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taetaesbaebaepsae · 2 years

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i don’t know if your drabble game is still going on but if it is, could you write ‘wrath’ with jungkook?? give me all the angsty smut .. i WANT it (self sabotage at its finest)

All I can say is well, you asked

Warnings: uh, just a lot of sad angry horny but definitely rough sex, degradation, little spit kink, unprotected sex (pls don't have unprotected sex with your toxic ex like JK in this), lots and lots of sad, it's consensual but it's hate sex at the end of the day, not betaed

Word Count: 2130 (don't read into how this got away from me)

College hasn’t been what Jungkook had thought it would be.

He hadn’t imagined failing three of his classes, being in danger of being kicked off the soccer team. He hadn’t imagined going out every night and trying to make it to class hungover or still drunk at 8am on a Friday, but he also hadn’t expected you.

Well, he had, but not like this.

He heaves a sigh when he hears it, pebbles dinging against his window and when he opens the window one flies just over his head.

“Fuck!” He curses, softly, so that his roommate doesn’t wake up. Jimin is a bitch when he doesn’t get his full eight hours of beauty sleep.

You’re standing barefoot in the grass, dressed in a hot pink minidress and he lets out a long breath through his nostrils.

“Let me up!” You yell, and at least your words aren’t slurred, this time.

He shakes his head, slams the window shut and winces when Jimin grumbles and rolls over on his bed.

When the pebbles start up again he groans and tugs on a shirt, closing the dormitory door softly before storming downstairs.

You’re still throwing rocks when he pads barefoot out onto the grass.

“You have to stop doing this,” he says, and sets his jaw, willing himself not to weaken but you turn toward the sound of his voice and this big smile breaks out on your face.

“Kookie!” You beam, and he fucking hates himself for how it makes his heart race.

He remembers you at 16, biting your lip when you looked up at him, brushing your hair back behind your ear. He remembers you at 18, biting your lip again but in a much different context, tears streaking down your face.

“I just…I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you’d said, brokenly. “We can’t have the college experience if we’re still dating each other.”

He’d just stared at you, shell shocked, something bitter in the back of his throat.

Jungkook hadn’t known what to say then and he didn’t know what to say now, never seemed to have the ability to tell you no, even when you were breaking his heart.

Just like you’re breaking it now, running to him and jumping up into his arms and he catches you, always catches you even if he stumbles back a step to do it.

You smell like vodka and lavender and he wants to turn his face into your neck, breathe you in and he hates himself for that too.

“Take me home,” you murmur against his ear and his heart aches because he doesn’t know where that is if it isn’t with you.

“Is Daeun home?”

You shake your head, putting your head on his shoulder and he knows where he’s going, knows he’ll carry you across the campus back to your room, knows he’ll stay the night and listen to all the sweet lies you whisper into his ear but the more this happens, the more that bitter feeling in the back of his throat grows. He feels his face heating up when he puts in the code to your dorm room, when you finally let him put you down and you hum a little when you go off to the kitchenette to get a bottle of water out of the mini fridge.

“Didn’t see you out,” you comment idly.

“Wasn’t out,” he barks, and he wasn’t, spent the night playing beer pong with Jimin and Hoseok instead of the studying he meant to do, but at least it kept him from wondering where you were and who you were with.

He doesn’t know why you chose to still attend the same college as him when you’d both had all these plans to be together, to move into an apartment after freshman year, to get engaged, to continue all your teenage true love dreams.

Nobody tells you what to do when true love doesn’t last, when you split apart and there’s nothing left but memories and anger boiling somewhere deep inside you. He didn’t talk trash about you, defended you to his friends, even when you’d been seen out with the captain of the lacrosse team at the first of sophomore year.

It wasn’t as if he’d been celibate, after all, it’d been three years, but…you kept coming back. Throwing pebbles at his window. Texting him at 3am.

Where are you?

Come get me; I miss you.

How can he date someone else when you’re in his bed almost as much as in his head, still? How can you date someone?

Jungkook tries not to think about it, averts his eyes when he’s out downtown and he sees you dancing with some guy, shakes his head when someone asks him if he’s heard who you were dating.

“I don’t care who she’s dating,” he said, as nonchalantly as he could muster but then he’d stare at his laptop for two hours without writing a single word of his essay before grabbing his jacket to find a party or a club or something to stop thinking.

He stands in your dorm room awkwardly, breathing harder than he should be, looking at your unmade bed and the letterman’s jacket thrown haphazardly across your desk chair.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He asks, and you pause, frowning as you’re tugging off your dress.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Jungkook snorts, his face feeling hot because fuck he is angry, as hard as he’d tried not to be, even right after the breakup when he’d been all to pieces all he’d been able to think about is that maybe one day you’d get back together, maybe you’d come to your senses, had told Namjoon as much while he was throwing up in his toilet.

Namjoon had just sighed, rubbed his back, and Jungkook had been grateful he hadn’t told him he was an idiot.

Now he’s thinking that Namjoon should have told him he was an idiot because that would be better than getting these little pieces of you, all this empty bullshit and if you didn’t come to his window or blow up his phone every couple of weeks he started to miss it, even this

“You don’t have to lie to me anymore, Y/n. It’s not like we’re….”

“Kookie. Don’t be like that,” you plead, your eyes filling with tears and he turns his head, won’t look at you.

“I can’t do this anymore.” It comes out weak and broken and the tears at the backs of his eyes sting so he rubs his hands across his face.

“Don’t…don’t, just…let’s just lie down, okay? We can just-”

You take a few steps forward and touch his arm and he jerks away from you as if you’d burned him.

“No. No, fuck this, Y/n. Fuck you.”

He does look at you, now, and you’re crying and you’re biting the skin off your bottom lip and his chest hurts. He knows he should leave you here with your ruined eye makeup and your dress half off, leave you here like you’d left him, shellshocked and unable to speak more than a stutter while you left him at the airport.

Instead he grabs you by the arms, pushes you onto the bed and you don’t cry out, don’t try to get up, just look up at him.

Jungkook pulls his shirt off with one hand, reaches down with the other to palm himself through his sweats and he watches your eyes dart to his crotch and he smirks down at you.

There’s something buzzing in his head, all the anger he should have already felt.

“This is what you want, right? This is why you come to my house, throw rocks at my fucking window?”

You don’t speak, don’t even say his name, just raise your knees up, tug your dress up around your hips and he can see now that you aren’t wearing panties.

It’s strange, the combination of lust and rage that spears through him because he can imagine you dancing at a club, some guy in a letter jacket working his thigh between your legs and he grunts, spreads your knees further apart.

He looks you in the face before leaning over to drop a gob of spit on your pussy, roughly spreading the saliva between your lips, dipping two fingers shallowly inside you.

You gasp out his name and he moves his hands to wrap around your calves, yank you to the edge of the bed. Your thighs tighten around his hips instantly and still he’s wondering if someone else had done this very thing on your very bed and he hates it.

He shoves down his sweats, lines up to your entrance, guides just the head of his cock inside you, watches you writhe on the bed and his mouth runs away with him even though he’d thought he’d slept off most of the beer before you’d started chucking pebbles at his window.

“That letter jacket belong to the guy who fucks you here the nights you don’t come to me?”

You rock your hips up even as you frown up at him.

“D-don’t say things like that, Jungkook,” you say, but your thighs are trembling.

“This what gets you off? Coming to me even after you’ve been fucking him? What is it, sweetheart? He doesn’t fuck you the way I do?”

“Fuck you,” you say, but it’s mostly a whimper and you turn your face away.

He pulls out of you, watches your face.

“Tell me to stop,” he commands. “Tell me to stop if you’re so fucking mad at me.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you whisper, and he laughs a little and it’s bitter.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

He does it anyway, lifts your knees over his forearms and pushes into you. You’re slippery wet as soon as he enters you.

“You do like this,” he teases, pulls out almost all the way before ramming back into you and he can barely think he’s still so fucking mad but his balls ache.

You cry out his name, move your hands to twist your nipples beneath that slutty dress you’re wearing and he leans over you to get you to look at him.

“Tell me, Y/n. Is it that I’m your dirty little secret? Hmm? Or do you just like to fuck with my head?”

“I-I-” you stutter, locking your ankles at the small of his back. “I just miss you.”

Jungkook laughs again and there’s nothing funny about this, nothing funny about the mascara streaking down your face or how angry he is because he wants that to be true so badly.

“Liar,” he spits out, fucks you hard and fast and sloppy where it’s usually kisses and soft words, your fingers fisted in the hair at the nape of his neck.

You let out a string of curses, always had a much dirtier mouth than he did, even when you were kids. So far it’s felt like the roles are reversed, tonight, but this is familiar and he fucks you harder, hoping to kill the ache in his chest.

You lean up on the bed and try to kiss him and he turns his face away so you latch onto his throat and that’s better, hotter, and he can ignore that he still loves you despite everything, despite how you left and how you’re still the first thing he thinks of when he opens his eyes in the mornings. He can ignore that no matter how many women he brings back to his dorm room after putting a sock on the door, he imagines it’s you beneath him when he closes his eyes.

He feels you clenching around him and even that’s familiar and he buries his face into your hair when he spills inside you, breathing hard, and then suddenly he’s fighting tears when his knees come on to the bed and you wrap your arms around his neck, put your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he mumbles and he hopes you don’t hear him but you must, you pivot so that he slides out of you and pull him down on the bed next to him, stroking his cheek.

“I know,” you say, your voice choked with tears and it turns out he really can’t do this, he shakes his head, pushes you away and stands up, grabbing his shirt in a stumble on the way out of your dorm room.

Half of him thinks you’ll follow him. Half of him hopes you will.

The next time you throw pebbles at his window, he squeezes his eyes shut and covers his head with his pillow.

#jungkook x reader #bts imagines #jk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #noonasinnetwork

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mybg3notebook · 3 years

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Astarion Analysis

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were made up to the game version v4.1.101.4425. As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information.

“Morals are all well and good, but power always wins.”

“If all I want is shallow praise? Hardly, there is also gold, sex, revenge, quite the list, really. But failing any of those, I will always settle for shallow praise.”

--Astarion

The majority of sources used for this article are in the game itself (including Astarion-solo playthroughs) and the dev’s notes and datamined information provided by pjenn. Astarion as origin is (almost) not taken into account since it’s not finished and is highly unpolished.

The itemised list will show some instances of approval or disapproval as seen in the game. To make the reading of this article easier and shorter, you can skip them since they are basically the proof I use to sustain the introductory concept of each block.

We can infer a lot of Astarion by analysing what he approves and disapproves of. Sometimes, we can even lightly infer some information from his neutral reactions, but let’s be honest: this way of analysing a char is pretty poor since it leaves everything to speculation. Neutral reactions can only be analysed by contrasting the same situation in other contexts, and seeing what other options Astarion approves or disapproves of. With these considerations in mind, we can proceed to describe this character.

