#ALL THESE THINGS CAN BE TRUE AND IT KICKS ASS THAT THEY ALL ARE TRUE
Note
I got to say I really liked the episode (despite only having watched exu calamity of the exu series) and I think maybe Matt needed a breather after so many fast paced, lore filled episodes.
however, I am kinda bummed that the fcg processing has been put on hold for (at least) two weeks now and that means that, despite them being great actors that truly merge with their characters at the table, their reactions will be much less raw and there’s a chance some of them will forget tidbits of information, emotions they felt when it happened because they (as role players) will have had time to process it out of the game and it might create a dissonance in the game. tbf I kind of felt the difference even between the end of ep 91 and the beginning of 92 but it made sense because technically they were still running and couldn’t afford to process. idk. I have hope that we’ll still see that raw emotion, but I fear it won’t be as impactful as it could’ve been, especially if they’ll have to put the “reporting for duty” hat on immediately when they get to the camp
I think being a little bummed about the sort of unexpected hiatus on the Bell's Hells/Post F.C.G processing is super understandable! As someone who also really did enjoy the Crownskeepers return (hello im still yelling about Opal internally), I'm kind of in the same camp of being kind of thrown/disappointed about not getting to really dig into/sit with the Bell's Hells post-F.C.G loss. Like, LOVED the Crownkeepers, fascinating second half, kind of meh on the specific timing.
I'm holding my reservations about whether they're going to have to keep running/moving once we return to their portion of the story, since hey, until it happens (or doesn't!), we don't know, so I don't feel like getting too in my head about it until then.
That said! I do think that in general the cast puts characterization and staying true to the emotions of the character/story as a very high priority within the campaign. I think you're right that it won't be the exact same as if they had done a big emotional blowup/goodbye/processing scene in the same ep where they lost F.C.G, or immediately after. I don't think that means it has to be less impactful, just that- yeah, they'll have had more time to actually think/process it.
But they're also all professional voice actors who have, IMO, thus far shown how much they think about the inner lives of their characters and enjoy really digging deep into the emotional/interpersonal aspects of roleplay.
My assumption (my hope?) is that with additional time to think about + process a devastating/deeply emotional loss for their character(s), they'd choose to lean into that more, and not less. It wont be the same as the immediate raw reactions, thats true! But i dont think that means it has to be less impactful, even if they (as people) have had more time to process, and will be choosing how their characters, fresh off the loss, react. I dont think thats a guarantee it will be less impactful/emotional (maybe the additional thinking would actually enhance the reactions being true/insightful to the characters vs gut reactions from cast), but it will be different.
But if the cast chooses to lean into the heartbreak/emotions, and the circumstances of the BH in the upcoming ep enable it, I'm sure they can still kick my ass (emotionally), timeskip or not.
In general, I'm cautiously optimistic about what could happen next! Even if I don't love the timing thus far. I think there's still plenty of ways for me to get what I'm hoping for wrt F.C.G/BH. :] There are plenty of ways for me to get let down too, probably, but until it happens, or doesn't, I'm opting to not get too doomery about it. We'll see.
I uh. Hope that helps? A bit? Being bummed about specific things you were hoping for being off the table is totally reasonable. just hoping to lend an alternate way of viewing it, if desired.
(i wrote the sentence: "don't be lamenting your chickens before they hatch" and then went "what the fuck" out loud. i spent 4 hours at work today just doing systems diagramming and my brain is fried. clearly. keeping this here for my own entertainment.)
#im kind of tired im sorry if this makes no sense lmao. i appreciate the ask! sorry if my answer comes off as flippant. i do get where you're#coming from and wanted to share how im personally choosing to approsch it haha#critical role#cr spoilers#c3e92#bell's hells#spar speaks#ask away!#speculation#fcg#imo its like how we probably wont be getting situations like marisha shellshocked live tweeting after jester saved beau with a cupcake#but we get the cast doing sneaky little tweets before the episode airs but after theyve already experienced it#different for sure. doesnt have to be worse. thats more up to personal opinion i think#i fully wrote that chicken thing and went. thats the idiom right. and then stared at it and went. ... no. its not.#should i have waited to answer this ask? maybe. but oh well.#i should probably get some sleep though
31 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! If you don't mind answering, what are your thoughts on Rogue only mentioning Gambit during E.7 ?
It felt weird after all these episodes and exploration of their relationship.
Ahoy there! 🛸
Well... I try not to put too much thought into it. Overall Bright Eyes felt like a moment of transition towards the finale (with an absolute kick-ass Rogue). I am happy they had an episode that showcased a part of what Rogue was going through after Genosha, because, as Amelia Vogh said - 'a survivor is the last thing I’d wanna be.’ So Rogue has a lot to process: the guilt and grief over losing Gambit, the uncertainty and anxiety around Magneto and well, the death of so many people around her. Remember what Magneto said? “We shall not live our days wondering if we could’ve saved more.” Rogue is doing just that - and it's hell.
About Rogue focusing just on Gambit - it makes sense. She held his body in her arms. That moment is with her probably every time she closes her eyes. The way I see it, there are two reasons why the focus has been only on expressing her feelings for Remy.
1. It might be just the way it is. Rogue and Gambit will always be 'the couple'. More so for TAS. They are one of the most well-known and popular Marvel couples so, after the drama was done, the writers needed to pull that ship back on course. It was always going to be like that and I'll be here for the ride. Not everything in media has to be written to match my preferences. Plus, the show has kept both of them in character and written them exceptionally well so far. Especially with Gambit, I am grateful for the care they put into portraying him, because in comics it's such a mess, depending on who's writing him. So I am expecting the focus to be on Rogue and Gambit from now on.
2. The other reasoning (from a media literacy perspective), and the one I prefer - is that she's processing. It might turn out to be true or it might not - the show will tell us. But at this moment it does look like that. Grief, guilt, shock. First of all, in Magneto's case, there was no body. The rule is until the search is called off, if there is no body, there is no death confirmation. So Rogue is struggling to accept it. What she knows is that Remy is dead - that is a reality she cannot avoid and it consumes her. On the other hand she was refusing to face the possibility that Erik was also gone. Then Kurt made it real. In the privacy of that moment between them he said what she wasn't allowing herself to think or accept: that she lost more than one person she cared about. Secondly, also why it makes that moment with Kurt so much more heavy, is that no one else in the team knows of the emotional connection she has with Erik. Everyone who knew the depths (Gambit and, in parts, Madelyne) are dead. I don't think Rogue can voice her grief in front of the rest without an explanation. She can however channel it through Gambit’s loss. What is worse is that her feelings for Gambit are now intertwined with a lot of guilt, and she probably feels like she has failed him in particular. And it breaks my heart. I don’t think that’s fair towards her and I am not particularly a fan of that, but X-men has often times put drama ahead of character development.
So is it the first one? Is it the second one? Who knows, maybe it’s a bit of column A, a bit of column B. But there is one thing that I would have liked the episode to show more of: I wanted to see Rogue processing what it meant for her to survive Genosha, to survive the genocide. I care more about that, about her humanity, her struggles and convictions, unrelated to the romantic aspects. Romance is not the ultimate form of love, and it doesn’t have to be the most intense display of love either.
