow to tyrant relatives to avoid getting killed

i dont know if this will be an unpopular take but clay and peril is such an awful ship. i like them as friends, i think theyre great as friends, but a romantic relationship between them would be so deeply unhealthy considering their situation. peril would be even more dependent and attached to him than she already is, and clay is not the kind of dragon who has an easy time saying 'no' to things. it would not be a malicious relationship in any way, but it would not be good for them. peril needs to learn how to live for herself, not for the approval of anyone else

okay thats all for today friends. thank you if you read all of my mismatched thoughts if you did ^_^ i love talking

#wings of fire #long post #wof #masontalking

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threadsdemiseif · 25 days

Note

I remember seeing you say something about OC's so here's mine!

My MC’s name is Charlotte Laurent. Blonde hair, brown eyes, freckles, shorter than the average person. In school, she is seen as calm, gentle, and kind by others. Has a habit of spacing out and can be a bit act gullible and naive, leading people to want to protect them from “bad guys” and the “cruel harsh world” as her “friends” say. Totally not thinking of homicide while spacing out.

She enjoys having people by her side and protect her. It makes her feel wanted and loved. Feeding her narcissism. The kind she never got from her family, they made her feel inferior and worthless. And honestly a bit boring to play and manipulate.

Is both Aromantic and Asexual, but only felt romantic and sexual attraction to Ziree when they bashed her legs with a steel chair. The girl got some serious kinks towards people who can put her in her place and kill her.

Currently wearing a prosthetic legs (Because god forbid if she’ll be even shorter when using a wheelchair.) which she paints from time to time. Based on the design you might be able to gouge out her real feelings. If you see colorful swirls and flowers, then something good happened or is about to happen. If you see aggressive slashes of solid colors, she’s bored and in need of some bloody entertainment. If you see some fresh scratches. Run. Don’t look back. Lest you'll become one of the poor souls she'll get her hands on.

Has an obsession towards dolls. Porcelain dolls to be precise. There’s just something pure and innocent about them that she desperately wants. To break or emulate, even I don't know. If she likes you enough, she’ll make you a doll of your own image. If you irritate her enough though she’ll take it out on the doll. If you really cross her. Then the doll won’t be the only thing she’ll damage.

Younger her used to wear Lolita dresses. She likes people complimenting her left and right. Now older, leaned to more elegant wears that are more flowy instead of frilly. While her younger self enjoys the crowd more, now she opts for a more peaceful solitude. But will adopt a more friendlier persona if need be.

As kind and gentle as she wants to present herself, she’s very prone to outbursts at the tiniest complications or when things don’t get her way. Usually, she just displaces her anger secretly but lately, she’s been slipping more and more as a certain detective has gotten their nose into places where it doesn’t belong.

Basically, this girl is a walking contradiction if you look closely.

Made a moldboard for her because the brainrot is real.

"Petite and harmless woman" with tendencies to explode easily, narcissism and doll crushing obsession?

What a bastard! I love Charlotte already! 🥰🥰 (None of the words meant as offense)

Not to mention, the moodboard you made is absolutely beautiful 😍

Based on the doll as an indicator of how much she likes a person, I'm guessing there's definitely a Deziree porcelain doll somewhere or even possibly multiple of them? 👀

I wonder what she'll do to them 🤭

If anyone else wishes to share their doctors, please do! I'd very much love to see what kind of MCs you come up with 🥰

#thread's demise #mc asks #the doctor #myrr answers #interactive fiction #if game #if wip

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downwiththeficness · 10 months

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Shadow and Veil-Chapter Eight

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction. Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed. You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen eyes. This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence, and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.

Word Count:~4700

Start from the beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Masterlist Read on AO3

Eva went over the books. Line by line. Location by location. And then she went over them again. Not a cent was out of place—not in expenses, not in payroll, and not in petty cash. Word of her visit to the Millers Road clinic must have gotten around.

She leaned back from the array of paperwork and wished she could will away the nagging feeling of suspicion.

Shaking her head, Eva quickly gathered up the documents and put them back into the accordion folders. The last time she had a suspicion about the finances, Eva ended up feeding a man powerful narcotics in a basement to ease the way towards his death. She didn’t want to do that again.

