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mywritingonlyfans · 9 months

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hi, i like the last one xx could you do one with cillian where she briefly feels insecure about being with him, maybe because of her age, and he fucks her into safe space. thanks xx

it's not big but i hope you liked it! (it's smut; fem oral, riding and some missionary, but it's comfy and goofy). 3K words.

...

Yours. // Cillian Murphy X Reader! (Smut)

You appeared distant, your gaze unfocused, but it was evident that your unease had nothing to do with sadness caused by him. Silence filled the car, a departure from the usual comfort it provided between you. Your eyes were fixed on the road, avoiding his, a shift that had taken place sometime before leaving the party. As he drove, he lightly brushed his fingers over your knees, his touch gentle, leaving his hand there for reassurance once he realized that you weren't feeling unwell because of him. Your delicate hand touched his, fingers playfully interlocking, and you found solace in that simple contact. He found himself smiling gently at the gesture.

"Do you want to talk, doll?" he inquired, acknowledging your discomfort. You shook your head, still displaying signs of a troubled mind. He respected your response, considering revisiting the topic at a later time. It was intriguing to think that even with his eyes half-closed and his fists clenched, he could sense that something was amiss with you. He disliked seeing you worried, getting a sight of you like that did that to him.

Upon arriving home, things unfolded as usual. He shed his blazer as you removed your coat, and in the midst of heavy breaths, he embraced you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His arms wrapped around you with tenderness before you pulled back slightly. No words were exchanged, but he stood there with you. Persistent tears welled in your eyes, emotions too strong to contain. You had hoped to avoid this; thinking that you would just sleep with him intertwined the way you loved, and by morning, everything would be clear. However, you now felt that you couldn't do that, you needed his extra warmth to help this pass, even if you wished it could just pass on its own.

In your mind, avoiding moments like this would possibly make you seem more mature in his eyes. But all he really wanted was for you to feel comfortable enough with him, that any of your concerns could be shared with him. After all, he loved you, and it was only fair that you’d both be a safe space for each other. Cupping your face, he carefully kissed you, and you responded with slow, pleasurable movements, allowing him to guide you through it. Gradually, he kissed away your tears, until a soft smile broke through your silent tears. You embraced him, seeking solace in his chest, finding his embrace unlike any other. He kissed the top of your head in silence, waiting until you let go calmly.

"I feel so silly," you whispered, wiping your cheeks with your hands and allowing his eyes to comfort you. In truth, he held no judgment in those eyes.

"You're not," he said, his voice strong yet comforting. It could whisk away your worries and clear your mind. "If it's bugging you, then it ain't silly," he added, his hands resting easy on your waist, fingers pressing gently. He motioned for you to settle on his lap as he made himself comfy on the couch near the entrance. A soft chuckle slipped from you, and his gaze locked onto yours. This time, the silence felt easygoing, and you held his eye until you felt like talking. He had a knack for calming you down.

"I'm kinda feeling a hint of jealousy, not a big deal, but it's niggling at me. But I want you to know it's not 'cause I don't trust you. That ain't it," you explained. Your body was rigid and your hands cold. He nodded, giving you space to keep going if you wanted. A shiver trickled down your spine as you held him closer, the hug cozy, every inch of his frame against yours. You could feel the warmth of his chest as he responded with a comforting sigh. Despite the run-in with that woman who'd tried to get his attention earlier, he hadn't even hesitated to brush her off. By now, he'd forgotten what her face looked like.

"I'm all yours," his words felt like a lullaby, urging you to nestle into the crook of his neck, his scent enveloping you as he molded himself around you. The way he said it, so sure and free of doubt, soothed you. You held on tighter, your legs wrapping around his waist as he chuckled softly and shifted to make sure you were comfy. Slowly, his hands started to wander over your dress. Even though it was kinda sensual, his touch and the way he looked at you were more about admiration than anything else.

"I get that," you giggled, your cheeks turning a bit hot as you admitted it. You knew he'd never given you reason to doubt. He nodded and his fingers brushed your chin, his blue eyes tracing every feature on your face. "I'm having trouble wrapping my head ‘round it, babe," a tiny wrinkle formed between his brows, showing his confusion. A gentle kiss from you smoothed it out.

"She was pretty attractive, and she's your age," you sighed, your words getting caught in your throat. "I get you don't really care about that stuff, ‘bout her, but you can't always predict who you might fall for, you know? And it scares me that it could happen, even if I can't explain why it’s bothering me so much right now..." He listened close, catching some of it, and he felt grateful you were sharing your feelings with him, even with you worrying over nothing. But he couldn't lie that he had his own fears about losing you and he'd circled around these thoughts sometimes too. Seeing you upset tugged at his heart.

"I love hearing what's on your mind," his warm hands traveled up your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze as he pulled them closer. He wanted you to feel heard. You nibbled your lip, a tingling creeping up your face. He chuckled, like you both knew where this was heading. "I think you're perfect, this dress makes you even more stunning, and I love how confident you get when you're with me. And I love how you look at me," his cheeks and nose had a cute flush. His voice dropped low, like it was meant for you only, and you laughed with your eyes at him.

It was good to watch because most of all, he was still shy, and it was remarkable, but he wanted to see you well.

"Do you ever think you might fall for someone else?" His question had you shaking your head right away. You couldn't imagine finding anyone even close to him, or even having room to think about it. "I know I couldn't. I'm so caught up thinking about you, there's no space for anyone else. And I love that," you nodded, his words resonating deep inside. As you brought his lips to yours, you relished the surprised sigh that escaped him. Although the kiss ended softly, he held your face firmly, his earlier intention still clear in his mind since leaving the house.

"You're my girl," he affirmed, brows serious and jaw clenched. Your blood was already pumping through your veins at that declaration. Your fingers found the first buttons of his shirt, undoing them coolly and freeing a bit of his bare skin while his words echoed in your head, his gaze intently fixed on you. Your hands slipped inside his shirt, and he relaxed as he felt you trail your touch from his chest hair to his shoulders. "Can I unbutton all of them?" you asked sweetly, anticipation lacing your voice. God, he wanted to show you right there that there'd never be anyone for him but you. He nodded, your trembling fingers undoing the last few buttons. It was cute how you got a bit flustered in these initial moments, as if you'd never been in them before. He could never get much of that.

"I sorta need you," your breath hitched, and he chuckled, understanding. "I can feel it, little one," he took your hand in his and kissed it, then you traced the sharp line of his cheekbone and ran your thumb over his freckles. He closed his eyes, and you found yourself melting into his embrace, adoring the more pronounced lines of his expressions, the way they smiled and relaxed along with him, making it clear that he didn't regulate his age with yours. But it was lovely. He was so attractive, in a way that was hard to keep up with when he was this close. You brushed his hair away from his face and touched your lips to his forehead, placing kisses along his nose, cheeks and down his neck, and over his shoulders until you found your way to his chest. Your body was restless, and while you might not have recognized it, he could feel the heat building beneath you. He let out a low grunt, spreading out across the seat as you wriggled on top of him, peppering him with kisses and playful bites.

"I think I should show you just how much you're my girl, don't you think?" His voice was firm, sending shivers to your soul. His hands were thicker, more striking than yours, and you couldn't help but notice the contrast. He motioned for you to stand in front of him, and you obliged. Things moved in their own time, but in your perspective, everything seemed to slow down, your stomach churning with anticipation.

"I don't want any bad thoughts lingering in your head, not even the most fleeting ones, got it?" Still seated, he lifted the hem of your dress, placing wet kisses on your thighs until he reached your lower belly. His nose nuzzled into your skin, so gentle it made you feel slightly guilty for being this desperate. Cillian chuckled as he observed how readily you lifted the fabric to give him better access, and with his eyes on you, he trailed his fingertips along your pulsating nerve, seemingly begging for his touch. You pulled back a little, but he shook his head. "Don't move, little one," he anchored your hip with a firm grip, his fingers circling the area, your body involuntarily pressing into his touch for more. He let out a deep, drawn-out sigh as he felt you make his tips lightly sticky through the thin fabric. His throat tightened as his temples throbbed, his body yearning to feel you melt under his mouth as you always did so wonderfully.

Without dragging it out for too long, as he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it for much time, he delicately interlocked his fingers with the hems and pulled them down. His lips moistened as he saw the lace peel off you with some difficulty due to how damp it was. And sure, there was indeed a wet patch on your panties. For balance, you grasped his shoulders, squeezing eagerly with a pleading gaze, and he shut his, kissing the area, his mouth watering and devoid of prior thoughts. He held you firmly in place and licked from the center up, gathering your essence on his tongue, his eyes closing in pure pleasure at being able to feel you. Yours clenched shut, and your mouth fell open as you experienced the warm sensation and perfect pressure of how he sucked you, as if it truly granted him as much bliss as it did for you.

You gently grasped the back of his head, urging him closer, and you could sense him smiling as you struggled to remain composed for him. As you caressed his soft hair, he nuzzled the tip of his nose against your clit before sucking it between his lips, causing you to moan so wantonly. He was already a mess, lost in your scent and taste enveloping him, while you panted breathlessly. When you opened your eyes and saw his hair, those delicate tresses, both ash and dark intertwined in a chaotic dance, you became a bit more alert, tugging on the strands to have him look at you. He deserved your attention that night too; you didn't want this to go unnoticed.

With his eyes locked onto yours, your body still trembling, you found your words stuck in your throat. He was just as desperate as you, though he concealed it well. The snug trousers he wore due to his position, and the zipper left open, which you only noticed now, made you wonder how uncomfortable he was. "Can I ride you, babe?" Your voice was soft yet mesmerizing to him. He appreciated how you always asked, an act so delicate for such a moment, but it had become characteristic, and he would certainly miss it if you changed.