#rogue#gambit#remy lebeau#magneto#erik lehnsherr#rogneto#romy#x men#x men ‘97#x men 97#x men 97 spoilers#anna marie#anna marie adler#texpost#marvel#just thoughts#still a firm believer that what's happening with magneto is far crueler than death
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Good Omens fandom come here hold my hand I'm going to be a bitch for a second. It is possible to be upset abt the homophobic implications that gay sex would somehow "taint" Aziraphale and Crowley's dynamic while also respecting people who are sex repulsed and see themselves in Aziraphale and Crowley and INVERSELY it is possible to desire more explicitly asexual representation in media and feel sometimes scenes should be taken at face value, while also respecting people who are gay, have sex, would like gay sex to be destigmatized in media, and interpret certain scenes as subtextually queer and erotic (ox rib scene. aim for my mouth shoot past my ear.), and ADDITIONALLY it is possible to desire nontraditional queerplatonic representation while also not being homophobic by saying a pair of canonical love interests should have just remained friends, and ALSO I feel like some of y'all are forgetting asexuality is a spectrum that does, in fact, include a lot of people who do have gay sex! Sexuality is not purely black and white and essentially a lot of u are engaging with very black and white thinking over a nuanced and delicate issue i fear. I'm not being super articulate here but there's a lot of layers to this is what I mean. OK im done being a bitch good night 👍
#might delete this post later we will see#but I'm tired man lmao#many things can be true at once. we can all be frustrated but we dont have to be kicking each others asses abt it#peace and love on planet earth.#or something.#good omens#gos2 spoilers#good omens season 2 spoilers#good omens spoilers
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
Oh god is my fnafhs phase coming back. I have an AU Idea and it's very magical girl-y help (a Lil summary in the tags)
#basically y'know lily abby maggie toddy and mai? all the best girls? (ok except Abby maybe but I'll save her dw)#ok now imagine them as teen magical girls#a normal 2000's/2010's bff group who also kick ass in pretty dresses#now imagine mai and puppet being magical beings from another planet#kinda like the winx club characters that look completely human but they're fairies n stuff? there's a reason why the twins can look like-#Normal humans tho: their true form is a being like Maipett. they're two maipetts#BUT they can shapeshift to look just like any living beings they see#so they can very easily blend in with humans#now what are these beings? basically they're magical dudes that control the “Shadows”. evil spirits that can destroy life in pretty much-#any abitated planet in irreversible ways#one day some shadows breached from the maipetts control and directed themselves to earth as it was the closest living planet#so mai and Charlie as the strongest most able shadowseekers (group of specialized Maipetts with the mission to bring back Shadows to-#security in case of breaching) got a mission to go to earth find the shadows and bring them back. even destroy them if necessary#now what's the group mentioned earlier have to do with all this?#after saving lily from a shadow attack her and mai become “friends” (keep in mind Mai doesn't really know what friends even are)#but with time they do become very close#and since the shadows are never way too far from each other meaning that other shadows might be hiding in the same town Mai wanted to keep-#Lily safe. so she gave her a tiny rock that contains Maipett powers (Mai likes to keep them on her belt for decoration) and showed her-#basic attacks to at least keep Lily safe in case she gets attacked by a shadow and Mai happens to not be there#after a while tho Abby (Lily's roommate and childhood friend) finds out about her friends' powers and she thinks it's soo cool and things#but Lily and Mai especially aren't so cool about it cus pretty much all the situation is supposed to be a secret#so they and abby make a promise: Abby gets a magical gem and of course some lessons how to use it's powers and she keeps the secret#Abby agrees and she joins the group (that remains unnamed until the others join)#Toddy and Maggi were found by Charlie in the meantime. Charlie saved them both from a shadow attack and so Mai decided to give them-#magical rocks aswell with the deal that Charlie was the one to teach them about their powers this time#Toddy decides to name the group “The Shadowseekers” to reference mai and Charlie's literal job#and yeah they go on adventures around the city™ and sorroundings beating shadow's ass and learning to use their powers and work together#while also keeping the secret#idk it came up to me like some minutes ago#fnafhs
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
i love putting things that are contradictory in my fics. Ekaterina sees Childe as a boy. Childe sees himself as a wild animal. Yoimiya sees Childe as a person but she doesn't have the right idea of who he actually is. the Tsaritsa sees Childe as a weapon. but its all alternating second person so its all just presented as fact. he is all of these things. words cannot describe how self indulgent perfume petticoat is going to be
#board certified my post#childe#perfume petticoat#literally sometimes im like. wait this part says one thing and this part says like the opposite. and then i remember that two things can#be true#you could argue that childes perception of himself is most accurate because. he is himself. but i mean thats clearly not true#if theres one thing thats cannon about childe its that hes the worst judge of himself at all times#he keeps trying to kick ass. and dont get me wrong hes good at it. but not as good as he thinks he is
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Someone pls come make dinner 🥲
#me#work is kicking my ass but at least I look cute#I had 6 calls today#have 6 tomorrow and 6 on Thursday 🥲🥲🥲#one of them on Thursday is the one I set with my boss so I can tell her exactly all the things I’m mad about rn#bc hey she’s begging for transparency and pretending something can’t be true unless she hears it directly#so I’ll be the one with the balls to say it to her face idc anymore lol#anyway I’m getting stoned and forgetting about work now it’s dead to me#until tomorrow morning 🥲🙃
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cannot fall asleep or eat or drink or do anything productive, all I can do is cry and it's been like this for many hours and doesn't seem to stop. What a day, huh.
Tonight I had a short dream where different peoples/characters hearts were represented as small rooms, and I specifically focused on rooms of Maria, G3hrman and Ad3line. All three were terribly dirty, messy, full of trash and broken things and dark, so I redecorated them to be clean, colorful, renewed and pretty with "magic". Filled them with flowers and living butterflies, too. Made the washed up sullied colors vibrant again.
I just wish there was someone who could do something like this for me.
#personal#/vent#dreams#maria was also really hurt because of g3hrman. like.... i found her hiding in the closet from HIM no less.#this was really unsettling#how much you have to mess up to make someone who can kick anyone's ass feel threatened?#ad3line's room also turned out to be very red and vibrant#i also had no choice on the colors of the flowers and with her the flowers were red#not pink like maria's or blue like g3hrman's#interesting choice of color huh.... red color of vigor and passion#she also got EXTRA portion of butterflies#it felt.. satisfying really. to fill broken and devastated 'room' with life and beauty again..#i think g3hrmans was the only one that remained dark and chilly#but instead of bad darkness it became cozy dim darkness. very wintery and nostalgic.#again odd how marias healing went all tender and soft colors and cute things esp pink and white#and then you have goddamn. ad3line being so full of red and passion and sharp furniture#makes me wonder whether something was missing within my portrayal of her#if this is her 'healed' state#on the other hand mine is depressed and... well... this thing can ruin your true personality completely#all previous hobbies passions and traits? gone#marias room had so much broken glass in it though.. there was not a single whole thing in there
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
I need to write two characters with the most unhinged enmeshed nonromantic relationship imaginable. and I need to do it right now
#I LIKE being aromantic. is the thing#it rules it kicks ass etc all you dumbasses are faffing around worrying about kissing when you could be looking at pictures of fish#or literally anything else#I'm right about this. everyone else is fussed about nothing#HOWEVER. it is a tad bit lonely. when it feels like everyone else in the world is worrying about kissing#and there I am. looking at pictures of cool fish on my own#I'm saying it kind of jokily but like... genuinely it's rough out here sometimes!!#I see my dear friends being happy in relationships and I am happy for them but it's.#you know. there's a bit of an edge to it. there's this feeling that people don't value the way that I love - even though I surround myself#with lovely people and I know that's not true - and it's hard not to feel like one day I will be left behind#I'm getting a bit older and it's getting harder to work with peoples' schedules and I'm scared for what it means for ten years from now#everyone will find people who are more important to them than me. and I will still be looking at the pictures of fish#and then I go to my little books and shows and all manner of stories and ALL OF THESE GUYS ARE FUSSED ABOUT KISSING TOO#and it's like goddamn can't a bitch catch a break#can't a bitch see people caring for each other in a way he can understand#romance is sweet and all sometimes. I don't despise it. but fucking hell if it isn't oversaturated as shit!!!!#enough!!!!! we've seen enough of this!!!! if I don't right now think of seven different platonic ways#for people to be profoundly important to one another. that are also kind of fucked up but like in a delightful way#I am going to FLIP MY LID#anyway google the barreleye fish right now. it's a cool ass fish#fay complains
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
okay i have my fan going fast enough it sounds like it’s going to fly off the ceiling and kill me maybe i still have a chance at life
#basically my friend and i were literally talking the other day about how I’m not a particularly high maintenance traveller#but one thing I will not budge on (if I’m booking it myself) is that there has to be A/C#and I was saying yeah it’s not even that I necessarily need it like super cold or anything#it’s just that when I overheat it’s like one sensory thing too much with all my other symptoms#and fuck if that hasn’t been true since moving into my dorm#because of course i agreed to move back into the non air conditioned dorms because like genuinely it’s usually so nice all you need is a fan#but ig cause it’s August or cause my health or whatever it’s just been fucking hot as balls#and today especially since I’ve been mostly in bed with my period kicking my ass#it’s just been driving me insane#like i can mostly handle the pain but I just can’t handle the heat like I finally moved my boxes to be out of the way#cause I finally admitted to myself I’m not unpacking them in my current state#and I shed tears over how hot it was just moving boxes like four feet#and like please let it be clear I don’t live somewhere actually hot like im not doxxing myself#but like it’s nice outside but for some reason inside is just gross and on top of my fucking pain it’s too much#i also just I fucking hate move in so much#and I hate that i’m gonna have to text or call my mom and be like yeah im not coming to visit you this coming weekend cause im already dying#and the school year hasn’t started?#like I just tried so hard when I got here to be like ‘yes this is my year for real everything’s gonna be great’ and I just#i’m like one day into being in pain and i’ve lost my mind I can’t even think straight#i KNOW it’s my period I know it’ll last at most a week but it’s so scary everytime that it’s going to last forever cause it used to#im so scared about being an adult I don’t even feel like I can get through this school year but at least this is like. a specific task. what#the fuck am I supposed to do after that when it’s nonspecific#why does everything hurt#why do my arms hurt like that’s not a thing#my fucking throat?!#my legs are obviously killing me cause that’s a near constant these days#my headache isn’t terrible but it’s not great#and my fucking stomach#i think move in should be illegal and chronic pain should be outlawed and I think my parents should call me because what the fuck#boom’s bad days
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
i wish i lived in the world that some terfs live in where everyone is trans and transphobia doesn't actually exist and trans people aren't in any actual danger because we have all the political power. that sounds fucking fantastic
#'jk rowling isn't doing anything to harm trans people 🙄' damn i wish that were true#'this person is trans!! i can see it!!!' damn fr??? good for them#'everyone is trans these days! it's spreading faster than we can contain it!' really? that's fucking sick!!#like hiiiii terfs can we live in your delusion together for a minute <33333#every time right-wing politics creates a paranoid fantasy world to justify their beliefs it's always the coolest thing ever#like i WISH leftists were doing half the shit conservatives accuse us of. that would kick ass!!#can we get that transgenderism beam up and running that's all i'm saying#got so many messages when hl was coming out about how the game wasn't actually doing any harm to trans or jewish people#and like. damn. can i come over to your house and play pretend with you for a few hours.#it sounds really nice in your bubble.#valentine notes
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
I hate how it took me 3 — almost 4 — years to finally start realizing in full the things people had issues with, in terms of me and my behavior. The issue with this is.. after a while, my honest mistakes, my genuine confusion, my genuine lack of understanding or "getting it".. a pattern of that — no matter how genuine — stops looking innocent and/or unintentional to those on the outside of my own thought processes. My behavior gets boy-who-cried-wolfified, my intentions become misconstrued, and once I finally start again with trying to get better — at least with the things that I've been told to get better on — one mistake, one relapse back to old behavior, one instance of shitty behavior, gets taken as intentional. Because they're fed up.