If nothing was wrong, then nothing was wrong.

After filing away the paperwork in Josh’s office, Eva walked back out into the hall and closed the door behind her. As she stood there, she realized that she didn’t have anything to do that evening. There were no meetings, no social obligations. Nothing to fill the rest of her day.

She didn’t like it—gave her too much time to think and Eva had been doing way too much thinking, lately. Thinking about what she’d done. Thinking about what she wanted to do. Thinking about how getting there seemed impossible.

Walking up to her bedroom, Eva considered finishing the novel that sat on her nightstand. The murder mystery, at its heart, held little interest for her now that there was an actual murder in her life. A rough noise left her mouth and she covered her face with her hands.

She had to let this go.

If she was going to figure out a way past her terrible marriage and the way her life was going absolutely nowhere, Eva had to let it go. But, it would be wrong to let it go. She had to keep the way Dr. Martin wept in fear present in her mind. It would be a disservice to him for her to forget it.

Her plan was half formed. Eva would slowly gather up her stolen money and then she would take Bobbi Lynn up on her offer to meet some not-so-nice people. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but Eva was short on options—beggars and choosers, and all that.

Sitting heavily on the bed, Eva tried very hard not to feel sorry for herself. She was only in this situation because of her own decisions. It was true that she was far too young when she married, but she was an adult, now. There were seven years of choices that had brought her to this very moment. Eva needed to own that.

Distantly, she heard steps moving rapidly up the stairs. Their cadence and weight told her exactly who it was. Eva looked up just in time to see Josh clearing her door.

He looked out of breath and flushed, “Get dressed. We’re going to dinner.”

Eva blinked at him, “Where?”

“The cafe,” Josh answered, “Hurry up!”

She stared after him, boggled by the excitement and the unscheduled outing. Then, with nothing else to do, Eva stood and went to her closet. She stood in the doorway for a few seconds, then march to the door and leaned out of it, knowing her voice would carry downstairs.

“What do you want me to wear?”

From below, Josh called back, “Wear something slinky,” there was a pause, then, “and short!”

Eva’s mouth turned down as she whispered, “Are we going on a date?”

She and her husband had not once been on a proper date. When he was courting her, all of their time together was supervised under the watchful eye of her parents. Even after they got engaged, Eva and Josh had only moments together by themselves.

Not once in all of those brief interactions did he show any sign that he could lay hands on her in anger. He was a perfectly polite gentleman who showed a keen interest in a hillbilly from the sticks. Josh was so good at playing his part that Eva never saw the first punch coming. Not for the first time, she wondered if that was the point.

Returning to the closet, Eva ran her hands over the rack of clothes. Her fingers stalled over a soft, shining silk in ochre. She pulled it from the rest, holding it in front of her to look at more closely. The knee length dress would, perhaps, not be the hemline Josh was looking for. But, she thought that the low cut neck would more than make up for it.

Putting it on, Eva stood in front of her floor length mirror and turned to either side. The forgiving cut of the dress hid the her too wide hips and the round of her ass that never went away no matter how much she weighed while allowing her small breasts to have more attention than they would, normally. She touched the neckline, falling almost to her belly button, when she noticed that the tags were still hanging from her wrist.

With a scoff, Eva went to her vanity and grabbed a pair of embroidery scissors to cut them off. After throwing the tags away, she returned to the mirror and fluffed the skirt so that it swung around her legs.

Hair up.

Gold heels.

Gold hoop earrings.

White Oscar de la Renta clutch.

Decisions made, Eva went about executing them. It took her less than half an hour. One last look in the mirror confirmed that the outfit looked exactly as she pictured. A bit proud of herself, she strode from the room and dropped daintily down the stairs to find Josh.

He was in the kitchen filling a silver flask with bourbon. The brown corduroy suit he was wearing would match nicely with her dress, down to his gold cuff links. Eva approached the island and waited.

Josh looked up, assessed her clothes, then went back to capping the flask. Test passed. Eva turned and made her way to the car to wait for him. Clutch resting in her lap, Eva crossed her legs and ran her hands over the fabric of her dress to keep it from wrinkling.

Her husband emerged from the house and opened the garage door. The car was pulled out into the driveway, parked, and he got out and closed the door behind them. After locking up, Josh got back into the bar and backed out into the street.

