#and I realize some of the dialogue doesn’t make sense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ew-selfish-art · 10 months

Text

Dp x Dc AU: Jazz Fenton, after years of fixing her brother’s injuries, becomes a Doctor with an inclination towards behavioral health and psychology- In order to make the difference she wants to see in the world she joins Dr. Leslie Thompkin’s practice.

Jazz Fenton, M.D. has spent years of her life doing research, doing the hard work and the emotional labor, and finally, finally, she’s joining a practice she can feel 100% confident in. She’s goddamn good doctor and she wants to make the biggest impact that she can.

Dr. Thompkins (who insists that she call her Leslie as they’re colleagues now), is a kind woman, sharp as a tack and keeps her practice open at odd hours to help the most unfortunate. It took some time for them to bond and trust to be built, but now Jazz is being allotted a few night shifts here and there.

It’s incredible. Jazz gets to spend time with the kids who come in and really talk to them (in addition to getting them antibiotics, heating pads and pokemon themed bandaids) to help equip them with a few coping skills. Her passion for psychology never disappeared after all, but the expansive knowledge of how to heal the human body has made her find a sense of fulfillment like no other.

Having proven herself and worn Leslie down, Jazz now takes up about 1/3 of all the night shifts in the month. She’s hoping to get to 50/50 by the end of the year but she’s content with what she has. Danny keeps odd hours anyway so calling him after work on her walk home can happen any time of day and he will always answer enthusiastically.

It’s a particularly busy night before he comes in. The Red Hood.

He was known for being an ally to Leslie, despite being on contentious terms with the Bats, but Jazz had never asked directly. Never one to turn away a patient with bullet hole wounds, she hops into action to get his wounds cleaned, sewed up and gauze wrapped. She’s handing him a sheet (an Infographic! Dani made it with her! Graphic design is her passion!) on how to care for his wounds when he first seems to recognize that she’s not Leslie.

“No, Of course not. I’m Dr. Fenton. I can’t blame you for not remembering but I did introduce myself as you bled in the entry way. You’re Red Hood, right?”

“Hm. Didn’t realize the practice was expanding. Where can I find-” He grumbles before pushing her hand aside from where she had still been supporting his shoulder.

“Hold on there, mister. You’re going home, you’re following this infographic and you’re going to get some sleep.”

“Lady you don’t know-” His voice modulated ton came across antagonistically. As if he was trying to intimidate her. Ha, Jazz rolls her eyes at the inclination.

“Who I’m talking to? Who I’m dealing with? You’re hilarious. I can eat you vigilante’s hero complexes for breakfast. Tell me who I’m calling to pick you up and then you can say thank you.” Jazz snaps at him. It really had been a long night but his whole dialogue thus far is making her a bit batty.

“Oh really Doc? You know Leslie’s tough shit, and from what I can tell you’ve got nothing on her-”

“Trying to make me feel insufficient when I just saved your life? That’s cute. I’m sure a lifetime of abandonment by both of your parental figures gave you that. I’m also sure that you inherited this desire to prove you’re not going to be dependent on anyone who wants to help from whoever got you dressing up in tights to fight crime in the first place. Again, I’d love to talk at length about how predictable you-”

“Bwah- wait- I’m Predictable? You’re probably some nepobaby who had parents who told her she could have the world-” But Jazz cuts him off with hysterical laughter- he couldn’t be further from the truth. Her parents loved her, but nepotism? With what, the ghosts? If anything she got that from Danny, but he doesn’t need to know about her ghostly titles.

“You’re just some guy who came back from the dead and made his trauma everyone else’s issue. So shut it. And tell me how I’m getting you home from this clinic.” She seethes though her voice stays devastatingly level with each word.

Speechless for a moment, he eventually relents to Jazz that he’s already called for help on the comms but it will be hours before they can come for a pick up. The sun had already come up and the night had been over for most of them before Hood had walked into trouble. She groans and the realizes the time for herself and the empty clinic around them.

“Fine. My shift just ended anyway. I’ll get you home in one piece and I swear to all the ancients that you’d better follow the directions on the infographic.”

And that’s how Jazz ended up calling her brother while supporting the weight of a grown ass man (who no longer wanted to talk to her) on her walk home.

The next time Red Hood appears in her clinic, he’s brought a dozen roses in addition to the cut on his neck that definitely needs to be pressurized like ASAP. Did he stop for the flowers on his way to the clinic? He’s going to pass out from blood loss! She doesn’t even like roses!

#ehehehe #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #anger management #jazz fenton #jason todd #she still loves psychology but its a back pocket tool to her knowledge as an emergency medicine provider #jazz is ready to throw hands because becoming a princess during med school sucked ass #she did not have the time #but she loves and supports anything danny is doing sooo...#danny is currently attending gotham u for engineering but lives across town so they just call everyday #he sees her on her off days and always brings her tons of fast food #jason is immediately smitten with the woman put him in his place #the pit maddness was barking up a storm this entire convo but she got him home and he was like holy fuck im in love #jason todd said she saw right through me and that shit was hot #yes he totally stopped to grab (steal) flowers on his way to the clinic #dick picks him up this time. sees the flowers and is like oh cool its my turn to wingman for my lil bro #jazz is worn down by sweet gestures and the fact that hes legit so nice now when he comes into the clinic #he quotes poetry at her sometimes and she's like omg did you just make that up? she's never read poetry a day in her life #only medical textbooks and psychology papers #long post

3K notes · View notes

caitlinbueckers · 17 days

Text

fuck it.

caitlin clark x reader type beat

deadass this is just a mindless blurb but i CANNOT get shy yet cocky caitlin clark meeting a rivaling fan in an elevator outttt of my mind soooo enjoy (thanks @sellawrites for being my beta fr)

SLIGHT NSFW , DIALOGUE HEAVY , BULLSHIT RAMBLINGS

18+ regardless

it would come to you as a surprise. a shock, really.

it would feel almost too crazy to be true.

you don’t think you’re losing your mind or anything, which could be a super viable option if it wasn’t for the fact that you had just left the court, game fresh in mind, still wearing an oversized UCONN t-shirt, typing quickly at your phone to express your distaste with the win that IOWA just pulled over your favorite team.

the elevator doors open and close standardly— you hadn’t realized until you’d booked the hotel just how fucking busy it is, not taking into account that it was one of the nicer hotels in the city, elite only in the sense that it took a lot of fucking flight points to even book here, exclusivity aside.

it doesn’t register to you until you’re finished with an almost exaggeratedly dramatic description of the game to your friend, corner of your lips raising slightly only in jest of your words, that you manage to glance upwards, eyes flickering quickly from the back of the hooded figure, back down to your phone. well, that is, until your eyes flicker upwards again, remaining there with a studying gaze as you try to place just where the fuck you’ve seen that hoodie before, embarrassingly candid in your incessant stare—

until the figure turns, and your suspicion is confirmed, and it kinda fucking feels like karma, or maybe some sick joke from the universe that of course the hooded figure just somehow happens to be the very player that disrespected your team the most— caitlin clark.

you’re sort of gobsmacked, so it’s silent for a beat before caitlin, almost apologetically, rushes to speak.

“sorry, i just— i saw you looking, so—“

“no, no— that’s my bad, like- i just didn’t, um, realize that i like, recognize your hoodie…?” it sounds as painful as it is to say, and somehow caitlin, despite the looks of aggression, fierceness and fervor that she displays on the court, somehow melts into this weird, sort of embarrassed looking smile that makes something foreign tingle within you. it’s endearment, surely, but interest nonetheless.

“no, that’s okay— i wasn’t, like, complaining, or anything.” it’s only then that caitlin’s eyes flicker down to your tee, and suddenly, it feels a little fucking ironic. “did you make it to the game tonight?”

self consciously, your arms cross over your chest, attempting to cover the logo, but you find an awkward, sort of quiet chuckle bubble out of you, “i did,” and, because despite the fact her team sort of fucked over your favorite team, it doesn’t take away the respect you have for her because she is tough, so you even go on to say, “you played really fucking well, by the way.”

then, it’s your turn to be surprised again, because america’s hardest basketball player is fucking blushing in front of you, ducking her head like she isn’t six feet, practically demanding to be seen, and it makes you grin despite it, admiring that even now, in her claim to fame, she’s humble.

“dude, that’s- that means a lot to me, really. it was… super fucking close, but—“ she stops herself, right as the elevator dings for your floor, right as she remembers she’s talking to a person, not a conference room, and clears her throat a little. “it was… hard.” she says, and it feels so achingly honest that it makes you pause for a second, biting the inside of your cheek. “looked hard.” you remark, watching as the smile on her face returns, timid, but there nonetheless.

then, the elevator gives another warning ding, and you feel like a fucking idiot because the doors are open and you won’t just go, and leave it at that. because, when else do people just get chances to meet people like this?

the time on your phone reads 1:24 AM.

not like you had anything else to do, anyway.

“sorry, am i like— in the way…?” caitlin is almost overly apologetic as she stands aside, and you’re quick to shake your head, mostly because yeah, she sort of was in the way, but also, because you didn’t really wanna get off yet.

“no! you’re fine, um, i was just gonna suggest maybe we could, like, i dunno— grab a drink or something, y’know?”

jesus, you felt like an idiot as soon as the words are out, and you wince, eliciting a chuckle from both you and her.

you rush to explain, “sorry, that’s like— super fucking weird, i just like, fly out tomorrow morning so i just— wanted to offer, i guess?”

but for some reason, it’s mingled with the sound of caitlin’s quick reassurance, eyes wide almost as if to make sure she’s being understood, as she says, “no, no— that’s not weird, i don’t… have anything else to do, anyway.”

the answer, though only slightly backhanded, makes your lips twitch into a real smile, and you snort, shrugging a bit. “is it gonna ruin your reputation to drink at a hotel bar?”

she’s ruthless. a fighter. a winner.

she smiles again, and it’s soft, before she shakes her head, “what reputation?”

you both end up too fucking drunk— the bartender only a little starstruck as you both pretend under some unspoken agreement that caitlin’s name was totally debbie and she’d never heard of women’s basketball in her life. it’s stupid, and ridiculous, and somehow you want to think it’s too good to be true that one person can be so insanely talented, and somehow not be a piece of shit— caitlin seems to prove you wrong at every point.

“dude, fuckin’— god, kate’s gonna be pissed.” the words leave caitlin’s lips in a breath of laughter, the elevator shutting behind you as your hand presses to the wall for register, shoulder bumping against her arm due to the height discrepancy that isn’t totally still making something within you stir in awe.

kate martin. you’re aware of her team enough to identify who that must be, and for only half a second do you remember that this isn’t some chick you’d met at a hotel, this was caitlin fucking clark, and it fills you with a sense of astonishment, and then, weirdly, a surge of pride.

not for any posterity reasons, but because this absolute beast was fucking giggling and smiling and feverbright from the alcohol and you’re staring for way longer than you need to because, holy shit, why didn’t you realize how fucking pretty she was earlier?

“fuck it—“ you proclaimed, loopy and still a little too unsteady on your feet as you stumble, before her hand, long and firm, calloused and warm, flies out to grasp your shoulder, “my rooms like, fuckin’ empty, dude,”

she seems surprised, almost as much as you are that you’d even offered. “is that like—? are you like, sure?” and as if to make sure she has your attention, she pulls you to her, and your eyes flutter upwards, lips parted without a sound escaping because she’s looking down at you, her hair falling from its weakly tied ponytail, and she doesn’t realize that she’s holding you tight, but you can’t pull away because you don’t want to.

your response is immediate. “duh.”

she grins. your stomach flips, for the second time that night.

and really, truly, after that it should’ve been a lot more innocent. caitlin stumbles in and collapses on your bed, looking not even the slightest tired, but with a look on her face that makes you snicker out, “what?”

it escapes her in a breath of laughter, eyes lolling from the ceiling to you, standing almost idly beside the bed as your fingers caress the bedsheets, warm only from the presence of her body a few inches away.