Because, here's the hard truth. You intentions can be pure, you can make genuine mistakes, you can genuinely just be oblivious to your own behavior or how your behavior is affecting others. You can THINK you're improving, not realizing you're tunnel visioning on only fixing ONE thing. You can genuinely be trying, not necessarily having the tools that you don't realize you need to get passed the walls you're getting stopped by (created by yourself, might I add). You can genuinely be trying to fix things, thinking you are, but instead making things worse by "fixing things" the wrong way.
But the problem with intention, is that it's internal. You may have positive intentions, but you, yourself may have negative and/or toxic behaviors that you have yet to fully check/take care of. You may have a lack of knowledge on how to enact your positive intention. You may be dealing with some unchecked impulsivity. You may have some denial issues. You may be insecure and THAT'S unchecked. There may be many internal factors — both known, and unknown — that barre you from creating a positive outcome from your positive intention. Add on some unchecked neurodivergency, and you've got a concoction for a negative outcome. My examples — in terms of parts of my neurodivergency being unchecked, and thus a cause for issues within conversation — are: I take most concepts literally AND I have some fairly black and white thinking; if things aren't categorized, I get stressed or confused. Neurodivergency (ND) itself isn't the problem, it's my lack of and/or inability to find a workaround and/or working balance for these traits in my everyday life. They go from being a normal trait of being ND, to being major personality flaws that I struggle to find solutions for. And that's what they become understood as, after repeated instances of this. The thing is, a personality flaw can COME FROM how I've learned to cope with my traits being misconstrued as intentional over the years. For instance, I've had my intentions misconstrued, my words read into or paraphrased incorrectly, and my thoughts and character assumed my entire life. The way my brain works is: Go for the most efficient (in my current understanding) solution. First priority. Go for the path of least conflict. Second priority. So because of this, my solution for making sure I am almost NEVER misunderstood was to over explain. In turn this comes into play when I don't fully understand something, either, and the other party is starting to think that I'm being intentionally obtuse. My current bandaid for this is having us (the people in the conversation) come up with metaphors, similarities, or parallels between the concept I'm TRYING to understand, and a very well known concept (one that we all understand and know) to HELP me understand it, or to help me and/or the other party figure out/get closer to WHY I'm not understanding. The problem with this, is that this method creates long, drawn out conversations that can end up causing the other party/parties within the conversation to become fatigued with information or just burnt out with the conversation altogether.
But I digress, going back to this — "But the problem with intention, is that it's internal." — meaning that YOU are the only person who TRULY knows WHY you are doing or saying something. Others on the outside can only INFER on your intentions based on how well they know you AND your past and present patterns. And even then, sometimes the people whom are the CLOSEST to you will still be completely wrong about your intentions for enacting an action or for saying something. Does that make them a bad person? Hell no. It makes them a person who's tired, who's exasperated with your actions.
No matter how positive your intentions may be, your actions can still cause hurt and stress. That is a hard pill to swallow. Another hard pill to swallow is knowing that, some positive intentions require getting over/crossing an irrational insecurity/fear in order for you to be able to create a positive outcome. Leaving those fears and insecurities unchecked will have you succumbing to those fears and creating negative outcomes. Part of growing is being uncomfortable (growing pains).
An example of this would be, let's say I have a huge fear of going shopping. Why? The grocery store causes me massive sensory issues. Okay sure, that's valid.
My brain's efficient solution: Never go shopping and have someone else do it.
Now, while this could work in some cases if everyone in the household agrees to it, but in some households, shirking this responsibility onto someone else as my solution for my problem is unfair and quite selfish, not to mention, inconsiderate.
Sure, I could come up with every other excuse on why this is my only option (shitty and stubborn), I could, instead, come up with a workaround for my sensory issue. Having sensory issues, having autism is valid, but I HAVE to find a balance between my disability and my adult responsibilities instead of just immediately succumbing to my issues and refusing to find workarounds to a pretty solvable problem.
A better decision would be, if it's too noisy or too bright for me in the grocery store, I can wear headphones and light sunglasses to nix the initial issue.
I didn't actually do this, but I HAVE behaved pretty much exactly like the above scenario before in my IRL life. I used to think I was right in my stubbornness. Then I realized I wasn't, very soon, but then came the issue of not fully knowing WHY I felt the need to be so stubborn. The issue this was, I knew that my stubbornness wasn't justified, but in my brain and body, it FELT like I was right to be stubborn. Like a gut feeling. And bc I was still trying to figure out WHY I felt the need to be stubborn, and it still felt like I was in the right, I'd continue with the behavior until I figured out WHERE the feeling came from. I was essentially using myself as my own lab rat. Eventually, I figured out WHY I was being so stubborn. It came from the autistic trait of routine and by proxy, our struggle to accept or be comfortable with a change in said routine. In the above situation, I'd already found a "solution" to my problem. To my brain, my problem was solved. So, someone else trying to come and change HOW my problem had been solved, would make me uncomfortable. Along with that, it messes with the logic within my brain in the same way Captchas fuck with robots (I've failed Captchas before, that is how algorithmic and robotic my brain is). Essentially, the question for me becomes "If I've found a solution to my problem, the most efficient solution, why do I need ANOTHER solution?" But that question, for the longest, never passed in my brain AS A QUESTION, it always parsed, instead, as a feeling of being uncomfortable. Side tangent, that's where the struggle of finding words for feelings comes from. My nervous system and part of my brain knows WHY I'm uncomfortable, that's immediate. But it takes longer for me to parse those feelings into words, or rather, the question that my brain and body is having.
Talk about dramatic.
Once I was able to parse the question, I'd usually find myself answering it easily. The thing about certain traits of autism, and just emotions in general, is that they aren't always logical, even if they feel like it. It took me a LOT of time to figure out what my brain and body were trying to tell me before I finally figured out what illogical ass question they were asking me. Why should we have another solution if I've already solved it? Well bc I didn't actually solve it. Usually, once I've answered the question, the feelings of stubbornness start to ebb. Essentially, my brain and body process the situation faster than the logic part of me does sometimes, and that creates problems if left unchecked like I had been for so long. There are things that I've JUST now started to recognize that are issues with processing, things I've just now started to fully assess and absorb bc it took me so. fucking. long. to process the information in my brain fully. Not to mention all the things that I just now started LETTING myself process are gonna take time for me to fully absorb as well.
Does any of this mean that my actions that have caused hurt should be excused? No. It still caused hurt, they were still bad decisions, bad behavior, and sometimes, bad intentions that I thought were good out of ignorance or fear. I still have to take responsibility for those actions, even if I "didn't mean to". Mistakes and accidents happen, sure, but people STILL got hurt because of me. And while some of these behaviors were things I couldn't help or change in the moment (lack of understanding or lack of knowledge), some were definitely behaviors that I could've, and should've spent more time correcting and remedying (insecurities, fears, emotional regulation).