Disclaimer: this is a meta with my personal interpretation of the character, sticking as much as possible to the facts and leaving little to “desires” or “projections” of what I want him to be. If I do so, I will state it explicitly in the text for the sake of analysis honesty. I want to be clear about what is canon (facts shown in bg3 EA), from what’s personal interpretation with little proof.

Also, this list is extensive, gathering as much as I could in my many playthroughs, but I’m sure it’s not absolutely complete. Some details may have escaped to me, but honestly, I believe they will be easily fit in these blocks once the pattern has been seen.

Understanding Astarion by enumerating his reactions

Astarion is usually seen as a character whose behaviour is the embodiment of “randomness”, and after several Astarion-solo playthoughts, I began to see the patterns that showed little randomness in my opinion.

We can say that he likes gratuitous cruelty and murder. He has a special taste for animal cruelty too. He is greedy, but mostly if it leads to murder or to make little people suffer. Sometimes this greedy side comes from the fact that he doesn’t like to “work for free”: most quests should have a reward for him to be neutral to them. Accepting them without asking anything in return tends to earn a disapproval. He is more reticent to humiliate or outsmart NPCs that may be potentially stronger and more powerful than him.

[[1]] Situations showing his greed:

He supports the robbery of the fishermen that were helping the mind flayer (MF) after the crash.

Astarion supports stealing the “magical” ring from the tiefling kid (Mattis). This could be seen also as a gesture of outsmarting a person or mere trickster behaviour (see below).

He supports asking for compensation from the deep gnome we saved at the windmill.

He agrees to force Tulla (dying gnome in the myconid camp) to give you her magical boots.

Denying Baelen the scrolls because “they don’t come cheap”.

He approves pickpocketing Mirkon while being lured by the harpies.

[[2]]Situations displaying plain murder or violence:

He supports joining Lae’zel against the tieflings if you persuade them to free her, since this means killing (which is always an entertainment for him) creatures he considers lesser.

He supports killing Gimblebok and his gang near the Jergal ruins if you avoid any attempt of persuasion. This can be shown as a demonstration of power. (see below)

He supports killing Kagha without trying to persuade her or change her ways, not because he thinks Arabella’s death was an aberration (he enjoyed the show, as his approval and later comment confirm it) but simply because he enjoys murder.

He supports attacking the goblin camp. It’s a great spectacle of murder combined with his personal dismiss towards goblinoid races.

He approves of joining Minthara and massacrating the tieflings. It’s another great spectacle of murder, but in this time, of weak people (He detests weak creatures, and despises Tieflings in general).

He approves of killing Lae’Zel in the scene where she attacks Tav during the night, out of fear of turning into MF.

He approves of killing Rugan in the hideout.

Still related to this level of violence and cruelty, he supports learning more about Shar once Shadowheart explains Shar’s teachings, all about violence and death, fighting against the illusion of safety.

He approves killing Ellyka, the tiefling spying on the Gith patrol, if Tav is a Githyanki (true or disguised as) and chooses “Attack.”

He approves of helping Glut in massacring the whole Myconid colony.

He approves of sacrificing one of the companions to the fish-people who worship Booal.

He approves fighting the fake god Booal because it’s a massacre; where there is bloodshed, there is Astarion’s approval.

For the same reason he approves killing the Githyanki patrol: pure bloodshed.

[[3]] Situations of gratuitous cruelty: I understand that a lot of people confuse this trait of his personality as a “trolling attitude”. There are different archetypes of tricksters in DnD, and he is not particularly the silly-funny one (e.i. Jester in Critical Role), but the cruel-funny one. His “pranks” don’t cause annoyance or silly troubles, they usually end up in murdering the person he is pranking, or causing them great pain. What he considers “funny” is always related to a lot of blood and suffering. Examples of this:

He disapproves of diffusing the situation between Aradin and Zevlor after the first goblin attack. He is “missing” his show. This situation is also related to enjoying humiliation of others (see below).

After letting Arka kill the goblin and take her revenge, Astarion will approve the comment that refugees are desperate and they will do anything. He is enjoying the show of despair of weak creatures. And he is also expecting for some of them to become survivalist beasts.

He approves of telling Kagha that you enjoyed the show of Arabella’s death as an answer to her question about if she is a monster.

He also approves of telling Arabella's parents that Kagha will release their daughter when the Rite of Thorns is completed (while Arabella, in fact, has been killed by Kagha's snake). This is another example of Evil Trickster, a prank with a really dark taste. This also shows that Astarion likes to give false hopes [One of the most iconic characteristic of Cazador]

He approves of telling the tiefling kids training with Wyll that they are going to die, inspiring that despair he enjoys to see in weak creatures. (see below)

He approves of breaking Alfira’s teacher’s lute, leaving the tiefling heartbroken because that had been the only memento she got from her teacher, and could not finish her tribute song.

Astarion approves of interrupting the goblinoid couple having sex, which he considers disgusting. After killing them, Astarion will support the idea that it was funny. Another example of Evil Trickster where the prank ends up with the death of the pranked one. But we also know Astarion despises goblinoid races.

He approves of killing Crusher after humiliating him.

He supports Tav who volunteers to torture Liam at the goblin camp.

He supports of laughing at Lorin (the elf trapped in Ethel’s house) after pretending to be the monster he sees (psychological torture). This example can be part of the list of humiliation too.

He states that seeing Mayrina’s horrified face after resurrecting her husband was funny. Another example of false hopes [One of the most iconic characteristics of Cazador] On the contrary, if Tav kills the undead afterwards, Astarion will disapprove, since he missed the “fun” of seeing Mayrina tortured.

He enjoys every state of Abdirak’s torture upon Tav. This can be seen as a fine bloody show he is enjoying, or as a way to put Tav in a humiliating situation (as he approved the dung-smearing or the foot-kissing instances)

Using the leader gnoll Flind to attack her own gnolls earns his approval. Asking her to devour herself increases approval once more. This situation could also be seen as enjoyment of animal cruelty (since gnolls are considered animals by Astarion too) but also as the reflection of Astarion’s inner desire of becoming a Master of bending wills.

Probably the most innocent prank so far we saw, he approves of doing Baaa at the redcaps in the Bog.

[[4]] As I said previously, he suports any form of animal cruelty:

He approves of kicking and killing the squirrel Timber in the Druid Grove. According to the dev’s notes, he is “shocked and annoyed” because “you stamped a squirrel to death when he could’ve eaten it.” (DEN_General_Squirrel)

He supports prodding to death the bird that Nettie was healing during the dialogue (you need Speak with Animals for this).

He supports freeing the Owlbear cub at the Goblin Camp, and feeding it later, because he wants to bite the owlbear cub eventually (he uses the word “delectable” to describe him, and when the owlbear escapes, Astarions states “You‘ve scared off the little snack.”)

When we find Halsin in his bear form, Astarion will have two instances of approval: the first one when Tav tells the goblin kids that throwing stones with sharp edges would hurt the animal more, and then when Tav themself joins the goblins in throwing rocks at Halsin.

We can also add the confrontation with Flind, the Gnoll leader, as another example of animal cruelty since he approves a smart yet twisted way of killing her by double-using the tadpole. First to command her to attack the gnolls, and then to devour herself. However, since Gnolls are considered aberrations lore-wise, this point could be left aside in this particular case.

If we take into consideration that Astarion sees Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnomes as animals, killing them always increases his approval. This happens when we kill, out of the blue, most goblin NPCs, or simply attack the camp. (Datamined content) He will also approve of killing slave gnomes in Duergar Encampment (place you find after the boat). All these moments can be also seen as “animal” cruelty if we take into account Astarion’s perspective.

He approves of killing Priestess Gut in the Goblin Camp. It could also be interpreted as his usual dismissal towards goblins (he sees them as animals), since he never believed that she could help them in the first place. Or this approval can fit perfectly fine the cruel, murderous aspect of Astarion. As I said, many approvals overlap different aspects of Astarion, but all seem to fit his patterns either way.

I suspect that the reason behind this particular kind of cruelty comes from those two hundred years of torture, in which he had to drink animal blood. Considering he was such an unfair magistrate, directing his rage against the ones who are not the root of the problem seems fitting.

[[5]] Astarion is filled with racial bias and prejudices.

He only sees elves and humans as the only creatures capable of thinking. (Scene after the bite)

However, he has strong biases against a particular ethnic group of humans: Gurs. He thinks they are all cut-throat, and probably would approve the rest of stereotypes that Gandrel added in that scene. (Scene of meeting Gandrel)

He mocks halfling and dwarf Tavs, who he thinks are naturally weak, until they prove him wrong. (Stargaze scene for short-sized Tav)

He supports the idea that tieflings have demonic powers just because of their heritage. (Speaking with the Grove halfling seller). During the party, he compares the lives of the tieflings with the lives of the goblins as something of similar value (which we know he considers as animal).

He sees goblins, kobolds, and gnomes as animals. (Scene after the bite)

After killing the goblinoid couple which was having sex, if Tav choose to say that the situation made them scrub their eyes, Astarion would add and extra “dehumanizing” comment against gnomes. “I’ve seen worse. Gnomes can be… ughh.” (Scene of interrupting sex)

[[6]] He finds pleasure in humiliating people or in outsmarting them, especially if they are trying to outsmart Tav. He dislikes weakness and loves to humiliate weak people in particular.

He approves telling Lae’Zel to say “please” when we met her again in the cage, humiliating her.

He disapproves of diffusing the situation between Aradin and Zevlor after the first goblin attack. We know he is “missing” his show where one of them is being humiliated.

Astarion approves of telling Elegis that she is pathetic for being scared of a few goblins. Once more, humiliation due to weakness.

He disapproves of telling Arabella's parents that the Druids overreacted when speaking in the Druid Grove’s stairs. He is disapproving for defending a weak and silly creature who was not smart enough to survive on her own.

Astarion supports stealing the “magical” ring from the tiefling kid. This is another situation of humiliation of a weak person and outsmarting them. This could be considered a prank of a more silly-funny trickster doing an innocent prank.

He approves of telling the tiefling kids that they are going to die.

He feels disappointed when Lae’Zel did not kill Zorru, the tiefling that she forces to kneel and confess where he saw the Gith patrol. He approves the psychological torture of the interrogation.

He enjoys interrupting the goblinoid couple having sex. This is an example of the prank cruel-funny trickster. This “prank” ends up with the goblinoid couple being killed.

Astarion approves of smearing dung in the guard's face at the goblin camp entrance. The show of seeing someone being humiliated is satisfying.

He supports booing and humiliating Volo off the stage in the goblin camp.

He supports licking the goblin’s foot (It could also be considered a prank).

He supports kissing the goblin’s foot while stealing the ring. This situation puts two things he enjoys in the same place: the humiliation experienced by Tav and how the Crusher was outsmarted in the process. Astarion will approve if Crusher is the one humiliated and forced to kiss Tav’s foot.

He approves of laughing at Lorin (the elf trapped in Ethel’s house) when the elf is scared of Tav who pretends to be the monster that’s torturing him.