“wish i could do this all the time.”

it makes you frown, but your lips are still upturned, giving her a look of amusement. “get drunk?”

her own hands are twiddling with each other, before she reaches up, caresses your arm with the subtlety of an elephant, tracing over the red lines she’d left on your bicep from the elevator. it makes you fucking shiver. “no, like— meet new people and stuff. just, talking to you is like— awesome, y’know…”

you don’t know, because you’re not a college athlete, but you nod anyway, leaning over her only slightly because the last vodka cranberry is settling nicely within you, and caitlin’s starting to grin, eyes hazy and cheeks pink, as you respond, soft and just for her, “consider this a prize then? winners trophy?”

she doesn’t answer, she just laughs and then she kisses you, uncoordinated and sloppy, nothing like how she is on the court, calculated and unwavering. like this, she’s loose, strong, but wobbly as she pulls you down over her, and it’s like a fucking sixth sense that you scramble atop of her, swinging a leg over her hips like you’ve done it a million times.

though, it’s more recognizable that she’s quick, her hands racing up your oversized shirt, thumbs hard as they press against your stomach, your ribcage, the lining of your bra.

she scoffs, soft and husky against your mouth, “take this shit off.” and it’s only then, that you remember cognizantly the UCONN shirt you’re wearing, and for some fucking reason, this sudden show of confidence, the liquor somehow fueling her, makes you blush.

“fuck off— “ you’re panting, but the shirt is tugged over your head regardless, a smirk on your face, “two point wonder.”

caitlin all but fucking growls, but she’s grinning, wolfish and proud, as she thumbs over your nipples, hard and pert through the lace as she presses her hips up against you, “two fuckin’— i’ll show you two fucking points.”

and she does.

maybe her post victory adrenaline had been surging, or maybe it was just all the beers she’d housed, but you’re surprised at her energy— which was stupid considering you were looking at a girl known for her endurance, her unlimited stamina.

but holy hell, she’d just rocked the fieldhouse for all it was worth— seemed like you were next on her agenda.

it’d be hard to recount all the details. you guys were drunk, and she was like a driving, pushing force— hands snuck down the front of your shorts, fingers impossibly dexterous as they curled into you, inducing every embarrassing and pitiful sound to rip from your throat, to breathe it into hers.

you probably wouldn’t remember her voice either, husky and low, gravelly with overuse, as she asks you, “hm? how’d i do tonight? tell me.” and in a sense, it’s fucking filthy. in another, it’s almost sort of sweet. the way she says it in your neck, the way she kisses you when you trip up to say, “good— so fucking good.” because neither of you are really talking about the game, and you both know it.

you pretend like you won’t remember the way she’s gone in the morning before you wake up, nothing but a warm reminder of her body on the haphazardly arranged bed, fixtures of the night surrounding you, like your littered clothes trailing off the bed, or your body under the sheets, like the pillow she’d used as leverage when she pressed open mouth kisses against the inside of your thigh, the way she’d taken you apart with her tongue and that’s all.

you do, however, remember the number she scrawls on a napkin, with an almost laughable signature that looks worlds away from her usual, coveted autograph.

instead of her looping cursive, a simple ‘cait’ sits scratched beside it, like she isn’t the award winning, competitively, aggressively ambitious beast that you used to know her as.

for now, it’s just caitlin.

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark smut #writing asf

555 notes · View notes

m1d-45 · 7 months

Text

my love, my god

summary: the ‘tomorrow’ you’ve been putting off finally comes, but not how you expect it to

word count: 2.6k

-> warnings: spoilers for baizhu lore/story quest, you have several nosebleeds

-> gn reader (you/yours) and aether as the traveller

taglist (+those that asked for a pt 2): @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @fleurdawn || @extremelytoastybread || @ambermondy || @loyal-to-dottore

<< first part || < masterlist >

living with aether was supposed to be easy.

you’d established a routine, your days simple. you spent your time in his library for plausible deniability, surprised at how expansive his library was. a lot of the books seemed like gifts, with little notes scrawled in the front covers. you honestly spent more of your time reading the notes than the book themselves, tracing over the handwriting.

barbara had given him a copy of a medical handbook, with notes in the margins from both of them for replacement herbs since the book was intended for use within mondstat. you didn’t try to memorize it, just skimming for a few details. some you knew, like wolfhooks or onikabuto helping to close wounds, but some was new. apparently, a diluted solution of cor lapis shavings in water could help heal broken bones, though it was noted that this shouldn’t be used in excess if the receiver didn’t have high enough elemental affinity.

a book of liyue’s local specialties, given from someone with exceptionally sloppy handwriting. there was a whole row dedicated solely to various recipe books, the one from liyue with a few extra pages tucked in.

aether liked to write in his books, you noticed, even the fiction ones. you had yet to encounter a single book that didn’t have at least one note in the margins, each in his sharp, quick writing.

‘cut lavender melon thinner than you think.’

‘who actually talks like this?’

‘when cooking for paimon, add slime concentrate to the broth.’

it was endearing. you saw so little of him in the game, most of the dialogue given by paimon. while you’d certainly gotten to know him in your time here… it was different, seeing his notes like this. it cemented the idea that you were really in your game, since what dream of yours would include the fact that ningguang had given him a journal of advice on how to deal with various poisons someone might try to use on him?

despite his expansive collection of books, he had very few historical records. the ones he did were well worn, filled with pages of notes as he tried to decipher the history of teyvat. it was sad to see, his writing becoming more desperate the further through the books you got.

‘ask zhongli for clarification.’

‘kokomi doesn’t recognize the name ‘istaroth.’ ask miko?’

‘dahri = khaenri’ah?’

‘ask zh ask dainslef. where would i even find him?’

‘even if i knew everything, would it make sense?‘

tears pricked at your eyes, and you closed the book in your hands before you smudged the writing. you wiped at your eyes, sniffling as you put it back on the shelf. it was hard not to feel bad, but even if you told him everything you knew about teyvat, would he believe you? would he still be as kind to you as he was? he was your one real anchor here, what with the world in chaos after you stopped playing… you couldn’t even point him in the right direction, since even that would raise suspicion.

maybe that was enough reading for today.

you wiped at your nose, walking for the exit to the library. when you reached for the handle, however, you spotted a smear of glittering blue across the side of your hand.

it took another drop of blood hitting the wooden floor before you realized what was happening, quickly plugging your nose and rushing to the bathroom. you took care to wipe up the drop that landed on the floor, both so it wouldn’t stain and so that nobody saw it.

you weren’t trying to die today. and even if, somehow, aether was fine with your constant lying to him, you didn’t want to ruin what you had.

not today, thank you.

despite it being where you’d first ‘landed,’ you had never been to mondstat. ever since your run in with zhongli, it was the nation you were avoiding going with him most, second only to maybe sumeru. venti, kaeya, and diluc, three of the most perceptive people in game, all in one place… it was a recipe for disaster.

unfortunately, aether was an excellent cook.

he’d decided to take his commissions from mondstat today, and only one required combat. plus, he wanted you to see the city.. and you couldn’t exactly say no to him without reason.

the first was helping wyatt find his key in dadaupa gorge. you’re not sure why he was drinking out there, but you’re not gonna ask too many questions. the gorge was beautiful in person, cranes nearly everywhere you turned… though that might just be because you were there. the wildlife had been getting more daring lately.

the second was delivering connor some mist flower corollas, carefully moved from aether’s inventory to a thick, special made bag. you got a strange look or two from the maids, but within a few minutes aether was teleporting you to the city, tunner‘s prescription in hand. mondstat was much more lively than in the game, though you supposed that was for convenience. having hundreds of npcs roaming the city, each holding their own conversations, would likely hit performance.

paimon told you all about the city, though all of it was things you already know. there’s the adventurer’s guild, there’s bennett—you both waved—and there’s ellin! that’s the statue of barbatos, boasting a height of…

paimon scratched at her head, looking up at the statue. “how tall is the statue?”

aether shrugged, holding one hand to block the sun as he tried to guess. “nobody ever said. do you think one of the sisters would know?”

“hm, paimon thinks our best bet is venti! he sits up there all the time, doesnt he?”

you looked over the statue, taking in all the details not present on it’s in-game model. even from ground level you swear you could see individual feathers carved into the rock. “you said he flies, right? i think we should ask the knights, they-” copper landed on your tongue, and you put a finger to your top lip. it came away blue.

shit.

you covered your nose quickly, the other two thankfully getting the message without you needing to talk. a napkin was pressed to your hand, and you were careful not to let any of the blue show as you switched your hand over it.

two nosebleeds with barely two weeks between them. were you sick? were the foreign bacteria finally showing face? you didn’t feel sick—if anything you’d been feeling much better physically, since coming to teyvat—but what if you were? what if it was some illness that only targeted outlanders- no, aether would have told you about that, he was too kind not to. but then why…?

you were sat in one of the pews of the cathedral, paimon sitting by your side. your eyes tracked aether to one of the nuns, but were quickly distracted by the beautiful stained glass set in the windows. shades of blue and green decorated the walls, coloring the inside of the cathedral. you couldn’t quite make out the scenes depicted, but it gave the room so much more *life* than its model. it was lived in, not just another location on a map.

“my my, traveller, you look different than i remember.”

you’re given little warning before kaeya speaks, his steps having not made a single sound. both you and paimon turned, her hands lifting in a wave while yours tightened around your stained napkins.

“hey kaeya! what are you doing at the cathedral? paimon doesn’t remember there being a service today…”

“just going for a walk.” his eyes shift to you, and you look away, in the direction aether left. the nun was back, but he was nowhere to be found. he wouldn’t leave to the winery already, would he? “who’s this?”

“a friend.”

a hand sets on your shoulder, and you jump. was it some unspoken rule not to let your steps be heard in a cathedral, or did it come with the territory?

aether passes you a small vial of a clear blue liquid, moving to stand between you and kaeya. “i talked to barbara about your nosebleed, this should stop it. a small sip will do.”

you don’t ask why he did that, instead just doing as he said. kaeya gave you an odd look but you were quick to follow paimon out of the cathedral, leaving them to it. soon enough aether joined you, and you all went back to the teapot for lunch.

it was a fluke. it had to be.

it wasn’t.

you were sitting at a table at wanmin, listening to xingqiu talk about his latest idea for a novel. paimon had helped you order, picking you out a minty drink that was as refreshing as it was delicious. you took a sip, sharing a look with aether over the rim right as a drop slid down your top lip. thankfully, the blue streak was explained by the tint of the drink, though chongyun did give you a few more odd glances than you preferred.

running into the arataki gang in inazuma city, itto excitedly showing you and aether the new beetles he found earlier. he stuck by your side, holding your hand in his as they switched to talking about tcg. they patted their pockets, searching for the cards they’d won today. a cough into your elbow was all it took for blue to mark the inside of your sleeve, and shinobu was quick to pass you a napkin coated with onikabuto dust. it felt funny against your fingers, but apparently the gang used them to patch wounds all the time when a friendly wrestle went too far.

the more people were around, the worse they were. your nose was near constantly itchy, like the world was channeling every irritant in a mile radius right into your face. any minor bump would cause at least a drop to spill down your lip, leaving you overcautious and aether forever worried. the bottle barbara gave you ran out quick, and though she ended up giving you the recipe, it was clear that something more serious was going on.

you laid on the couch, pinching a napkin around your nose while you waited for aether to finish your medicine. he’d gone outside to get the rest of the ingredients with paimon, leaving you to your thoughts.

you hated teyvat for doing this to you. you’d bet good mora that simply showing him the color of the stains on your napkins would solve whatever phantom illness ailed you, but you didn’t want to. you were happy with the life you had! you didn’t need a shining palace or the worship of the world, you just needed aether. him and paimon and your teapot, with the small herbs growing in the windowsill and crystalflies fluttering outside. why was the world so determined to get you to spill your secret? it wasn’t like he’d hate you for keeping it—at most he’d be surprised, or maybe even a bit apologetic himself.

it was stupid. shouldn’t you be the one to decide whether this was shared or not?

you sighed, the sound of the door pushing that train of thought aside. aether tapped your shoulder and you sat up, accepting the medicine thankfully.

“sorry about the delay, baizhu was dealing with another patient.”

“you went to the pharmacy?” you hand him back the bottle, looking away as you wipe off your nose.

“yep! when we got there he was mixing up a nasty smelling poultice for some other lady—paimon swears she can still smell it, even after all this time!”

“really?” you look up, satisfied you got it all off, but freeze. aether is standing beside you, and paimon’s sitting on the arm of the couch, but behind them is baizhu, changsheng loosely coiled around his shoulders.

oh no.

“one of the ingredients in barbara’s medicine is qingxin,” aether explains, “i only had so many, so i started buying them from the pharmacy. he got curious and asked about you… i hope you don’t mind?”

you barely hear him, focused on the lift of changsheng’s head as she whispers something into baizhu’s ear. he looks surprised, mostly, but also confused, and you know exactly why.

after all if he can sense god remains, he can surely sense the god.