And fuck do I hate that it's taken me so. damn. long to even realize or reflect on ANY of this. Because over all these years, I was focused on wondering what I was doing wrong and wondering why my actions were seldom matching my intentions. I've been focused on panicking and focused on making sure that I didn't lose anybody, that I managed to stop focusing on working on my actual behavior. I became focused on people pleasing, making sure I made others smile, making sure I was doing things for people. I should've been focusing on genuinely getting my act together. I should've been focusing on self reflection, growth, learning, getting my life settled, instead of trying to make sure that I was in EVERYONE'S good graces. I was so focused on making sure everyone liked me, that everyone I interacted with saw me as decent. I was so SO focused on making sure that EVERYONE knew my intentions, that everyone knew that I never meant harm, that everyone knew that I was trying and that I wanted to make sure any mistakes I made were rectified, that I was never misunderstood. I was essentially trying to set up my social life so everyone KNEW who I was and knew that the negative issues on my side were never intentional so that way I could go fuck off and finally focus on improving myself without the possibility of someone, I guess, even perceiving me. I was so so fearful of going to work on myself, and then losing those I loved in the process, that I ended up hyperfocusing on on the wrong things about myself to try and surface please other people. In a way, I think I wanted validation that the things I was doing were actually good. I still struggle with thinking for myself when it comes to making the right decision with things. I'm so unsure of myself and I'm so unsure of what the RIGHT thing to do is in some situations, so I find myself asking what I should do, or winging it in fear of looking stupid for asking. The latter is not advised.
I'm writing this mainly to show my therapist on Thursday, but also bc I wanted to reflect on my feelings and behavior. I KNOW that my intentions for pretty much most of the people in my life are positive. I KNOW that I only want to treat people well. But, in these last 3-4 years, and in the last 2 months of me putting genuine effort into my growth, I still find myself believing that I truly am a bad person. That I'm pathetic and that, at 18 days away from being 25, I should be more responsible, that I should be more mature, that I should be more well rounded. There are people years younger than me that I feel like we should just swap ages because of how much BETTER they are than me.
Sure, I may be improving, I may be getting better, with some bumps along the way.
But for the people who it matters most to, they're tired of me. Exasperated. Need space from me. Hold resentment for me. And in a couple cases, hold opinions for me that aren't true. There are things about myself that folks are holding resentment for, and I'm not sure what those THINGS are.
But I did this to myself. I have issues, many issues, and there were many points that I could've made better decisions, asked more questions, or just simply asked for help. I became a burden and a nuisance onto the lives of the people I deem the closest. I KNOW I can improve, will improve, and am improving. I KNOW that things and myself will eventually get better and I will learn a lot of new skills, lessons, and coping mechanisms (all good) along the way.
But being in it.. being in the growing pains, knowing I've ruined myself for some and am on thin ice for others. Knowing that I ruined something so good and started getting better too late. Knowing that, I've unintentionally caused trauma. Knowing that, in the current stage of things, I ruined my life and left others scorned.. Knowing that there are opinions of me that I can never clear up....
I wish I'd BEEN better. I wish I wasn't so slow. So slow to get it. I wish I wasn't so slow to EVERYTHING. I wish I didn't keep creating victims out of my bad decisions. I wish that I had worried about myself. I wish I had self respect. I wish I hadn't caused and created so much pain, stress, and hurt. I wish I was smarter, tougher, less of a crybaby.
I wish I wasn't Apple. I wish I wasn't Leo.
I wrote this out bc I needed to put my emotions, thoughts, realizations, lamentations, and regrets into words somewhere. Barely anyone looks at or follows my Tumblr, there's like, NO word limit, so here's most of my thoughts that are somewhat coherent and somewhat mixed in with the abandonment issues that my BPD likes sprinkling in lol
#all of this to say that my toxic ass ruined my life#the tags is where i put my bpd#the tags will have negative and illogical emotions#the tags are true to my bpd but not necessarily true IRL#k bpd time#wow i really got replaced again bc im immature and toxic#how long before im kicked out the apartment for being an irresponsible shithead?#everything hurts man#but like its supposed to hurt. im supposed to feel like this#this is karma. karma doesnt care about why you did it. just that you did it#you can change your intentions but you can't change your actions and thats why intentions don't matter#now that i think about it.. if i remove all of my intentions from my actions..#wow im actually a terrible fucking person bro#like wow am i shitty#no wonder i lost the love of my life#no wonder im not deserving of affection or love or hugs anymore#ive been a smotherer#ive done things that came off as straight up love bombing to them#ive started arguments that didnt need to happen#ive brought nothing but bad energy around me#im too fucking much for anyone and everyone#and too little for others#i made folks think i dont care about them#ive made folks think i dont love them#ive made folks think that i dont want to be around them#the times i need my words the most are the times i can never use them correctly and i get stuck struggling to verbalize things#ive made folks feel invalidated#ive made folks feel like nothing they say matters#like no fucking wonder i lose those i love#i hate myself so much
1 note
·
View note
Text
"Warning Signs Your Machines Are Trying to Kill You!" by TJ Klune
(Legally, I’m required to tell you that when smart phones first became popular, I bought one and then asked for the address of the app store because I thought it was a physical location I had to go to in order to download apps and not something already on your phone. Also, I was recently told I speak like an old person so as a warning, there will not be any slang you youths typically hear, especially on Tumblr. Any slang I’ve learned in the last five years has been against my will. I still don’t know what FOMO means, and I don’t care.)
1. Oh no! You and your family are trying to enjoy a movie night, but Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) wants a sacrifice at the altar of their god, BeeZos. Should this happen, do not attempt to give Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) a cantaloupe with googly-eyes on it and say that it is your baby. Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) knows the difference between fruit and children. Instead, ask the machine to order dog food, and it will forget about eating humans for a little while.
2. If you own a very fancy vehicle that can drive itself, always make sure to carry a brick. That way, when the car locks you inside and attempts to drive you off a cliff into a gas station, you can break the window using the brick. You will then have to jump out, but make sure you do so in time so you can watch the wicked-ass explosion when the car hits the gas station, and you can revel in your victory over your car.
3. This one will hurt. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Chances are, you’re reading this on your phone right this second. To be safe, after you’ve finished reading this post and have clicked on the affiliated links to purchase my books, you should throw your phone into a volcano and then move to South Dakota where there are no machines, only wind and cows. That way, when everyone else gets the 5GZombieVirus that people on Twitter (I’m not calling it the other thing, shut up) seem to think is real, you’ll be safe with your cows on a windy day.
4. Get rid of your air fryer. Don’t ask me why, just do it. Red flags all around. Danger, danger.
5. Do you know of the Clapper? That thing first launched in the late 20th century (I wrote it that way to make me feel old) where the commercials showed cranky old people unable to reach their light switches, so they got a thing called a Clapper that turns your lights on and off when you clap? Guess what? Those will be the first things to try and kill you. If you love your gram-gram, save her from the Clapper. When she asks why you are destroying it with an ax, tell gram-gram it’s because you love her.
6. Do you live in a smart home? The kind where everything is connected to the internet, including your refrigerator? The refrigerator that holds your perishable foods? And oh, would you look at that: how many ice cubes have you kicked under it rather than picking them up when they fall to the floor? A dozen? A million? The refrigerator remembers. And it will spoil your food in seconds. What then? What are you going to eat? Canned food? Not if the refrigerator falls on top of you!
Unfortunately for you, this is where it must end. I hope this has given you enough information to help you survive the inevitable. If you do not heed my warnings, well. Who cares. I’m not in charge of you. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come complaining to me when gram-gram gets the clap.
#tor books#booklr#new books#in the lives of puppets#tj klune#tbr#sff#science fiction#team robot#unreality#long post
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
A continuation on my post about unloved foods, specifically this is my in-depth defense of root beer.
Root Beer isn't inherently gross, it's just one of those weird local flavors that's off-putting to people who didn't grow up with it. We all like different things and also we all tend to like flavors that are similar to what we grew up with. That's okay! But honestly root beer is pretty unique and, in my opinion, delicious.
One of the main complaints against root beer is that it tastes like medicine. Funnily enough, it was originally marketed as medicinal! This is true for most OG sodas actually. Pretty much as soon as carbonated water was invented, people were drinking it to soothe various ailments. A lot of the original soft drinks were actually invented by pharmacists. I just think that root beer is especially cool because the main flavor came from the root bark of sassafras, a common North American shrub. Because it's so widespread and aromatic, all parts of the sassafras plant have been used in food and medicine by many different Native American tribes throughout history and was subsequently picked up and used by European colonists. In the 1960s, some studies indicated that that safrole oil, which is produced by the plant, can cause liver damage. Whether or not this would actually remain true after it had been boiled and added to root beer is unclear, but it was really easy to replicate the flavor, so the sassafras in commercial root beer these days is artificial. Another fun fact about safrole is that it's a precursor in the synthesis of MDMA. None of this information has stopped my childhood habit of eating sassfras leaves right off the shrub whenever I walk past it on a hike. I'm like 85% sure it's safe and also mmmm yummy leafs go crunch.