Humiliating “low people'' is an important aspect of Astarion’s personality, since it’s a small petty pleasure he can have now, when during the last two hundred years it had been done to him. Humiliation has to do with power as well, another symbol tight to Astarion’s personality. Through humiliation Astarion can taste a little bit of power, that power he lacked for two hundred years. That power that, if his backstory is not retconned in future versions or in the full release game, he had before turning into a vampire, abusing those groups he considered less.

[[7]] If we think in power, we also have to think in manipulation. And of course, Astarion is a great master of it. Sometimes the events that stand out his taste for manipulation overlap with the ones displayed in the humiliation section.

Since the moment we meet Astarion, we know he keeps working in turning himself into a pleasant and useful companion for Tav. Astarion knows he has bigger chances to succeed and survive staying with this group. A lot of his “neutral” behaviours respond to this goal: he doesn’t want to enrage Tav to the point of being kicked out of the party, it’s not about a hidden gentle side inside he is showing with an apathetic neutrality, it’s, once more, raw preservation and survival. During the first scenes of the game, when we don’t know he is a vampire, Astarion tries to avoid taking a position in the situations we face: he is just feeling the ground all the time: with Sazza and with Arabella’s death is clear. He doesn’t judge hard, he is testing Tav, he is trying to understand their mind, and acting as pleasant as he can according to what he sees. It’s a natural use of manipulation to guarantee his survival in a group of strangers. During the bite scene—when this façade finally ends—he is truly nervous of being killed for his vampiric nature, and tries to convince Tav of keeping him in the group using arguments that go from seduction to practical usefulness.

The scene of stargaze also shows his usage of seduction as a manipulative tool to guarantee his survival (he weponises seduction and sex). Although he says mostly the same, he reacts very differently in tone depending on Tav’s approach. If Tav is wary, Astarion will act encouraging their ego and enumerating several feats, while getting uncomfortably closer. If Tav is already interested in Astarion, the elf will use softer manners to keep the seduction into a more intimate tone. This is a scene of a predator tasting his future prey as well (Dev’s notes are pretty clear about his manipulation). In this scene, also, Astarion is light-headed because he has not drunk blood in a while, and has “his head foggy” (something we can repeat during his origin as a personal tag). Exact words he will use as a narrative hint during the bite scene. Therefore, this scene has little of “Astarion falling for Tav”, and has everything of vampiric hunger combined with a raw sense of survival and usage of seduction to guaranteed it.

(potential interpretation) He approves when he is persuaded into sharing his dream with Tav. In any other character, we usually would understand this as an approval for caring about the character himself. In that scenario, failing the approval doesn’t cause a penalty (unless the character understands this failure as prying, as it happens with Shadowheart). In Astarion’s case, when you fail this persuasion, you are penalised with a disapproval. We can understand this in the same way we see it with Shadowheart: this is his annoyance for prying into his personal business. But there is another interpretation in this disapproval: he recognised a bad execution of persuasion as a manipulative attempt, and Astarion is in particular very sensitive to manipulations and mind games (see point [12]).

Most of his “romance” is manipulation as well, keeping in mind the first point of this section: he becomes pleasant for Tav, using whatever shape he needs, so he can survive (this is especially noticeable with a good-aligned Tav). Astarion has weaponised seduction and sex without any hint of subtetly for the player (As the Dev’s notes say: “For Astarion, this is a game of power - one he’s played many times before in the taverns of Baldur’s Gate, trying to lure people back to his master. He’s an old hand at seduction, very self-assured at first, but the player might not go along with the script he expects them to follow.”) We can assure that Astarion will find more satisfaction in having “fun” with a high-approval Tav rather than a low-approval Tav.

If Tav is not evil enough (and therefore has a low approval), Astarion will need to be the one inviting Tav to have sex (to be sure the control is still in his hand, still pushing for “catching” Tav). If a low-approval-Tav invites Astarion, he will decline saying that he “has standards'', implying he needs to be the one controlling the situation (he is basically playing “hard to catch”. Astarion already knows that he “caught” Tav in this scenario since Tav was the first one showing their interest). If Tav is evil-like (and has enough approval), Astarion will not only weaponise sex, he may express some degree of personal desire in having “fun” with Tav. After all, evil characters can like one another. In this case, he would accept Tav’s invitation for more hedonist reasons such as personal pleasure and not mere survival. Still it’s always present the layer of using this situation as a manipulative tool to have control on Tav.

Approves persuading Crusher without a fight, understanding it as an approval earnt for the good manipulation tool used. Of course this scene is combined with the natural approval that Astarion gives when outsmarting creatures he considers lower or animal-like (See point [6]).

Successfully persuade Lae'Zel to "play along" when meeting the Githyanki patrol, and pull off the deception.

I personally found funny that Astarion, without the intention of the writer, is so good in his manipulations, that he broke the fourth wall and ended up manipulating a good amount of players as well into believing him.

[[8]] He supports revenge in all its forms and degrees, which is not strange since it’s his main motivation against Cazador.

He approves of letting Arka kill Sazza in the cage as revenge for her brother’s death.

He approves of the attack against Nettie when she poisons Tav.

He approves of telling Edowin's siblings to find the beast that attacked him as a way to avenge the True Soul.

Astarion approves of Arabella’s mother killing Kagha at the party.

He approves of helping the Sovereign to take revenge against the Duergars that killed their young. However, it’s not clear if Astarion approves the revenge itself or the method proposed, which is, according to his own words, “a bit genocidal” and therefore more entertaining for him (we need to remember he enjoys the display of murder and violence in all its forms, [2,3]).

He approves of helping Glut in massacring the whole Myconid colony, since according to Glut’s words, they saw Glut’s circle being killed by the Duergars and did nothing, so Glut is looking for revenge.

[[9]] He doesn’t like to get involved in anyone’s problems unless you can obtain a benefit or a reward for it (this is directly connected to his greed aspect [1])

He approves of telling Mayrina’s brothers that they are on their own, and actively disapproves if Tav agrees to help them find Mayrina.

He approves of declining to help Halsin in killing the Goblin leaders.

He disapproves of helping Wyll to save the Tiefling refugees in the Grove.

He disapproves of helping Zevlor.

He disapproves of finding evidence that confirms that Kagha is working with Shadow Druids. He will additionally disapprove again if, after exposing her, Tav asks her to change her ways. From Astarion’s point of view, Tav is basically meddling too much in the Grove’s problems for free, and ruining all the instances where murder could happen.

He also disapproves if Tav agrees to help the two Zhentarim humans that are attacked by gnolls without asking for compensation.

He approves of not getting involved in the rescue of the Duke when Tav speaks with Florrick

[[10]] Despite having been a slave, he lacks of empathy for those who shared his fate and, instead, he supports slavery:

If we take into consideration what Swen said about his background in one of the first playthough he showed, we know that Astarion, as a magistrate, used criminals as food for local vampires, and in an attempt to outsmart them, he began to sell them into slavery (we can see in this brief background that Astarion has been greedy and cruel before turning into a vampire).

Although he disapproves paying for Oskar, the painter in the Zhentarim Hideout, he does it because of the money. When Tav buys the painter and demands him to stay silent because “slaves should speak when they are spoken to”, Oskar will think this is a joke (which is not the case, since none of those options has, in this patch at least, a (performance) tag). When Tav reinforces the idea that this is not a joke, and Oskar is now a true slave, only then, Astarion will approve.

When seeing one of the servant Duergars of the Myconite Colony, Astarion will comment on how useful they are, and how Underdark drows should learn about these creatures, since these slaves are more efficient than the standard ones. If Tav brings awareness about the contradiction that those thoughts cause coming from an ex-slave, Astarion will justify his thinking saying that they are husks without mind, claiming that his feelings “may be different, had they been conscious beings. Or maybe not.” He emphasises in this dual possibility. And we can be sure that he certainly would not care slavery on conscious creatures, as we confirm it later with Oskar (A human who is not a Gur, and therefore, a creature that Astarion consider thinking acceptable beings).

(Datamined content) When reaching the Duergar Encampment, once Nere is rescued, there is approval for killing the slave gnomes when the True Soul orders it. One can interpret that Astarion minds little for these slaves because they are gnomes, and therefore, animals.

[[11]] He looks for power and dominance, to have control over others and also as a way to guarantee his own freedom.

In the discussion after every dream, Astarion supports the use of the tadpole's power in every opportunity, dismissing their effects. He is thrilling for the ability of bending everyone’s will (curious note, this is one of Cazador’s characteristics most hated by him)

He approves of letting the Koa-Toes bow before them as the Booal's chosen. This scene can be understood as a typical prank of a trickster, but also as a taste for being adored as a master/entity with more power. This scene shows that he and Tav are placed in the “Master” position. This reinforces the idea that Astarion wants to be a Master/Cazador, eventually. (Check post about Astarion and Power 1 and 2)

If Tav claims that the worship to them as True Souls can be useful after letting Edowin’s siblings leave, Astarion will approve. He shows in every instance more delight for having Cazador’s powers, making emphasis in the mind control ability, again.

Astarion approves of keeping the Necromancy of Thay tome. As we see later in his scene, he believes that there is something powerful hidden in it that may help him against Cazador. He wants to muster all the power of any kind he can.

Astarion approves of sparing Auntie Ethel’s life when she surrenders during battle because she will grant them power in exchange. He wants to muster all the power of any kind he can.

[[12]] Astarion is particularly sensitive to mind control. His expressions and the tone of his voice against any type of mind control are filled with feral ire (video here):

He is angrily affected by the movements of his worm in his own head,

He screams against Ethel’s control when using the mask,

The insults at the harpies when he is lured,

The way he is annoyed by the telepathic spores in the Underdark,

He disapproves failed attempts of persuasion (understood by his character as failed, obvious attempts of manipulations).

And, potentially, this is the reason why he disapproves of Priestess Gut cleaning Tav’s mind.

[[13]] Because he likes power, he also likes the demonstration of power whether his own or his allies’, therefore he likes most intimidation options in general

He approves of intimidating Gimblebok and the gang near the ruins.

He approves of intimidating or provoking both Aradin and Zevlor at the Druid Grove.

At camp, when discussing preferred methods of death, he approves if Tav tells him "If I die, I'll take you with me." (after first picking "Try it and I'll spill your guts") . He also approves if Tav chooses a method of death (decapitation, knife, poison). Both options show resolve, strength, and freedom in deciding one’s fate. Since Astarion died at the hands of strangers, he values the freedom of choosing how to die. He will disapprove picking the option of letting others decide your death.

He approves if you intimidate the mirror into allowing passage.

[[14]] He is a survivalist character, and therefore, a lot of his approvals are related to elements that will guarantee his life, such as looking for his own freedom, the acceptance of his vampire nature, and the encouragement in looking for strong alliances or keeping alive strong individuals that can be useful as allies.

He approves of being accepted with his vampire nature and allowing him to feed on Tav’s blood. He keeps approving if Tav defends him during the exchange of opinions in the camp.