"I want to be good for you," you whispered, and he couldn't deny that even if he tried as he shed the layers of fabric that held your disapproval. He marveled at how flustered and nervous you sounded, unable to control both your mind and your senses at the same time. And in a matter of seconds, you were on his lap once again, your head nestled on his shoulder as he kissed your neck and face, and you began to grind against him, your touches growing more fervent.

As he burned against your skin, he lifted you, albeit clumsily, hoisting up your dress and letting you settle onto him with a prolonged groan, your needy hands clinging to his arm. You held onto him, your muscles quivering as you gazed into his calm eyes, his expression relaxed as you took your time to adjust to him. You were sore and wet, feeling him all over you, full and comfortable, even if not fully stretched due to your eagerness. But every second was worth it.

You worked your way onto him, lifting yourself slightly and settling back down, taking him all into you. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky and accentuated, filling you up completely. “Aren’t you, doll?”

His words took effect on you, and his gaze held the purest contentment as he watched you stumble through forming responses, not that he needed them. His movements were slow, letting you take the lead. Your lips were slightly parted, legs tightly wrapped around him. In fact, you were only holding yourself together because he was supporting you. The straps of your dress slipped to the side, gracefully as if watching a painting dry. Assisting you, he squeezed your thighs, using his thumb to press between your legs, exerting pressure on your clit. Your body immediately responded to the extra stimulus, and you collapsed onto him with a slight moan.

"It's okay, pretty girl, I've got you," he whispered amidst more persistent sighs, his hands gaining a rhythm against your hips, making your body more relaxed and ready to accommodate him. You rubbed yourself on him just beautifully. His lips grazed your collarbone, wet kisses and nips tracing over your exposed skin. He lowered the straps further, your breasts on display for him, in a gentle sway prompted by you. He took one in his mouth, your nails grazing him, marks he knew would be left, but he relished in it. He sucked on the flesh, releasing it with a wet sound before giving the same attention to the other, fingertips skimming over the erect nipple and then warm tongue soothing you through it all. Your hands tangled in his hair, a sound escaping him as he rested his forehead against yours, leaving you even more soaked. Your legs grew sluggish, and you found yourself grinding against him more than riding, a detail he didn't miss. He lifted with you briefly, and soon you were lying on your back, him atop you. His face was still close, breath mixing with yours in the warm space between you. You clung to his shirt collar firmly, both for control and to keep him close, and he chuckled. "Please, I'm aching, Cill," your vision blurred as tears formed, your body trembling without any movement from him. He trailed the tip of his nose across yours, his hair falling onto your face, which you brushed aside to kiss him better. You hugged him tight, curling into his chest, and gradually, air filled your lungs as your body was brought up and down with his.

"You're being so good to me. Look at what you do to me, fuck. How could you even think you're not just mine, and only mine alone?" His voice was disoriented, husky and staggered, clearly needing to focus intently to sound coherent. And then his gaze locked onto you, eagerly waiting to take in every last bit of it. He was gentle, even in his urgency, and you loved that he knew your body so well that you didn't have to tell him what you needed; he was exactly what you needed. With him deep inside you, feeling your senses growing restless, he braced his hands above your head, applying more pressure, your eyes closing as he held you close. The tears running down your cheeks that would soon be kissed clean. He loved to watch it. He whispered soothingly for you to calm down, sweet nothings while he thrust you through that sensation until your mind was filled with his rough, broken moans as he peaked along with you. His body collapsed onto yours, the weight becoming comfortable, his fingers tracing lines among the scattered freckles on his back, and he didn't fail to kiss your exposed skin. "I love you," you said, breathless, his hand affectionately running over you. You were right; you'd fall asleep next to him, entwined, and wake up with a clearer mind. You could already imagine waking up in his shirt, going to sit on his lap while he wore his glasses and had a book ready to be put aside for your more important presence. No one else could bring you the comfort he did. He settled beside you, both your breaths gradually returning to normal, and just before his lips brushed yours in a smile, he whispered in his lazy voice, "I love you, and I'm yours, only yours, my girl."

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x y/n #fanfic

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ginnsbaker · 2 months

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (2/?)

Part summary: Leigh goes on a double date with Jules. You reach a tipping point with Leigh's relentless hostility towards you.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5,072 | Warnings/Tags: None for now... smut eventually, enemies to lovers A/N: So... this turned into more than a two-shot. But it will still be a mini-series. It's also kinda slow burn for a mini series (lol). Also, this isn't canon compliant at all. Meaning, I took a lot of liberties and added stuff to Leigh and Matt's relationship, and it doesn't follow the timeline of the show. With that said, enjoy!

Masterlist | Part I | Next Part

The vet bills hit Leigh's bank account way harder than she’s willing to admit.

She knew taking care of pets could get pricey, but she thought that was just for those on their last leg, like Matt's dog, Rogue. Facing those steep costs made her think twice about turning down Drew's offer a while back to bring back her advice column. So, she calls him up as soon as she pays up a quarter of the charges on her credit card for Visitor's medical expenses.

Drew answers on the second ring. “Hey Leigh, what's up?”

Leigh doesn’t beat around the bush. She never has to with her best friend. “Can we meet at the cafe? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Be there in 20,” Drew replies right away.

The coffee shop they frequent is a small local business that specializes in cold brews. Leigh’s favorite thing about it is not the coffee though, but its interior: mismatched chairs, bookshelves lining the wall, and the temperature that’s always just right. Leigh arrives first, securing their favorite table near the window. Drew walks in a few minutes later, coffee already in hand, and greets her with a warm smile.

“Okay, spill. What's going on?” Drew asks as he takes a seat.

“I've been thinking... about the column. I was wrong to turn it down. I want back in.”

The look of utter surprise on his face tells Leigh this was the last thing he expected. She senses his response won't be a straightforward yes.

“I'd be thrilled to have you back, Leigh, I really would—”

“But?” Leigh cuts in. She doesn’t need to hear a bullshit ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse. She wishes Drew would just be as direct with her as she is with him.

Drew lets out a sigh. Under different circumstances, saying no to Leigh would be as easy as declining an upsell from a McDonald's cashier. However, ever since Leigh became a widow, rejecting her feels significantly harder, even though he's well aware that Leigh values honesty over pity.

“But the thing is, the new writer’s really hitting it off with our audience. She's had a string of articles go viral lately.”

Leigh doesn’t look at all impressed by that. “Yeah, I heard.”

Personally, Drew’s not a fan of the new writer's style, and honestly, he still prefers Leigh. It would just be a hard sell if he brought this up to management. As the saying goes: if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

“Look, I still think you have a unique voice. You know I’d still take advice from you over the new girl.”

Leigh scoffs a little at that, shaking her head. Drew rolls his eyes; it’s typical of Leigh to never know how to take a compliment. He continues, “How would you feel about guest writing? Maybe for the first couple of weeks, we could find a way to incorporate your insights into a series or a special feature.”

It’s not what she hoped for, but she recognizes the olive branch for what it is.

And she’ll take it.

“I... yeah, I think that could work, Drew. I've got a ton of new ideas, and this... this could be great,” Leigh says. “Uhm, thanks.”

Drew grins. “I thought you'd like that. Let's kick off with a couple of guest pieces, see how it goes.”

Leigh half-heartedly returns his enthusiasm just as her order of cheeseburger and affogato are served.

“Anything new with you?” Drew asks, his voice taking on that tone he reserves for the really good gossip. Knowing Drew's helping her out, Leigh figures a little life update wouldn't hurt as a form of thanks.

That update is about you. And the moment Leigh spills the beans, Drew's face lights up like a Christmas tree. But his excitement fizzles out just as fast when he figures out Leigh's got nothing scandalous to say. All she mentions is how you might've missed the mark by not doing your homework on the guy you were seeing.

“What’s your plan then?”

“Seems like everyone’s asking me that,” Leigh says flatly.

“You took your stray to her place, right? So, there must be some sort of plan. I mean, you could've gone to any other vet if you wanted to avoid her.”

“Yeah, but her clinic's location is so convenient, and I didn't want to shrink my world just for her.”

Drew hums in response. Leigh admits she’s been unusually passive with you. Normally, she'd confront issues head-on, but even almost half a year later, she still hasn’t fully processed Matt’s death, let alone his cheating. She's been trying a new tactic, almost as if by ignoring her problems, she hopes they'll fade away on their own. She seems to be betting on the idea that if she pretends long enough, maybe one day she'll wake up and find those issues have lost their grip on her.

“I don’t know Leigh, the whole thing’s weird,” Drew says, scrunching up his face a bit.

“It’s not like I’m trying to make a friend or enemy out of her,” Leigh replies with a shrug. “I’m just using her services as a doctor, and she’s getting paid for it. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you need your old job back. She’s draining your purse,” he says, smirking as he adds, “Bitch.”

“You don’t have to call her that,” Leigh chides, though the corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. Deep down, she understands the twisted satisfaction in disliking someone without having to justify it.

“The funniest thing that can happen is if you two actually end up being friends,” Drew quips, picking up an accidental curly from Leigh’s plate.

Leigh finds that scenario hard to imagine, almost impossible. She doesn’t think she can be friends with someone Matt liked more than her.

Leigh is hunched over her laptop, with sheets of paper and colorful markers spread out on the table, meticulously designing missing dog posters for Visitor.

Jules, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee in hand, watches Leigh for a moment before speaking up. “You know, you should've done that the second you decided to take Visitor in.”

Leigh doesn't look up from her screen. “His leg needed to be taken care of first,” she reasons.

Jules rolls her eyes, pushing off from the doorframe to come closer. “And? How did it go at the clinic?”

Leigh pauses, then lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I already told you about the tests Visitor had to go through. They said he’ll be fine.”