Another root beer complaint is that it tastes like toothpaste. I think this is probably because another key flavor in most root beer recipes is wintergreen. I'm assuming that the people who think this are the same people who think mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes like toothpaste. I can understand and even respect that some people don't like mint and associate it only with brushing their teeth, but like. Mint is a pretty common flavor. I mean I think it's safe to say that humans have been eating mint flavored stuff for longer than toothpaste has existed... anyway!
Other common flavors in root beer (real or artificial) are caramel, vanilla, black cherry bark, sarsaparilla root, ginger, and many more! There's not one official recipe, and root beer enthusiasts often have strong opinions about different brands. Some root beer is sharper, with more strong aromatic flavors, and others are mild and creamier.
Another thing I think is cool about root beer is that it's foamier than most sodas. This was originally because sassafras is a natural surfactant (and why sassafras is also a common thickening agent in Louisiana Creole cooking.) These days, other plant starches or similar ingredients are added to keep the distinctive foam. Root beer foam > all other soft drink foams. That's why root beer floats kick more ass than like, coke floats.
If you've never had root beer before, imagine if a sweetened herbal tea was turned into a soda, because that's basically what it is. If your first response to that is a cringe, fair enough. That's why lots of people don't like it. If your first response to that is "interesting... I might actually like it, though" then I encourage you to track down a can of root beer today, hard as that might be outside the US and Canada. Next time you see an "ew, root beer tastes like medicine/tooth paste" take, know that there's a reason for that, but also the same could be said for literally any herbal or minty food/drink.
My final take on root beer is that it would be the soda of choice for gnomes. Thank you and good night.
13K notes
·
View notes
Text
Hold My Calls
pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader
summary: you teasing leon about his flip phone leads to some fun
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fucking during a phone call, age gap, daddy kink, praise/degradation, over-stimulation
word count: 2.9k
a/n: hey everyone school is kicking my ass rn, but i am back with another one. thank you so much for the support on my last post that meant the world to me. i don't care if this is not technologically accurate or whatever just let me be delusional in peace. as always comments and reblogs are appreciated and i will give you special smooches in return <3
also thank you too my loves @tosuckmyweenis @kaitkatme @chasingkennedy @explorevenus @sleepyluxe @death-paint @petitecolibri for helping me come up with ideas for this one and/or beta reading - ily all sm :)
When you started dating Leon Kennedy, obviously you knew there was an age gap. You figured it wasn’t a big deal. He’s only thirty-six. That isn’t that much older. And for the most part, that was true. The difference in years never seemed to play a huge part in how you loved each other. But there was one thing that reminded you of this man’s age.
He had a fucking flip phone.
Honestly, it didn’t even say much about his age. It highlighted his stubbornness. He was not incompetent. His job had him working with all kinds of shit that you didn’t even try to understand, so it’s not like he can’t work a smartphone. He just doesn’t want to.
It didn’t really matter. If anything, it was kind of cute. The way he fumbled with the buttons that were too small for his fingers. The loud chiming ringtone that he would grumble about yet never turn down. The sight of him trying to find the right distance to hold the phone away from his face so he could read the font. You had heart eyes on your first date when this man popped in a CD because he couldn’t use the aux with his flip phone. They were simple quirks, but they were just so endearing to you. You’d tease him about being outdated, and he’d put up with it cause it was you.
“Why do I need anything more? This thing can call you, and that’s all I really need,” he’d say with a teasing expression when you’d crack a joke.
You’d roll your eyes at the excessive charm, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, but-”
And he’d cut you off with a kiss. “Trust me. I like it. It’s simple. Plus it’s like indestructible. But if I ever want an upgrade, you’ll be the first to know.”
The only time Leon ever considered ditching his trusty flip phone and upgrading to something more advanced was when you would send him nudes. Seeing the masterpiece that is your body reduced to a handful of pixels on the tiny screen drove him fucking wild. Upon hearing the chime of his phone and seeing the small image of you gracing his screen, he’d find a moment alone to try and see the details. He’d hold the phone two inches away from his face trying to make out every last curve. Days when he got those pictures ended with nights where you got fucked on every surface in the house.
He’d come home from work, his eyes full of lust before he even saw you. You’d glide into the room with a knowing smile on your face. You wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.
“Hi, baby. How was work?” you ask, feigning innocence. You close the distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around him.
“Oh, you care about my work now, huh?” he asks, a smirk creeping onto his face as his arms return your embrace, “Doesn’t seem like it when you send me those cute pictures during the day, distracting me, making me think about you when I should be focused.”
Your lips part and your eyebrows raise in mock offense. “I only send those to help you, motivate you,” you tease as your fingers coast along his biceps, “Maybe if you had a real phone they wouldn’t bother you so much. You’d be able to see everything clearly and not be left imagining.”
“I don’t need to stress about pictures though when I got the real thing waiting at home for me every night,” he purrs as he leans in and starts kissing you.
You return the kiss with the same level of passion, lips moving with his as the two of you stumble over to the couch. You fall back onto the cushions with Leon on top of you. His hands already roam your body and begin removing articles of clothing. He wasn’t in the mood to take his time after having that grainy image of you gnawing at his mind all day.
“Fuck, baby. Every time… I can never get enough,” he grunts as he yanks your top over your head and tosses it to the side. His hands rub up and down your sides, the rough pads of his fingers dragging over your sensitive skin and making you squirm. In no time though, they’re on your breasts. He kneads the plump flesh as his lips trail down to your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of saliva-coated skin in their wake.
He’s all over you all at once it seems. It’s overwhelming in the best way. You’re moaning and writhing on the couch, nearly trying to hump his leg while one of your hands tugs at his hair. You bite your lip and whimper as his lips move down over the swell of your chest.
He grabs your hips firmly and presses them down to the couch. His half-lidded eyes look up at you momentarily. “Quit squirming,” he breathes. He gives your chest a few more kisses while keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Need time with my pretty girl after I’ve been aching for her all day.”
You give a weak nod and focus on controlling your movements as he tugs your shorts off and drops them.
“Good girl,” he mutters before attaching his lips to one of your nipples and swirling his tongue around the peak. He hums in satisfaction as he feels the bud in his mouth. His fingers lazily stroke up and down your folds over your panties. He disconnects his mouth momentarily and looks up at you again with a smirk on his face.
“So wet already?” he teases, now being his turn to look smug, “You want me just as bad, don’t you? That’s why you send those pictures right? You’re missing Daddy while he’s at work?”
“Mhm, miss you so bad. It drives me crazy,” you say. A whimper escapes you as his fingers apply more pressure and his movements more strategically target your clit.
“I can tell. Makes you act like a little slut, huh?” he asks before he kisses down your stomach to the hem of your panties.
You feel your face getting hot at his comment, but you nod anyway. You bite your lip and keep your eyes locked with his.
He chuckles at your timid confirmation. “That’s ok, honey. Daddy’s here now. I’m gonna make sure you get all the attention you need. Can’t have my girl left wanting,” he says, pulling down your panties and putting them with your other discarded clothes.
He loops his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer so that you’re angled in a way he can reach you from his position on his knees. Your back is flat on the couch, and your legs are held over his shoulders. He doesn’t waste time, licking a stripe up your cunt and then delving his tongue inside of you.
Your head falls back onto the cushion in response. A moan escapes your throat at the sensation. Your sounds only increase in frequency and volume as he grips you tighter and fucks his tongue in and out of you. He watches you, relishing how he can pleasure you with so few touches. His tongue laps up your wetness and his mouth finds your clit again, sucking and flicking against the bundle of nerves just how you like.
His name and a variety of expletives leave your mouth while your hand slides into his hair and holds the blonde locks. Your hips twitch from the rising feelings of ecstasy in your tummy, but Leon’s hands keep you firmly in place. He devours you like a starved man, the hours of torture that little picture inflicted on him all paying off right now.
He’s skillfully swirling patterns onto your clit and occasionally exploring your insides. He knows you’re close because he can feel the way you’re pulsing and hear the way your moans and whines reach that slightly higher pitch. It only makes him work with more dedication.
“That’s right, sweetheart. C’mon, give it to Daddy. Let me taste it,” he grunts as he continues working you to the edge.
You cry out, your thighs quivering and your hips bucking as you succumb to release. You’re moaning with abandon, fingers clutching his hair as tight as possible. He groans into you from the sight in front of him.
You ride the high and he continues with his mouth throughout. When you reach the seeming conclusion, your chest is heaving and your limbs feel heavy, but Leon doesn’t stop. He continues on as if you were still on the way to your climax instead of coming down.
“Too much,” you whimper as your hips jerk and your hands make a weak attempt to push his head away, “Daddy, please.”
“Daddy, please?” he mocks with a laugh, “But this is what you wanted, babydoll. You wanted my attention, didn’t you?”
You whine, hips still squirming as your retort dies in your throat. It felt euphoric, it was just so much. This was what you wanted though.
“That’s what I thought,” he says before burying his face between your thighs again.