He approves if he has permission to feed on enemies.

He approves of killing Gandrel. This approval is also mere raw survival.

He approves if during sex, Tav allows him to drink their blood.

He disapproves of promising Nettie to take Wyvern Poison if you feel symptoms of the Tadpole, since it goes against his survival instinct.

When Lae’Zel is killed by the Gith patrol, he will state in banter that it was a waste since Lae’Zel was a powerful/strong specimen, so clearly he is lamenting the loss of a powerful ally.

Despite appreciating his freedom, he has explicitly stated that he “would choose servitude over oblivion any day”, showing how extremely survivalist he can be.

[[15]] He likes to find a solution to their tadpole problem using unconventional ways, or at least, using options that may lead him to the twisted solution he needs (which is not exactly being cured of the tadpole, but to control it, he certainly needs more exceptional means)

He approves of telling Auntie Ethel about the tadpole in the Druid Grove simply because she “looks lunatic”.

At first, Astarion disapproves of Raphael's invitation to remove the Tadpole, claiming that he would not change one master for another. However, when the situation starts looking dire, he will approve of the idea, because anything “may be better than Cazador” adding later that he “would choose servitude over oblivion any day.”

A bit contradictory when he was the first one claiming that Raphael used mind games similar to Cazador’s, games they know they have won before starting.

[[16]] He has a “soft spot” for helping people to escape their masters or killing/rejecting people that can be seen as Masters. However it’s requirement that those escapees could be seen by Aastarion as strong and capable creatures. He would mind little for creatures he sees as underlings. (Weak concept, seeing it with squinted eyes)

He approves of helping Karlach to get rid of the Tyr followers, since they are in fact working for Zariel, Karlach’s previous master. With all what Karlach explained about her past, she certainly qualifies as a strong person who is trying to get rid of her master.

He disapproves of Tav who tells Raphael that they would do anything to remove the Tadpole. This is probably resounding in Astarion: his past bad choice when he was at death's door due to the Gur attack and Cazador appeared to “save” him. He knows that going to that extent has poor results.

Astarion approves of Tav if they say that they won’t become Raphael's pawn (conversation in the camp after the encounter with Raphael). It’s true that when the other options narrow, Astarion starts to consider the possibility of changing a vampiric master for an infernal one.

This post was written on April 2021.

→ For more Astarion: Analysis Series Index

#astarion #bg3 early access #bg3 meta

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kasienda · 3 years

Note

thanks for tagging me in the WIP ask game! i'm still working on my own post, but in the meantime: celebrity status? 👀

This story is basically Marinette having to deal with being a celebrity. She's constantly hounded by fans and reporters wanting pictures or quotes, and it's making it harder for her to find safe places to transform and her parents are constantly frustrated/worried with her for being late or absent to things. On a bad day, she snaps at an akuma victim, and even though she immediately apologizes her snapping is the thing that's all over the internet. She goes to Adrien for help with her PR problem, and they get close. And things improve for her... until someone snaps a picture of Ladybug and Adrien making out. And then to protect him, she kinda throws her own reputation to media wolves. ...

Preview:

"Thank you, Chaton. I never know what to say to reporters. You’re a lifesaver."

"I'm always at your service, my lady." He said with his trademark grin and a two fingered salute.

They were about to part when his cat ears swiveled. So weird!

"We have picked up an extra tail," he pointed with his eyes. She glanced and saw their stalkers.

"Thanks for the intel. I'll be careful."

He waved her good-bye and they took off in opposite directions. Unfortunately, this meant she couldn't go straight home, which is what she wanted more than anything. She just wanted to curl up into a bath.

Her earrings beeped. Three minutes.

Some quick yo-yoing spiderman swings meant that her tail on foot or in a car would never be able to follow her, but she had to always set off in a different direction. She couldn't be seen always headed towards the same neighborhood day after day.

Another beep. Two minutes.

She had lost her tail. But she was in the wrong part of the city - the buildings here were huge overflowing mansions, with wide open spaces. She needed an oasis.

She turned a corner and suddenly knew exactly where she was. She turned toward the Agreste mansion. Adrien had a window open and everything.

Beep. One minute.

She didn't think about it, just quickly dove towards the potential haven. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than throwing herself at the mercy of some stranger. Hopefully, if she didn't quite make it she'd be able to trust Adrien not to look.

She landed on the smooth marble floor with a thud.

"Ladybug?" surprised green eyes greeted her.

"I'm about to time out," she stated without preamble.

He pointed to his bathroom. She had barely closed the door, when her transformation dissolved, and an exhausted Tikki fell into her hands. She let herself release a sigh of relief. That had been far too close.

"Uh... Ladybug? Are you okay?"

She suddenly realized where she was and exactly who was on the other side of that door. Heat flooded her cheeks.

"I-I'm fine," perhaps she should explain. She opened her purse, only to find it cookie-less. She cursed.

"You sure you're okay? Can I get you anything?"

"Ummm... Do you have any cookies? Or sweets?"

"Cookies? That's not fair..." his words faded into dissatisfied mumbling.

"Y-yeah. Cookies. Is that okay?"

"Just a second!"

His footsteps faded for a second. Only to return a few seconds later. He tapped on the door. And she started.

She opened the door a crack. And his hand slipped in, holding out the treat.

"You're in luck! My diet usually prohibits sweets. But my friend, Nino, occasionally hooks me up with some black market macarons from the best bakery in all of Paris."

Tikki inhaled the pale sandwich cookie in one bite. Before giving Marinette a nod.

"Spots on," and in a flash she felt the rush of Ladybug's power flow over her, somehow making her both less and more anxious. She opened the door.

"I'm sorry for stealing your rare treat. I promise I will make it up to you."

He waved away her concern. "Don't worry about it. I'm always willing to make a sacrifice or two for my favorite superhero."

"Me? I'm your favorite?" she asked, heat blooming under her mask.

"No competition!"

"T-thank you."

They stared at each other awkwardly, before looking away.

"Uhh... Do you mind if I lay low here for a bit? I was trying to lose a reporter who was following me. I'm confident they lost track of me by the time I ducked into your room, but I'm worried they'll keep combing the neighborhood for a while."

"You don't have to explain. I completely understand," his eyes were so soft. Green like a meadow in the spring.

She was struck by his sincerity. Of course, as a celebrity he probably had a lot of experience with dealing with the press. And she let herself relax.

"My room is your room!" he gestured grandly for her to take in the whole area.

She giggled. "I don’t know if this actually counts as a room," she commented, taking in everything from the grand piano to the foosball table to the rock climbing wall to the arcade. "It's more like an amusement park."

Adrien shrugged, some of the brightness in his eyes fading a bit. "My father tries to make sure I never have to want for anything."

"Do you not like it?"

He shrugged again. "It's pretty cool, but what’s the point if there's no one to share any of it with?"

She took another look around. With that context the room felt positively cavernous.

“Sounds lonely.”

He ducked into her line of sight, a smile stretched across his face. “I don’t have to be lonely today. You’re here.”

She blushed, and offered him a shy smile.

“So, what’s it like being a superhero?” he asked.

He was obviously trying to change the subject. She allowed it.

"Flying over rooftops is pretty cool. Constant life or death situations are stressful. What’s it like being a supermodel?"

He laughed. "Lots of responsibilities. Very little freedom."

"Sounds boring."

"Yeah."

"Let's do something fun then."

...

"Why did you come here?" Adrien asked, pulling out a passionfruit macaron from her gift box.

“I may have heard that you were grounded for defending me on the Ladyblog. And wanted to come cheer you up!”

He smiled. “Mission successful then!”

"And uh... this may sound stupid... but I also need some advice."

"Advice? On being a superhero?" Adrien asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"On how to deal with being famous,” Ladybug said.

"So... why'd you pick me?"

"Umm... you're the only famous person I know?" Which wasn’t strictly true, but Jagged Stone wasn’t going to give good advice. And it’s not like Ladybug knew Jagged. Marinette did.

"Glad you think so highly of me..."

"I-I didn't mean it like that! I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you!"

#ladrien #miraculous Ladybug fanfiction #ficlet #celebrity status #being famous is hard #too many wips #my own content #ask answered #Ask me anything

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egopocalypse · 2 years

Text

So through this ask game, someone asked about a scene I’ve always wanted to write, but that I don't want to write the set-up it would need. Here is that scene. You get no context.

(Warning for knives and a threat—but no harm—to Michael. I promise he’s okay.)

The wood creaks upstairs.

Michael's too small, too light to make the floor bend under his weight. Even Ranboo, agile as he is, knows where the floors settle and has support under his feet. (He’s seen the evidence of Ranboo's midnight trips to Michael. The kid wakes up groggy and tells him all about it the next day.)

This isn’t Michael. This isn’t Ranboo. This isn’t anyone familiar with his house.

This is an intruder, and they went straight for Michael.

Tubbo rocks out of bed and opens the false bottom in his dresser. The dead man’s switch weighs heavy in his palm, and he grips it tight as he rockets up the ladder, knowing it's too late, they could've already gotten away—

He throws the trapdoor open, and his heart stops.

Dream, haggard in a grimy, torn prison uniform, holds a knife to an unconscious (dead?) Michael's neck.

"Hello, Tubbo," he says. "I believe you have something of mine."

Tubbo climbs all the way up and stands on equal ground with Dream. The trapdoor slams shut, a death knell that rattles through the house.

Michael doesn't wake.

He can't think about what would happen if he does.

"Where's Tommy?"

"Alive," Dream says. "But you already knew that."

He'd hoped, but he couldn't assume. The Dream that planned to kill him and the one that escaped the prison are different, and he has yet to see how unpredictable this Dream can be.

"You didn't answer my question," Tubbo says.

Would this Dream boast? Does he feel confident in his escape? How can Tubbo divulge the truth from his lies?

"You're an idiot to think that it's something I would answer," Dream says.

He's smug, playing coy. He isn't planning a quick getaway. Dream secured a clean break from the prison, and he isn't afraid of anyone who could take him back.

Tubbo's absolutely fucked.

"It was worth a try," Tubbo says. "Are you planning on killing me again?"

Dream tilts his head. The blade twists in his fingers and scrapes against Michael's neck.

"Not yet. It's only fun when someone's there to watch."

Tubbo's thumb rubs the remote's side.

Good, he thinks. Maybe we all can make it out alive.

"You've built quite the family for yourself while I've been gone, haven’t you?" Dream says. "Ranboo, the kid—Michael, was it? You grew attached."

A pit gnaws in Tubbo’s stomach. He swallows against the lump in his throat.

"And? You were gone. No one else would use them against me." No one who knows about the nukes.

"Oh, Tubbo, if there's anything I taught this server, it's that everyone uses attachments against each other. You use them, too."

"Don't accuse me without evidence," Tubbo says. "And most people leave each other alone when there isn't conflict. Interesting how there isn't much of it when you're not around."

The blade stills. Dream drags the tip of it across Michael's throat like a bow, and Dream is the violinist testing out the strings.