“I mean with the doctor, not the patient,” Jules clarifies with a smirk.

There's a beat of silence before Leigh quips, “No cat fights happened, I promise,” her eyes going back to her laptop.

“Any chance she knocked off a bit of the bill?” Jules asks, moving to sit behind Leigh to take a peek of her work. It looks like an 8th grader’s art project, but she bites back any criticisms.

“Nope.”

“Told you she’s a bitch,” Jules murmurs under her breath.

“It's not like anyone's doing charity work these days, especially not in this economy,” Leigh argues weakly.

“Yeah, right. Like she needs your money, Leigh. Veterinarians are loaded, if you didn’t know.”

“If you say so.”

Jules decides to drop the subject, and Leigh can hear her shuffling and thinking behind her.

“Hey, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. Don't get mad, okay?”

“Prefacing like that? I'm bracing myself to be utterly scandalized,” Leigh says before smiling and sneaking a glance at Jules.

“Great, you’re cracking jokes again. That’s a good sign,” Jules deadpans but a second later, she’s smiling too.

“Ask away,” Leigh prods.

Jules takes a deep breath, and then:

“Do you think you’re ready to meet someone new?”

Leigh suddenly stops, her fingers just hanging there above the keyboard, unsure of what to do next. What’s the protocol here? If three months is usually the cooling period after a break-up before one can start dating other people, then what's the deal when it's about a husband who's not only passed away but was also cheating? How does that work?

Before Leigh can come up with an answer, she realizes she's already saying no.

Jules groans. “Come on, it's just a double date. It'll be fun. You and me and—”

“I’m really not in the mood to meet other people, Jules.”

Jules cuts in, laying it on thick. “Leigh, seriously, when was the last time you went out and had a little fun? You're practically turning into a recluse. I won't stand by and watch my sister morph into the neighborhood's infamous dog lady.”

“Dog lady? Really?”

“I'm just saying, it's either try something new or start knitting dog sweaters for fun. Your choice.”

Jules can be a real pest sometimes; it’s an endearing quality except when they seem ready to go for each other's throats.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” Leigh rests her chin on her hand, seriously considering the invitation for a second. “I don’t know how to meet people, Jules. I stopped meeting people when I met Matt. He was my entire world, you know?”

Jules softens, throwing her arms around Leigh’s shoulders. “I know. And I wouldn't push if I didn't think it could be good for you. Plus, I promise, if it's awful, I'll personally escort you out and we can ditch them for ice cream. How's that?”

Leigh senses that Jules won't give up until she gets a yes, so she decides to concede just this time and get it over with.

“Okay, okay, you win. I'll go on your stupid double date. But if this ends in disaster, you're buying me the biggest tub of ice cream you can find,” Leigh says, shrugging her sister off her.

Jules pumps her fist in victory. “Deal! You won't regret this, Leigh. And who knows? It might actually be fun.”

The double date goes surprisingly smoothly, except for the occasional touches coming from her date. To be fair, they are typical for a date and are executed with respect. However, for some reason, Leigh finds herself unusually conscious of every physical contact, making her anxious to move things along and call it a night.

As they step out of the restaurant, Leigh mentally scrambles to remember her date's name. She's bracing for the goodbyes, ready to retreat into the comfort of her room, when Tommy, Jules' girlfriend, suggests they cap the night off at a new bar. It turns out Leigh's date has an investment in the place. He jumps at the suggestion, clearly eager to flaunt this detail, perhaps hoping to impress her.

He does earn a sincere, “That’s cool,” from Leigh, just before she slides into the backseat of his car. Tommy quickly calls dibs on the front seat, leaving the siblings sitting next to each other in the back.

The new bar clearly wants to be the town’s next hotspot, but it seems to be trying too hard. It's got this odd vibe where you're not sure if you should be dancing or just looking around, wondering what it really wants you to do. But Leigh agreed to this, and she won’t embarrass Jules by ditching.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She stiffens a bit as he draws near, the heat of Patrick's breath—Jules had reminded her of his name during the car ride—making her uncomfortably aware of how close he is. She shifts, trying to put a polite distance between them without seeming too obvious about it. “Um, just a gin and tonic, please,” she says.

She practically sighs in relief as Patrick heads off to order, her eyes darting around the bar. The 90s R&B background gets her head bopping, but all she’s thinking about is her couch and an episode of Parks and Recreation waiting for her at home. Jules and Tommy are in their own little world, giggling and looking all cozy. Leigh never thought she could feel like a third wheel on a double date.

Patrick is taking his time, and when Leigh cranes her neck to peer over the bar, she catches him striking up a conversation with a blonde. Her eyes narrow into slits as she watches, both of them obviously charmed by the other as Patrick laughs at something she said, enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t all night.

Leigh feels a prick of irritation. Sure, she hasn’t been giving him the time of his life, but they’re still on a date. Isn’t there some unwritten rule about not flirting with other people when you're supposed to be with someone?

She waits a bit longer, hoping Patrick would remember he was supposed to be getting her a drink and come back. However, he hasn't moved an inch from his spot and is even passing Leigh's drink to the woman as they keep chatting. Leigh’s mind races. She knows she isn’t into Patrick, has been giving him nothing but the bare minimum, yet she can't shake off the feeling of being slighted. It's not like she wanted his undivided attention, but this... this just seems rude.

She catches Jules looking at her, a questioning eyebrow raised. Leigh just shrugs, not sure how to explain the jumble of feelings she's experiencing without sounding petty or jealous.

When Patrick finally comes back with her drink, the mood has already turned sour for Leigh. She musters a polite smile, accepts the gin and tonic with a thank you, but then heads to the bar on her own without saying anything more. At this point, she's indifferent to what Patrick, Tommy, or Jules might think or say of her; she's finished playing nice for the day.

Leigh slams her gin and tonic like it's water, the sting barely registering. She signals for another without missing a beat and strangers start sliding over drinks with cheeky grins. She toasts to nothing, to no one, letting the conversations slip away before they can get even one word out.

By drink number six—or was it seven?—everything's spinning, laughter too loud, lights too bright. Leigh’s clinging to the bar for dear life when she thinks she sees you. But as quickly as the figure appears, it's lost again, leaving her questioning her ability to handle her alcohol. Back in her college days, Leigh could hold her liquor like a champ, thanks to endless nights of partying. But now, staring down at her drink, she realizes she might've overestimated her current tolerance. The alcohol hits harder than she remembers, making her head swim more than she'd like to admit. It's been a while since she's gone this hard, and her body isn't shy about reminding her.

The worst part of it though is why, of all the faces her mind could conjure up, it's choosing yours.

Just as she tries to shake off the bizarre vision, your face appears again, this time on the dance floor, writhing in a sea of thick, sweating bodies. You're dancing closely with a man, and it’s—

It’s Matt.

Leigh blinks rapidly, attempting to dispel the hallucination because it's impossible; Matt is dead—this can't be real.

But the image of you and Matt refuses to go away. She continues to see the way your grind against him, the way you caress his face as you pull it further into your neck. Anger surges through her, hot and uncontrollable, and before she knows it, her last shot of tequila crashes to the floor. Before the bartender or anyone else can even figure out what's happening, Leigh storms through the crowd, pushing her way to what she believes is you and her husband, and shoves the couple hard. The moment she does it, the fog in her brain finally clears.

She saw wrong. They’re just a random couple, looking as shocked as she feels mortified.

Humiliated and more drunk than she's willing to admit, Leigh doesn't stick around to apologize. Tears start to well up as she pushes through the crowd, dodging empty faces while Jules' calls fade into the background. She shoves through the last of the mob, bursts through the doors into the night, and freedom feels just a breath away. But that breath catches, twists into a violent churn in her gut, and she can barely stagger a few desperate steps away from the entrance before her knees are on the cold pavement, and she’s spilling out onto the ground in front of her. A few groans of disgusts from the people around her doesn’t register as she succumbs to the consequences of her indulgence. Shortly after, she remembers why she’s cut back on alcohol, apart from the fact that Matt abhors it, turns him off more than anything.

“Leigh?”

The voice is familiar, even if she’s heard it only a few times. Her head's spinning as she looks up, the chilly air slapping her face after the stuffiness of the club. She blinks, trying to clear the blur of tears and the aftereffects of one too many drinks, squinting at the figure stepping out from under the streetlights.

Your face, more clearly now under the lamp post is kind of sobering her up a bit.

So, were you actually there in the club, or is Leigh so haunted by thoughts of you and Matt—thoughts she's tried so hard to ignore and bury—that she managed to conjure you as a way to finally confront her true feelings about the entire situation? It’s always the battles with herself she never wins.

“Hey, you alright?” you ask, lowering yourself to get a better look at her but keeping back a bit—just enough space for her to catch her breath or in case she needs to throw up again.

Leigh doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to see you're there. You rummage through your crossbody bag, pulling out some wet wipes and offering them to her. She still doesn't look up, but grabs what you’re offering with a little force.

She proceeds to wipe her mouth and then her entire face as you continue talking, words tumbling out in a nervous stream.

“I saw you back there, in the club. I wasn't sure if I should come up to you, you know, with everything that's happened... with me being... well, the person I am in all of this,” you explain softly. “And then I saw what happened, how upset you got. Sorry I followed you here, I…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Leigh abruptly gets to her feet, and you instinctively step back, giving her more room than probably needed.

“Why?” Leigh fires at you, her tone so icy it almost makes you regret coming after her. You're taken aback, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

Why what?

“Why do you even care?” she clarifies, eyeing you as if you're the densest person on the planet.

You grasp for something, anything that sounds like you're not just here out of guilt. “Anyone who knows you would be worried,” you say before you can think twice about what it could mean.

Leigh's laugh is sharp, cutting. “You don't know me,” she throws back.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you mumble to yourself. You wish you did, so you could fix this.