“is there a problem, doctor?” you ask, and wait until both aether and paimon turned to him to raise a finger to your lips.

keep quiet. don’t tell him. i don’t want to lose this yet.

he looks between you and aether, clearly conflicted.

please.

after a moment, he sighs, shaking his head as he adjusts his glasses. “nothing is wrong, my apologies. changsheng, if you will..”

he begins to search through his inventory while changsheng slithers past paimon, curling around your wrist. baizhu takes out a notepad, pulling over a chair.

“aether, you’ve been coming to the pharmacy for qingxin for a little over 3 months. is that a good estimate for the length of time this has occurred?”

he glanced at you, and you nodded.

that was a lie, technically.. but it was for the greater good. baizhu would mark you some anomaly, recommend you just keep taking barbara’s medicine, and everything would be okay. you’d be fine. no stresses of godhood, no giving up your peaceful life in the realm within, nothing.

changsheng uncoils from your hand, climbing onto aether’s shoulders to get to baizhu. he doesn’t so much as blink, letting her wind back into place. what did she go to you for, then? “do any other symptoms come with them, such as nausea or headaches?”

“no, not really.”

“have you noticed anything strange about the blood? clots, maybe, or discoloration?”

you meet his pointed look, ignoring how your heart picks up. call it selfishness. “nothing.”

baizhu sighs. “are you certain? if you want this to go away, you need to be honest.”

at least you were right on one front. to get back the life you had, you’d need to give it up. while you knew neither aether or paimon would resent you—they’d dealt with gods disguising themselves before, surely they couldn’t hate you—their attitude toward you would certainly change.

your silence is clearly worrying, and you shake your head before anybody asks questions. “i’m certain, there’s nothing.”

he again looks conflicted, and paimon looks between the two of you, frowning. “uh, is paimon missing something…?”

“i’m sorry,” baizhu says finally, “but it’s for your own health.”

before you can protest, he reaches up towards changsheng. she shifts, revealing the napkin you used earlier hidden between her body and his, clearly marked with blue.

when did she-?

baizhu flicks out the napkin and paimon gasps. “i can tell they’re getting worse, and while i understand it’s your choice, i value your life more.”

aether turns to you, and you can’t read the expression on his face. “is that really yours?”

“…yeah. i put it together that teyvat wants me to tell someone, but i didn’t want to lose what we had.”

he smiles, holding out his hand. when you took it, he pulled you up off the couch and into a hug.

“you’ll never lose me,” he promised, “not even if you’re a god. not even if you’re my god.”

641 notes · View notes

shawnxstyles · 2 years

Text

ten times faster

DATE: JULY 29, 2022

summary: as the gang hangs out at your place, peter and you get into an argument about if a guy knows a girl’s body more than her own. when you tell peter that you can come better alone than with him, he decides to prove you wrong.

words: 2.3k

song: A Kiss- the driver era <3

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [nipple play, fingering] hair pulling, dirty talk?) language, way too much dialogue to deal with

note: this is a random thing i found in my notes and i actually had time to finish it?? i love smut, but let’s be honest, i’m not that good at writing it. but here’s this. frat!peter x female!reader

gif is not mine!

—

“i mean, i think the girl would know her own body the best, i’m just saying,” you stated, sipping on your cheap wine as you laid against the couch. you rested your hand on the arm and crossed your legs. you and your friends were having a night in, discussing topics that were anything but age appropriate.

“girls never get to finish anyway,” betty adds and ned looks at her with the most shocked and hurtful look known to man, “hey! that does not include me. i finish every time. if not more.”

we all gag and pretend to throw up while ned whispers a thanks, babe to betty behind it all. you roll your eyes, ready to move on when mr. thinks-he-knows-it-all-just-because-he-gets-good-grades steals the spotlight (clearly you have some frustrations with school and he does not help).

“i mean, i’ve never been with a girl who hasn’t finished,” peter arrogantly voices with a small smirk curling on his face. you didn’t even know girls slept with him (don’t lie, he’s mildly cute. even attractive at most. okay, he’s very attractive. better?) you almost didn’t say anything.

“what is that even supposed to mean?”

“it means the guy knows his girl’s body more than she knows her own,” he shrugs as if he has said the most simplistic thing in the world. peter tilts his beer bottle as he empties it. he makes an overly exaggerated ahh sound of relief as he downs the liquid. it makes you even more irritated.

“how does that even make sense?! just because you’ve had sex with a bunch of girls doesn’t mean you know their bodies. let alone, made them come,” you bit at him, sitting up in your seat. you were no longer at peace with your wine and the couch wasn’t as comfortable as it had been. even though he is one of the smartest people you know (but you would never admit that), sometimes, peter’s stupidity surprises you.

and to note, it was no doubt, blatantly obvious, and super clear— that peter was your least favorite in the group. you could bet he thought the same towards you too. you two were never really “friends”, but are somehow forced to be together every time if you want to see your actual friends. so that’s how mutual friends were created. don’t you love them?

you don’t. at least not this one.

“princess, you don’t need to be jealous of other girls. if you wanted me to help you out—”

“jealous? how conceited are you? you think i want to sleep with you so you can ‘help’ me? please, i know for a fact i can make myself finish ten times faster and stronger than you ever could,” and with that you snatched the bottle of wine and poured a large measurement into your glass. you chugged a good amount and while doing so, you saw peter’s infamous smirk taunting you from the corner of your eye. you set down your nearly empty glass and excused yourself to the bathroom.

“i love watching two people fight over something exhaustingly stupid. it’s entertaining,” mj says as she sips her tea because she was the driver for the night, “this is going to be very interesting.”

—

as the night comes to a close, you hug and wave off your friends. you say goodbye to mj, betty, and ned and realize peter wasn’t around. you close the front door with a confused look on your face. when you turn around to clean up the wine glasses, peter comes walking into the living room.

“they left, you know,” you say as you bend down to pick up all the glasses, wrappers, and bottles.

“i’m aware,” peter replies as he follows you into the kitchen. you dump all of the garbage in the trash can and wash your hands.

“then why are you still in my house?” you wit, drying off your hands. without looking, you hear peter’s footsteps getting closer to you in the small kitchen.

“i thought we could test your little theory,” he whispers just over your shoulder and it gives you an odd, unwanted sensation down your spine. you turn your head slightly towards him, so you can see him from the corner of your eye.

“which theory? the one that proves how big of a dick you are?” your chest gets tighter with close proximity, but you still have your wits with you. peter puts his hands on the counter, blocking you from leaving.

you hear him chuckle darkly behind you, which causes you to turn around fully.

“you know what i’m talking about.”

your tailbone is pushed against the edge of the tiled counter when he takes another step toward you. you didn’t even think it was possible to be this close to someone.

there was a heated feeling in your lower belly that you knew all too well, but it was a little different. it’s a lustful feeling, but somewhere inside of you knows that you shouldn’t do this. the wrongness of doing this just makes you want to do it more.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“really? well, let me show you.” he doesn’t wait until you take a deep breath, he just kisses you with hunger and lust. one of his hands from the counter lifts up to caress your neck roughly. you tug at the baby hairs on the back of his neck and you feel him groan in your mouth. one of his fingers gets caught in your hair and he snags it out, but you accidentally moan out.

“oh? you like that?” he releases from the kiss with a smirk, as you try to keep a straight face. he slips off his t-shirt quickly watching your brain rack.

“no—” he lifts you onto the counter and immediately goes back into kissing you with no hesitation. you absentmindedly feel up his body. you’ve never seen him without a shirt on and you would’ve never guessed he was this ripped. you know he saves people for a living, but c’mon on? he gets to be hot too?

what?

okay, you can’t even lie about that. peter IS dangerously attractive whether you hate him or not. it’s a scientific fact in society.

his fingers twists the ends of your shirt and you break the kiss to take it off. you don’t hesitate to get rid of your bra either as you quickly unhook it blindly. peter kisses down your neck harshly as you whimper, trying to keep your moans in. he tugs your hair, now knowing you like it and you can’t help but moan for him. you don’t want him to know how good he’s making you feel, especially when he has barely done anything.

you bit your lip as he kneads your right boob and sucks on your other one. peter sucks around your nipple, pulling and pinching the other one. he spends a good amount of time on your breasts, and if he did it any longer, you sadly might be able to come from just that.

“so i take that you’re a boob guy?” you yank him off of you by his hair. peter groans at the loss of control, so you let go of his hair.

“so you liked it?”

“i never said that—”

“but you never said you didn’t. imagine what it would be like for me to eat you out. may i?” his hand goes straight to the drawstrings on your sweatpants, but you don’t know what he was asking. was he asking if he would take off your sweatpants or eat you out? yes, all of the above is what you wanted to say. oh my god yes a million times yes also came to your head, but that sounds like an agreement to marriage, so maybe not.

“whatever floats your boat, captain,” is what you actually said and you’ve never wanted to hide under a blanket more. embarrassment flows through your veins. however, you stick with it because you can’t change what you said now.

he chuckles with a shake of his head as he slowly tugs your sweatpants down. once they’re off, he pushes your knees to spread your legs and he sees that wet patch of arousal on your panties. peter smirks and you swear you see his brown eyes darken.

“so i take that you’re a boob girl?” he kneads your inner thighs as you huff in frustration.

“shut up and do something,” you roll your eyes.

“aye aye, captain.”

before you could shout and cringe at him, peter’s hands finally go to rub your panties. you whimper as his thumb circles perfectly slow on your clit. you hold his shoulders for balance as you involuntarily move your hips to create faster friction. peter grabs your hips to stop your movements and you whine out.

“more,” you huff, getting wetter and wetter, but aren’t as close to finishing as you can be. he’s deliberately going slow, so you can be tormented.

“tell me what you want, y/n. i’ll probably give it to you,” peter smirks as you looks at you. he removes his hand from your hip to tilt your chin to face him. his eyes are dark and so beautiful it kind of hurts. how can someone so attractive be such a dick? you debate on telling him that you want everything. his mouth, his fingers, his dick. it’s all sounding pretty good right about now.

“dick,” you mumble at him because of his arrogant attitude.

“you want my dick?”

“i—no, i mean yes! but i want your fingers right now,” you squeeze your eyes shut at your neediness and stuttering words. you may be a confident and strong person, but when it comes to sex, you’re the queen at obeying.

“just say please and they’re yours.”

“ugh, you’re such an asshole,” you growl as he flicks your clit three times and you yelp. that little action made you much wetter and he can probably feel that. you are beyond turned on right now and you need him so bad.

“fine! please peter, just do something already!” you grip his shoulders out of irritation and he smiles before yanking your panties down your legs. he rubs you bare for a few moments before he slips two fingers straight into you. you instantly moan out (embarrassing loud), and you can practically feel his ego rising. peter takes his unused hand and pulls at your nipples again. that familiar heat in your belly becomes tighter and tighter as he strategically moves his fingers. peter curls his fingers and twists in a way that’s just so intoxicating and so good that it clouds your mind with lust. you clench around his fingers when he touches a spot deep inside of you.

“you’re so wet. are you going to cum? hmm?” as he talks, his thumb brushes your clit again and you moan again, not trying to hold it back this time.

“peter yes, yes!”

“am i going to make you cum ten times faster and stronger than you can?”

“try me.”

taking the challenge, peter rubs your clit again, while you involuntary open your legs wider, letting him access you deeper. he lowers his head so he’s closer to your ear.

“c’mon love, i know you want to.”

his raspy voice makes you clench around him again and the tightening in your belly finally releases. peter sloppily kisses your neck as you come down from your high.

“good girl,” his deep, sensual voice almost makes you want to do it again. actually, everything he did makes you want to do it again. peter rubs you slowly, drawing your orgasm to a close. he rips off some nearby paper towels and wipes the mess you made. or he made, you should say.

when you go to talk, your voice comes out squeaky, so you clear your throat and try again.

“i still think i can cum faster alone, just so you know,” peter throws the towels in the garbage. you lightly leap off the counter and nearly fall to the ground, but you survive with a little balancing. you bend down to pick up your panties, but they’re gone. you swear you just saw them right there.

“peter—” he turns around with a smirk and your panties twisted around his finger. you gasp, spinning around and grabbing his shirt and throwing it on. you eye him heavily.

“give them back, you dick.”

“or what?”

“or i’m not giving you your shirt back,” you scoff as you cross your arms. his shirt was a bit big for you. meaning, it went down to your mid thighs.