"If the server's gotten boring for you,” Dream says, “I can make it a lot more fun."

"I'll give you your armor and weapons back. I think that trade's fair enough."

“If you want his corpse, sure.” Dream shrugs. “But if you want him back alive, you need to do me a favor."

Tubbo sucks air in through his teeth. "I won't kill. You can't make me."

Dream wheezes, an incredulous laugh that shakes his whole body. Michael ragdolls in his grasp, and Tubbo checks his chest to see he's still breathing.

"You think I'd trust you to kill?" Dream says. "I could do that myself!"

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Simple," Dream says. "You got a new communicator after Sam locked me up, didn't you? I want you to send a message to Ranboo."

Ice encases Tubbo’s ribs. What does Dream want with Ranboo?

"What kind of message?" Tubbo says. "I'm not sending him into a trap."

"It won't," Dream says. "I'll even let you type it. My hands are full, after all."

Tubbo glares, itching to press the button. If Michael wasn't around, he would've set off the nuke and vaporized Dream ages ago. He wouldn't have cared if he died along with him.

But Michael is here, and so Tubbo has to comply. He flicks off the remote, slips it into his jacket, and switches it out for his communicator.

"What do you want me to write?" he says.

"A smile, just like the one on my mask," Dream says. "That shouldn’t be too difficult for you to send."

A smile. Why does he want a smile? What good will that do?

The knife presses against the underside of Michael's chin.

"I'm not seeing any typing," Dream says. "It really shouldn't take long to send out."

He can't stop it. He can't risk Michael getting hurt. The pit in his stomach grows as the message goes through.

I'm sorry, Ranboo, he thinks. I hope this doesn't hurt you.

Message delivered: :)

"There"—Tubbo holds out the communicator to show proof—"happy now?"

"We'll find out in a moment," Dream says.

"What the hell does that mean?"

An enderman's warble rings outside. Dream leaps forward and thrusts Michael into Tubbo's arms.

"Ranboo!" he yells through the window. "In here!"

In seconds, purple particles flood the floor, and a very familiar hybrid flashes into the room.

"Ranboo?" Tubbo asks, hesitant.

His husband looks different. He holds himself at his full height, his crown inches away from scraping the ceiling. His claws extend far beyond his fingers, sharp and pointed at the tips.

And purple eyes reside where red and green irises should shine.

Dream shoves Tubbo toward Ranboo. He stumbles over, clutching Michael to his chest, and Ranboo catches him by the shoulders, staring at him with an expression he can't see (an expression he doesn't want to see). Michael blinks awake and stretches his arms out toward Ranboo, but Tubbo clings to him, keeping him secure in his arms.

"Ranboo, look at me," Dream says. The enderman obeys. "Your family's in danger. You have to take them to the safe place I showed you, okay?"

Terror floods through Tubbo, cracking through the ice like an avalanche.

"What? No!" he says. "Ranboo, let me go! Let me go!"

Tubbo struggles to escape Ranboo's grip to no avail. Ranboo clamps his arms tight around Tubbo's chest, locking him in. There's nowhere for him to run.

"I'll be there once I'm sure no one's on our tail, but you have to go now before someone finds you," Dream says. "I don't know how bad the threat is yet, so you can't be seen by anyone."

"He's lying!" Tubbo yells. "Ranboo, please!"

"And Ranboo.” The eyes on Dream's mask stare into Tubbo's. "Remember your lessons. Especially around him."

Ranboo warbles something Tubbo can't begin to decipher. Purple particles rush toward their feet, and Tubbo can only scream as Ranboo whisks his family away.

#Dream SMP #dream smp fanfiction #River's Writing #Thanks for the ask anon!#I've had this saved in my drafts for *months*#Fun fact: This used to be part of Pandora :)

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radramblog · 2 years

Text

special operations; a line in the sand

Somehow, while at work, I got a brain worm to talk about this particular video game. It’s not one I’ve actually played, but it is one I’ve watched a full playthrough of, so I pretty much got the gist.

It’s also a game where the least interesting thing about it is actually playing it, so if anything, I think I’ve got the superior experience. It’s very much the product of its times, for all the good it takes of that, and all the bad it takes from that as well- and it’s pretty clearly doing each and every one of those things deliberately. With the genre it inhabits and centres around having been somewhat moved on from in the near-decade since its release, despite the desperate flailings of the CoD and Battlefield franchises, it’s become a bit of a relic of its era, and one I’d like to break down.

Heavy spoilers, of course.

Spec Ops: The Line released in 2012. And it was one of many, many military-themed shooters of its day- Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 was in its heyday with Black Ops II on the horizon, Battlefield 3 was similarly popular, and every single imitator on the planet was coming out all at once. Medal of Honor: Warfighter, Just Cause 2, Red Faction: Armageddon, Max Payne 3, Army of Two… arguably even the grittier shooters in the Sci-Fi genre like Gears of War 3 count towards this massive, ballooning zeitgeist of an era of gaming. There’s a lot of things these games have in common- an emphasis on “realistic” or “modern” equipment and settings (except the scifi ones), a general dull, muddied visual tone, a lot of recurring gameplay design elements such as regenerating health and cover mechanics, and an overall glorification of war and violence pushed by the genre’s ubiquity in gaming.

It was unto this era that Spec Ops: The Line was birthed. From outside appearances, the game was all of these combined- the gameplay is a pretty bog-standard third-person cover-shooter affair, the game is set in the Middle East with US soldiers as the focus, and the look and feel of the game is no different to anything else that was releasing around the same time. Hell, the multiplayer- very much tacked-on, rushed, and studio-demanded- could pretty much entirely be dismissed as “those other games, but worse” which isn’t a great selling point in a crowded market. But of course, the multiplayer is not the selling point.

What Spec Ops: The Line does is take those mechanics and examine them with a different perspective, as a means of analyzing what makes these games tick, and what the horrors of war that would go unnoticed as part of a different game would look more like were the whole thing taken seriously. The game does not glorify violence- rather it takes what is used to glorify violence and presents this in a greater context.

The developers have stated that Spec Ops: The Line is about choice, despite the game essentially having little means of enacting a moral choice in the game. There are a few instances- e.g., (spoilers I guess) one of your two squadmates near the end of the game gets lynched by a mob, who are taunting you…do you shoot them in revenge or not? Executing civilians is obviously a war crime, but war crimes are this game’s bread and butter, and if you don’t do it, then you get derided by them as they throw rocks at you while you move through the area.

Hell, in the game’s most infamous scene, you are required to commit multiple war crimes in a row to proceed. You find evidence of enemy forces using white phosphorous shells- a horrific weapon that painfully burns its victims alive with an unforgiving chemical fire- you see the aftermath of this attack, and the characters respond with the appropriate amount of discomfort. And then, much later on, you’re presented with an area you have to cross filled with too many enemies to reasonably make it past…and a mortar, loaded with white phosphorous shells.

If you want to progress through the game, you must use these shells. You must look down that thermal scope, see Walker’s face reflected back at you, and pull the trigger at those unidentified targets (not identifying targets is a war crime also). And because you have to clear the area entirely to proceed, you must fire on the shipping container filled with civilians (and that’s why), killing them all horribly in the process. An act which the game directly calls the player out for doing. If I have one major criticism for this game, it is that the intended, developer-mandated “moral option” is simply to stop playing.

As Walker’s single-mindedness is absolute, you must progress, even as it’s more and more clear that you are very much not operating according to mission parameters. The game explicitly states that the team is just there to make contact and figure out what’s going on in the ruined Dubai, but Walker insists they must keep moving to various objectives, dragging the player along like any other shooter story despite that very much not being what they’re here to do. And as his crimes grow longer and more vicious, and his mind gets more affected by the surroundings, by what he’s done, and by the hallucinations confusing every single thing he does.

I don’t think I've ever seen a game gaslight the player quite like Spec Ops does. Both in story and in gameplay, Walker’s hallucinations are presented to the player to conflict everything being seen- from conversations that his teammates don’t seem to hear, to combat in a ruined mall where soldiers become mannequins and vice versa. Even subtle details, like one I only found in research- whenever Walker is cut off from his squadmates, his pistol suddenly becomes a Desert Eagle- the true hand-cannon of an action hero, mocking the one-man army archetype portrayed in so many games.

It is, of course, revealed in eventuality that Walker is in fact the villain the whole time. His hallucinations leading him to massacre his fellow Americans who were only acting in self-defence, to help a rogue CIA operative destroy the last water supply in the ravaged city, and to hear a villain over a radio that is in reality a corpse and broken plastic. The way the game presents it is that not just Walker, but the player is the villain- a direct line from the hallucinatory Colonel Konrad pointing out that the violence could have been avoided if “you just stopped”- again, stop playing and it’ll be okay. Stop playing this game, this genre of game, stop glorifying war and confront the reality of this zeitgeist head on.

(...don’t they?)

Deconstruction is not a common thing in triple-A games which I’d argue Spec Ops: The Line counts as- it was published by 2K not long before they also put out Borderlands 2 and not long after Civilisation V and Bioshock 2 (…and also Duke Nukem Forever). It’s an inherently counter-intuitive type of product when the goal is to make money, as the very premise relies on players to understand and reflect on concepts and tropes of the genres they experience. But I think that’s what makes Spec Ops: The Line all that much more special- it essentially weaponises the language of military shooters in order to make a statement that the fantasies they portray are as poisonous as the crimes they fail to discuss. “thing bad” is never an especially poignant stance, but the piece does speak beyond that, and even as the genre it critiques fades more and more into the past, the ponts behind it are still relevant. We still have CoD and Battlefield, after all, even if their specific focus has shifted away from “modern American military fighting terrorists and the like in far/middle eastern or former soviet places”.

In short. Is Spec Ops: The Line fun? No. Is it a good game? Arguably, not really. But is it a valuable piece of art? I’d say yes.

#ramble #video games #spec ops the line

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Text

Cut Myself Shaving.

Stuntman Mike (Death Proof) x reader

Warnings: death, violence, injury, swearing , mention of nsfw

Context: Mike has a little helper in case things go awry.

A/n: I watched Death Proof yesterday and now I'm obsessed with Kurt Russell's character in it...he's such a creep but he's charming at the same time and for some reason that means I'm attracted to him 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ basically, I need help 🤡😅

Masterlist

"Fucking idiot." I curse to myself as I watch the two cars speed past me, both battered and in desperate need of new paint jobs, dust flying out behind them. From my carefully hidden spot in a side road, I can easily tell that my friend's plan hasn't worked: the white car is pursuing the familiar black one, one of the passengers - the blonde woman - leaning from the window, screaming and shouting at their quarry. It sends a wave of irritation through me, that the bastard would get as sloppy as he has done in recent months. His...habits...have always annoyed me (it's totally unnecessary and it means I have to watch him go after beautiful young girls) but he gave me a job out of it, so I never say anything. Somewhere along the line, he managed to fuck up, and picked me as his next target, only to find that when he tried to outdrive me, I drove much better than he did, with just as little care for what happens to the car as he has. The fucker let me in on his secret and I've been his backup ever since, in case anyone ever gets in the way of his little game.