He continues eating you out until you’re an absolute mess. Your eyes are rolling back, nonstop whimpers fall from your lips, and your twitching thighs are clamped around Leon’s head. It was what he’d been wanting to see since he’d heard that chime in his back pocket.
“I’m gonna cum,” you slur. Your head felt cloudy from the numerous orgasms he’d brought you. A strangled cry tears through you as your body moves like it’s possessed. You convulse on the couch while his mouth makes you see stars for the umpteenth time.
Tears prick at your eyes from the intensity of your release, and finally, he starts easing off of you. He pulls your thighs off of his head and leans back. He wipes his chin that’s coated in your slick and licks his fingers. Seeing that alone has you clench around nothing which in turn spreads a smirk on his face.
“Good girl, baby,” he coos, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, “You did so well. I’m proud of you.”
He stands up from his knees, grunting as he gets to his feet and taking a moment to stretch. You can tell the extended amount of time in the position put some strain on him. Your lips curl into a small smile while adoration fills your hazy eyes.
“Your joints locking up on you, old man?” you tease with a quiet laugh.
“Don’t start,” he says, trying to sound stern, but you can see him suppressing his own smile, “Especially since I know you want more.”
That shuts you up because he’s right. He shakes his head and makes a mock sound of disappointment.
“I know you, baby. My dirty girl. Made you cum how many times, and you still want more,” he says. He begins stripping off his clothes into a pile next to yours. “My little whore would never turn down a chance to take my cock.”
Once his clothes are off, he languidly strokes himself a few times and climbs on top of you. He peppers some kisses on your face and starts to slide inside you. You were more than ready but still sensitive from the recent series of highs.
“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll get you full of my cum in no time. Fuck all that neediness right out,” he murmurs into your ear, his breath on you sending chills down your spine.
You mewl and tighten around him in more ways than one. Your arms cling to his torso that hovers above you while your walls squeeze around him to take him deeper. He grunts and his head falls forward a little as he feels sparks of pleasure in his abdomen.
“There you go, angel. Taking me so perfect. My pretty girl. Made for me,” he says into your ear as he sinks into you completely.
You nod mindlessly, your head fogging up again as he fills you. He presses sloppy kisses to your neck as he starts pumping in and out. You’re both breathing heavily and allowing the pleasure to take over. One of your hands slides to his hair to rub his head while his hips snap against you.
He’s falling into the perfect rhythm with you, one that’s driving you both toward the goal line, when suddenly you hear a muffled guitar strum coming from the floor. Leon groans and you burst into laughter as you hear the ringtone you had set for him as a joke.
His movements get weaker as his focus is drawn elsewhere, but he doesn’t stop rocking his hips. He reaches down to the floor where his phone is ringing in the pocket of his crumpled pants. He fishes it out and shifts so he’s kneeling while drilling into you.
He holds the phone up and squints to read the tiny caller ID on the flip phone which makes you laugh harder through moans. He smirks at your laughter and clamps a hand over your mouth. “Shut up, I gotta take this,” he says teasingly.
He whips open the phone, the maneuver causing you to moan and squeeze around him again. He winces at the sensation, nearly unable to restrain himself from giving into his carnal urges to groan and slam into you harder.
Your eyes widen as he brings the phone to his ear without stopping his hips and in the most monotonous voice says “Kennedy here.”
It’s good that his hand is over your mouth to keep you quiet. The contrast of his movements and that voice have the sparks of pleasure igniting into flames in your belly. Seeing how he handles his dumbass flip phone so smoothly has your arousal nearly pooling on the couch.
He listens to the call while grinning at you struggling to keep yourself somewhat under control. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Sounds about right,” he drones as the person on the other end goes on and on.
His strokes are just as deep as before, nudging you in the perfect spots repeatedly. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself getting near the peak. A soft whimper escapes you, loud enough to pierce the barrier of Leon’s hand. His hips sputter at the noise and his face contorts. He lets out a quiet grunt but quickly catches himself before losing it further.
“What? Yeah, I’m listening,” he says, his tone growing a little impatient, “Look, I’m just wrapped up in something right now. Could you not have just told me this before I left?”
You know he’s getting closer himself and struggling to hold back. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched and his eyes are projecting his rising frustration he has for the person who made this call.
“Yes, I understand. I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he says, effectively ending the conversation.
Then, to hang up, he doesn’t press a button. Instead, he flicks his wrist and shuts the flip phone with a clack.
You throw your head back against the couch cushion and a loud moan rips through your throat. You shudder as a wave of pleasure courses through you after witnessing something so unexplainably hot.
His eyebrows raise in amusement, noticing how much you enjoyed that. “Hmm, I’m not hearing any complaints about the phone now,” he says. He’s trying to tease, but his voice is husky with arousal. He maintains his grin as he drops the phone to the floor again and returns to his previous position which was closer to you.
“Careful, you’re gonna break it,” you whimper.
“Nah baby, I told you that thing is indestructible,” he breathes and starts pounding you into the couch mercilessly.
You bite your lip and resume clinging to him, your fingers digging into his back. You both are panting, expressions going lax as you focus on chasing the high.
“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you mewl, unable to contain yourself for much longer.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says into your ear, his voice taking on more of a growl, “Daddy’s right there with you. You deserve it for being so good for me. Being nice and quiet while I was on the phone.”
As soon as you have permission, you give into another release. Your legs shake and your arms cling to him tighter as the euphoria shoots through you. You’re gasping for air and whining while squirming beneath him. Soon it’s just too much for Leon. He tightens his grip on you and slams deep before groaning and draining himself inside of you.
He rocks in and out a few more times before slowly pulling out. He then sits up on the couch and sinks back into the cushions. You follow by sitting up as well and curling up against his side. He pulls you into his lap, stroking your hair away from your face and kissing your forehead. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while until he gazes down at you with a smug look in his eyes.
“I knew the flip phone was a turn-on,” he says, clearly pleased with himself.
You scoff. “It is not. It was just… it was the situation,” you defend.
“Sure, but you were tightest when I was messing with the phone,” he says knowingly.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
He laughs at your stubbornness and gives you another kiss. “You can admit it, baby. I won’t judge. Really, if you like it that much, maybe I’ll show you how strong it can vibrate later.”
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy smut#resident evil imagines#leon kennedy imagine#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut#smut
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Fashionably Challenged
Max Verstappen x Reader
Summary: you and Max may not exactly be the paddock’s most stylish couple, but you wouldn’t want it any other way
You wake up to the sound of Max rummaging through the closet of your shared hotel suite. Rolling over, you see him laying out two matching outfits — the Red Bull Racing team polos, skinny jeans, and sneakers you’ve grown accustomed to over the years.
One set for him, one set for you.
“Morning, liefje,” he says, catching your gaze. “I have our outfits for the day ready to go.”
You smile sleepily. “Thanks, babe. You know me too well.”
Max grins as he walks over and climbs back into bed, throwing an arm around you. “Of course I do. Can’t have my girlfriend showing up to races looking anything less than perfect.”
You laugh and playfully shove him. “Oh shut up. You know I’d show up in a potato sack if I could.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” he says with mock seriousness. “I would never let you embarrass me like that.”
“Embarrass you?” You scoff. “Please, like you even notice what I’m wearing half the time. You’re just as bad as me when it comes to fashion.”
Max opens his mouth to protest but then shuts it, shrugging in admission. “Okay, fair point. But that’s why I always get you the same thing I’m wearing. So there’s no way we can mess it up.”
You consider this for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We make a pretty fashionably challenged couple.”
“The most fashionably challenged,” he agrees with a laugh. He pauses, gaze growing serious. “But I like it that way. I like that we match.”
Warmth blooms in your chest. “Me too.”
The morning passes quickly as you get ready for the race. True to form, you both pull on the matching outfits without a second thought. As you’re walking out to the car, Max stops you.
“Wait,” he says, taking your hand and turning you to face him. He looks you up and down appraisingly. “You look perfect, just like always.”
You can’t help but beam at the compliment. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
He grins. “Not nearly enough.”
“Well I do,” you say, leaning in to kiss him. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, schatje,” Max murmurs against your lips. “Now let’s go kick some ass today.”
The race goes well, Max taking the checkered flag to the roar of the crowds. As you’re waiting to congratulate him, a podcaster approaches you with a microphone.
“Hi there,” she says brightly. “I’m Lottie from The Racing Line. I was wondering if I could ask you a couple quick questions?”
“Oh, um, sure,” you’re a bit caught off guard.
“Great! So first off, you and Max always seem to be wearing matching outfits to the races. Is that something you two purposely coordinate as a cute couple thing?”
You feel your cheeks flush slightly. “Oh no, not at all actually. The truth is neither of us have much fashion sense at all. So Max just gets me the female version of whatever he’s wearing to make it easy.”
The podcaster looks disappointed. “Oh, I see. So it’s not some adorable couple tradition then?”