“oh please, keep it. it looks better on you anyway,” he smirks again, looking you up and down and you punch him in the chest. he never has a different expression on his face; just smirking, smirking, and more smirking. “but seriously, i’m keeping these.”

“but why? i really like those ones, asshat! oh my gosh, you probably collect them. you’re a panty collector! i knew you were a weirdo, but jeez, peter,” he coughs looking down, trying to add a comment to your crazy assumption.

“um no. i need to keep these, so when i start telling mj, ned, and betty that i made you cum ten times faster and stronger than you can yourself, i’ll have some proof,” peter winks and starts to walk away. you pinch your face together.

“what are you talking about? you’ll never tell them about this because it never happened! got that?” you shout as he goes across the house. why is he walking around my house?

“whatever floats your boat, captain!”

oh fuck. you’re never living this down.

—

thanks for reading!! 😊

#shawnxstyles #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland spiderman #spiderman #peter parker au #peter parker smut #tom holland smut #peter parker fanfics #peter parker x you

2K notes · View notes

queen-breha-organa · 1 year

Text

I wanted to briefly come back online and discuss the WGA and, in turn, the current writer's strike.

I know my opinion matters very little, and I don’t consider myself an expert or a valuable voice in this matter. However, since I talk about Star Wars a lot, I wanted to discuss the strike because these things go hand in hand. I think it’s unfair to ignore the real-world circumstances that shape the media you enjoy. Knowing the context of something is important. And beyond that, this situation has just been on my mind, and I wanted to express my thoughts somewhere.

Firstly, all workers should be paid living wages. All workers deserve to be treated fairly and compensated fairly. All workers deserve safe, productive, and fair working environments—end of story.

I’ve been seeing a lot of jokes along the lines of “I didn’t even know media had writers these days,” and while I understand the joke and the potential humor in it, I feel like it’s important to realize that this is entirely why the WGA is striking in the first place.

The writer’s rooms are shrinking. Writers are being overworked. Writers are being underpaid. Writers are being dismissed and undercut. These factors lead to poorly written and poorly managed shows because the individuals who write the bones of the shows are exhausted and burdened by corporate interference, unreasonable deadlines (especially in animation), unfair wages, and stale corporate agendas.

Additionally, these writers often aren’t given the opportunity to oversee or manage their writing while it’s being filmed. Instead, companies are acting as if the writing process ends before the filming process so that they can shorten the writer's contracts and pay them less. However, in actuality, the writing process is often most valuable during the filming process.

Some things work on paper but don’t work on the day. Maybe the joke doesn’t land, or an actor can’t deliver the line as intended. Writers are needed on set to rework and revise these lines, so the process can run smoother without sacrificing story and believability. Now some actors are incredible at improvising and can make these things work. However, overall, without writers on set, you usually end up with awkward/stiff dialogue or scenes that make no sense. Writing doesn’t stop in the writers' room.

Another massive force driving this strike is the evolution of streaming services.

With “traditional” tv reruns, the network airing the media has to purchase the viewing rights of the episode or the show. This money is then extended to the people who worked on the show in the form of residuals. It makes sense. Something you worked on makes money, so in turn, you get money.

However, streaming services have broken this mold by allowing consumers to watch whatever media whenever they want. Streaming services claim that it is no longer possible to pay residuals for these shows since they don’t know how often or when the shows are being watched. This is a lie.

Companies will brag privately in shareholder's meetings and publicly in articles about streaming shows that have done well. We’ll read headlines like “Stranger Things’ Was Most-Streamed TV Show in 2022” or “‘Star Wars’ vs. Marvel: Which Disney+ Shows Are Most-Viewed.” These articles and the data within them prove it is possible to know how frequently shows/movies are being watched on streaming services. Still, companies are only willing to shell out this information for bragging rights and not for fair payments.

In 2021, Disney CEO Bob Chapk earned $32 million. In contrast, the WGA website states, “Median weekly writer-producer pay has declined 4% over the last decade. Adjusting for inflation, the decline is 23%.” These writers are merely asking for 3%, while CEOs are given the moon.

This is unacceptable.

If you’re reading this post, if you’re on Tumblr and engaging with fandoms enough to have this post written by me, a Star Wars blog, circulate on your feed, media writing has affected your life. Writers have impacted you and your daily routine and hobbies.

You should care about this strike. You should be supporting this strike.

We all want our favorite shows to come back, we all want to reunite with our favorite characters, and we all want to see their stories, their triumphs, and their struggles.

But the real people behind these stories and behind these characters are far more important than any fictional narrative.

These writers have crafted the worlds and stories we love, and by supporting them, we can return the favor and craft a better world for them too.

#Writers strike #real people matter more than the new season of your favorite show #Long post

274 notes · View notes

theplatypusblue · 2 months

Text

sooo uhh I'm entirely giving up on this comic I was working on haha. It took wayyyyy too long to finish and now I'm entirely turned off from working on it... some stuff just looks ugly to me now idk :/

but also I put too much work into the stuff I did manage to finish to just not post it soooo here it is!! Or at least the parts of it I liked enough to post!!!

Basically it would’ve been a short little thing about pixal confronting samurai harumi, and then like, a flashback sequence taking a look at ~what it means to be samurai x~ or whatever and how harumi fits into that whole thing. As it is now it doesn’t make any sense cuz I left out like 3 pages of context that were just unfinished. Surprisingly enough, the drawing part wasn’t too bad—writing the dialogue though, holy shit I realized I actually hate writing comic dialogue lmaoooo

I may return to it one day and completely re-draw/re-write it but idk I'm just too busy lol.

#mostly posting this as a little send off for myself so it’s not hanging over my head all the time lol #ninjago #lego ninjago #samurai harumi #harumi ninjago #pixal borg #pixal ninjago #ninjago fanart #if you dig around through my blog you’ll probably be able to find snippets of this thing lying around lol #.... if you ever saw me posting about a 'big art thing' that i was procrastinating on this is prob what i was posting abt

65 notes · View notes

spaghetti-man99 · 10 months

Text

Okay, so after seeing Asteroid City a bunch of times, I thought I should probably write down my thoughts, so here they are

(warning this is kind of long)

Thoughts On Asteroid City:

“4th wall break”, or When The Characters Become the actors:

Woodrow constantly looks at the “audience” (the camera) during the film, this is because the understudy is playing Woodrow and is not used to the audience

“I still don’t say I forgive you”: at first I thought this was Midge saying this to Augie, but upon watching it again, it actually seems to be the actor Mercedes saying it to the director Schubert, who had written her an apology letter.

“Hey, do you feel any different?”: this is a stretch, but the day after the alien takes the asteroid, Midge asks Augie if he feels any different. He answers that he doesn’t, and asks if that’s odd, and Midge says that she also doesn’t feel any different. Now, taking into account Augie’s actor Jones’ (probably) very fresh grief and shock over the death of his lover Conrad (the playwright), coupled with the fact that he doesn’t answer with his line immediately (probably because he’s dissociating), this makes me think that Midge’s actor, Mercedes, is actually asking if he feels any different now that Conrad is gone, and Jones is in too much shock to actively feel anything

The Quickie Gridle: In the scene where Augie burns his hand on the Quickie Gridle (something that Jones had asked Conrad about at the beginning of the film, “Why does Augie burn his hand on the Quickie Gridle?”), it looks as if Mercedes is in actual shock when his hand hits the griddle. She asks him why he did it, and his answer is, “it’s unclear” because Conrad never told him why.

(there is probably a great deal more that I don’t remember, I might add more

Augie/Jones:

I was put onto this by @mummer, and after going to see the movie again with the idea that the movie is partially about Jones trying to process his grief, a lot of scenes were put into a different light and honestly I enjoyed it even more.

Obviously, we have the scene where he goes on his backstage rant (which I did not realize he did while they were doing an active performance and not just a rehearsal). It seems to be him searching for the meaning in Conrad’s passing (and also the meaning of life in general) in his play, but being ultimately told by Schubert that it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t understand the meaning, because he just has to keep going

“I feel like my heart is breaking, my own personal heart.” “Good.”: this comes across to me as Jones finally being able to get past his shock and actually feel something about Conrad’s passing through the lens of playing Augie and Schubert telling him that the pain is good and healthy

“Am I doing him right?”... “I think you’re doing him right.”: again, this could be a stretch, and it makes sense to interpret it literally, however… Jones is, again, actively grieving for a partner that could not be grieved in public. This could be his way of subtly asking if he’s doing it right, if he’s doing the play the way Conrad would have wanted, if he would have been happy with him and his performance, and Schubert’s answer of “I think you’re doing him right” could very well be an attempt to comfort him and saying that he is doing right by Conrad, that he would be proud of him.

“Use your grief.” Again, this could just be how the play was written, but if that isn’t some great advice for Jones I don’t know what is.

“I think you might have to try to replace me.”: The scene with the actress that played Augie’s wife and her quoting the dialogue to Jones, essentially speaking what has been going through his head since Conrad died.

Also I think it was extremely intentional that we get the news that Conrad died directly after the above scene.

Again, there are probably more that I forgot or have already been said somewhere else.

Misc.

(these are more just little things)

The way the cowboy Montana’s actor is not present in the beginning line up and is instead represented through a painting over the teacher June’s actor’s head

The little roadrunner puppet!! Which you can see being played with when Jones goes backstage

The little scene where the narrator just appears and then is like, “Am I… not in this one?” And then leaves and the actors go back a line of dialogue

The way we only see some of June and Montana’s relationship and only know they got together because the mechanic’s actor came out and told Jones

The picture of Augie’s wife being exactly how he described her in the little monologue

Augie’s laugh after he told the girls they weren’t orphans

“That business with the pipe and the camera and the eyebrow.” – Schubert to Jones

The scene with Schubert and his wife, I loved the way that even though Schubert is obviously torn apart by this, he still understands that his wife doesn’t love him the same anymore and lets her go

The memory game that the brainiacs play

Woodrow and his Grandfather have the exact same hairstyle

“I play him as a metaphor.” “For what?” “Well I don’t know, we never pinned it down.” – Jones and the actor for the alien.

The colors!!!

Basically all the times the brainiacs interacted

Where does Ricky's father sleep??? Where does Ricky sleep?? Cause they were not sleeping in the tent.

Montana's perfect, stereotypical cowboy speak

And so much more I might have to update this if I remember

#movies #asteroid city #wes anderson #movie thoughts

151 notes · View notes

third-arch · 5 months

Text

Law’s Novel-Thoughts

Spoilers ahead!!

An unedited ramble

I’m just going to be honest and say I was kinda disappointed. I feel like this story had so much more potential that kinda just went down the drain. I think it had a really good idea but didn’t see it through. Like the first part of the story made me hooked. I was interested in his childhood, how he met Bepo, Shachi and Penguin, and Wolf. I thought how they got a job and trained was neat. But, I felt like the whole stuff with Wolf and his son wasn’t necessary. It answered a lot of questions about like the submarine and how they got their name as the heart pirates and how Law got his tattoos (which was super random to me LOL). It’s nice seeing that despite it all, he’s still a kid.

Also idk if it was just me, but I felt like in the beginning he really tried to not rely on his powers unless he absolutely needed to.

I guess overall it really changed the way I see Law as a character. It made me feel good that I’m taking his character in the right direction, obviously with some tweaking for romance and fluff purposes, but it just made me feel good that I get his character.

He’s a lot like Batman I guess.

After doing some research last week, I think his character just makes sense for me full circle.

Below, are all just my thoughts for why he did these things LOL

His drastic change of character is most likely due to the fact that he’s finally realizing that he needs to go back to Dressrosa. The start of his long plan is in motion, and emotionally and mentally it’s very demanding. He has to be serious (or at least he tells himself that). He’s living in the “now” and he can’t slack off.

Also despite it all he did sort of go against his convictions by stealing those hundred hearts. He probably did not want to do it, but it was the best way. And he didn’t want to kill, so he only stole their hearts. It’s why he’s called “Dr. Heart Stealer” and not “Dr. Person Killer” LOL. Again he’s like Batman. He doesn’t wish death upon others, it’s a reminder for himself that death will always be near him. Just how important life is, and to give him courage, all so he can protect others. “Putting himself in the frontlines/harms way”.

He doesn’t like making mistakes.

He’s a really good guy. But things will catch up to him and change him. He’s still a child at heart who wasn’t able to properly grow up, even with Wolf. He was always made to be the leader, always felt the responsibility to take care of others and hide his emotions because they’re “silly”. He doesn’t want to be seen as weak.