As they sped out of the neighborhood, Eva hedged as question, “Why are we going to the cafe?”

Josh smiled at her, “I can’t take my wife out to dinner?”

“Of course you can,” Eva quickly corrected, “Its just that you usually put it on the schedule.”

Another smile, “Well, I’m feeling spontaneous.”

“Oh.”

Explanation given, Josh turned on the radio and focused on the drive. Eva turned her head away from him so that she wouldn’t have to think about her facial expression as she thought. The outing was odd, but not too odd. Josh liked the cafe and had dinner there several nights a month—usually with Alexei. After the incident with Dr. Martin, Alexei’s visits were few and far between. Maybe Josh just needed a stand in for his usual partner in crime.

Feeling somewhat better about it, Eva let her head naturally swivel forward so that she was looking through the windshield. They weren’t far from the cafe and as they pulled into the parking lot, Eva could see that it was already crowded.

Josh eased the car into a spot and cut the engine. Eva got out and gave a little shimmy to shake out the material of her dress. It had rained that afternoon and she could see the swing of it reflecting in the asphalt. Eva smiled a little bit, thinking that she looked pretty good.

She glanced up to see Josh walking ahead and of her and she scurried to catch up. Inside, the hostess smiled graciously at them as Josh asked for their usual table. That smile faltered as the hostess replied that they hadn’t expected them tonight and that their usual table at the very back of the establishment was taken. Eva cringed as she listened to their apologies, knowing that Josh wasn’t going to be so easily dissuaded.

“That’s alright,” he said in a congenial tone as he leaned around to see who had infringed upon his territory, “We’ll just—.”

Piqued by the way his voice cut off, Eva took a step to the side to follow the line of his sight. Her stomach dropped to the floor as she took in the dark hair, hunter green jacket, and that fucking smirk.

To her great surprise, Josh looked back at her and grinned, “Looks like we’ll have company for dinner.”

He grabbed her hand and practically dragged her through the restaurant to the back of the room, slowing as they approached the large, rounded booth.

“Mr. Jimenez!” Josh greeted jovially, “What a coincidence to see you here.”

Diego—Mr. Jimenez—looked up without a hint of surprise, “Dr. Moore, Mrs. Moore. Please sit.”

Josh slid in first, Eva dropping down after. She set her clutch on the padded seat beside her and folded her hands in her lap. Mr. Jimenez looked at little too calm for this to be a coincidence. And, more importantly, Josh was way too fucking cool about it. She’d never seen him so relaxed when his plans were interrupted.

“Have you eaten?”

“No, I just sat down.”

“Excellent.”

What the fuck?

The waitress approached with a smile, “What can I get ya?”

Josh returned the smile, “I’ll have the steak, well done, baked potato on the side. Bourbon, two ice cubes. She’ll have the strawberry and poppy seed salad with a white wine. And for our friend…?”

Mr. Jimenez gave a shrug, “I’ll have what he’s having, but make the steak medium rare.”

Pen scratching, the waitress gave a little bob and said, “I’ll have your drinks out in a moment.”

And then they were left alone. Eva looked from one man to the other, trying to figure out the subtext of the situation. Neither of them was giving anything away and it made her uneasy.

“So,” Josh said, “what brings you here, of all places?”

Mr. Jimenez’s smile was tight, “I like the atmosphere.”

Looking around, Josh considered the room, “I suppose you’re right. This place is kind of classy.” He glanced at Mr. Jimenez, “I’m sure you’re not used to that.”

Eva’s eyes widened at the blatant insult, her breath stalling in her lungs as she waited for return fire.

Taking it in stride, Mr. Jimenez just lifted his chin to look down his nose at Josh, “Actually, I was just thinking that it reminded me of a place we have at home. Except we typically have refajo instead of bourbon to drink.”

Josh laughed. Threw back his head and cackled like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Eva stared at him, wondering if he’d lost his mind. A glance at Mr. Jimenez told her that he was thinking the same thing.

“I knew liked you,” Josh wheezed as he wiped at his eyes.