Leigh’s anger doesn’t let up. “You know what I think? You're playing the good Samaritan to scrub off your guilt. But not knowing Matt was married? That's on you. I bet you never asked too many questions because you wanted him to be Mr. Perfect—single, ready to mingle, the dream guy.”

Opening your mouth to argue, you find yourself at a loss. Leigh’s not entirely wrong. With Matt, you were in a bubble, caught up in the thrill of meeting someone who seemed so right, so honest. You clung to his every word, wanting to believe in this image of him you'd built up.

The truth is, you never wanted to meet Leigh Shaw; you wanted to believe Matt's only fault was how he ended things with you, by disappearing.

But before you can admit to all of that, Leigh is already storming off. You think about chasing after her, but she spins around so fast at your footsteps, shooting you a threatening look and a low, “Stop following me,” that nails you to the ground.

You keep staring at the spot she disappeared from, long after she's gone, wondering why Matt felt the need to find love elsewhere.

Leigh goes home, but not to an empty house. The second she opens the door, Visitor bounds into her arms, full of wiggles and wet nose kisses. Her mom's off somewhere, doing who knows what—Leigh's stopped trying to figure out where or why. Meanwhile, her phone buzzes with a string of voicemails from Jules, but Leigh's not in the mood to dive into those just yet. She decides they can wait till morning, along with the other missed calls and unread messages from strangers, asking for more information on Visitor.

For now, she peels off her socks and pants, leaving them scattered carelessly up the stairs before passing out on her bed.

Visitor’s follow-up check-up rolls around way too quickly for comfort. The moment Leigh steps through the clinic door with the dog in tow, you can practically cut the tension with a knife. Leigh's trying to keep it together, but her attempts at civility are imbued with a coldness that can’t be ignored.

With only a small ‘good morning’ from you and a nod from Leigh, you start the consultation, knowing you’d be doing her a favor if you just get right to it.

“How's Visitor been eating?” you ask as you work your stethoscope.

“He eats fine,” Leigh drawls.

You nod, jotting down a note before moving on, “And his activity levels? Any changes there?”

Leigh’s response comes laced with sarcasm.

“Oh, he's just peachy. Running marathons every morning.”

You clear your throat, trying to rein in your mounting annoyance at her childish behavior. “I'm just trying to get a complete picture,” you say.

But Leigh's not having any of it. Her comments grow sharper, her patience thinning, and it's clear she's more interested in taking jabs at you than discussing her dog's health.

Her last sarcastic remark has you drawing the line. “Leigh, you can be upset with me all you want outside of this clinic, but I won't tolerate disrespect while I'm trying to do my job,” you say evenly. “You're welcome to find another vet if you can't keep this professional. I have every right to refuse service if this continues. It's not what I want, but I'm not about to let you treat me any less professionally.”

Leigh goes quiet, yet she keeps her eyes locked on yours, decidedly not backing down. Then, after a tense moment, she mutters a single word, “Sorry.” It's not much, but it's something, and you decide to take it and move on.

“You mentioned something about a blood sample?” Leigh says, steering the conversation back to the reason she came in, and you're all for following her lead on this.

“Yeah, we need to check if his platelets are up and his infections are down, see if the meds are doing their job,” you explain. Then, veering a bit from standard procedure, you add, “Since this is a follow-up visit, I'm going to cut the lab test price in half for you.”

The discount evidently lifts her mood. It's not a perfect truce, but it's enough to get through the examination without any more barbs.

A while later, you're back with Visitor's CBC results in hand. “The infection's gone down, but it's still borderline,” you report, showing her the numbers. “We'll need to keep him on the medication for another week. And I'm adding some multivitamins and a specific diet to his regimen.”

You scribble down the details, then note at the bottom of the pad about the discount—not just for the lab test, but for the prescriptions too.

Leigh takes the paper, scanning the details before her eyes finally meet yours. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softer than it's been.

“You’re welcome,” you reply with a smile before going back to your notebook, looking deep in thought.

Leigh feels like you're back to your usual, friendly self. Yet she thinks she prefers the more raw, unfiltered version of you. The version that called her out earlier. These days, she's starving for that kind of honesty. Because having her as your client can’t be all that pleasurable. She's aware of how challenging she's been, and the straightforwardness somehow makes her feel more understood, more seen.

She wishes people would stop seeing her as Leigh: the one with the dead husband.

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “When did you start working here?”

It's a seemingly insignificant question, yet coming from Leigh, it prompts you to close your notebook and focus entirely on her.

“I—”

“Because a year ago, I remember meeting a different doctor,” Leigh adds, absentmindedly running her fingers through Visitor’s coarse hair as he sleeps on her lap.

“You’ve been here before?”

It’s a painful memory—one that still sometimes brings tears to her eyes whenever it crosses her mind. Back then, the clinic bore a different name, and she and Matt had come together to say goodbye to Rogue.

“I have when it was still called Palm Coast,” she says.

You nod, understanding the context now. “Yeah, that was before my time. I bought this clinic on a whim after spending a few years practicing in Dubai.”

While most would latch onto the tidbit about your intriguing career history, Leigh zeros in on something else entirely, asking directly, “When did Matt start coming here?”

You shift uncomfortably at her question, and Leigh immediately regrets pushing too hard. She’s about to backtrack when you halt her apologies. “It’s okay. I’m open to talking about it, just not here,” you suggest. “How about over coffee?”

Leigh hesitates, then says, “Okay, let me just text my boss that I won't be able to lead the yoga class this morning.”

“It doesn’t have to be now. Tomorrow works,” you say.

Realizing her assumption, Leigh’s cheeks color slightly. “What time?”

Now it's your turn to feel a bit awkward. “Would 7 work? It's the only time I have before the clinic opens.”

“In the morning?” Leigh says again, making sure she heard you right.

You nod sheepishly in reply.

“Or we could maybe—”

“No, it's okay,” Leigh interrupts quickly. She's usually up before sunrise anyway; the only change would be trimming her morning run a bit. And for a one-time chat to get the answers she's after, she figures she can make such a small sacrifice.

–

“Are you sure you want to return Visitor to his real family?”

True to form, it's Jules who breaks the two-day-long sibling spat. It's usually her who tries to smooth things over with an apology, even on days when Leigh isn't exactly the easiest person to deal with. Her therapist keeps telling her not to always be the one to buckle, especially when she's the one who's been hurt, that Leigh should be the one to step up and make things right for a change.

But here she is, reaching out first, just like always—because waiting for Leigh to make the first move feels like waiting for snow in July.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me again?” Leigh says as if she's gearing up for another round of conflict rather than welcoming peace.

Jules ignores her and continues, “Have you actually tried to find Visitor's owners, or have you just kinda... kept him because it feels good to have him around?”

“So what if it feels good to have a dog who loves you and is loyal to you?”

Jules shakes her head in a condescending manner, which only serves to irritate Leigh further. As soon as her popcorn is done, she heads out of the kitchen, flops onto the couch, flips on the TV, and kicks her feet up on the coffee table. Jules follows her, opting to stand next to the TV, poised to yank the plug out if necessary.

“Leigh, you do understand that taking care of a dog isn't something to take lightly, right?” Jules starts, but she breaks off when the dog in question trots over, tail wagging, trying to coax Jules into picking him up.

Leigh acts like she hasn't heard a word, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

“I thought you'd learned something from what happened with Rogue—”

That hits a nerve. Leigh's quick to fire back, “Oh, and jumping into a serious relationship is super responsible, right? Especially when staying sober is part of the deal.”

Right after the words leave her mouth, Leigh regrets them deeply. She's painfully aware of Jules' long battle with alcoholism, a struggle that began in college and required more than a couple of tries before Jules could claim any sort of victory over her addiction. Leigh knows it's still a sore subject for Jules, still fighting her demons, making her comment unfairly harsh.

Though the retaliation didn’t come out of nowhere. Leigh caught Jules at the club, discreetly sipping a drink she swore off, and chose to keep quiet then to avoid causing a scene in front of Tommy. She had plans to bring it up later, but then her own slip-up with drinking, bailing on her date, and the fallout with Jules spiraled into one of their nastiest rows in a long while.

“Jules, I’m sorr—”

“Just save it, Leigh.”

Jules heads for the door, her hand clenched tight, barely hanging onto her emotions. Leigh feels the situation slipping further downhill, and she can't just stand back and watch things crumble even more. She's about to chase after Jules when the doorbell rings, stopping both of them cold.

But Jules doesn’t even bother with the door; instead, she veers off, storming upstairs with that telltale slam of her bedroom door echoing down. Leigh sighs, stuck in the aftermath, while Visitor starts barking at the door. Dragging her feet, Leigh heads over to open it, half-expecting another problem but hoping for a distraction.

Leigh definitely wasn't expecting Danny, and seeing him there, she gets the sinking feeling that this storm swirling around her isn’t going to blow over just yet.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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thechekhov · 3 months

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Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH38

Rip to these promising mages. I assume they will not survive this massacre.

IS that where her lungs and kidneys are? Because like. She's huge. Her entire body is behind her. Do you really think she'd keep her vital organs in the little human bulb on the front?

I mean, he has a point. What are you going to do? Fight off more hoardes of dragons?

oh noooo, Kabru.... too bad. That's so unfortunate.... anyway.

It's curious that Laios only got knocked away. He was just as likely to have had his head squished like a grape.

Guys, this is absolutely not the time to be concerned for her privacy.

Yes, queen. Free the tiddy. Murder everyone in this dungeon. I support women's rights and women's wrongs.

.......that's. One way to do that. I guess.

.......what's that rock about.

Oh, I see. That's convenient.

This guy dungeons! Maybe he even dragons.

So we got north (tallmen? dwarves?) and then the easterners.... and now the elves of the west?