He’s focused and he’s not wanting to waste time. He thinks about a plan and listens to others.

Still, he’s bratty, he’s traumatized, and he needs to remember that others are there for him.

He struggles asking for help. It takes a bit to build up trust with him, but once he sees the good in you, he’ll validate you. It’s okay to make mistakes.

And lastly is that he wants to live. He wants to protect people and he does see the good in people. He judges people on their character and focuses on their morals. He doesn’t like fighting, he’s a protector and a healer. That’s his role as a surgeon. He’s giving it his all.

I think for my fanfic, I want Reader to serve as a reminder that it’s okay to be emotional. It’s okay to step down and be on the same level as others. And when he finally starts to fall in love, he starts to experience these things.

Overall it’s definitely a nice read. I skimmed over a lot of the fight sequences, really only paying attention to like Law’s dialogue and inner thoughts. There’s still a lot to his character I have yet to nail down, so it’ll be a process of trial and error.

#one piece #op #one piece art #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #corazon #corazon op #trafalgar op #one piece law #law one piece

72 notes · View notes

suffersinfandom · 5 months

Text

A Summary of The OFMD Meta

Sooooo... this is part one of an incomplete summary of A Meta-Discussion Of The Subtext by meratrishoslee (Mera) on AO3 (linked to, as the author requests). I hope it’s helpful to the folks who’ve been curious about it -- heyooo @fahbee and @pushbuttonkitty -- but maybe not quite 90K-words curious! I’m not going to comment on anything; this is meant to be an impartial -as-possible summary.

It's massively long, so this is just the first eight chapters.

“There’s every possibility you are still in your feelings as you read this, even weeks after the finale. You are in your autonomous knee-jerk reaction, adrenaline-spike, slapped across the face, feeling-so-betrayed-right-now moment. You’re valid. That’s absolutely what’s happened… on the surface. But as you take a deep breath and begin to examine logically what’s in the show and engage with the material both in its text and subtext, you will see a new concept begin to take shape.” (Mera)

Chapter 1: Overview

Some background: Mera was involved with The Johnlock Conspiracy and believes that TJLCers weren’t wrong. (If you want a fun watch, I recommend Sarah Z’s YouTube video.) Essentially, TJLCers believe that Sherlock and Watson of BBC’s Sherlock were supposed to be endgame, and this can be proved with careful analysis. This is often paired with the idea that there is a missing fourth episode to the show’s fourth season that will eventually air and confirm all theories.

Mera defines ‘text’ and ‘subtext.’ Text is “dialogue lines / Shot choices and directions / Visible actions, describable as stage directions.” Subtext is “every single other thing, as well as what is suggested by or can be inferred from the text above.”

“Whenever something doesn’t make sense in the text, it is a BEACON (or maybe even a LIGHTHOUSE) to look at the subtext. Your subconscious mind recognizes subtext long before your conscious mind parses it -- assuming it ever does.”

The rest of the chapter is devoted to short descriptions of Mera’s key assertions with links to relevant chapters and their convention experiences. They cite talking to Con O’Neill at Florida Supercon 2023 as one of their reasons for believing so strongly that Izzy Hands is alive:

I asked him for advice in a specific time of trouble, and he gave me something real that had worked for him. I asked for a hug and he gave that also.

As I was pulling away I said "I’m glad that I gleaned one absolutely true thing from your portrayal of Izzy."

“What’s that?”

I said: "The character (in my original work) that Izzy inspired – when he’s out of pain at last, it’s impossible not to love him."

That seemed to hit him on an emotional level; he couldn’t hold my gaze after that. He said “That’s what I’ll be taking with me today.”

This was July 1st 2023, after completion of the filming of Season 2. I've thought about it often as the season went on, and how it must have affected him.

We have to love Izzy so that he'll live.

Mera spoke to Con again at NYCC:

The last thing I managed to get to say to him was: "They gave Izzy Hands a Passion Play."

"They did?" he asked.

"Yes, they did!" I replied.

And I watched that brilliantly swift mind again at work, because he considered it for the briefest beat -- and said in a tone of joy: "They did; yeah, you're right!"

I remember for the minutes and hours after I was amazed: did he not know, somehow? Did the writers not tell him (and he didn't realize at any time since) that in first quarter of the series they'd given him Gethsemane, a betrayal, a crucifixion (okay, getting shot in the leg and head, but don't get stuck on the details), a burial, and then a full on canonical resurrection?

Con then said another very important thing:

"But I got over it."

[...]

If Izzy's dead (for real and forever dead) and he knew it, then what he said to me was on a level of cruelty that I could never countenance from him. If Izzy lives, then those words are yet another piece of proof to me that Con was clever enough to be right both for someone who'd only seen five episodes, and someone who would eventually see all eight.

Chapter 2: The Cup and Ball Trick

The chapter is an extended “game” of cup and ball (where a ball is hidden under a cup and the guesser needs to determine which cup it’s under) interspersed with pictures from OFMD at various points in season two. It ends on a shot of Izzy’s grave where his body definitely isn’t.

The important takeaway: Izzy returns from the dead once to shoot Ed during Ed’s final suicide attempt. Ed returns from the dead after the near-fatal mutiny. Why would you think Izzy’s actually dead and in his grave at the end of the show?

“I didn't cry at the finale -- I was too filled with joy and excitement. I was Mary Magdalene at the grave; I was one of the first to know the truth of the resurrection, whether or not anyone believed me!”

Chapter 3: OUR LOVE MEANT DEATH

"..because if [Izzy] doesn't [live], with what I know now, his death is a cruelty struck at every queer individual alive or dead since 1981.”

Mera observes that almost no one touches Izzy’s bare skin and Izzy bleeds more than any other recurring character.

There are two times someone touches Izzy’s bare skin: first when his screams are being muffled when he yells at Jim and Archie to kill him, second when Ed puts the gun in Izzy’s ungloved hand during his first go at suicide.

Conclusion: "Izzy is coded with AIDS.”

Ed holding his bloody hand up to the rest of the crew away when Izzy is dying is a “warding-off gesture.”

Izzy is pale and sickly-looking as he’s dying. “My gorge rises. In the year of our Lord Shiva 2023 -- THEY GAVE THE MOST QUEER CODED CHARACTER ON THE SHOW A FUCKING AIDS DEATH.”

Izzy touches someone else’s bare skin twice in the show, and both instances are Ed. The first is in S1E10 “where he puts his left Death-marked hand on Edward's wrist as he's choking him.” The second is in S2E8 as he’s dying “in his ex-lover’s arms” (notably, this is the same hand with the spade tattoo).

“If Izzy's well and truly dead, for real and stays dead... He is in media both the first historically and the most recent chronologically to receive a full on AIDS death.”

“Until they prove to me and all of us that only Izzy's grief and the specter of AIDS remains in the grave -- and the rest of our beloved boy, our new unicorn (oh hey do you know what Problematic Modern Culture says about unicorn blood?), our pure-hearted risen being, our self-sacrificing queer man, will get his chance to be touched, held, kissed, and LOVED in Season 3.”

Chapter 4: “The Third Was For Death”

“Season 1 was Pinocchio: a wooden puppet wants to become a real boy -- and does! Hip hip hooray; that was pretty easy. Wow, the cute tall young guy of the crew lost a finger and the mean nasty short grouch that some people hate and some people like (because they understand him on a visceral, subconscious, subtextual level) lost a toe -- but if that's the worst that happens, we came out okay!”

Season two is “The Monkey’s Paw.” Mera tells the story with pictures from OFMD to emphasize the connections. Importantly, there’s an instance of a couple’s son coming back wrong after a wish (Lucius). The final wish returns the son to his previously-dead state and Mera ends on a picture of Izzy’s grave.

The cast’s and crews’ interviews might not support the real narrative because they’re not allowed to say what they want to (“Ever had to develop code language to hide your queerness from your parents, your teachers, the state?”) They’re all “in distress” and trying to tell us without telling us.

“Why does the new (old broken down) house smell like death? Why does everything we wished for that we got feel bad? Why does everything we're supposed to be happy about feel sad? How long would it take YOU to spot someone blinking out the word T-O-R-T-U-R-E?”

Mera hopes that the next season won’t tell us certain a new story: George Orwell’s 1984.

Chapter 5: Where Were We? Oh Yes, In The Pit Of Despair

This chapter is about The Princess Bride as it relates to Izzy’s story in seasons two and three of OFMD. It’s a comparison based mostly on costumes and lines; there are no one-for-one character comparisons. Vitally, the plot of TPB is used to predict the next season of OFMD.

Season two of OFMD ends at the part of TPB when Westley is thought to be dead (Izzy in his grave). Westley is revived, soooo…

“At what point does a preponderance of evidence flip over into fact? At what point does a handful of chance coincidences become planning and architecture? At what point do you go beyond a reasonable doubt into conviction?”

Chapter 6: Birdman and Blackbeard: Or, How To Watch Media

This chapter is about analyzing media. Once you learn how, you stop being a passive watcher.

“Instead you read its rhymes and rhythms like a sonnet. You go to the media in return – you meet it halfway, like a lover. You engage with it. You find themes embedded in the subtext that, once unearthed and examined, continue to inform and expand your experience of the text.”

“The people that like things nice and easy are the ones that watched the finale of Season 2, got angry and upset and – instead of examining those feelings and sitting with them and figuring out why everything felt weird and fucky – wrote it off as bad writing and cruel showrunners, and are already onto the next piece of media to pour into their open eyes and ears.”

And that’s fine! But if you like to think, you interrogate the media and see what else it’s saying.

Mera summarizes The Hero’s Journey through the lens of Orpheus’ story.

Season two mirrors season one almost too well. “...Why are they recreating their first season almost beat by beat? Why is this “second verse, same as the first – only a little bit louder and (in many cases) worse? Then Episode 8 hit… and I realized. They wanted to make sure that, in every conceivable way, the fans had a subtextual map of the meaning of Episode 8. So the mirrors between seasons had to line up almost exactly.”

Now we go into the three-act structure and how the hero’s journey maps onto it. Mera then uses Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue Of Ignorance) and to show how they personally analyze meta, but I don’t care nearly enough about what they’ve gleaned from Birdman to go into it here. You’ll have to go read it yourself if you want their methods.

“Remember: Everything on screen in the finished and published movie is a choice. If something doesn’t make sense on a textual level, it is often a signpost (or LIGHTHOUSE) to look at it on a subtextual level.”

Mera points to an article about three-act structure and notes that “fun and games” is both part of that author’s second act and the title of an OFMD episode.

“Are we being fucked with? Or are we being instructed?”

Chapter 7: If You Strip Away The Myth From The Man

It’s the Jesus Christ Superstar chapter and it’s massive. I’m only including the most substantial comparisons and points.

Mera starts by linking to a gifset of Con talking about Taika saying that Izzy and Blackbeard are comparable to Judas and Jesus (and then Taika and Con sang songs from JCS while getting their makeup done). Notably, Con didn’t specify which character was which.

Blackbeard is a myth created by (of) two men, Ed and Izzy. “there's always two male bodies involved: Jesus and Judas, and both sacrifice themselves to the cause.”

It’s easy to say that Izzy is Judas, but wait -- there’s a better and deeper interpretation! Look at this picture from S1 that resembles the Last Supper and frames Izzy as Jesus! “Now I finally understood. Sure: Izzy is Judas-coded. That's plain for anyone to see. But Izzy is also Jesus-coded… from the under/reverse side.”

Izzy is Jesus-coded for all of season one (even more than Ed), and the comparison is solidified by the end of S2E3: “Izzy Hands is almost fully and directly Jesus-coded, and after Ed's own resurrection (not as an agape-love self-sacrifice for the saving of others, but through selfish personal/eros love alone) Edward is now obviously the betrayer of the whole crew who is permitted to stay aboard only on terms of sackcloth clothing and uneasy tolerance.”

Judas died by hanging himself according to the Gospel of Matthew. The only characters we see hanging are Ed and Stede, which clearly aligns them with Judas.

Izzy is a good person. He cares about the crew; Ed never does. When Izzy’s wrong, he fesses up to it and apologies; Ed does not (or when he does, the apologies are bad). “Does he lie? Yes, ostensibly to protect his captain and crew. Is he fairly mean to the Revenge crew until they [...] become his crew? Pretty much, although I could argue otherwise in places -- especially the fact that while Ed throws Lucius violently and bodily off the ship without any warning, Izzy carefully puts the crew on a safe island with a minor fuckery of his own to keep them calm and happy until he leaves. (It's obviously not Edward's idea, although he does permit Izzy to put himself between the deadly Kraken and the Revenge's crew in order to accomplish it.) Is he selfish? Yes, and who of us aren’t sometimes selfish about the people we love?”