The waitress arrived with their drinks, setting them down on the table and assuring them that their food would be right out before hurrying away to serve another table. Eva grabbed her glass and drank deeply, barely hiding the wince. In her book, alcohol was alcohol, but the wine was so sour that it hurt her jaw. She set the glass down, disappointed that she was going to have to get through this whole dinner sober.

“How is that shipment treating you?” Mr. Jimenez asked. “You get what you wanted out of it?”

Josh sipped his drink, “I did. I don’t know how you got that kind of raw material, but its as good as I’ve gotten anywhere else.”

Eva’s eyes were drawn to the way Mr. Jimenez’s jacket pulled across his shoulders as he gave a careless shrug. Her hands curled as they remembered the shape of his body beneath, which she should not be doing while her husband was present.

Sitting side by side, she couldn’t help but to compare the two of them. It was an unconscious action that was half complete before she even knew it was happening.

Aside from their obvious physical differences, there was something about the way they sat, the way they held their bodies. Josh was upright, a spine made out of steel. His shoulders were turned so that he faced the other man, which meant that she was mostly looking at the back of his head. He had nicely cut hair that was combed through when wet and left to dry in the mornings. His collar was starched.

On the other hand, Mr. Jimenez leaned back into the cushioned booth. His forearms rested on the table, the fingers of one hand just barely brushing the handle of his knife. Though he was dressed in a suit, just like Josh, the material was somewhat more casual. Softer. As if it was carelessly thrown on as an afterthought.

And there was, of course, their scent.

As a beta, Josh’s scent was unoffensive. Citrus and vanilla. Eva, stupidly, once called him Mr. Clean as a joke and got the silent treatment for six days. As of late, she was more and more grateful for the way she had absolutely zero reaction to it.

Even with her husband between them, Eva’s nose zeroed in on the alpha sitting across from her. It was a work of persistent effort to keep her breaths even and relatively shallow. So much work that she briefly lost the thread of the conversation, only coming back to the present when the food arrived.

Thanking the waitress with a smile, Eva picked up her fork and dug around through the lettuce for the strawberries. One after the other, she forked them into her mouth, enjoying the burst of juice as she chewed. The dressing complimented the acidity in the fruit nicely. And, the addition of poppy seeds was a nice touch. Having finished with the strawberries, Eva moved on to the cucumbers.

Josh carved his steak into bite sized pieces as he spoke, “Tell me more about Mexico, Mr. Jimenez. I have never made a trip south of the border.”

Silverware pausing, Mr. Jimenez laughed lightly, “It is hot. And humid. In the forest, the air is so thick that it is…” he searched for the word, “physical.”

Josh huffed, “Then, you’ll be right at home here in Louisiana, especially in the summer.” He stopped for a moment, mulled a thought, “I thought Mexico was mostly desert.”

Eva watched Mr. Jimenez refrain from rolling his eyes, “We have beaches, which could be considered like a desert.”

“I didn’t think of the beaches,” Josh commented as he ran the edge of his knife around the perimeter of the open potato on his plate. Then, to Eva, “We should make a trip down there next summer. See the beaches.”

Eva, who was moving pieces of lettuce around to make sure she hadn’t missed any cucumbers, looked at him, “If you like. I can contact our travel agent tomorrow.”

“Let me speak with mom about it first,” he replied, “She may want to come along.”

She returned to her salad, silent. Trying to convince him to go alone was a waste of breath. Josh very rarely went anywhere with her alone. As she uncovered a hidden bit of berry at the bottom of her plate, an idea occurred to her.

“You could invite Alexei, instead,” she offered in the lightest tone she could manage, “You two have a lot of fun together here at home. I imagine you’ll get into all kinds of trouble in another country.”

Josh blinked, “You know, you might have a point. Thank you, Birdie.”

From across the table, Mr. Jimenez drawled, “Birdie?”

Knowing the speech that was coming, Eva closed her eyes and shut down the part of her that could be embarrassed. She opened them just in time to find Josh turned to flash a grin at her that should have been fond, but wasn’t.

“Oh, that’s just a little pet name for my wife,” he began. “She was very young when we met, didn’t know a thing about the world. No education to speak of, parents that sheltered her from everything behind the walls of their little church.” Leaning towards Mr. Jimenez, he loudly whispered, “A virgin up until her wedding night. Took care of that pretty quick.”