He's going to give her to the Americans?! ಠ_ಠ

To be fair, at least they HAD a plan. And they executed it. It's more than you did. I don't mean to point fingers but... at least they... ya know... did something.

Kabru's like 'no, no, hang on, I need to hear what batshit fucked up thing this dude is going to say next, this is important'

Laios is so stressed he broke character.

Then again, maybe it's healthy to let them slug it out a bit. Get it out of their system.

It's true. They wore fitbits and everything.

...hey, hold on a second.

Now hold on a minute.

Damn, this is. Kind of even worse because. I guess I could have guessed that Toshi was just pretending to be polite, like you do. Cultural differences.

But the painful thing is, Laios doesn't seem surprised. He just seems resigned. He's been told before that he's difficult to get along with. To the extent that he doesn't even consider Marcille and Chillchuck his friends? Even though they arguably both care about him? But because Toshiro didn't bother to be deadpan about him being a bit odd at times, Laios thought it meant that was fine.

And that kinda hurts. Like damn. Laios just wanted to make a true connection. And I can't really blame Toshiro either, he was just trying to keep the peace but. Damn.

Free her! Let her do her illegal magics! She deserves it! （︶^︶）

Thoughts:

Senshi just being annoyed about that one last harpy looking for scraps.... like "shoo, this ain't the time"

That gnome seems genuinely nice. I'm sorry Falin squished his pet undyne.

Kabru hugging his..... mage? Girlfriend???? Seems very...one sided. Kinda feel bad for her.

Laios and Toshiro still going at it, I see. Get it allout, boys.

Uhhhhhhhhhh ninja girls.

Aww, doggo.

Last question: Where did the cat go?

Senshi: I can fix that.

Are you all worried because he's finally making sense?!?!

Laios and he punched their singular braincells into several new ones, it seems.

F./....Falin... please give the caterpillar some privacy........

My man, maybe lead with that............

I can't believe Marcille was potentially more forward about her feelings.......

"his pupils are dilated" yes, thank you sherlock. You've finally realized what everyone else who meets Laios feels almost immediately. he's a monster freak club card carrying member. Welcome.

p.....pubby......

As long as he was also inside the dungeon with them.... yes.

The issue with Kabru isn't that he isn't trying his best. It's that Laios isn't trying at all.

On a scale of one to Kabru, how badly do you react to being offered a food you don't want to eat?

......oh no. He's so pathetic it's funny. He's growing on me.

Absolute morons, the pair of them. Immovable object meets unstoppable force. The funniest combination ever. Ghost type and normal type pokemon, forever throwing moves at each other that will never hit. Laios thinking he's made a friend. Kabru just barely stopping himself from killing Laios. Best comedy pair. Tom and Jerry in a can.

Anyway. What a great manga.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi quick reacts #chekhov reads dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi liveblog #delicious in dungeon

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cybertroniannugget · 6 months

Text

Pangea and mt Vesuvius

Not what I originally intended to post here, as I'm writing some spice at the moment but THIS is what my mind was occupied with all freaking day... The whole desaster takes place somewhere in the first movie or between 1 and two. Some details are changed up Which I did on purpose. I know all the movies from start to finish because the hyperfixations are hyperfixating real hard right now.

This is just a random story of how I get idk let's say teleported into the bayverse movies and how I'd probably handle that.

While I sprinkled in a bit more confidence than I actually got, I think it's an accurate representation of what kind of person I am: always cracking jokes, overthinking EVERYTHING, random useless knowledge that turns out to be somewhat useful.

About this fic: sfw, implied romance with OP, trans ftm character, no reader just Alex, confused Autobots they still need to learn so much about earth and everything, I also don't know okay?

This is just me struggling while simping hard for Optimus.

But we still ain't know what fucked up big M's navigation system when he crashed. Infact, why are all of our navigation systems useless here?! ", Jazz adressed, arms crossed over his chassis. "We all be getting lost all the time.

"I think I know why"

Oh please, why did I speak up just now...

All optics and eyes were fixed on me as I said that, making me immediately regret opening my mouth in the first place but here we are now.

"What? Maybe your systems think you're on Pangea.", I said, taking in the same position as Jazz by crossing my arms over my chest.

Optimus leaned closer, one servo on the railing, blue optics studying me thoroughly as to look for any signs of lie in my attitude.

"Pangea? May you elaborate?"

Hearing this deep voice so full of interest made me feel things honestly.

"The supercontinent. Wait, Imma show you."

I take out my phone, careful not to reveal the background, because I couldn't find the time to change it yet.

"Here, this is earth today. You see everything, Europe, Asia, South and North America, Autralia, Greenland and all the islands in the oceans."

"And this is Pangea, it broke apart into the continents as we know them today about 200 million years ago. This is probably what Megatron had in mind. See? When you look at a map of earth today you might think, if you turn south America around and snug it up to north America, they fit like a puzzle. It's because they were together as part of the supercontinent. Or push it up to Africa, same thing. Just squish it all together"

"That human is incredibly well educated.", Ratchet chimed in.

"That human has a name and thank you."

"But why did that happen? It makes no sense.", Ironhide complained, lifting one servo as to show his frustration in what I just said.

"If I may...", I look at Lennox, awaiting some kind of approval to continue. He nods and so I proceed with my explanation.

"Well, I don't know how to explain it scientifically, but I'll try to make it understandable."

Optimus nods, listening carefully. How do these highly educated space robots not know about that? But who am I to judge, they aren't from here so I can't expect them to know everything about earth.

"I think it probably started because of something called mantle convection. That means the heat from earth's interior rises up to the hardened crust. That caused it to break open, creating a volcanic rift zone. The cracks went further, the tectonic plates drifted apart. The rifts filled with water over time and while the plates drifted farther away, the oceans were formed. Or something like that I don't know but today we've got 6 continents."

Always undermining everything I say, great job on trying to act confident...

"And Greenland, I don't discriminate.", I added as some people eyed me.

"But I don't know if Pangea is what your systems used as the base to calculate. There were other tectonic combinations even before that, but it's a wild guess I'd say. I am certain it was one of them."

As I was explaining, Optimus' gaze changed to a warmer tone and I could feel my pulse rise to my ears. He was just so beautiful, and seeing him for the first time in person made my heart flutter uncontrollably. I wish I could tell him how I feel,

But this is real. No scenarios, no daydreaming or fanfiction. It was as real as it could get. Damn it, I wanted to shift here, not get teleported or whatever caused me to end up here with all of them. I hope we can atleast become friends. No need to get my hopes up though.

"Alexander?"

The baritone voice of the Prime pulled me out of my thoughts about him.

"Hm?"

"What kind of heat were you talking about?"

"Oh that. Well, starting at earth's core, it's liquid magma. It's really hot, like 5.200 Celsius hot. 9.000 something Fahrenheit for the Americans here..."

This was met with laughter and I continued with my lesson or whatever you might wanna call it I don't care, I'm struggling here okay?

"The further you go up, the 'cooler' it gets.", I say, underlining the word cooler with my hands in a joking matter.

"They probably got fancy scientific names but don't ask me which. Anyways shit's really hot. And it's what shoots up from volcanoes.", I finish as I look into a round of confused optics and a few tilted helms.

"Volcanoes? When tectonic plates crush against each other, or built up pressure is released, no?"

They all look at eachother, chuckling coming from my fellow humans around me.

"Okay here, that's mt vesuvius, big ass volcano."

"Sometimes these mfs shoot lava from this hole up there, pretty fascinating and scary at the same time.. It looks like this.", I add as they look at the pictures, not knowing whether to be amazed or afraid.

"The glowing stuff you see here is the lava. When it's still underneath the crust it's called magma."

"Are there many on earth?"

"Yup, don't get too close."

Optimus' optics widen at that statement of mine

"Don't worry bossbot, not on this island. The closest from here is next to Madagascar, Africa. Unless you decide to swim a few rounds up there there's no need to get worried."

The Prime relaxes, shoulders dropping while optics still focused on me.

Why is he looking at me like that? I mean I ain't complaining but if he continues like that Imma internally combust.

"You explain everything so well Alexander."

"Please, call me Alex. Alexander seems so long."

The Prime nods understandingly. "Very well then, Alex."

Oh god make it stop. I love you so much Optimus please...!

"His heart rate just shot up exponentially.", Ratchet mentioned and it was right then and there that I wanted to vanish, dissappear, sink into the ground, never to be seen again.

"Haha yeah, chronic Tachycardia, no need to worry."

That was a lie. Yes, my pulse is through the roof right now, but I've got no heart disease.

As I was met with confusion from every bot except Ratchet I explained before any questions could be asked.

"It's a general term to describe an elevated heartrate. You know, the thing in a human's chest that pumps blood through our body."

"Blood?"

"Oh come on. Okay, well then I can explain that to you guys later. And answer any questions you have as it seems no one else here cares about your education on earth and it's inhabitants.", I say grumpily, looking at Lennox, who raised his hands in defeat.

"I can see us becoming friends Alex.", Jazz laughed.

"Looking forward to it!", I said, pointing fingerguns at the silver bot, which is met with more laughter.

"Okay, class is over, what are we gonna do now?", Ironhide asks into the round of bots and humans.

I just shrug, looking at Optimus, who was still looking at me. But when I looked at him, he quickly looked away to Ironhide.

Cutie~

"Alex seems to know so much, why not ask her?."

That statement of a bystanding soldier was met with a glare from Optimus.

"Alex is a he, you better make sure to remember that!"

They went to protest, but Optimus wouldn't let them. "Unless you wish to get what humans call fired."

Oh shit he's really mad...

"I will make sure of that if you continue your unreasonable behavior."

As he said that I could swear I saw the soldier shrink right then and there infront of my own two eyes.