Now, it seems, I'm gonna have my work cut out for me.

Cursing again, I put the car into drive and gun it down the road, staying hidden behind a treeline, quickly moving through gears with smooth rapidity. Hanging onto the steering, I keep my breathing relaxed as the tyres screech beneath the speeding vehicle, my foot slamming down on the accelerator to get me level with my own targets. Engine roaring, the car jerks and bounces on the rough road surface, my harness keeping me from going through the windscreen a couple of times, the whole vehicle vibrating underneath me.

Glancing out of my window every few seconds, I make sure I know where Mike and his pursuers are, swearing colourfully to myself as I realise that they're headed towards a busy main road, meaning it'll be harder for me to keep my presence unknown. In my head, I make a note to scold the stuntman for it later, planning a new route as I go, smirking as I figure out exactly how I'm going to save his sorry ass.

For once, I'm glad I looked at and memorized maps of the surrounding area, plus the construction records (I get a lot of free time) so I know what's coming up on this road, the split coming into view just as I expect it to. Taking the left road, I take a deep breath and slam my foot onto the accelerator, pressing a button on the steering wheel. Immediately, a new, more powerful thrum in the engine below me comes to life, growling like some rabid animal as the car springs forwards, the speed dial tapping uselessly at the far end of the spectrum.

Unable to help myself, I let out a cry of exhilaration, hanging onto the steering wheel as I take a bend far too fast, the wheels skidding slightly, only to straighten again under my expertise. With my new route in sight, I grin wildly and brace myself, listening to the car roar at me as I gun it over the edge of the roadside.

The ground falls away beneath me, the car hurtling through the air towards a similar break in the road down below, where the two cars are just lifting off of the ground, going at a slower speed than mine but posing no less threat. My hands grip the wheel tightly, stomach dropping as the car starts to tip forwards, my muscles tensing in anticipation of what I know is coming.

Time seems to slow as I near them, my pulse pounding deafeningly in my ears, adrenaline coursing through me with the knowledge of what comes next. Staring through the windshield, I feel a smirk of satisfaction cross my face as one of the passengers of the white car turns and sees me, an expression of absolute fear and panic contorting her beautiful features, her eyes wide even as her mouth opens into a scream…

The cars slam into each other violently, the impact throwing me forwards into the harness, the straps jerking me back into my seat. My head falls forwards, heading for the steering wheel, though I manage to get my hands up before anything can happen, despite my knowledge that the safety harness will keep me from sustaining any real damage. Painful lines circle my arms and lap now from the straps, the wind knocked out of me from the sheer force of the collision. Glass flies into the car itself, the windows and windscreens of both vehicles shattering as we go hurtling towards the ground, many shards scraping over my bare arms and hands, leaving bloody wounds in their wakes.

The second impact throws me forwards again, my lungs struggling to force air into my body as the cars smash into the ground, rolling over each other roughly. Holding my arms closer to my body, I lift my hands up to protect my face, grunting as my shoulder is slammed against the side door. Nausea floods my system as the cars continue to roll a few times, my vision blurring over until we eventually come to a complete stop, mine resting just beside theirs.

Taking a moment, I regain my composure, breathing deeply to fight off the shock threatening to overwhelm me, ignoring the violent tremor in my hands as I scramble for the buckle of the harness. Blood on my fingertips makes it hard for me to grip the clean metal, the digits slipping off of it a few times before I can unclasp myself, pain rapidly spreading through me as the adrenaline starts to wear off. Having unbuckled myself, I try the door beside me, sighing in relief as it comes open under my hands, allowing me to leave the death trap that is the wreckage.

As I climb out, I grab my first aid kit from the glove compartment, hobbling from my trusty car with a slight sense of bitterness, knowing what I'll have to do to make sure Mike and I really are out of trouble. Glancing back at the main road, I'm glad to find that the crash site is not visible to the road users, so what I'll do now won't get me in any grief if someone were to see me.

Approaching the crumpled white Dodge, I stoop down to look through the passenger window (the car is upside down), lifting an eyebrow as I realise the occupants are still alive...somehow. As I get closer, the passenger feebly looks up at me, confusion trying to creep into her agonized expression.

"Wh-who are you?" She croaks out, her voice totally shot.

Managing a cruel smirk, I reach into my pocket and bring out a box of matches, taking one out for her to see.

"The Devil's sidekick." I rasp at her, relishing in the confusion in her eyes, watching as it turns to realisation and horror as I strike the match, lighting it.

Straightening, I ignore her pleas for mercy, stepping away as I throw the match at the warped hood, adding a second to the undercarriage for good measure, knowing the fuel will catch soon enough. With some difficulty, I limp away from the two cars, getting about ten metres away before a deafening crack splits the air, the wreckage going up in flames in mere seconds. Now it's just a matter of finding my way to the person I've destroyed my car for.

Thankfully, it doesn't take me long to find him, though when I do, I have to fight back a sound of exasperation.

Stuntman Mike has pulled over into a deserted side road, just a mile down the main road, making sure he's well hidden, though the amount he's screaming and crying isn't going to keep him like that for long. He's still in his car, but he's left the window open so I can hear every sound of agony and frustration he's making, my heart tugging slightly at the cries of pain. Sighing, I make my way over, holding onto the roof of the car for support as my leg finally gives a little, my face twisting into a grimace. I must've made some noise when I did so, as Mike suddenly shouts in horror, the car engine starting to splutter as he tries to get the beaten vehicle to move again. Quickly, I reach the open window, which I now realise is smashed in, grabbing hold of it and ducking to look into the interior.

"It's me! Mike, calm down, it's me! (Y/n)!" I reassure him as he turns terror-stricken eyes on me, his face pale and bloodied from a blow to his cheek.

"(Y/n)? What happened to you?" He breathes out, eyes roaming over me as he realises back into his seat, only to tense in pain again.

"Cut myself shaving." I mutter in response, pulling the door open and moving to help him out, having noticed that he's in worse shape than I thought he'd be.

Taking his weight, I bite back a sound of discomfort as my leg protests, my shoulder aching from where it connected with my car but I ignore it, dragging him from the driver's seat. Slinging his arm over my shoulders, I help him hobble over to a nearby rock, setting him down on it with a sigh, standing back to look him over, glad I brought my first aid kit now.

The stuntman is cradling his left arm, where a patch of his t-shirt has come away to reveal bloodied skin, his face splattered with the crimson stuff. Purple bruising blooms on one cheek, curling up over his gnarled scar and around his weaker eye, skin grazed away in places from the ferocity of the blow. He looks thoroughly shaken, eyes wide, breaths coming hard and fast, body trembling with the fading adrenaline.

Sighing, I go closer, kneeling beside the rock he's sat on to look at his injuries, looking up at him as I reach out to touch his arm. Reluctantly, he nods, his ego bruised as I gently place a hand on his bicep.

"Careful, I'm pretty sure it's broken." He murmurs, wincing as I feel over the tensed muscles, trying not to get too distracted by the proximity.

"Yeah, got it." I mumble, chewing my lip in consternation, "You're gonna have to take this off."

Gesturing to his shirt, I lean forwards to help him out of the garment, pulling it carefully over his head. Mike gives me a slightly embarrassed look, but I dismiss it and open the first aid kit, swallowing as I look over his torso. For a guy his age he's really not a bad looking guy - the man has stayed somewhat in shape over the years - making it hard to concentrate, especially as I realise I'm going to have to kneel between his legs in order to get to the wound properly.

Blushing, I pull some gauze and rubbing alcohol out of the kit, taking up a position between his thighs where I can easily reach the bloody puncture wound in his shoulder. He watches me closely as I reach up and feel over his back for an exit wound, glad to find one even as he tenses and hisses under my touch. Knowing I need to work quickly, I get started, cleaning up the puncture as best I can, wiping away blood enough so that I can plug the hole and tape it up, sticking a bandage over it. I go to repeat this on his other side, working quickly.

"How the hell did you get shot?" I ask him after a moment, finding the silence between us awkward.

"One of those bitches pulled a gun on me. Shot at me a couple of times, before it hit me. Hurts like a bitch." Mike explains, hissing again as I prod the wound a little too hard.

"She pulled a gun? How did you even get close enough?" I'm confused as to his story, having only seen that it ended in him being chased onto the freeway.

Allowing me to continue working on his injuries, Mike recites his version of events, voice strained in pain and fatigue, eyes never leaving me as I move around him, cleaning up his scrapes and bruises. After a while, I end up at his face, carefully dabbing at a few grazes with an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze. Standing this close to him, I can feel his every breath on my cheek, vaguely aware of the fingers clutching at my jacket every now and then as I go over a particularly painful spot, my pulse picking up slightly.

"...next thing I know, you're at my window looking like you just walked through hell." He finishes, licking his lips to wet them again as he pulls his shirt back on.

"Feels like I did." I laugh dryly, leaning back as I finish on his face, "I'll be back in a sec, hang on."

Quickly, I limp over to his car again, rifling through his things in the compartment by his seat before pulling a small bottle from the rubbish. Going back to him, I stand in front of him and hold it up.

"Mind if I…?" I gesture to him, pointing at his arm, which I've now put in a sling to keep out of harm's way.

The stuntman nods, tilting his head back as I step into his personal space again, standing between his legs. Carefully, I open the bottle and lean over him, gently placing a hand on his face to steady myself, trying not to let the butterflies in my stomach disturb me as his blue pupils fix on me. Slowly, I drip a few drops into his eyes, using a thumb to wipe away any stray droplets, almost smiling as he leans into my touch slightly. I pull away reluctantly, screwing the bottle back up and chucking it at the first aid kit before I take a seat beside him, inadvertently sitting close enough that our thighs are touching.

Sighing, I reach into my pocket, pulling a pack of cigarettes out and removing one, offering them to him as I grab the box of matches from before again. He doesn't take one, saying something about sharing mine, watching me closely as I light it. Taking the first breath of smoke, I close my eyes and enjoy the burning of the cloud entering my lungs, slowly breathing it out again a moment later. Wordlessly, I hand the smoke to him, willing to share with him as I've always done, keeping my eyes closed for now.

After a while, Mike hands the cigarette back, letting me take it as I stay blinded, placing the roll of paper and tobacco between my lips to puff on it languidly. It's not too long after that I feel a hand gingerly come to rest on my knee. Confused, I keep my eyes closed, not minding the contact and curious to see where this goes, holding back a gasp as he moves the strong grip further up my leg, closing his fingers over my thigh. A rustle and stifled grunt of pain alerts me to his movements, though it still shocks me a little as he leans in to smooth some hair from my face, removing the grip from my leg. Opening my eyes again, I look over at him, surprised to see him gazing at me with an intense expression on his face.

Upon seeing me look, he cups my cheek, stroking his thumb over my cheekbone in a gentle manner I've never seen him display. I don't know what comes over me, but I suddenly find myself talking.