“Well, I mean, I guess in a way it kind of is?” You say quickly, feeling guilty. “Neither of us are really into fashion, so we end up matching by default anyway. I think it’s sweet that we always end up coordinating without even trying because we’re just so in sync.”
She perks up at that. “Aww, okay, I can see that! So even though it’s not on purpose, you’ve made your own cute little tradition out of it just by being so aligned. That’s really romantic.”
You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Well thank you so much for your time,” she shakes your hand. “And congratulations to Max on another win!”
“Thank you,” you reply as she walks away.
A few minutes later Max emerges, helmet under his arm and face lit up in that way you love. You throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.
“Congratulations baby, you were amazing out there as always.”
“Thank you, schatje,” he says, squeezing you close. He pauses, smile turning teasing. “Did you enjoy chatting with that podcaster earlier?”
You pull back, eyes narrowing. “You saw that, did you?”
He chuckles. “Of course I did. I always notice you.”
“Well then you also saw me have to completely backtrack and come up with some sappy story for why we match when she thought it was a cutesy couple thing,” you say dryly.
Max shrugs. “It kind of is though, isn’t it? Maybe not on purpose, but it’s become our thing.”
“I guess you’re right,” you admit. “I told her it was romantic how in sync we are, always coordinating outfits without even trying.”
“Hmm, I like that,” he says, grinning. “We really are pretty in sync, aren’t we? Two fashionably hopeless peas in a pod.”
You laugh. “That we are.” You look at him fondly. “But I love our way better than being one of those obnoxiously coordinated couples.”
“Me too,” he agrees. “Though I will admit ...” His gaze grows more serious. “Part of the reason I like matching is because it makes me happy to walk around wearing the same thing as you. Like we’re a unit, you know?”
Your heart skips a beat at the soft vulnerability in his voice. “Max Verstappen, you big old romantic,” you tease gently.
He shrugs but you can see the pleased look in his eyes. Sudden understanding washes over you.
“Wait a minute … is that why you got me the same outfit the first time? Not just because you thought it would be easier, but because you wanted us to match?”
Max stays silent for a moment before breaking into a sheepish grin. “You caught me.”
“Oh my god!” You shove his shoulder playfully. “You big sap!”
“What can I say? I like having my girl on my arm looking like the power couple we are,” Max says, pulling you close again. “Fashionably challenged or not.”
“If only everyone out there making you out to be the villain could see the cuddly teddy bear you really are. I absolutely love it,” you murmur, stretching up to kiss him. You can feel him smile against your lips.
As you break apart, Max squeezes your hand. “Come on, let’s go celebrate. In new matching outfits, of course.”
You pretend to roll your eyes exaggeratingly but allow him to lead you towards the exit, your hands intertwined. You truly wouldn’t have it any other way.
***
You and Max are curled up on the couch in your hotel room, his arm draped around you as you lean into his side. It’s a rare quiet moment between races and you’re savoring the feeling of Max’s fingers gently carding through your hair.
“Hey Max?” You say after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
“Hmm?” He hums in response, not looking away from the football match on the TV.
“I got an interesting offer today.”
That piques his interest and he turns his head to look at you. “Oh yeah? What kind of offer?”
You take a deep breath before answering. “A sponsorship deal, actually. From Oscar de la Renta.”
Max raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, that’s … really great, liefje. I’m so happy for you.”
But something in his tone makes you frown slightly. “Are you though? You don’t sound that excited.”
He gives you a half smile. “No, no, I am! That’s a huge opportunity for your career and image. Having that kind of sponsorship deal is amazing.”
“But?” You prod knowingly.
Max lets out a breath, smile fading. “But I guess part of me is a little disappointed and maybe … worried?”
“About what?”
“Well,” he shifts uncomfortably. “I like being the one who picks out your outfits for the races. Our little unintentional matching tradition has kind of become my thing, you know? I’m worried if you get sponsored by some big designer brand you won’t wear the outfits I pick out anymore. That we won’t match.”
His tone is carefully casual but you can hear the undercurrent of vulnerability. Your heart clenches in your chest.
“Oh Max ...” you murmur, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You really like our matching outfits that much?”
He averts his eyes but nods. “Yeah. I know it sounds silly, but I just … I like how in sync we are. How happy it makes me feel when we show up to the races looking like a real team. Like we’re truly partners in everything. I don’t want to lose that.”
The softness in his voice breaks your heart a little. You take his hand and give it a squeeze.
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that,” you tell him gently. “Because I never would have accepted that offer anyway.”
Max blinks in surprise. “You wouldn’t?”
You shake your head. “Not a chance. First of all, they were pressuring me to only wear very high-end stuff, none of which really feels like my personal style. But more importantly ...” You lean in closer, maintaining eye contact. “They don’t have a men’s collection. So they couldn’t sponsor you too.”
Realization lights up his gaze. “Oh ...” he says softly.
You nod. “Exactly. I told them thanks but no thanks. Because no designer wardrobe is worth giving up what we have.”
Max looks stunned. “You … you turned them down? Just to keep matching with me?”
“Of course I did,” you say affectionately, poking his chest. “I would never give that up. How could I say yes to some fancy sponsorship that meant not having my fashionably challenged other half by my side, both looking like total goofballs in the one outfit the world thinks makes up the entirety of our closet?”
A slow smile spreads across his face and he pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “God, I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “So much.”
You relax into his embrace, overwhelmed by the rush of affection. “I love you too,” you whisper. You pull back slightly to look at him. “Did you really think I’d give up matching with you over that?”
“I don’t know,” he admits, looking a little sheepish. “I guess a small part of me was worried maybe you’d be tempted by the glamor and exposure of being a designer brand ambassador.”
“You know me better than that,” you affirm. “Our matching looks are too special to me. I adore everything about our little tradition — the fact that it started because neither of us cares about fashion, to you always picking out my outfits, and how happy it makes both of us to show up to races coordinating with each other.”
You take Max’s hand, intertwining your fingers. “Don’t you see, my love? It’s not really about the clothes at all, it’s about us. About how perfectly aligned we are in this little part of our lives. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”
Max’s eyes have gone suspiciously bright, his free hand reaching up to cradle your face. “But liefje … you could have had any designer clothing you wanted.” His voice is thick with emotion. “You turned that down … for me?”
Unable to find the words, you just nod, blinking back your own tears.
“I can’t believe it,” Max breathes out shakily. “You never cease to amaze me.”
You offer him a watery smile. “Well believe it, my love. Because there’s nothing in the world more precious to me than you and our bond. I wouldn’t sacrifice that for anything.”
A single tear escapes to trail down Max’s cheek and you quickly brush it away with your thumb. Seeming at a loss for words, he pulls you into a fierce hug, tucking your head under his chin as you settle into his embrace.
“I love you,” he finally whispers into your hair. “So damn much.”
“I love you too.” You pepper kisses along his neck and jaw until you reach his lips, capturing them in a deep, slow kiss that tries to convey every unspoken word of devotion and adoration.
When you finally break apart, Max gazes at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.
“God, you really are perfect,” he murmurs, running a hand reverently through your hair. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
“No,” you shake your head with a soft smile. “I’m the lucky one. To have someone who loves me so fiercely, someone I love just as much in return.”
Max lets out a watery chuckle. “I think we’re both the lucky ones then.”
You settle back against his chest as he wraps his arms securely around you. For a while neither of you speaks, lost in your own thoughts as you simply bask in each other’s presence. You let your eyes drift shut as Max’s fingers resume their gentle motions through your hair.
Eventually you break the silence.
“You know we’re going to have to get even cuter matching outfits now to make up for it,” you murmur teasingly.
Max’s chest rumbles with laughter against your cheek. “Deal. Anything you want, schatje. I’ll make sure we’re the most adorable fashionably challenged couple at every single race from now on.”
You smile at the warmth and conviction in his voice. “No one could ever call us uncoordinated.”
“Never,” Max affirms, dropping a soft kiss to the top of your head. “We’re perfectly matched in every way that matters.”
You sigh contentedly as you snuggle further into his embrace. In that moment, you know he’s absolutely right. You couldn’t imagine a better match than your Max.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#max verstappen#mv1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#max verstappen x female reader#max verstappen x y/n#red bull racing#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen drabble
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Take the damn shot
A/N: Ohhhhh I've spiraled. Going from Mandalorian fics to writing about a radioactive cowboy with no nose within a couple weeks of each other is totally healthy :)
Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader
WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence.
Summary: A single quiet day in the saloon is all you wanted. But somehow, your Ghoul partner is pulling his gun and you're covered in another person's blood. Honestly, it's just typical.
Word Count: 1.7k+
(GIF Credit to @djo)
The Ghoul hates to admit it, but he needs you.
In the same sick and twisted, goddamned way he needs the Vials to stay sane, he needs you next to him. When poison air grows thick and the scorching sun sinks beyond a brutalized horizon, you’re always at his side. Day in and day out, you stick around. Full of piss and vinegar, ready to take on the fucked up world you’re all stuck in.