Jesus and Judas have massive amounts of sexual tension (yeah, can confirm). Izzy is Jesus-coded because, while he doesn’t initiate contact like Jesus does in JCS, he’s always looking directly at Ed. Ed is Judas-coded because he has a hard time looking at Izzy and finds it difficult to touch him.

“...If Izzy Hands is a queer man who is Jesus-coded, who we see go through not one but TWO passion plays during Season 2... [near-death after having his leg removed, end-of-season death] he is conquering the death of HIV/AIDS and queer grief. He has to die so that he can vanquish that very real death, and arise again triumphant over it.”

“One direct correspondence with Jesus is that Izzy is convinced of one right way to be (whether or not it actually is), and everything outside of that offends him viscerally at this point in the series.” Izzy is convinced that there’s one right way to be a pirate, and Stede’s fucking that up.

And back to AIDS/reverse-Jesus Izzy: “Now among the lepers we're back to the reversal: no one touches Izzy. He’s desperate for it yet can never allow it. Jesus’s touch, kiss, love cures – and everyone seeks it and craves it. They demand it, they swamp and overwhelm him. Jesus's naked touch/kiss/love cures disease -- Izzy's carries and spreads it.”

“Judas/Edward makes his deal with the priesthood/King George to betray Jesus/Izzy – his price is 30 pieces of silver/Stede’s life.” That is, Ed is the one doing the betraying in season one.

But the real betrayal happens when he cuts off Izzy’s toe and feeds it to him while he’s vulnerable. Important note for the AIDS stuff: “...Edward puts on leather gauntlets immediately prior to this assault -- he ‘gloves up.’ He doesn't have direct naked contact with Izzy's blood or flesh during this scene.” The toe-feeding scene is absolutely framed as sexual assault.

And the toe thing continues into season two. “Sit with that also for a moment: the faux consent of making Izzy remove his own clothing to bare his body parts for this violation. Is it too far a stretch to think that Ed also made him eat each one, in their own private, gristly sacrament? He did threaten to ‘feed him the rest’ after all.”

Here is the outline of Izzy’s first “passion play”:

Izzy's Last Supper: all the toes eaten before as well as the one threatened now.

Izzy's Gethsemane, wherein he begs his God for the cup to be removed: he tries to bargain his and the crew's way out with his conversation with Blackbeard, to find an alternative to the self-destructive violence.

Izzy is betrayed by his Judas (again): shot in the leg for the 'crime' of mentioning Stede Bonnet's name, or Blackbeard's affection toward him.

Izzy descends into the grave: lays in a secret tunnel in what we can believe is the lowest part of the ship, while rotting enough to be smelled throughout.

Izzy dies: he shoots himself in the head and both we and Blackbeard believe him to be dead.

Izzy is risen: he hauls himself up out of his own grave without assistance from anyone else, crawls to the main deck, reloads his pistol somewhere along the way -- and shows himself to his followers crew at last, in order to bring about their salvation.

Con himself said that this is a passion play, and it takes up a massive chunk of the first part of the season. You don’t throw something massive like that into a show unless you’ve got something bigger coming.

But Judas dies before OFMD ends (mapping OFMD onto JCS), so now who is Ed? He’s Pontius Pilate. There’s the whipping of Jesus (Izzy’s back scars), then Pilate kneels down to hold the bleeding Jesus in his arms. It’s this specific Pieta statue.

“Izzy has to die to conquer his own living death, to end the curse that has kept him untouchable and unable to be loved as he so desperately desires.” There’s the crucifixion for you. Izzy dies and is buried, and we’re still waiting on the resurrection.

The last shot in JCS is of the empty cross; the last shot of OFMD S2 is Izzy’s grave. “If the cross in the last and arguably the most significant shot of JCS symbolizes the triumph of resurrection and rebirth... the one in OFMD S2 must also.”

Alex Sherman liked one of Mera’s Izzy Lives tweets that he was tagged in.

Chapter 8: The Dual Substance Of Christ

Now we’re looking at The Last Temptation of Christ. This is another long and involved one, so I’m cutting a lot of minor things that don’t serve the overall meta. (I also know fuck-all about this movie, oops.)

“An argument can be made (and I will attempt it) that Judas in this instance is not only the show creators/writers room of OFMD who had to put their much beloved boy Izzy Hands through all this agony... but also we the Unseen Crew who adore him, who have suffered alongside him through all he's endured, and who want nothing more than to have him back and whole in resurrected triumph.”

TLTC presents another reason to identify Lucius with Mary Magdalene (and notably, Jesus can’t touch Mary -- because Izzy is AIDS-coded). Once again, there’s an immense amount of sexual tension between Jesus and Judas.

This Jesus is angry and this God is fearsome. Judas does a lot of slamming-Jesus-into-walls, much like Ed and Izzy in S1E10.

Jesus confirms that he is a heart and he loves, which solidifies Izzy’s position as the heart of Blackbeard.

In his final trial in the desert, Jesus’ final tempter appears as flames. Izzy and Ed both play with flames when they lie.

“Izzy is pretty much Jesus-coded as I explained in the JCS meta… but here also due to the timing and content of this scene, Izzy’s also Lazarus-coded.He dies, he goes into the pit of the grave, he smells of rot, then he is raised from the dead.” Lazarus and Izzy both have a rough time of being alive again and drink about it.

Jesus says “I have to die on the cross, and I have to die willingly.” This parallels Izzy saying that he wants to go when he’s dying. Judas doesn’t want Jesus to die, which puts him more in line with Jenkins and company than any characters.

“But Izzy has to die, in order to conquer death. He’s lived with the specter of HIV/AIDS that has separated him from loving touch and the sharing of physical intimacy. He has to go into the grave to leave his disease and his queer grief behind, and to be reborn to love.”

On the cross, Jesus says, “Father, stay with me. Don’t leave me.” As he’s dying, Izzy tells Ed, “Sit with me, Eddie.”

“I feel sick, and I think I’m supposed to. It’s supposed to hurt. Both Izzy's death and Jesus's crucifixion are supposed to be two of the realest and most awful and most beautiful things I’ve ever seen on television.”

In TLTJ, there’s an extended part of the movie where Jesus is in a kind of gravy basket. The events are all kind of odd. They involve Jesus sleeping with Mary (the reborn unicorn, free of AIDS and safe to touch). Jesus returns to his body, suffers, and dies.

TLTJ doesn’t cover Jesus’ resurrection. “We have to trust what we know of the story: that Jesus is risen, and only death itself remains in his grave.”

On to the next!

#ofmd #ofmd meta #but like ofmd meta summary #which is wild #izzy critical #i mean not really #it's a summary #no commentary from me #continuing the trend of spending hours on something for like three people to read #hey tumblr why is my spacing wonky when i post

64 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

Note

When watching people play The Stanley Parable, I always thought it be really cool if in the middle of it the Narrator was interrupted by a door opening and someone saying something like “hey how’s the game going? Have you eaten something yet?” And the Narrator getting flustered and apologizing to Stanley that they need to take a break and eat dinner. If it’s ok with you can you write something with this idea? (If you aren’t too overwhelmed with ask of course)

"You, too?! Unbelievable. I'm at the mercy of an entire species of invalids.." Scratching his head in annoyance, Narrator could only watch as Stanley went right back into the broom closet with no intentions of leaving.

This felt like a betrayal of sorts.

Was this some kind of joke? What was so special about this closet? Did he only stay in here for extra dialogue? Or to uncover some hidden secret?!

He couldn't understand his motivations. And trying to force himself to understand was starting to make his headache come back. It's been gnawing at his brain all day long, yet he elected to ignore it.

The story had to go on!

"Perhaps there's a monkey nearby you can hand the controls to? A fish? A fungus?” He sighed tiredly. “Look..you can-"

Suddenly he heard a door creak open. Not the broom closet within the game, but within his own realm, causing him to swivel around to see you there.

"Hey, Narry. How’s the game going?”

“[Y/n]! I told you not to--!!!”

“Have you eaten anything today?”

But before he could chastise you for interrupting, he thought about your question and realized...no, he doesn’t recall eating anything today. Of course, he’d have tea and coffee to keep himself awake, though actual sustenance? An actual meal??

He forgets that he needed those a lot more than he’d like to admit. Maybe that’s why he was letting this broom closet nonsense get to him so much.

“...as a matter of fact, I-I don’t believe so.” A bit flustered, and sensing Stanley’s confusion, he turned back to his desk and adjusted his mic. “You’ll have to excuse me for a moment, Stanley. My partner calls. So while I’m taking a much needed break, feel free to write me a 10-page essay on what exactly this godforsaken closet means to you and maybe..just maybe I’ll get a better understanding of your perspective.”

After muting himself, Narrator took off his headset and put it down, sighing heavily as he saw you coming over. He clearly looked tired, which made you pout a little. You didn’t like seeing him ignore basic needs for the sake of his story. He often forgot he was an actual person.

“You don’t have to look so deeply into things.” You hugged him. “Maybe he just likes closets.”

“But I can’t help it when he goes off-script..” He grumbled into your chest. “I'm just trying to understand why. I need to. Is he expecting something to just magically happen?! You think I should board it up next time-?”

“Shh, you’re getting worked up again. We’ll talk about it over dinner, okay?” You gently cut him off, pulling away so he can get out of his chair. “You can’t expect yourself to write on an empty stomach.”

“You made us dinner?” He blinked, a soft smile gracing his lips soon after. “Oh, [y/n]. You’re too good to me. Perhaps that’s why this broom closet situation has me more irritable than normal. I’m simply famished.”

You just chuckled and took his hands. “You and your fancy words. C’mon. Before it gets cold.”

#clanask #anonymous #the stanley parable x reader #stanley parable x reader #tsp x reader #tsp narrator x reader #narrator x reader #domestic fluff

1K notes · View notes

moments-on-film · 7 months

Text

I really enjoy watching and analyzing The Bear. On my rewatches, I have noticed and written about numerous themes, connections, lines, acting choices and plot points that weave and connect together in beautiful ways. Rewatching and analyzing often exposes other things as well. Some are a little odd to me, to the point where I made the list below:

Season 1

The Timeline. I’m not going to fully get into this, but the timeline on this show is confusing. I think it’s because they shot the pilot episode in the summer and the rest of S1 and all of S2 in the winter/early spring. I’ll just leave it at that, but for example, how we get from a few months after Michael’s death (February) to his birthday, (in November) over the span of the first 3 episodes doesn’t gel with the dialogue. The prop of the card that shows Michael’s birthday and day he passed is what I am basing the dates on. Was this a props error? The pilot is so clearly summer in Chicago and in the rest of the episodes in S1 it is clearly freezing.

Cigarettes. Throughout S1 snd S2, the cigarettes Carmy smokes vacillate between light cigarettes with white filters, and regular ones with dark beige filters. No one just switches between lights and regulars who seriously smokes, as Carmy does, making it feel like a props mistake.

Chain. Carmen is wearing a complexly different chain necklace in the pilot episode vs the rest of S1 and S2.

Hand washing/double spoon use. The scene where Carmy “washes” his hands at the end of 1x2 is bizarre. He puts soap on them and then dries them off immediately with paper towels without using water again or looking down. It’s the only time we ever see him wash his hands so it really sticks out as abnormal and totally out of character. He’s a smoker and coming from fine dining and there has been/still is a pandemic. He would have washed his hands throughly here to show how much attention to detail his character puts into his work. Michael, by contrast, is seen washing his hands fully in 1x6. Was this an editing error? It might have been. It really took me out of the scene the first time I saw it. After he does this, he uses a spoon to taste something, puts it into his mouth, and then uses that same spoon to move chicken in a pan. I think this was an editing mistake, like maybe they cut out the part where he uses a new spoon, but as is, it makes it look like Carmy doesn’t care about cleanliness, which, after watching him obsessively scrub the kitchen on his hands and knees earlier in the episode, makes no sense.

Possible contamination. Carmy touches his face while making hotdogs in 1x4. Uncle Jimmy is telling a story and he’s laughing and it’s clearly very cold outside, but he wipes at his nose and face and then shakes his hands off over the food he’s prepping. This was one of the very, very few moments to me that felt out of character. Carmy would have reflexes to not contaminate food from his years of service, especially the years under microscope scrutiny from the chef in New York.