Eva turned her eyes out towards the crowd, not wanting to see how Mr. Jimenez reacted to it. She shouldn’t have bothered. Her nose, so sensitive to his scent, picked up the shift in his hormones. A slowly rising irritation that was razor sharp. It mollified her somewhat, to know that he was offended—didn’t matter why.

Josh touched her arm, fingers curling possessively, “And so, when she finally got out into real life she was so scared that every little thing made her flit around,” his fingers tightened harshly, “like a bird.”

Eva turned her head towards him, knew that he wanted her to smile bashfully. She did.

Pleased, Josh added, “So we started calling her Birdie.”

Mr. Jimenez was not smiling. His expression was relaxed, but his eyes were dark. The hand holding his knife was clenched. He caught the way she noticed it and placed the knife delicately on his plate.

“Pet names are good for a marriage,” then, to Eva, “Do you have one for him?”

As if Josh would ever allow it.

“I just call him Josh.” And then, because she couldn’t help it, “Although his mother sometimes calls him Joshie.”

The hand on her arm squeezed. She’d pay for that later.

Mr. Jimenez smirked, “Joshie?”

She nodded.

He laughed.

Josh was silent.

The band, which had been playing since before they sat down, stopped for a break. Josh looked past Eva and his brows lifted in surprise.

“Birdie, this is that band I was telling you about.”

Out of reflex, Eva followed his gaze. It was a pretty standard set up—singer, guitar player, bass player, drummer. The singer was tall and willowy, a bottle blonde judging by her roots. They were dressed in trendy clothes, styled just so. She couldn’t remember Josh ever mentioning a band to her and anxiety rose as she tried to come up with an appropriate lie.

Eva was saved by the waitress, who approached asking how they liked their food.

“She and I are done,” Josh announced with a wave of his hand.

Eva looked down to a salad that was only partially eaten in despair. Judging by Josh’s enthusiasm, they would be sitting there a while and Eva hadn’t eaten lunch. Her stomach gave a sympathetic groan in her belly.

The waitress seemed to agree with her, “If you’re still working on it—.”

“She’s done,” Josh cut her off, picking up Eva’s plate and handing it over.

Eva set her fork down on the table and took up her glass. She forced herself to swallow down the sour wine, to fix her face into something carefully neutral.

“Listen,” Josh said to Eva, “I’m going to go talk to the band for a minute. Scoot.” Then, to Mr. Jimenez, “I’ll just be a moment.”

Mr. Jimenez was dismissive, “Go.”

Eva grabbed her clutch and slid out of the booth to let Josh out. It wasn’t until she took her place in the cushioned seat again that she realized Josh had left her alone with someone she absolutely should not be left alone with. She stared at the table, not knowing if she should try to have a conversation with him.

She picked up her glass. She drank. She winced.

“You don’t like the wine?” he asked.

Eva set the glass down, “I prefer a red most of the time.”

He considered her a moment, then raised his hand to flag down the waitress. She arrived with her brows raised in question.

“Wine, por favor,” he paused, looking at Eva, “Do you have a vintage in mind?”

Eva, flustered, simply answered, “The house red is fine.”

His brows came together, “You’re sure.”

“Yes,” then, “thank you.”

The waitress hurried away to fill the order while Eva quietly tried to get a handle on her emotions. He was being nice to her, which she liked. But, he was also her husband’s business partner, which she didn’t like. Add on the fact that she knew next to nothing about him and any interaction with him was suspect, no matter how pleasant.

“Thank you.”

His mouth kicked up in a smile, “You’ve already thanked me. But, you’re welcome.”

She nodded, reflexively looking out to check on where Josh’s attention was. He was standing with the band, looking out of place in his suit. The conversation looked to be going well, the singer nodding along with whatever Josh was saying. Eva had a very small opportunity and she was going to take it.

“Why did you come here?”

The words were soft, but firm. Eva turned her head to look at him.

Mr. Jimenez shrugged, “As I said, I like the atmosphere.”

“Bullshit.”

He laughed. A real laugh. It took all the snark out of him, made him irritatingly gorgeous.

“You’re welcome to your opinion, Eva.” Then, as if the thought only now occurred to him, “Is Eva short for another name?”