"Please don't do anything like that again." I murmur, voice quiet, "I don't know what I'd do if something happened."

Mike looks taken aback, shock clouding his features as he regards me, as if he never expected this level of closeness with me.

"Please, Mike. I don't know why, or how, but I've come to care about you, and I couldn't bear it if you weren't around." I inform him, looking down in embarrassment, blushing furiously.

It's quiet for a long moment, before he suddenly leans in closer, breath ghosting over my face until he seals my lips with his. Tenderly, the stuntman kisses me, gently coaxing me into moving with him, one hand slipping round to tangle in my hair. Shocked, I feel my eyes close in surprised pleasure, body melting into him as he pulls me closer, our lips moving in perfect sync, his slightly rougher ones warm against my softer ones. It's not long before I feel his tongue slip out to flick against my lower lip, but before I can open up for him, he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine.

"I'll be more careful, I swear." He hums, stroking back my hair with his good hand, "For you, I'll be careful."

Smiling, I lean back in, kissing him softly on the lips, moving with him as he gently encourages me to sit on his lap, my legs straddling his as he wraps his arm around me. Pulling me flush against him, he kisses me passionately, swallowing the sounds of pleasure leaving me, splaying his hand on my back as I card mine through his thick hair. This time as he licks at my lips, I let him in immediately, letting the slick muscle slide inside to explore and rub alongside my own. Avoiding his bad arm, I moan into the kiss and pull on his hair, eliciting a groan from him.

He pulls away again after some time, staring into my eyes with a care and love I've never seen in them before, my heart skipping a beat as he smiles up at me, a genuine smile. Not his usual scheming smirk.

"Come on, let's go home. I wanna show you just how careful I can be." Mike smirks, his hand skimming down to squeeze a handful of my ass, making my hips rock forwards suddenly into his. He groans, helping me stand.

With his words in mind, I help him over to the car, opening the back door for him to climb in.

"I'm not letting you drive with one arm, and this is safer than the passenger's seat." I say as he shoots me a questioning look.

Mike shrugs and mutters an agreement, climbing into the seat behind me, waiting for me to get into the driver's seat and fasten myself in before talking again.

"What happened to your car?" He asks, his good hand reaching round to run his fingers over my arm.

"Used it to blow up those bitches coming after you." I inform him, somewhat saddened by the loss of the vehicle - I had loved it.

"Thanks, sugar." He says, using his favourite nickname, most likely aware of the effect it has on me, especially as I feel him lean closer to the back of the seat, nosing at the side of my neck. Deftly, his tongue flicks out to lick over my pulse point, lips pressing against it to suck a mark, there drawing a moan from me.

"Gonna have to get you a new car, hm?" He almost purrs into my ear, biting my ear lobe before retreating again.

Feeling heat rushing to my core, I reluctantly put the car into drive and start to pull away, going slow as I wait for him to settle back into his seat and buckle himself up.

"That would be great." I chuckle, shakily.

"Yeah, it will be. Means I'll have somewhere else to fuck you besides mine and the bed." I blanch at his lewd words, feeling a heated need explode inside me at the idea of what he's suggesting.

As I pull away, I can't help but go faster than usual, using all my expertise to get us home as quickly as possible.

Tag list- @feirceangel @xlmonster-mashlx

#Death Proof #death proof #Stuntman Mike #Stuntman Mike x reader #Stuntman Mike imagine #Kurt Russell #Kurt Russell imagine #Quentin Tarantino #break writes

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ultimatetornshipper · 3 years

Text

Steam

A lot of facts could be seen as only opinions. A lot of facts could be seen as flexible depending on one's experiences and perspectives. Facts could change and facts could be more than just the part of it that you're made aware of.

Blossom knew this.

But there was one simple fact that would remain the same for all of eternity.

Blossom Utonium hated Brick Jojo.

And he hated her.

Nothing, NOTHING would change this simple fact. They were natural enemies, opposites made to challenge and contradict one another.

It was simple.

Key word being was.

It's easier to hate and despise one another when your siblings weren't all friends and dragging the two of you along every chance they got.

It's easier to hate one another when your morals are directly clashing on a weekly basis.

Yeah, they still didn't exactly agree on a lot of moral questions but the boys aren't really evil anymore either.

But when the boys stole something the girls would fight them, take it, arrest them, they'd escape and everyone would let bygones be bygones.

By everyone she meant the blues and the greens.

She was pretty sure Brick was the only one who actively wanted to still do that stuff and Boomer and Butch just followed his lead. Or maybe Mojo still had something on them. She couldn't be sure, but the point was that they still committed crimes and that was illegal so it was their job to stop them.

And she wasn't stupid, she knew full well that she and Brick were the only ones who weren't pulling their punches and treating it all like a game.

So like she said. It was simple.

Until her sisters decided to make it complicated by befriending their rivals.

Blossom despised complicated social situations.

In any other context she could handle complicated. Fights? Sure. Science? She adored it. Books? What other kind is there?

But in group and friend dynamics? It annoyed her more than yarn catching on her nail, more than nails on a chalkboard, more than a dirty, uncleanable chalkbo-

It annoyed her a lot.

Why? Because it created situations like the one she was in right now.

Where her sisters and their counterparts were play fighting and joking around while she and Brick maimed eachother.

And it was always followed by a lecture by Bubbles on how she was too hard on him and Buttercup telling her to chill out while Brick and his stupid smug smirk would mock her and wouldn't leave her alone and how his red hair would be messy afterwads and half out of his ponytail and wisps falling into his face surrounding his gorge-

No.

She flew up to dodge a kick and landed behind him, pushing him forward so that he lost his balance.

She was fighting him right now. She couldn't think about his eyes or his pink lips forming a smug little grin and how she just wanted to kiss that stupid little smile off of his dumb face-

She froze in shock.

Kiss Brick?

Since when had that been an option?

She felt him get a hit in her stomach and her bottom collided with the ground.

She shook herself out of it. Later. She could analise... whatever this was... later.

She started getting up but suddenly he was straddling her waist and pinning her hands down above her head.

She stared at him in silence for a few seconds, because he was really close now and she could see the light freckles dancing across his nose up close and-

Bad Blossom! Now is not the time! You hate him, you despise him, he is the enemy! Stop checking out the guy you're fighting!

He smirked down at her victoriously, "At a loss for words, eh, Pinky?"

She felt him lower his guard and loosen his grip and quicker than lightning she flew out beneath him.

What in the name of Einstein was wrong with her?

She flew quickly and as high as the tallest building in Townsville, then she stopped and turned around and the handsome bastard was right there in front of her-

Wait a minute- handsome?!

Blossom needed to lie down.

Sadly, he seemed determined to keep this going.

They traded blows and each time he said something she didn't reply.

She was too busy freaking out about the fact that she had not only wanted to kiss him but also mentally referred to him as handsome and what the actual frickty frack?!

"What's wrong Bow Pink? You're awfully quiet today, afraid me and my brothers are finally gonna beat you and your sheep?" Brick taunted.

Blossom's brain with all its genius level intellect then decided that the only way to deal with whatever was happening to her heart was to stuff it in a jar and bury it deep, deep down and pretend it wasn't real.

She hated him.

He hated her.

That was a fact that couldn't and wouldn't ever change.

So she did what she did best.

She riled up Brick Jojo.

"I'm not the one here with sheep, Rock," she said mockingly.

He narrowed his eyes, throwing a punch that she quickly dodged, "Oh now she speaks?"

"You finally said something worth replying to. Though I must say, Rick, I'm disappointed, I can't believe you've been reduced to using puns," she replied, kicking his side and pulling away quick enough that he couldn't grab her leg.

"It's Brick and you know it, and don't pretend you don't pun, Pinky, we both know that's a lie," he said with a small growl in his voice. Dodging her once more.

"I still think your insult was just some good old projecting. Clearly if one of us have sheep it's you. My sisters fight of their own violation," she taunted, smirking. He grabbed her and they wrestled midair, each one gaining and then losing the upperhand.

Suddenly they pulled apart, flying in circles, eyeing one another. They were both panting, clearly out of breath.

Anyone could sense the electricity crackling through the air from a mile away. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that her siblings and their counterparts have stopped fighting and were now eyeing their leaders wearily.

She'd deal with it later.

She turned her full attention back to the man in front of her as the silence grew sharper.

His shirt had small tears in places, his hair was all over the place and he sported a few new injuries. She was certain she was in a similar state.

"They choose to fight," he broke the silence, glaring at her, "I don't force them to do anything they don't want to. I don't control them,"

The sharp, delicate silence fell apart and she felt her temper flare. The electricity turned to fire and she launched herself at him and felt her eyes heat up.

"The only reason for that is the fact that you're too busy being controlled," she screamed.

She could almost taste his fury at her words and their fight went to a whole new level.

Neither of them held back anything as they shot lazerbeams and went for one another unlike ever before.

She pushed him against a building, trapping him. And for a moment they locked gazes and time froze. The anger and frustration and denied attraction flared between them like a wild electric cable, their faces only inches apart.

"Are either of us really in control, Pinky? Or are we all just the result of someone else's choices?" he whispered harshly as they gazed into one another's eyes.

She felt her guard lower only for a split second before he grabbed her and pushed her against the building.

"But then again," he said quietly, and she felt his breath mingle with her own, "maybe if we want control we need to take it ourselves,"

He closed the distance between them and she only felt his fire approach for a second before she reacted with her ice.

So that's the was he wanted to play this?

She deepend the kiss and poured all her hatred and love and frustration and attraction into it.

She bundled up his shirt in her hands and felt his own get tangled in her hair. She faintly heard his hat fall to the ground not too far below.

Yet she couldn't care less as she kissed him the way she'd never allowed herself to kiss anyone before for fear of their life.

But she could do this with him because he could counter her perfectly.

He really was her opposite, huh?

Then she registered the fact that the air around them was slightly more humid than before.

She ignored it though, because this was the best kiss she'd had in... well, ever, and she was not going to pull away because as soon as she did that it would be over and it wouldn't happen again because now that they knew that it didn't-

Blossom felt him pull her closer and pushed all her previous thoughts away. She'd worry later, for now she just allowed herself to disappear into the kiss.

A few minutes later she became aware of a rather large amount of water hitting her.

They pulled away from one another in search of the source.

She quickly noticed that Brick was in a similar state as her and they turned to find their siblings staring at them.

Bubbles was holding the hosepipe that was likely the source of the water and Buttercup handed Butch 20 dollars.

"Really?" Her black haired sister asked, "You couldn't have waited just three more days for your murder make out session?"

"Our what?" she asked while Brick replied with a simple, "Fuck you,"

"Actually, Brick, you've got the wrong sister, I'm Buttercup, the one you wanna fuck is in your arms, her name is Blossom," Buttercup replied slowly, in a mocking tone of voice.

The red heads turned to look at each other and when they noticed their proximity, they jumped away from one another like the other had the plague.