He looks at everyone. "This counts for everyone here. You will respect Alex."

Oh god, he's standing up for me I can't please marry me Optimus, like right now!

"Okay, lessons aside.", Epps put a hand on my shoulder, smiling. "You were great by the way. I think we can use that for good."

He looked between everyone, a stern expression replacing the warm smile, hand leaving my shoulder. "As much as of a crucial hint this is, we can't know for sure what's exactly causing the malfunction. Better dig people."

True honestly, but HOW is anyone supposed to figure it out without cutting someone open? Megs maybe...?!

"Something's on your mind again, I can see that.", Bumblebee said with snippets over the radio.

"What, me?! It's nothing."

"Nothing?!", Jazz protested. "You just gave us the best clue we could ask for. I'm no Optimus Prime but I can say that I wanna hear ya out my man."

He looks up at Optimus, who was looking at me again after listening to his lieutenant.

"I must say, that you have given us great insight on your mental capabilities Alex."

He leans closer and it took everything of the mental capabilities he just mentioned to not kiss him right here right now.

"Well uh, it's just some kind of impulsive thought. You know, the ones you can't really control...",I said nervously, one hand behind my neck, avoiding everyone's gaze.

But he didn't budge, only blinking once while awaiting an answer.

"Okay, you're not budging I see. Fine."

Taking a deep breath and regretting every life choice I had made up until that point, I went on. "Look, I don't know anything about Cybertronian culture and how things are handled. Especially this right here. Us humans, we always wanna know what exactly caused certain events. For example death here. So we came up with analyzing the body of the dead by cutting them open and stuff, it's called autopsy. Maybe, just maybe we could find something. I know Megatron ain't dead but he's in some sort of... Stasis? Someone could check his navigation system and maybe find the cause for the disruption."

I lower my shoulders, trying to be as small as I possibly could infront of Optimus, who's gaze I couldn't quite interpret.

"On Cybertron, there is quite a similar practise."

"So you're saying it's worth a shot, Prime?", Ironhide asks, unsure of what to think of the situation. "But he's not dead, as Alexander pointed out correctly.", Ratchet added.

Optimus turned around to face his Autobots.

"This may be our only chance. We must take it. For the sake of both worlds. This war has been going on for so long, we cannot let this hold us down. And now it seems there is a way to find out why this is happening. We will fix it, together."

Now it was on Lennox to speak up again.

"So we gon' dissect Megatron? I'm all in honestly. That fucker did enough damage."

My eyes widen at that. "They're not gonna kill him!" Unsure of the righteousness of what I just said I looked at Optimus, who nodded.

"See? They're just gonna take out the navigation system and leave."

"Ooh, big M is gonna be SO mad when he finds out."

"He won't.", Optimus retorted with an absolute certainty in his voice.

"Alright then, it's settled. Prepare people and gather as much information as possible for this mission and await any orders from Big O!"

And with that final order of Lennox the soldiers scattered around, leaving immediately.

Okay great, I'm gonna go be useless again wohoo.

"Alex?"

I look toward the sound of the voice I already grew to cherish. "I know, I know. I ain't accompanying you. I'd die if I did, already know that."

The Prime nods.

"I am glad you understand."

I love you so much I wish I could tell you...

As he remained standing there I grew nervous, fidgeting with the strings of my hoodie.

"Is there something you need?"

"Wha- me? No! Just... go be a hero.

You know you're good at it."

I clear my throat, pretty sure Optimus could hear my pulse. "But remember to take a break sometimes. I always see you up and about."

Did I overstep? I knew it. Chance blown. Goodbye earth. No romance.

"I highly appreciate your concern Alex."

He's always saying my name help. Is he just being polite or what does this mean?!

"There is this human saying. What was it again? I grab it with my heart...?"

Please he's so cute I can't~

"I'll take it to heart was it probably. It means to honor someone's wishes as you see them important."

He tilts his helm in question. "The person or the wish?"

That is when I think all the 5 liters of blood inside my body went up to my face.

Keep calm, stay cool Alex. Don't embarrass yourself.

"It's up to the person saying that."

Whatever higher power there is, please help me!

"You deem my wellbeing as important and so do I"

Phew, that was close...

"Can it be both?"

WHAT

"Eh, sure. There's always room for interpretation."

I guess...?

What has my life come to? They probably think I'm a know it all person. I gotta keep my damn mouth shut from now on.

"Very well then Alex, I look forward to working with you."

I only nod, trying not to get lost in those beautiful blue optics.

"I'm sure it's gonna be great Optimus!"

Unless I unsubscribe from life because a Deception squishes me...

#transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #what the fuck #what is this #what is happening #i don't know #what am i doing #send help #i do be simpin

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learnfromhawking · 1 year

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Greetings, fellow learners! It's your boy again, the one and only language guru. And today, we're going to talk about one of the most brilliant minds that ever lived: Stephen Hawking.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Oh great, another blog post about the most famous theoretical physicist of all time. Yawn." But hold up, my friends! This ain't your typical Stephen Hawking tribute. No, no, no. We're going to get a little more personal today.

You see, Stephen Hawking wasn't just a genius with a bunch of fancy theories about black holes and the universe. He was also a man with a sense of humor. Yes, you heard me right. Stephen Hawking was funny.

Now, I'm not talking about knock-knock jokes or anything like that. Stephen Hawking's humor was more subtle, but it was there. For example, he once said, "Life would be tragic if it weren't funny." And he wasn't just saying that because he was in a wheelchair. He truly believed that laughter was an essential part of the human experience.

But don't just take my word for it. Here's a little anecdote for you. One time, Stephen Hawking was supposed to give a lecture at a conference, but his speech synthesizer broke down. Instead of panicking, he calmly waited for a technician to fix it. And when the technician finally arrived, Stephen Hawking said, "I hope you've been keeping out of trouble." Classic.

So, what's the lesson here, folks? Well, it's simple. Even the smartest person in the world can appreciate a good laugh. And if Stephen Hawking could find humor in his own situation, then we can certainly find humor in ours.

So, keep on learning, keep on laughing, and keep on being awesome. And remember, as Stephen Hawking once said, "Look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Be curious."

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 4 months

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Tryna write this post about Hobie's Black-Cat OC MysStray and like 😭😭 I'm Strugglin' I really am

ummm I'm too lazy to go and finish it and make it all nice so imma just infodump about her and Hobies past and dynamic heehee

Anyway 😈 her name is pronounced Miss Stray or Mystery. And Myssie is just Missy but Boujee

Spider-Punk x Black Cat: MysStray - Miranda Straizand

Her real name is Miranda but everyone calls her Myssie. Only Hobie calls her Miranda and that's only when they about to start arguing.

[she be like 'don't Miranda me, ya dickhead. If I start calling you Hobart it's gonna get embarrassing 🤨']

She's 22, an exotic dancer, bud dealer, and credit-card scamming hacker.

HOWEVER

Not only is her faceclaim Rico Nasty but she's also his ex and I have no idea how to write her without ppl being like 'damn why she so mean to him 😐'

Like nooo she means shut the fuck up affectionately. She means tosser in a nice way 😭😭 she's telling him to roll hey blunt cause her love language is acts of service I promise

But uhh yeah they meet as civilians a couple years back but didn't get into it until Hobie was in a tight spot money wise and needed a place to stay - this was right after he got his powers and was patrolling 24/7 to the point it was wearing him down and he had no interest in making money.

And his friend Harry was like 'you can stay with my bud dealer but she might have you working for her'

Hobie ended up staying with her as her pseudo-body guard and blunt roller until he started hitting on her.

Which, she was like 'that's fucking bold of you. You sleeping in my crib, eating my food and now you wanna sleep in my bed? AND YOU'RE BROKE?'

But somehow it worked. He has the rizz. I'm serious.

He got a 'promotion'.

Though Myssie would never say they're dating or that she's his girlfriend.

She'd always say specifically "Hobie's my boyfriend."

And if you asked him, he'd specifically say "I'm her boyfriend."

ie, He's hers. Like not in a possessive way but in a 'She ain't his any-fucking-thing. She ain't nobodies nothing' kinda way - do that make sense 😭

They dated for about a year, with Myssie finding out he was Spider-Man on her own a couple months in.

She was not thrilled. She wasn't mad. She just -

That crawling on walls shit night be cute - but being out in them streets fighting some punk-ass cops talking about 'I'm an anarchist suicide-machine'?

No, no I think not.

Originally she was not into it. That righteous shit was not for her. Her and Hobie had been handling business smoothly, Myssie had moneying come in. The whole circle was eating good - why was he trying to be a hero?

She much preferred he did it on his own time like before. The webs can stay though, she likes the webs.

Hobie on the other hand was like 'okay fuck whatever'. It's not like he needed to be held and babied 24/7. And he knew how Black Cats were, but still - damn.

He'd come home after the shittiest patrol, and she'd act like it was a bad day at the office. A blunt can't fix everything.

Eventually as Myssie learned that Hobie being Spider-man didn't mean he was trying to force righteousness on her - or looked down on her for not seeking it, she got more comfortable with the idea.

And then she got her ass locked up.

All of a sudden she's like 'Hey Spidey come get me 🤣🤣🤣'

Of course he comes. But of course he's like

"I should leave you're arse here but I won't because I'm a good person."

And she's like "You won't because you know better - I'm just joking stop playing and get me out babes 😭😭'

So they had a few good months of crime and justice. Having government systems, stealing funds. Myssie dancing and dealing on the side while Hobie does shows.

They dated maybe a year, a little over that.

Eventually she broke up with him. It was a harsh one. Myssie has Borderline Personality Disorder and although she really loved Hobie, after finding out he was Spider-Man the concern and worry and stress it put on her was too much and she choose to look after her mental health instead.