Camera is visible. You can see the camera person in 1x8 in the reflection of the glass door when Carmy goes to open the door and get the order from the delivery guy.

Carmy’s fingernails. Throughout S1, and in S2, Carmy’s fingernails are trimmed, buffed, neat and clean. I looked for this in every scene, as it helps us understand his character and how seriously he takes his himself and his craft. It also provides a sharp contrast to Richie (in S1), whose nails are visibly dirty, causing us to distrust him and not take him seriously as someone who should be handling food. However, in arguably the most important moment of S1, when Carmy texts Sydney, and then opens the envelope from Mikey, his thumbnail on his left hand is too long and looks unclean. Actor’s nails fall under the jurisdiction of the makeup department so I’m confused why they didn’t realize there was going to be a major closeup on his hands in this scene and fix them if they were not camera ready. It’s the only time in S1 or S2 his nail looks off and it’s an extreme closeup. I noticed it the first time I watched this scene and it really took me out of the moment. I cringe every time I see that nail. In the next scene when he’s making the spaghetti, this nail is neat and clean again, so to me, the prior scene was a mistake.

Season 2

Lockers. Carmy has switched his locker to the other side of the wall. In S1, his is on the left. In S2, it’s on the right. Usually your locker is YOUR locker. This was odd, but it set up the Sydney/Carmy scene well and maybe Carmy moved to be closer to Mikey’s locker.

Tattoos. You can see the actor Jeremy Allen White’s personal E.Z. tattoo on his arm when he’s in his apartment before he sits in the chair in 2x1. There’s no makeup on it at all. It’s completely visible. This tattoo is not Carmy’s, it’s the actor’s, and I think he has said before that it’s his mother’s initials. This tattoo has always been covered with makeup. I don’t understand how this oversight from the makeup department made the final cut.

Different vs differently. In 1x5, Sydney tells Carmy about her catering company, Sheridan Road. “Not a night goes by that I don’t think about what I could have done different.” In 2x3, Natalie tells Carmy, “I don’t want to be treated any different.” In both instances the word differently should have been used. It’s not proper English otherwise. The characters don’t need to speak perfect English, that’s not the point, but these episodes were written by the same person, so that might be why both characters use the same word.

Area codes. I am so baffled by this, I’m still thinking about it. In the beginning of 2x6, there’s a sign on the wall in Donna’s house with everyone’s name and phone number written on it. On this prop, the name Michael is actually spelled wrong, as “Micheal”. Carmen and Michael’s area codes are both listed as (913). Carmen’s area code is well established as 773, which he literally has tattooed on his arm, and it’s in the script, as he verbally says his phone number to the fridge guy and then Claire in 2x2. Michael’s area code was (847), per the script, via Richie to Uncle Jimmy in 1x4. The (913) area code is for Kansas. I don’t understand why the area codes would be for Kansas and not the ones that we already established were theirs, for Chicago, and the suburbs of Chicago, 5 years before present day in the timeline of The Bear.

Eleven Madison PARK. Richie insults Carmy in 1x1, calling him “Eleven Madison Park dic@&ead.” In the coda to this line in 2x8, Carmy calls Richie “Eleven Madison dic@&ead.” Park should have been part of that line for it to fully connect, as it’s the name of the NYC restaurant where Carmy worked, and he’s saying the line, so it should have been the same here for consistency.

The card from Michael to Carmen “I love you dude. Let it rip” is written differently in S1 and S2. The handwriting doesn’t match. It looks like a different prop.

Left handed staff/actors. In 2x9, Carmy freaks out about the pan station. “These should be on the right side because we are all right handed.” This line of dialogue is not true of the actors on this show. If you watch closely in season 1 and 2, BOTH actors portraying Tina and Ebrahim are actually left handed. The actor playing Manny is left handed, and the actor playing Richie favors his left hand as well. This line should have been cross checked with the various Actor’s actual physicality because it doesn’t really make sense.

Food runners. Why are the food runners not running food in 2x10? They stand in the background most of the time and don’t move, even when Carmy and Sydney are yelling for hands. No one moves when Carmy says he needs hands please for PX table 31, Claire’s table, but three food runners are standing directly behind him and completely ignore him. It’s their first night on the job and Carmy is the Executive Chef and owner. They should have helped run food or not been in the shot because it’s confusing.

I really enjoy analyzing this show, and see and greatly appreciate all of the creativity, energy, effort, talent and passion that has clearly been poured into it by the entire creative team. This post is not meant to do anything other than point out the few moments I noticed that made me pause and say, wait, what?

Are there any others that you noticed?

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #my thoughts

71 notes · View notes

artist-issues · 3 months

Note

Hello! My ask is about The Rise Of Skywalker. I would like to read your analysis of Reylo's scenes such as their dialogues in the film, Rey's declaration to Ben ("I did want to take your hand. Ben's hand."), Ben's return to the light side and the reylo kiss. The declaration, Ben's return and the kiss, for me, are the only good things about this film.

I thought all of the Rise of Skywalker was really terrible. Terrible writing, terrible plot, and even some pretty terrible characterizations. (I thought the actors did their best, though.)

Basically, ROS had several threads that TLJ and TFA had braided together. All it needed to do was tie those threads off. But instead, it unraveled them and tangled them up and said “done! All tied up!”

For example:

Thread 1: Finn’s journey from fear to faith.

Thread 2: Leia’s hope for her son.

Thread 3: Poe’s journey from hero to leader.

Thread 4: Hux’s growing, rabid desire for control. (It’s why the organization’s called the First “ORDER”)

Thread 5: Kylo Ren’s learning that power won’t make him feel secure.

Thread 6: Rey’s learning that she doesn’t need to be “somebody” because it’s all about something bigger than herself.

Thread 7: Kylo Ren and Rey learning their respective lessons by finding the answers in each other.

TLJ took what TFA started and got you those threads. Then TROS said “never mind, we don’t like those threads” with most of them. For example, Poe and Finn suddenly have nothing to do. For example, Finn is not doing anything that requires the faith he began building at the end of TLJ; he’s just following Rey around. Poe is not learning how to lead, he’s just info-dumping and trying quick three-man hero missions, unlike the lesson he learned at the end of TLJ. Hux is not strategizing with rabid extremism for control; he’s just pettily throwing his life away to get back at Kylo Ren. Et Cetera. The threads all get unraveled or tangled up or left dangling uselessly.

EXCEPT for Thread 7.

They make an attempt at “Kylo Ren and Rey learning their respective lessons by deepening their bond.” The problem is, without the other threads, that one just doesn’t fit any better than the rest of the story.

First off, I 100% agree that Kylo Ren and Rey would be involved romantically, in some way, eventually. There’s literally no way around it. Romantic attachment is choosing to commit to someone on an intimate level. Because they’re Force Bonded, and because they are the only people in the universe who have similar identity crises and deep family-related angst, they were bound to intimately understand each other. They started caring about each other in TLJ. All TROS had to do was fan the flames of that care up in a way that led to their character developments concluding.

Rey just needed to demonstrate more of the letting-go she demonstrated at the end of TLJ: she wants Kylo Ren to be Light, but she realizes there’s nothing she can do to force it, even if she begs and pleads, so she just keeps doing the right thing on her end and trusts the Force, believing he’ll come to the right conclusion in the end no matter how much evil he’s done. What’s that ladies and gentlemen? It’s called ✨ unconditional love. ✨

Then Kylo Ren just needed to see that love. Literally, just see and continuously experience it. Even if he’s trying to hunt her down and kill her or take everything from her or whatever, she just keeps refusing to kill him and believing he’ll turn good. After all, that’s more than his parents did for him back when they sent him away—and since then, whatever unconditional love Rey shows him is strengthened by the examples of unconditional love Han Solo and Luke showed right before they died. Plus the alternative to accepting unconditional love—murdering everything that might give him a sense of power—hasn’t been making him feel any better. So he was primed for redemption via Rey.

That’s all they needed to do in TROS. Not so hard, just write a reason for her to save his life or spare it again, even after their previous encounter and even given his new status as Supreme Leader. He’s halfway there. Continued pushes are all that’s needed.

Just like Luke Skywalker in the Revenge of the Sith, Rey and Kylo Ren don’t really need to develop much more in the final movie of their trilogy. They just need to put what the first two movies taught them to a big final test.

Anyway. With that in mind:

Let me give you the bite-sized version 😅

The Force-Searching Scenes - I don’t like these because they’re all Kylo Ren searching for Rey, with little to no engagement from her. She feels more like she’s given up on him in these scenes and is just trying to win an argument whenever he barges into her brain. He, on the other hand, might be looking for her, but it’s with one hand on his grandfather’s mask. Which is totally the opposite of him “letting the past die. Kill it, if you have to.” So he’s taking weird steps backward, toward TFA, as if TLJ never happened… and that tarnishes his motives for finding Rey, in my mind. If he’s going back to trusting the past and the idea of his grandfather, then why does he want to turn Rey to the dark side? When Vader failed to turn Luke, he tried to murder him. Kylo Ren knows that. So meditating on a mask he should be giving up on in order to find and turn Rey makes no sense, so it takes the tension out of those scenes for me.

Fight Scenes - Again, it makes no sense that Kylo Ren would still be pursuing turning Rey to the dark side so doggedly. Neither of them could convince the other at the end of TLJ. They split a lightsaber in half to prove it. Now, that doesn’t mean they should be giving up on each other completely. But Kylo Ren should be acting like he’s given up on her, even if just to convince himself. That’s what he’s done this whole time: turned to killing the people who fail him to make himself feel more powerful. She has a reason to keep believing in him: she’s on the Light Side of the Force. But instead, she’s the one acting like she wants nothing more to do with him. He mentions how he’s going to turn her to the dark side multiple times in the movie. But she doesn’t say more than one quipped question hinting that she still wants him on the light side. So the “attachment” focus of their fights loses all it’s tension because again, it doesn’t make sense. After TLJ, he should be at least trying to give up on her and pursue killing her, if anything. And she should be steadfastly believing in him, while pursuing doing the right thing no matter what he does. That’s where they were in their character development. More fighting barely makes sense.

Healing Scene - I liked this scene only when Rey heals Kylo Ren. Their fight beforehand, and her ramming his lightsaber into him, still makes no sense. She’s angry at him because of her connection to Palpatine and she’s fighting him like that’s going to exorcise her identity…but Rey being a dark, angry descendant of Palpatine never made sense (it unravels her whole character development.) So her motivations in this scene don’t make sense…until she heals him. Then, suddenly, there’s a glimpse of that Rey we left on the Millenium Falcon in TLJ: she’s healing him, even though he might just stand up and attack her again, because she genuinely believes he’s Ben and she just needs to show him mercy until he comes around to believing it. And THAT is part of what turns him. So I like that: I just think it was executed really poorly. She should never have been healing him from a wound she caused.

The Kiss - The kiss was just basically the TROS storytellers confirming that they were romantically attached instead of just enemies-to-friends/Allie’s attached. Because…for some reason they had to confirm that visually. I just think, again, that they didn’t set it up and execute it well. They have no conversations and no significant attention paid toward each other between the healing scene and the final battle. They might be force-linked, but the audience needed to see that bond turned romantic, or him turned good before any overt romantic gestures, much earlier on. Other than that, I like that he healed her. I love Adam Driver’s acting in that whole scene. Makes me wish they gave him more to do.

The Death Scene - This should not have happened. It was lazy. Kylo Ren is a character who has been trying to fulfill himself by making BIG, final (emphasis on “final”) choices. Having him make one more big final choice, to end his own life, was not good character development. He should’ve had to live with what he’d done so he could learn from his mistakes. That’s where his whole character was headed. He’s always failed to learn from his past: he thinks he can just erase it. You know what giving up your life for a different hero and then fading away is? It’s nice, but it’s just another “erase” choice. Additionally? It’s terrible for Rey’s story, too. She finally had someone she chose, someone she waited for who actually came back, somebody who understood her…somebody who’s redemption rewarded her long faith…and she’s left alone again. That’s just the worst. Plus, what did she need him to heal her for? What exactly did she die of? He was way more injured than she was.