She nodded, “Its short for Evangeline.”

“Evangeline.”

A frisson went through her as her name flowed over his tongue. The sound of it was warm, honeyed. It was the way her name was supposed to be said, how her ears were supposed to hear it.

The wine arrived. Eva thanked the waitress and picked up the glass. She sipped lightly. Much better. As she set the glass down, Mr. Jimenez watched her with an inquiring expression.

“Its good,” she announced.

Did he have to look so damn pleased with himself? At least he had the good grace not to comment on it.

“Are you angry with me?”

Eva frowned, “Why would I be angry?”

“Because,” he explained, “I showed up at your auction.”

She lifted a shoulder, “You’re an adult. You can do whatever you like.”

“You’re an adult,” he countered as he leaned towards her, “and you can’t.”

Eva’s eyes narrowed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You never seem to be where you want to be.”

“We all have responsibilities, Mr. Jimenez. I’m sure you can understand that.”

He flinched. Eva preened, glad to have set him back on his heels. He might be handsome and conscientious and he might smell incredible, but that didn’t mean that he could comment on her life.

“You weren’t finished with your salad.”

Eva closed her eyes briefly, “I know.”

“You’re still hungry.”

It wasn’t a question.

“A little.”

He lifted his hand and Eva was tempted to reach over and pull it down. She restrained herself by taking a deep pull of wine. The waitress hustled over, looking expectantly at them.

Mr. Jimenez smiled, “We’d like to request the dessert menu.”

Eva’s mouth opened in protest, but a stern look from him stopped her voice. She stared at him as the waitress walked away.

“What the fuck do you want from me?”

The question came out in kind of hysteric voice that didn’t quite sound like her. He fucking laughed, which incensed her further.

“You’re hungry,” he replied as if it were the easiest thing in the world, “What else am I supposed to do, except feed you?”

The waitress returned and handed over a small pamphlet to Mr. Jimenez who immediately handed it to Eva. She hesitated, earning herself another stern look. Looking over the options, she settled on the chocolate cake.

“I’ll bring that right back out for you.”

Eva watched the waitress skip away, wondering what this table looked like from the outside. A frazzled omega sitting next to an alpha who was not her husband—her husband, who was currently chatting with the singer of the house band.

“Why are you doing this to me?” She didn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed for how her words came out in a pitiful whine. “First, you show up at my husband’s fundraising event and then you’re suddenly sitting at his usual table in the restaurant we own. Are you trying to get back at me for what happened on, on—when we met? Do you think I—what—planted myself there? That I’m trying to score a better deal? Because I’m not!”

She put her hands on the table and took a deep breath. Mr. Jimenez watched her with his brow creased. Unable to look at him any longer, she grabbed her glass and drained the last of the wine.

“Are you finished?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said, “Then, listen to me when I say that I believe our meeting outside my apartment was an accident. You are smart, and you are cunning, but you are not manipulative.” He paused to make sure she was listening, “I don’t like your husband, but I need to do business with him. I do like you, which is an unexpected bonus to this deal.”

She pulled back, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know that you’re angry,” he continued. “and, I know that your situation is...delicate. I promise that I will do what I can to not disrupt it any more than I have to.” He leaned into her space, eyes focused and intent, “I also know that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Through the meetings and the negotiations, I sat there thinking about this omega I spent all of thirty seconds with. A woman who smelled like I walked into fucking bakery, of all things. I spent weeks sitting with the regret that I would never see you again.”

Eva had nothing to say. In just a few sentences, he’d knocked her clean on her ass.

He kept going, “And then I get to see you again. You’re sitting there in a skirt that I definitely have dreams about, looking terrified. You’re scared every time I see you. And all I want to do is see you not scared.”

God, he was good. Eva believed every word of it. So much so that she barely noticed when the waitress returned with the cake she ordered. They stared at each other wordlessly until the sound of a guitar tuning warbled through an amplifier.

Eva blinked and looked down. The cake looked delicious. No doubt she would be riding a sugar high until she got back to the house. Her mouth watered at the prospect of eating it.

Josh’s laugh pierced her ears and she glanced up in time to see him striding back to the table. Eva quickly began to slide from the booth, shifting the plate over towards Mr. Jimenez in the same motion. She stood in time for Josh to drop heavily onto the cushions.