She's not the type to patch him up when he comes home bloody. Waking up to that shit genuinely stresses her out.

Sitting around waiting not knowing if he would make it home really fucked with her head every night.

She's not trying to take down a system. She's trying to put food on her table and money in her account and live her life fucking quietly.

Eventually she was like 'I'm sorry. I love you, but you're driving me nuts.'

Hobie couldn't fault her. But damn it hurt. Especially because it wasn't like a 'oh btw maybe we should break up' kinda thing it was a 'i can't take this shit anymore' type thing.

He actually felt bad for putting her in the situation because she signed up to date him not Spider-man. And Myssie was never a hero to begin with, she doesn't have a righteous bone in her body.

And then it came to the topic of - UH OH you now live with your ex-boyfriend (plus he's broke and reckless)

Myssie offered to pay for a place for him but Hobie was like 'fuck no' and took off.

Eventually through Harry, Myssie learned that Hobie got a place - his boathouse - making a steady income on his band's mixtape and merch. She was happy for him, but she still kept her distance. Cause like, how do you even approach that?

After breaking up with a dude then low-key kicking him out your flat? It's not like she just stopped having feelings for him. So she kept her distance, for both of their sakes.

No hard feelings, but doing what she has to do.

So that was it. Until one day, Hobie shows up at her job.

Mind you, Myssie dances. So Hobies options were coming to her house unannounced, or show up to her strip club unannounced.

He meets her backstage but, she refuses to see him unless he pays like everyone else.

He can either buy a dance or buy some weed, but she'll only link with him as a customer. They can't just be hanging to hang, y'know?

So Hobie leaves and the next day, he turns up to her place early with the money - having gotten an early advance from a performance.

He buys a quarter of buds from her, and while he rolls a blunt he tells her that he needs her to hack an extremely sophisticated system.

One more complicated than anything they've ever seen.

He can't pay her for the job. He's asking her as a friend.

He tells her that if she takes it, she's going to have to learn a lot about him being Spider-man, and that it might change a lot of things for her, but it's something he can't do on his own.

Reluctantly, Myssie agrees.

He shows her is Spider Society watch - and tells her he needs help hacking the system and disabling the AI on it.

He wants to find the backdoor that leads to HQ's mainframes, and deconstruct it from there.

He tells her about what it can do, and the other Spider-people. Myssie agrees to do the job, but stops him from telling her more, because she'd rather live not knowing everything about the universe.

For a couple weeks they work on it together, and surprisingly they don't rip out each other's throats. In fact, it's kinda nice.

Then Diane enters the picture.

Myssie isn't jealous. She's just very confused.

For one, it's very obvious Diane is from a different planet. She acts like it. There's nothing punk or edgy about her. She's very clearly not from 138.

But she's Spiderwoman. The idea that there's more of them? A whole multiverse of them - a whole multiverse of Black Cats - Myssie... isn't with it.

And secondly, Diane is the opposite of Myssie. Myssie has never heard her say a joke that wasn't well-meaning.

The first time Diane heard Myssie tell Hobie 'Shut the fuck up' (within ten minutes of meeting her) Diane audibly gasped.

Myssie was like 'girl you too tf 🤨 shit both y'all pissin me off'

It's not that Myssie doesn't like Diane - it's just that half the time when Diane speaks Myssie is like

Diane is nice and all - but where the fuck did he find this chick? Why she always here?

Why does she like Hobie so much? He's a lame!! He's broke!! He tells wack ass jokes!!

Like yeah Myssie dated him and loves him but also ????? Groupie??? Girl get a grip!!!!!!

But anyway Myssie helped Hobie hack Spider Society's systems.

They're currently defined as 'Exes' in a nonexistent situationship. Diane has floated the idea with Hobie of them getting back together, now that Hobie has her to support him in the Spideystuff (they're polyam) but Hobie is like 'that ain't up to me'

What happens to them? Idk.

But they've started hanging out to hang out again, so that's a start.

And she's been flipping him off more, which is like her way of flirting.

But like.... That's cute and all - but in the moment she's so mean.

He says a stupid joke to mess with her and she's like ' shut the fuck up and roll the blunt bruv 😒🤨' even though she's stickering and cackling.

But I don't want y'all to think she's just being mean to him just to be mean 😭😭 noo

The way they talk to each other is mad aggressive

Like when he makes a bad joke and she calls him 'one daft bastard' she means he's funny and cheeky and being a silly little guy

Noooo when he calls her a hell spawn or a demon he means that affectionately 🥺🥺 he's making a funny

Nooo they're not fighting they're wrestling over the blunt and also getting play-hits in and also accidentally trashing Myssies place

She's like 'Quit talking shit and come cuddle me. Arsehole.'

He's like 'How about you calm the hell down and give me a kiss 😐'

He calls her Pryssie like prissy because she's highstrung as fuck

She calls him bug boy and pipsqueak even though he's like a foot taller than her

They're just rough around the edges okay them telling each other to go to hell means I love you okay

Mysbie aka StrayPunk or MysPunk idk which one I like more

Oh ALSO Myssie and Hobie have had the Spiderman PS4 timeline

ie Myssie lied and was like uhhh I need money for my son that's why I'm running game

And Hobie was like fuck is that kid mine I cannot a dad and he starts stressing out

Only for her to be like 'first of all I lied second of all why would you think it's yours? That's bold of you. You ain't the only dick on dial 😐🤨'

Okay but I PROMISE They're cute together I promise TRUST ME PLEASE

#ummm I'm out of energy #no proofread #lol #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #hobie x oc #hobie brown x oc

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sshewonders · 3 months

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WARM BODIES

Chapter 08: Bit of Banter

chapter synopsis: You and Daryl share banter as he carries you through the woods back to camp. Despite his stoicism, your camaraderie grows. As evening nears, Daryl suggests a rest, and you promise not to fall asleep, leaving the both of you with a sense of trust and companionship between you two.

chapter warnings: The chapter contains mild language, emotional discussions, physical injury, carrying scenes, humor, character development, and survival themes in a woodland setting.

word count: 1.9k words

author's note: Okay, I seriously hope that this is not cringe, and I had written it as I'd imagined it in my mind. And oh, by the way, don't be too comfortable and wishing for a softer Daryl; you know the saying, "be careful what you wish for." Anyway, enjoy reading.

MASTERLIST

NEXT CHAPTER >>

You nervously gnawed on your lip as he persistently attended to your ankle with a massage. Occasionally, you couldn't help but emit either a contented sigh or an exaggerated groan, prompting him to shoot you a disapproving look and simultaneously cease his ministrations on your mildly sore ankle. To be brutally frank, your ankle wasn't in agonizing pain, but who in their right mind would turn down his, albeit somewhat coerced, offer to play ankle masseuse? It's like refusing a free ticket to the foot massage carnival.

"Why were you looking for me, anyway?" You began, "So much for the 'Ain't nobody got time to babysit you.'" You echoed his words, reminiscent of a little over a month ago.

Daryl halted the ankle massage, releasing a sigh as he nibbled on his bottom lip. "Knew you were gonna be here, deep in them forest."

"Really?" You shot him a puzzled look, your nose scrunching up a bit. Daryl nodded before resuming the ankle massage. "How did you know?"

Daryl paused the ankle massage and, with a gruff sincerity, said, "You're the type who'd rather spill your guts to the trees than start a conversation with someone, even if you know 'em pretty well." He continued massaging again.

“Oh.” You could feel your cheeks warming up with embarrassment. Were you really that obvious or was he really that observant?

"No need to be embarrassed. I'd do the same. Nowadays, it ain't easy trustin' folks, even if you think you know 'em well enough."

After a few minutes of quiet, only the serene sounds of the river, splashing fish, and birds' melodies surrounding the both of you, Daryl completed the ankle massage and settled down beside you. You both found yourselves captivated by the picturesque view of the river.

"Thanks, Daryl," You broke the silence. "For the ankle massage and for wandering through the woods to find me. I know I can be a real pain in your ass sometimes."

Daryl grunted, a nonchalant acknowledgment. "Ain't nothin'".

A pause lingered before Daryl cautiously broached a different topic, "Didn't mean to make you cry tha' night, back when we first talked."

You furrowed your brow, puzzled. "How'd you know I cried?"

Another grunt from Daryl, "Stood outside your tent. Was gonna apologize, heard you sniffle and sketch. Just stood there 'til I heard you crumblin' papers. Then, I left."

The revelation left you surprised and contemplative. "You...you were outside my tent that night?"

Daryl affirmed with a nod, his gaze still fixed on the river. "Yeah, I was."

There was a silence before you spoke up, "Sorry for asking about stuff I shouldn't have, Daryl."

Daryl stayed silent, letting you continue.

"I just... I wanted to learn how to be useful, y'know? Before all this happened, I felt useless. Still feel pretty much useless in this new world of ours." You took a deep breath. "I gotta figure things out for myself now. My brother's gone, and I can't trust anyone these days."

Daryl listened, his gaze fixed on the river.

"But when Glenn and I found you, everything sorta settled for me. It felt like I had a plan for my future." You paused, looking at Daryl. "And now, I don't even know where to start."

Daryl asked, "Why me?"

You shrugged, "I don't really know why. Just seemed right, I guess."

"Your brother, what was his name?"

You replied, "Rick Grimes. He was a sheriff's deputy, like Shane."

Daryl nodded, "Dipshit told you he's dead, didn't he?"

You smiled, although sad, and nodded back, "Yeah, he did."

Daryl leaned in a bit, "You don't really believe that, do you?"

You kept your sad smile, "Nope, not really. Wouldn't believe he's dead unless I see his body with my own eyes."

"Tell me about 'im."