And Cooper’s not one for generosity anymore, but he gives you credit a lot of the time. He knows he can be nasty, and you don’t mind one bit. In spite of his callousness and general disregard for safety, you put on a chipper attitude and tug him (sometimes physically) along to the next town. Outwardly innocent but filled with a mutual hatred for Vault-Tec and what its influence had done to the world and yourself, you’d quickly become his diamond in the rough.
And you shine particularly bright in the shack of a building the Wasteland called a saloon. You’ve made careful friends with a couple of gray-haired biddies- presumably the owners- in the back of the room, and chat happily with them. Cooper sits off to the side behind you, a bottle of the local brew dangling between his fingers. He’s content for the first time in a while; ass in a creaky rocking chair and boots kicked up on an old milk crate. The brim of his hat is pulled down to hide the majority of his face, but eyes wander lazily from you to the front door.
Cooper didn’t think many things were nice any longer, but listening to you prattle on with the women warmed something in his dead heart.
“You’re awfully pretty for this place.” The older of the two women, sporting a single eye and an impressively neat beehive style, compliments you. “Gotta be out of the Vaults with that skin.”
The Ghoul tenses, knowing the mention of your 200-year prison would strike a nerve.
“Yeah. I’m from before the war, actually.” You say it plainly and chase it down with a swig of liquor. “Fuckin’ Vault-Tec.”
The Ghoul’s familiar with your story, from you finding out about the plan to drop homemade bombs on American citizens to your confrontation with the executive group in Vault 31. Little did you know, you’d be sneaking in with no chance for escape. Cooper tightens his fist at the thought of Hank MacLean shoving you carelessly into a cryopod and slamming the button to lock you in. You’d relayed the story to him with watery eyes, and that’s something he absolutely loathed. He had enough personal beef with Hank that your trauma added to his ever-growing list of things to be absolutely pissed-the-fuck-off about.
Finch and Sparrow, as they were so comically named, clutch their pearls in sadness as you tell your story. They fawn over you, and Cooper makes out a few ‘fuck them Vaulties’ and a ‘well as much as it sucks, we’re glad you made it this far’. You sniff just barely and wipe your eyes.
“Thanks, ladies. It means a lot.”
The conversation turns back pleasant for the most part, and you’re enthralled as the women pull you into the town gossip. Cooper begrudgingly gets up to piss, comfy as he was, but stops at your side to hand off his bag first. You take it with a nod, more interested in the rumor mill than his whereabouts for the moment. He swaggers to the back door of the saloon, where wind whips sand against his jeans and patters the leather of his boots with tiny rocks.
Voices drift out the door from inside as Cooper yanks his zipper back up.
“Is it true what they say ‘bout Vaulties?” It’s a man’s voice, gruff and demanding in comparison to the happy lilt of yours. “Heard your story and always been… curious.”
“If you listened, you would know I ain’t no Vaultie.” Your reply is instant, but the edge in your voice has Cooper stepping a little faster down the short hallway. He reemerges to the sight of a suspiciously dressed man leaning against the wood beam beside your table, a little too close for comfort.
“Sure you are, darlin’. I can tell by lookin’ at’chya.” The man’s face is half-covered by a bandanna, and a pair of sand goggles are pushed up on his forehead, “Like they say.. everything’s… softer.”
There’s suddenly a hand landing on your shoulder, and Cooper sees red. His gun is pulled before he knows it, leveling at the man’s forehead.
“Hands off the girl.” He growls.
On closer inspection the man is probably close to the age you appear. Above the bandanna, weatherbeaten skin turns into frizzy ginger hair. He’s wearing a typical duster type coat, and the goggles are leaving red marks in his forehead. Cooper decides he’s taken shits more attractive than him.
Probably smarter, too.
“Fuck off, Ghoul.” Is the reply Cooper receives, sending a flash of white-hot anger through his already irradiated body. “I wasn't talkin’ to you.”
It was all too common, being brushed off. At this point in his life, it actually brings a smirk to his face. Your mouth is even tipping up at the edges, having had many interactions with the can of worms this guy was prying open.
“Listen man, I think you should let it go.” You warn and try to stand from the broken chair you had been carefully perching on. The red-head doesn’t relent, and pushes you back down into the chair. It wobbles dangerously as Cooper stomps closer. The movement prompts your captor to pull his own gun. It’s a crudely made pipe pistol, but able to shoot flying projectiles into your brains nonetheless.
“Get your goddamn hands off her before I decorate that wall with your fuckin’ skull.” Cooper yanks the hammer back on his pistol, hesitating at your close proximity.
The redhead pulls his bandanna down and Cooper watches you lean away as you recognize the scent and characteristics of a Fiend. His teeth are hanging loosely at crooked angles, and the pock marks around his mouth from scratching his skin open drip blood and serous fluid. His gun is trained on Cooper, but he freezes when he sees the Ghoul shift forward.
“Ah ah ah. How’d you like me to put a bullet in her instead?” The Fiend tugs you to your feet and nuzzles at your hair as he presses the barrel of his gun to your ribs. “I’d love a taste myself.”
The suffocating need to keep you safe and at his side fills Cooper’s corroded veins as you scowl at the Fiend whose nose is pressed dangerously close to your cheek with rotten teeth bared. Rage ignites from the anger he’s already feeling.
BANG.
Cooper’s watching when the red spray of blood washes over half the saloon, but still doesn’t quite comprehend what’s happened. His gun didn’t fire, but the scent of ignited powder fills the air. You fall to the floor along with your captor, and the aforementioned rage boils over. He holsters his gun and scrambles to pull you away in the chaos.
Thankfully, a quick once-over shows you to have no injuries, but the same can’t be said for your attacker. A foot away the Fiend lies still, about five pounds lighter from the gaping hole in his chest. Gore from his wound is splattered thick across your face and neck. Your eyes are pinched closed to avoid anything unsightly entering them, and you lash out blindly when Cooper grasps your arms.
“Let me go, you rotten bastard!” The Ghoul catches your right hand before it can hook into his jaw, “I’ll kill you myself.”
“Quit squealin’ sunshine, it’s me.” Cooper growls
While he’s getting a handle on your flailing limbs, a shadow covers the both of you. Cooper glances up at the one-eyed old woman who’s sawed-off shotgun is still smoking in her left hand.
“I know your brain is shrunken and all, but next time take the shot sooner.” She bites. “And feel free to clean up my damn bar.”
Cooper is torn between staring at the older woman- Sparrow, he thinks- and trying to contain your squirming. He’s not too fragile to admit he really doesn’t want to take a punch from you right now, so he wipes the back of his hand across your eyes and tugs you to sit up beside him.
“Cooper?”
He huffs a laugh at your incredulous tone and flicks away the remnants of blood littering your skin “The one and only. Open your eyes.”
They flicker open slowly, and you pout at the blood congealing on your clothes. “I just got these pants.”
Cooper sets a hand on your thigh and squeezes gently. “I’ll buy you a new pair. S’Long as you promise not to get Fiend all over those ones too.”
You thrust an elbow into his ribs at the jab and climb to your feet. Cooper follows with a dramatic groan.
“Old man.” You tease over your shoulder, observing the carnage from Sparrow’s well-aimed shot. A kick to the corpses’ ribs follows, sending a splatter of blood across Cooper’s pants. You shoot him an insincerely apologetic look. “She’s right, you know.”
The Ghoul follows your gaze to Sparrow, who’s hollering at any remaining patrons that dare tread too close to the mess, damning them for tracking blood around the bar.
“‘Bout what?”
You lean into his space, the scent of blood thick in the air. “Take the damn shot sooner.”
Cooper grabs the back of your neck and yanks you forward in a hard kiss. The blood transfers easily onto his lips, and he licks it off while pulling away. “Fucker deserved more than one shot.”
Possessiveness floods his mind and he squeezes the soft flesh beneath his fingers.
“I’da strung him up by his balls if I got my hands on him.” He mutters, tracing another finger through the blood and popping it into his mouth. “After grabbin’ onto you like that.”
You lean into his chest and let a smile curl the corners of your lips up. “All for little ol’ me?”
The Ghoul pinches your bloody cheek. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”
-------------------
thanks for reading, much love ❤
Read More: Fallout Masterlist
#fallout imagine#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#cooper howard x f!reader#The Ghoul x Reader#the Ghoul x you#cooper howard x oc#fallout tv series#lucy maclean#walton goggins#fallout fiends#possessive!cooper howard#fallout#fallout 4#fallout new vegas#ghouls deserve love too
965 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
br0fist
& i've got arrogance down to a science
projectworld4real
Untitled
mariekavanagh
Of Times in Which I Should Really Be Studying.
br0fist
& i've got arrogance down to a science
parabolastudio
Untitled