What they should’ve done was, Kylo Ren and Rey save the day, and then he’s condemned to death for his crimes by the New Republic, but in honor of Leia’s life of sacrifice and belief in him, he’s given enough of a pardon to simply be banished to the unknown reaches. And Rey goes with him, because she can finally stop waiting, she loves seeing the galaxy, and they can learn about the Force together…plus, they’re obviously deeply connected. And that would be a great homage to Leia’s legacy as a character who never gives up on hope, and that hope is ultimately rewarded. Instead of having her give her life to reach him…so he can live for an hour or so before also dying.

Long story short…you’re right! I just think all the elements you liked should’ve been way more central, built up to, and placed where they fit in a better movie!

40 notes · View notes

accirax · 9 months

Text

“Your mother is dead. You always omit that truth.”

As venus-is-thinking was rewatching DRDT’s Chapter 1 Free Time Events last night, she sent me screenshots of this one interaction between Charles and Whit, noting it as odd:

(She was right, btw. Whit, no matter how hard you try, you are not a normal man.)

Now, with the context of Chapter 2, we can probably assume that what Charles said here triggered Whit’s memories about his dead mom. There are a couple of options here, but the first one that jumped to my mind was that Whit was about to correct Charles, informing him that he actually learned how to cook himself. Obviously, he would then realize that saying this would bring up his mothers death, which he prefers to not mention, so he switches topics. While this option makes the most sense, given that Whit previously says, “teaching your kids how to cook is, like, the number one job of parents,” I would be surprised if Whit’s parents didn’t teach him how to cook at all.

It depends on how early in his life his mom died, I guess. And how long his dad has been away.

...wait, how long has Whit’s dad been away?

And then, an idea struck me. What if Whit’s dad doesn’t know that his wife is dead? What if Whit never told him?

This, of course, being a weightier spin on Whit’s secret, “Your mother is dead. You always omit that truth.” You omit that truth from who, exactly? People who already know what happened, or people like Charles and Teruko who don’t?

As I’m sure many people have assessed, Whit’s secret is comparatively pretty tame compared to the rest of the options. While his classmates are being revealed as manipulators and murderers, all we learn about Whit is a sad fun fact. But if Whit’s secret, in full, is actually “You never told anyone about the death of your mother, not even your father,” it becomes a much more severe secret.

Now, you might be asking, “if that’s the case, why wouldn’t Whit’s secret just say that outright instead?” Mastermind Whit interpretations aside, we have to remember that Despair Time is canonically a TV show. Assuming that Lin is watching his son on the big screen, as long as Whit’s secret says anything about his mom being dead, Lin would learn about his son’s concealment of the truth.

However, the question of why Whit’s secret wouldn’t be phrased like that for the sake of the other students remains. My best theory is this: it’s to make Whit suffer. I’m sure we all remember David’s heel turn in Chapter 2 Episode 11. After spewing his hateful monologue, he expresses how freeing it is to finally speak his mind.

For Whit, by not explaining what his secret is in full, they don’t give him the catharsis of expressing all of his thoughts and pain out loud. They still provide him the hopeful option of being able to salvage part of his story amongst the other students. While the motives of the TV show haven’t been expressly stated, it’s a pretty common killing game move to give the students hope just to rip it away and create despair, right...?

It’s like how Hu mentions that some secrets might be phrased unfavorably to make the students look worse. In this case, Whit’s secret could be phrased favorably with the intention of making him stressfully walk the edge of revealing the full truth and keeping it hidden. And, knowing Whit, there’s no way that he wouldn’t at least take a shot at repression.

Getting back to the secret itself, the way Whit talks about his family life also makes me believe that this could be the case. Through his dialogue, we learn that Whit lives a very solitary life. He talks about no one being home often enough to keep a pet, how lonely it would be to stay in the house all day, and how he’s befriended his neighbors’ dog and considers her family (but not the neighbors themselves?).

Sure, Whit is (barely) college aged, and college kids are typically considered able to live on their own. But Teruko and the gang believed that they were about to head to the Hope’s Peak entrance ceremony, so as far as Whit remembers, he only graduated high school very recently. If Lin knew that Elizabeth was dead, would he really leave his grieving teenage son completely alone in another country?

Because Whit’s dad doesn’t seem to currently reside within the United States, as far as I can tell. Maybe it’s just the Beetlejuice: The Musical fan in me, but I have to imagine that letting your kid grieve their dead mom whilst being completely isolated would be a very bad idea.

It would make sense to me if the reason why Lin allows this is because he doesn’t know. If Whit didn’t tell him the truth, either because it was too painful for him to say or because he didn’t want to jeopardize his father’s work abroad. According to Whit, his dad is “a real quiet dude,” so I could believe that he wouldn’t have any coworkers come up and console him for his loss, letting the cat out of the bag. The fact that he’s abroad further facilitates that idea-- how would Lin’s foreign coworkers even learn about Elizabeth’s passing when he himself doesn’t know?

You could run into problems if Lin went too long without seeing his wife, and started to wonder where she was. However, if Whit did something like impersonating his mom via text, it would be more possible for Lin to simply not notice that he hadn’t seen his wife in a while.

Venus also came up with the possibility that Lin is actually more of a deadbeat. He “works overseas” because, well, he lives there, having left his family behind. Whit could dye his hair blond not just to look like his mom, but also to look less like his dad. His skills as the Ultimate Matchmaker could have began at home with their split. It sounds a little implausible, but we know that Whit likes to ignore things that make him uncomfortable and put a positive spin on them.

At any rate, I believe this is a hypothetical worth considering. I definitely want to keep a closer eye on Whit’s backstory going further, as it’s possible that it’s not exactly what it seems.

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #drdt spoilers #whit young #fanganronpa #my theories #more crazy theories with accirax #this is certainly more plausible than Charles Tawaki though #I’m not exactly sure how it would play into the story but I could definitely see it just being implied and not a huge plot point #love ya Whit :)

105 notes · View notes

luwritesomething · 1 year

Note

read the thing you wrote abt mickey altieri 🥺🥺 i love that man so much. if i could, i was wondering if i could request something abt him? maybe something where the read has insomnia and he helps them actually sleep <33 only if you want, of course 🫶

Mickey Altieri x Reader: Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby.

Words: 1199

Warnings: mickey is a killer but reader doesn’t know that (however this is not what the fic is about). there are light mentions of anxiety, stress and pills (for headaches), i think there's swearing (bc it's me).

Summary: after a movie night with your boyfriend mickey, you don’t want to go to sleep.

Author's note: thank you so much for requesting, @altierirose!!! mickey will always have my heart, and he’s so fun to write for. i didn’t make this explicitly about insomnia, but reader does have trouble sleeping and that’s what this is about. no hate to dirty dancing, btw!!! (just a bit.) i'm giving you a follow bc there's not much people appreciating our boy... feel free to request whenever !!!! this is my attempt at not using "y/n" anymore.

Criticism is appreciated and request are open (except for the Wednesday fandom)! Hit that anon button and tell me your idea! You can see the character i write for HERE.

Every Friday night was reserved to you and Mickey since you two had started dating, some months after the beginning of your first college year. It had been agreed by the two of you, because you had soon realized that college life was messy, difficult and crowded; and a little bit of bonding time reserved for your relationship sounded like a good idea. Slowly, it escalated from cute little dates in the campus’ cafeteria to coffee shops outside the enclosure, until you two finally retreated to one plan and one plan only — movie night.

Fairly chosen, one week he was the one to choose one of his movies in between his precious collection, worthy of a Film student; and the next one you would choose, sometimes with better or worse criteria, but always having fun. Popcorn, candy and a blanket pulling you close together, his hand either around your shoulders or wrapped around your waist, letting you lean into him. It was a great plan for a Friday night.

This week it was your turn, and you had purposely chosen a movie that would piss off his movie buff extraordinare’s taste; something like Dirty Dancing. Mickey had bitched around for quite a while, not letting you hear the somewhat awful dialogues, but amusing you anyway because even if he could be annoying, Mickey was still funny and charming, in his own way.

The movie ended not too late, to Mickey’s relief, and as soon as the credits rolled in your little TV he jumped out of the bed with the empty bowl of popcorn in his hands, while he roasted the movie like it had personally offended him.

“It just makes no sense.” He said, putting the bowl in the only table you and your roommate had in your shared dorm. Your friend had always been kind and comprehensive enough to allow you to have the dorm whenever Derek, Mickey’s roommate, didn’t want to leave his. Mickey turned to you, still in bed, with a wide grin. “And seriously, Baby? It’s just so unrealistic for someone to spend a whole summer being called Baby by everyone.”

“Mickey, it’s a movie.” You laughed quietly, your head cocking to the side.

Mickey pointed at you with his index finger. “That’s not an excuse, and you know that.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Whatever.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that sight, and you watched him do so. Mickey looked really handsome when he laughed, as his face filled with joy and beaming happiness — you liked the way he enjoyed himself around you. It was something sweet.

“I’m dead.” Mickey was able to say as soon as he stopped laughing, exhaustion washing over him after a hard week. His body felt sore, you could tell by the way he crawled to your side in bed. His body next to yours, even on top of the sheets and blanket, felt so familiar. A smile was shot your way. “Let’s go to sleep, uh?”

Something inside you crumbled suddenly as soon as you saw him getting inside the bed, without bothering to look if you were doing the same because he thought it was rather obvious. It produced you a feeling close to anxiety, thinking about sleeping while you slid by his side — this week had been hard on both of you, but what had kicked your ass the most wasn’t assignments and classes, like it had happened to him, but sleep.

A series of all-nighters the last week had thrown you off, and now your sleep schedule was messed up. You had laid in bed every night, eyes closed, waiting for Orpheus to sweep you out of the world and into sleeping, but it hadn’t happened — as much, an hour or two before your alarm went off you would fall slightly asleep, producing you low headaches that you had successfully avoided with a few pills.

“But it’s so early.” You said, and your voice went a little higher like it used to do whenever you lied, catching Mickey’s attention.

His eyes drifted to your alarm clock behind you, head tilted. “You’re not tired?”

“I am.” You sighed, and then you stuttered a bit, before confessing. “But… I haven’t been sleeping well. It’s– It’s silly.”

Mickey’s body language changed instantly. His back straightened, so he could sit up with it against the headboard, body turned to look at you and give you his full attention. His eyes scanned you slightly, making you look away in embarrassment — you were a grown adult, and not wanting to go to sleep without a good reason was childish, you knew.

“Is this about the murders going on?” Mickey asked quietly, like someone else apart from you could hear him talking about the matter that had been hunting everyone in your circle for the last couple of weeks. Two people had been murdered in the new, based on real events, slasher’s opening night. “Because if it’s that, I can promise you, you have nothing to worry about.”

“No, it’s not that.” You shook your head, to prove your point, then just shrugged. Mickey watched you curiously, carefully. “I think I’m just too stressed. The exams, and all… College life isn’t as good as they paint it and, I don’t know, maybe I can’t take it.”

A beat of silence, then two, before Mickey’s brows furrowed together. “That’s bullshit.” It surprised you enough to not let you speak instantly, giving him time to speak first. “I mean, I understand you being stressed, it’s natural. But if you can’t take it, then no one can.”

“That’s not true.”

“But it is!” He insisted, seriousness written all over his face. You had only seen him this serious once or twice before, when he was passionately defending a horror movie from Randy’s criticism, and when he had asked you out for the first time. “I think you’re taking it all too seriously. You stress too much about every single test and—”

“But it is serious, Mickey.” You interrupted softly, wrapping your arms around your knees for comfort. “I can’t slow down.”

“It shouldn’t take your sleep away.” He retorted. His hand reached out for you, comfortably squeezing once. “You’re doing great. I mean that. But you need to chill.”

Nodding slightly, your gaze fell down and away from him, processing his words. The silence settled between you, but Mickey needed to know what you were thinking — not anymore to have the upperhand, but because he was worried, and if there was something pure in him, that was his love for you.

His hand left yours to barely graze your chin, lifting your head and gaze up. “Is that all of it?” Mickey asked softly. His eyes shone. “Nothing more on your mind?”

“That’s all.” You muttered, nodding slightly. He gave you a smile.

“Wanna go to sleep now?”

Once again you nodded, and you two slid inside the bed. He switched off the lights and his arm surrounding your waist and pulling you closer didn’t startle you. Mickey didn’t fall asleep until you did, surrendering yourself to the calm circles Mickey rubbed onto your back and his even breathing close to you.

#mickey altieri #mickey altieri fic #mickey altieri fanfiction #mickey altieri x reader #timothy olyphant #scream franchise #scream #scream 2 #lu writes #lu writing #my writing #writing #fanfic #cigarettes after sex #inclusive reader

219 notes · View notes