“Man, I love those guys,” he breathed, wiping sweat from his brow, “In fact, I invited them back to the house after their last set.”

Eva, still standing, frowned, “To the house?”

“Yes!” Josh confirmed with a wide, eager smile, “Don’t worry, Birdie, they won’t expect catering and those little napkins you love so much.”

Those little napkins kept their furniture from water rings.

“Oh,” was all Eva could say. She sat, suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge that she was going to have to host guests that she didn’t know for an indeterminate amount of time. They had some leftover liquor from their last dinner party and she was sure there were a few bags of chips in the pantry.

“You’re invited, too,” Josh said to Mr. Jimenez.

From behind her husband, Eva widened her eyes at him, desperately pleading for him to refuse. The twinkle of amusement in his eyes told her that he was absolutely going to accept the invitation.

“I’ll be happy to join you.”

Eva glared at him.

Fuck you.

#Shadow and Veil #Narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #AU #maurice compte #a/b/o dynamics

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dyaz-stories · 2 years

Text

right before your eyes i’m breaking || Max x Lucas

word count: 1.4k

warnings/tags: season 4 spoilers!!, angst, canonical character death, break-up, kissing, grief, mourning, complicated feelings about all of the above, mentions of billy, max-centric

available on Ao3

a/n: the timeline of max and lucas’ break up felt a little unclear to me in the show, i couldn’t tell if it was just before the season started or if it was before that, but from the distance between them i felt that it had to have been longer. so this is my take on that! title is, unsurprisingly, from a taylor swift song. i hope you enjoy it, feel free to let me know your thoughts :)

Max breaks up with Lucas over one sentence.

It’s a joke he makes on New Year’s Eve, a one-liner. Her stepfather had vanished at the beginning of December, and she’d assumed he didn’t want to be around for Christmas without Billy. She’d known, from the moment she’d seen him angrily throw his luggage into his car, that he wouldn’t come back. Her mom hadn’t— Her mom hadn’t seemed to get it just then. She’d started to drink while looking out the window a week after he’d left.

Max hoped she’d stop soon.

Her friends were a nice oasis in the middle of her fucked up family life, most of the time. Teasing Dustin because him and his girlfriend were so absurdly adorable. Arguing with Mike Wheeler who just couldn’t stop being a dumbass for five seconds. And, of course, being with Lucas.

Lucas.

Lucas whose smile made her heart skip a beat, Lucas who she sometimes scowled at other girls over, Lucas who got her presents every time they fought like that was the reason why she took him back, Lucas who could make her laugh without even trying.

He’d snuck into her room though the window that night. She wasn’t sure how he’d escaped his parents’ watchful eyes, and she had complicated feelings about seeing him.

Because the truth was, the second she was alone, she just— crumbled. Walking past her mom, passed out on the sofa, and in front of Billy’s old room, which her stepdad had never gotten around to empty before he left, was all it took.

She’d started not leaving her room when she was home, taking as many snacks with her as she could, just because she can’t take it.

So she has to compose herself real quick when Lucas knocks on her window and jumps in with an impressive form. The hours of training with the basketball gym seem to be paying off.

“You could call before you come here, stalker,” is the first thing she says, even though there’s a hint of a smile she can’t control tugging at the corner of her lips.

“I did,” Lucas protests. “I’ve called twice today, but I think your mom just hung up immediately. Is everything okay with her?”

Max feels herself paling at the question. She deflated for just a second when he’d mentioned her mom’s behavior, but the question means she doesn’t have time to process any of it. She’d rather die then act weak, even in front of him. So she just shrugs, forces a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Yeah! Yeah, everything’s just— totally fine. She’s just… waiting for an important call. Probably didn’t want the line to be occupied in case she missed it.”

Lucas knows she’s lying. She knows he knows. But he just sighs, nods like he believes her, and she’s infinitely thankful for that. He puts a hand on her waist, fingers brushing against the skin just where her shirt rides up, and it sends a delicious feeling through her entire body. It’s not a new feeling exactly, but it’s one they haven’t gotten around to exploring all that much, and she relishes it for now.