Brick turned to them, "I was trying to kill her!"

And Blossom followed suit, "And I was just defending myself!"

"Nothing else!" They said at the same time.

Bubbles rolled her eyes and Boomer smirked. Butch waved them away, "Don't worry we have a completely different bet for when you two will acknowledge and accept your feelings for one another,"

"Yeah, and I can still win it!" Buttercup agreed.

"Feelings? What feelings?!" Blossom screamed, "Bubbles, tell Buttercup she's being ridiculous,"

Bubbles rised an unimpressed eyebrow, "Bloss, you're both redder than Brick's cap,"

"And you just spent 10 minutes making out so much that literal steam started surrounding you," Boomer snickered.

No matter how much Blossom or Brick denied it, no one in all of Townsville believed their denial after that day.

Buttercup won the second bet.

Approximately 3 months after what was dubbed their first Murder Makeout session the two finally confessed to one another.

Those 3 months are another story entirely.

But it was this that proved to Blossom that truly no fact was concrete, facts changed and facts expanded. Facts were flexible depending on your experience and perspectives.

And the fact was that while once upon a time, maybe Blossom did hate Brick and maybe Brick did hate Blossom, things changed.

But that mutual hatred melted away into something new, something beautiful, something flexible.

Something a little bit like steam.

Authors note:

Inspired by this post

I don't plan to continue this but if someone wants to continue or expand this idea or world like tag me I'd love to read it

Thanks to @maltrashdump for coming up with this idea, I love it, hope u enjoy my version of it

Also sorry for not putting a read more thing I'm on mobile atm

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ssamie · 3 years

Text

three. “stalker vibes”

kozume kenma x fem dazai!reader

(bsd x hq)

tw: mentions of suicide, probably a lot of spelling mistakes

masterlist. suicide freak!

"class, today we have a new student joining us. please be nice to her" the teacher announced with a smile

kenma flinched at the sudden news. he kept his head down low, discreetly playing on his PSP under his desk, but he listened attentively to their teacher.

as the students started whispering to each other, kenma simply prayed that it wasn't the weirdo that kept bugging him last night. he didn't really know why he was suspecting it to be her. but with her out of context words last night, he couldn't help but be wary.

call it a gut feeling, if you may.

"alright, quiet down!" the teacher said "cmon in, l/n-san"

and just then, kenma swore he lost faith in both god and humanity all in one second.

he shakily looked up to see the same girl from the cafe. her (h/c) hair, (e/c) eyes, and her fairly tall stature was interesting.

but what seemed to catch most of their attention was the bandages covering her arms, legs, and neck. some parts of it could be seen through the uniform jacket and undershirt, while the bandages on her legs could be seen through the thin material of her black tights.

"good morning! im l/n y/n. please take care of me~" she cooed.

she sent them a close eyed smile, along with a wave. it was something about the smooth tone of her voice.or maybe it was her effortlessly captivating smile. maybe it was just the insane amount of bandages she had..

but there was something about her that just somehow had the whole class wanting her attention.

in all honesty, its probably just because she was insanely attractive.

"anything else you'd like to share about yourself?" the teacher asked her

"hm, maybe find out for yourselves~ let's be friends" she mused

kenma raised a brow at her awfully vauge answer. though he decided to shrug it off.

meanwhile, in her perspective, she was pretty much watching every movement of kenma's body. just before she took her seat, she whispered a small request to the teacher.

the teacher nodded along. "alright, you cam sit with kozume-kun, l/n-san"

"kozume-kun? will that be okay with you?" the teacher asked him

kenma froze as he felt multiple eyes land on him. his palms grew sweaty as he nervously nodded. he didn't like the attention he was receiving.

"i'll let you guys get to know each other for now. i'll be in the faculty room if you need me!" the teacher announced before walking out the classroom.

she grinned and skipped over to him.

"why." he muttered in annoyance "just why."

"hehe, well i did say i'd see you tomorrow, did i not?" she said with a cheeky smile

kenma simply stayed quiet, side eying her, before looking back down on his PSP. "stalker." he said

she gasped in offense and dramatically put her hand on her chest. "im no stalker, excuse you!"

kenma scrunched his face up and looked her up and down. "stalker." he said.

"coincidence? not quite! fate?" she raised a brow amusedly "i mean, what else could it be than that!"

"please don't talk to me." kenma sighed

she blatantly ignored him and carried on talking. "or maybe! i specifically asked to be transfered to your school and class!"

kenma looked up at her with a look of irritation and disbelief. "you what?" he scowled

"oh my.." she pouted and placed a hand on her heart dramatically "i was just kidding! do you really think i'd do something like that?"

kenma huffed and put away his console. "yes." he answered

"well then, you're absolutely right!"

"but what i didnt plan was to be able to sit next to you!" she pouted "so now some gentlemen are getting me a desk of my own" she smirked and looked over his shoulder "so for the time being, i guess there's just no other option than to sit on your lap" she chuckled

"oh, since it can't be helped. can't be helped" she said with a small hum

just before kenma would have had to resort to dropkicking her, the said boys waltzes in carrying a desk and a chair

"l/n-san! we got you your desk, sorry for the wait" one of the boys said

"damn." she muttered with a scowl

"damn?" the boys repeated with a nervous smile

"i mean, thank you! what kind gentlemen you are" she sent them a smile as she took a seat beside kenma

the boys all flushed pink and nodded back at her.

her smile quickly dropped as she turned to look at kenma. he was now playing his game again, and blatantly ignoring her.

"ke-n-ma~" she sang out

"kenma-kun~" she called out again

she smiled and slid her desk closer to his, her chair and herself following. she hummed in content as she felt their shoulders brushing.

"what are you doing" kenma asked with a huff as he scooted away from her

"what are you doing? were supposed to use this time to get to know each other" she said with a hum

"no thanks. i know enough." he responded blandly

she pouts and rocks her chair back and forth. "suit yourself. i might just woo the boys and girls for the time being" she said as she send a wave to a group of girls a few tables away from them

"i'd ask them on a double suicide, but no one could ever beat you" she cooed as she nudged his shoulder with hers

"i don't care" he said as he turned away from her

"meet you later at lunch pudding~"

"dont talk to me"

as lunch time ensues, kenma practically bolted out the door. luckily for him, she stayed true to her words of 'wooing the boys and girls'.

currently, y/n was trapped in a circle of hormonal teenagers. she was merely smiling and laughing, throwing in flirtatious words here and there.

"eek! l/n-chan, come eat lunch with us!" one girl exclaimed

y/n blinked and smiled blankly. she was slightly concerned on how quick these girls' sexualities flipped a 180°.

"sorry, but i made plans with someone already" she said as she slyly pushed her way through the crowd "maybe tomorrow!" she exclaimed before walking out

"if im still alive~" she cooed to herself

"now.." she muttered to herself as she stopped by a hallway. "where's that pudding head.."

she looked around a few more times before giving up. she shrugged it off and made a bee line towards the rooftop

"fresh air, nice view, conveniently placed rope.." she listed out with a content sigh. she looked around the seemingly empty rooftop and nodded with determination. she picked up the 'conveniently placed rope' and started tying a noose

humming a small tune to herself, she tied the rope around her neck with a smile.

"who would've thought that doing it in a school rooftop would be the trick?" she mused with a small laugh

meanwhile in poor kenma's perspective, he was merely trying to play his game in peace. he had ran away from kuroo, and the only possible hiding place left would be the rooftop.

all he wanted was to play his game.

what he didn't want, was to see someone trying to hang themselves with a huge smile on their face.

"w-what the-" he stuttered out

"oya?" she muttered out as she made eye contact with him

"kenma! great timing! perfect, actually!" she cheered

she slipped the noose off and waved at him, holding the rope with her hands.

"i was initially gonna be alone, but with you here, the whole game plan has changed!" she said with a hearty laugh

"y/n?! what are you doing?!" he asked with a look of panic in his eyes. he gripped his PSP tight as he warily stepped closer to her.

she cocked her head to the side and gave him a confused smile. "what else? im gonna hang myself, of course"

"dont do that! are you crazy??" he exclaimed

"of course im not! but this-" she motioned to the rope "this will be my way out! who knew the oldest method in the book would be the answer" she hummed

kenma didn't answer. but he slowly put down his PSP on the ground and creeped up on her. as she started singing some weird suicide song, kenma was already behind her. she simply thought he was planning on joining her so she left him be.

"alright! time to d-"

before she could slide her head in and wrap the noose around her neck, kenma was already tackling her.

"stop it, you suicidal maniac!" he exclaimed as he pushed his body against hers

her eyes widen comically as she slipped on the chair she was standing on, sending her flying in the air. as funny and as impossible as it is, she, for some reason, ended up having her leg stuck to the noose, leaving her dangling upside down.

kenma, however, was on the ground laying on his stomach. y/n looks at him with her (e/c) eyes, a look of confusion and irritation lacing her features.

"damn." she scowled

"damn?!" he repeated with a scoff

kenma stood up, dusting his uniform as he glared at her with his cat-like eyes. "i just saved your life." he glared at her "and why are you doing that anyway?"

she then smiled sheepishly and placed her hands on her chest. "i just thought that ending it here, without atsushi and kunikida-kun or anyone else to interfere, would be the perfect way out!"

"but then you came.." she gritted her teeth

kenma scoffed in offense and picked his PSP up from the ground.

"i actually thought you were finally gonna join me!" she whined "imagine the hurt i felt after your betrayal!" she exclaimed dramatically

kenma sighed and clutched his pulsating chest. it was definitely his first time doing something like that.

"ne, kenma-kun" she whined "since you're already here, you might as well eat lunch with me"

she wiggled around in hope of freeing herself but sighed in defeat when she failed to do so. "also, maybe come help me out of this?" she asked sheepishly

"just die like that." kenma replied bluntly. he took a seat next to her dangling body, cowering in the shade as he continued to play his game, though he sneeked some glances at her from time to time.

"but i snuck in some alcohol and i was dying to try it out" she sighed dejectedly

"alcohol?" kenma cringed

"well, yeah. i was hoping i'd consume so much i'd just die from it" she said nonchalantly "and because i like the taste of it"

"help me out ke-n-ma~" she sang out "ke-n-ma~"

kenma simply ignored her and continued playing.

"..." she paused

"kyanmaaaa!! ~" she called out while waving her arms around

"fine!" he snapped and stomped over to her, blushing once he caught sight of her lifted skirt. though there wasn't really much to see since she was wearing shorts.

"hold still-" he huffed as he tried to untie the knot

"hehe, this is real intimate, don't you think?" she chuckled and hugged his torso, though she ended up hugging his lower waist due to her current position. she nuzzled her face into his midsection, making him flinch

"yeah. real cute. romantic. wow." he retorted sarcastically as he started sliding her leg out

she let out a yelp as she suddenly fell on the hard ground. she looked up at his unamused face with a sly grin. she was laying the the floor while he looked down at her.

"so.. you come here often?" she snickered

"die."

"that's the plan!"

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