He grins as he pulls her close, and she wraps her arms around his neck, looking at him almost daringly. He tastes like mint when he kisses her, and she knows it’s because he chewed gum on the way over, precisely to prepare for that situation. She also knows he started doing it because she refused to kiss him after he’d eaten cheese once, and she could tease him about it, but for now it manages to melt even her cold cold heart and she doesn’t.

It’s then that he says it. Just a few words, mumbled against her lips, that she barely registers in the moment.

“At least now we don’t have to worry about someone throwing me out the window.”

She chokes a brief laugh, because Lucas always used to be so careful around her house, avoiding Billy and her stepdad like the plague.

It starts eating at her later on, when she’s alone though. Lucas and her whispered New Year’s wishes to each other, and she fell asleep with the comforting weight of his arm around her waist. She woke up when he took it off and pressed a kiss against her temple, leaving to get back home, where he hopefully wouldn’t get in too much trouble with his parents. Erica usually covered for them though, and she had agreed to make him pay half price if he was with Max, which meant she’d probably get a call the next day to make sure that’s where he was.

Erica was fucking cool.

The second Lucas leaves, though, the happiness fades, and the comments comes back.

She knows he didn’t mean anything by it, knows that, even if she’s pretty sure he wasn’t saddened in any way by Billy’s death, he would never, ever rejoice over it in front of her. It could have been directed at her stepdad, and, well, it’s not like he was wrong.

But it eats away at her. She can’t stop thinking about it. That night, it keeps her from sleeping.

Lucas notices that something’s wrong soon after that, but she’s— She’s failing at keeping up her usual facade. The way she looks and feels at home— It’s starting to show through the cracks. She’s apathetic, quiet. She knows people can tell. She knows that when Mike sits next to her and their shoulders brush, it’s because he’s trying to give her some comfort, and it works. She knows that when Dustin tries to show her some stupid thing on his radio and introduces her to Suzy, it’s because he hopes it will help her, and it’s sweet.

But it’s just not enough. It can’t be. Nothing can be.

She keeps thinking about the joke.

She tells herself that that’s why she breaks up with Lucas, less than a month after that. Because he’s dumb and insensitive and he just doesn’t get it and he’s not what she needs right now, she doesn’t need a relationship, she needs therapy, and these things are mutually exclusive because you need to love yourself before you love someone else and—

She lets the static fill her head like that when she says the words.

“I think it’s time we end— this. Us.”

He must have seen it coming, she tells herself. He can’t be surprised, after the month they’ve had.

Still, she averts her eyes so she doesn’t see the hurt on his face.

“Are you serious right now? You’re breaking up with me?”

His tone tells her he knows it’s not one of their normal break-ups.

“People change, Lucas. If you didn’t notice I’ve changed, that’s on you, ‘cause I think it’s been pretty obvious.”

It’s a mean jab and she knows it. He doesn’t deserve this. Seeing him wince makes her stare at the floor once more.

“And don’t even think about getting me some thing to get me back or whatever. I can’t be bought.”

That’s mean too. Implying that his previous gestures were insincere when she knows that to be untrue. It brings tears in her eyes, how mean she’s being, but she has no trouble fighting them back. She’s not the victim here.

She’s the perpetrator.

“C’mon, Max, don’t— Don’t shut me out like this. Please. Just— just tell me what’s wrong! I know something’s wrong. I know— I know we can fix this!”

Lucas’ voice is breaking and trembling. If she looks up, she thinks she’ll see him crying. She probably should do that, should have the decency of looking into his eyes, but she’s a pathetic coward and she simply doesn’t have the courage to do that.

“Are we done here? I have somewhere to be.”

She spins around and walks out haughtily. Lucas doesn’t say anything, and she’s relieved that she can’t hear him sob. Maybe… Maybe he knows too. Knows this is for the best. For him as well.

She keeps telling herself that it’s because of the joke. Because it shows how little he understands her and the emotions that she’s going through, because she doesn’t want to burden him with it, because it shows that they’ve just grown to be too different.

But deep, deep down, she knows it’s not because of the joke.

It’s because she laughed.

What kind of person laughs at that?

Not one that deserves to be happy, that’s for sure.

#stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things spoilers #st spoilers #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #lumax #lucas x max #my writing #stranger things fanfiction

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