You rambled on about your brother, "My brother was...well, he used to think he was some kind of superhero, always trying to save the day. Sheriff's deputy, he was. I swear, he thought he could rescue the world from bad hair days or something. Used to bug the hell outta me, but now I'd give anything to hear him ramble about his 'heroic' escapades again."

You chuckled, catching Daryl's eye, "And you'd think being a deputy, he'd have some epic stories. Nope. Most exciting thing was probably catching Mrs. Henderson's cat stuck up a tree. He'd go on and on about it like it was a damn mountain rescue."

You continued to talk about your brother, your words weaving through memories like a melancholy tapestry. "You know, Rick used to tell me stories when we were kids. Silly tales about superheroes and brave knights. He'd promise that as long as he was around, nothing bad would happen to me."

Your voice carried a weight of nostalgia and sorrow as you shared these fragments of the past with Daryl. "He became a sheriff's deputy, because he wanted to be like our Dad who was the previous Sheriff. Always looked out for people. But now... now it feels like he's gone, and I can't shake this feeling of being lost."

Unexpectedly, Daryl offered you his crossbow without saying a word, leaving you confused.

"What're you doing?" You asked.

Daryl replied, "First part of hunting is knowin' how to properly hold a weapon."

You chuckled, "Excuse me, I'm an archer too. I know how to use a bow."

Annoyed, Daryl retorted, "You want me to teach you or not?"

You grabbed the crossbow, admiring it, and teased, "Do I need to ask your beloved crossbow for permission before I press the trigger?" You laughed.

Daryl kept a straight face. "Shut up," he said, proceeding to instruct you on how to use the crossbow.

Daryl began instructing you, "Alright, listen up. First, you gotta have a steady grip. Hold it firm but not too tight. Feel the weight of it."

You followed his lead, adjusting your grip on the crossbow.

"Good. Now, your posture. Sit comfortably, back straight. Gotta be steady, or you'll miss your shot."

You nodded, ensuring your sitting position was solid. Daryl continued, "Next, line up the sights. You see those notches? Align 'em with your target. Take a deep breath, exhale slowly. And when you're ready, squeeze the trigger, don't jerk it."

You focused on the sights, taking a deep breath as Daryl had instructed. "Like this?"

Daryl nodded, "Yeah, that's it. Practice it a few times. Get the feel of it."

As you practiced, Daryl observed, occasionally giving pointers on your form and aiming. After a few tries, he suddenly said, "Hold up. Don't press the trigger just yet."

Confused, you looked at him. "Why not?"

Daryl explained, "If you're practicin' your aim at prey, it should be moving. Let's simulate that. Track something with your sights, follow its movement. Don't press the trigger till you get a feel for aimin' at a moving target."

After a session of aiming practice that left you feeling tired as hell, the sun began its descent, casting an orange hue across the horizon. It dawned on you that you and Daryl needed to make your way back to camp before darkness settled in. Daryl, always practical, stood up, collected his belongings, and suggested to head back.

Nodding in agreement, you decided to rise to your feet, only to end up sitting back down with a thud. The pain from your sprained ankle made standing an impossible feat. Daryl, observing your attempts with hands on his hips, witnessed the struggle. Sitting on the ground, you sighed, admitting defeat. "I can't stand," you acknowledged.

Expressing his annoyance, Daryl rolled his eyes, pivoted to face away from you, and knelt on the ground, patting his back as an invitation. "Come on," he urged.

Your curious "What?" prompted Daryl to respond, "Can't carry ya. Got things to carry. And don't get any ideas; didn't say you're heavy." He quickly countered your gasp, playfully insinuating the thought you were heavy.

Rolling your eyes at his teasing, you retorted, "You better not be calling me fat."

Daryl smirked, "Nope, not at all. Just practical. We both got stuff to carry. But since you can't walk, piggyback's the most sensible way to get ya back to camp."

Worried about being a burden, you hesitated, "I'll try to stand and walk."

Annoyed, Daryl glanced over his shoulder, muttering, "Get on my back before I decide to leave ya alone in these damn woods." Gulping, you secured your bag and bow on your back before gently climbing onto Daryl's back. As he rose to his feet with you securely on his back, he grunted, signaling the start of the walk back to camp.

As Daryl trekked through the woods, carrying you on his back, the unexpected conversation unfolded. Out of the blue, you proposed the idea of serenading him with a song. Daryl, in his usual straightforward manner, swiftly shut down the notion with a simple "Nope."

Unfazed, you shifted gears and suggested sharing a joke, earning nothing more than a grunt from the taciturn hunter.

Undeterred, you playfully remarked, "Must be tough for you, not being able to crack a smile."

Daryl, ever the stoic one, coolly replied, "I got a sense of humor, you know."

You, feigning skepticism, shot back, "Really? I don't see any evidence of it."

Daryl, with a hint of amusement, retorted, "You haven't said somethin' funny." Quick on your thinking, you teased, "Your face is funny." Daryl, surprisingly, looked over his shoulder, your faces in close proximity, and he maintained a deadpan expression.

"Hey, Daryl, ever hear the one about the squirrel who took up acting?"

Daryl, with a raised eyebrow, grunted, "Nope."

You chuckled and said, "He was a real nut case!"

Daryl's deadpan expression remained unchanged, prompting you to add, "You know, for a tough guy, you could use a laugh or two."

Daryl, without missing a beat, retorted, "Your jokes need some work."

Pouting playfully, you shot back, "Oh, come on! I bet even the geeks would crack up at that one!"

As Daryl trudged through the dense woods, you, still reveling in your own humor, couldn't resist another attempt at cracking a joke.

"Alright, Daryl, one more for you," you grinned. "Why did the geek join a gym?"

Daryl, in his usual monotone, replied, "I don't know."

"Because he wanted to improve his dead-lift!" You burst into laughter at your own joke.

Daryl, not sharing the same enthusiasm, simply grunted in response. You, wiping away tears of laughter, decided to shift the conversation.

"Hey, Daryl, do you think we'll run into any geek stand-up comedians out here?"

Daryl raised an eyebrow but offered no verbal response. You, however, continued your comedic musings.

"Maybe they'll have a killer routine!" You added, chuckling at your own pun.

Daryl, looking ahead, remarked, "You sure have a way with words." You beamed at the back of his head, proud of your comedic prowess.

As you both continued the journey, Daryl broke the silence, suggesting, "You might wanna rest for a bit. It's gonna be a long walk."

You, with a touch of pride, declared, "I won't fall asleep, promise."

( divider by @cafekitsune )

@celtic-crossbow @maackiimoo @duckmania127 @xmaeyonaiise @richardsamboramylove55 @snailss

#norman reedus #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #twd fanfiction #twd fic #warm bodies

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papatundespainknife · 1 year

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based on the backstory and personalities of the Mikalesons, do you have any headcannons about Mikaelsons + religion?

oh HECKIE YEAH

i think it's honestly SUCH an interesting topic and concept seeing as how their all you know immortals n shit and magics real and etc etc. unlike say, btvs where Willow literally invokes Osiris, tvd doesn't really make any solid references or claims about the whole Deity Situation until apparently legacies but I haven't watched it yet and sounds Kinda Dumb so I'm ignoring that lol. But the rule of thumb with shows like these seems to be that once you say draculas and witches are Super Real then it's open season for Zeus enter stage right like it's an episode of Xena. Which when you look at the Mikaelsons....... Wild.

I think that Freya, Finn and Rebekah are the most unironically straight-forwardly religious and I think they've stuck to the norse/scandinavian beliefs they grew up with. Freya both because of the 1,000 years of Napping Nonsense but also because she's a witch and that's the school she was taught in so she's sticking with it. Finn for similar naptime reasons and also because he doesn't see a reason to change and didn't even when they were in France and hanging out with christians. For Rebekah it's like pure sentimentality. She likes a lot of the aesthetics of mainly catholicism (the swagiest of sects) but at the end of the day she's still out here making offerings to Freya (the goddess not the sister fdjkgdfsdfs) because she's a sappy little sentimental bitch and that's what brings her comfort. I don't think she's particularly religious which I think Freya and Finn are but she enjoys the celebrations and finds comfort in the actions/words/rituals/prayers/etc.

Kol and Elijah are more wiggly in their beliefs. Kol still calls back to his roots a LOT but he's also expanded out over the years since he's still a witch at heart and a curious cat. He's less interested in following any one religion and more in what resonates with him. So his believe system is very eclectic. What he believes in he believes in 10000% and is dead serious about. He's also experimented and educated himself about world religions the most out of all of them. Dude could probably teach a clss tbh.

Elijah is the one who's actually been the closest you can be to an atheist in a world like this. He's had periods of like, religious nihilism and periods were he's a little more hopeful about it. He's just spent so much of his life trying to be the Good Reliable Son and like Niklaus praying for divine intervention both with their father and with Niklaus only to get shit in return that it broke him and he just stopped and abandoned all religion/spirituality and focused only on the tangible. Hope's birth fucking shakes him to the core lol. Generally tho even after her he's still more in the like, "not my scene but i do love a good festivity" camp.

Niklaus is an evangelical's idea of an atheist where it's not "i don't believe in god" but instead "i feel god personally slighted me at my bday party so now i'll hurl rocks at him for the rest of my life out of pure spite". his sense of abandonment, unwantedness and paranoia doesn't stop at the threshold of religion. Ofc, he's old as dirt and literally has his own coven that bitches KEEP FORGETTING HE HAS so he's not in doubt that the divine exists. But Thor didn't protect him from his father's abuse so fuck that guy and jesus didn't fix SHIT for him so equally fuck him.

Wouldn't be shocked tho to see him "ironically" do rites/sacrifices to Odin via shit like the death of an enemy/creatively using old school practices for physical/psychological torture bc he's Like That. Does he also end up carving a mjolnir into Hope's crib and giving her a little one on a necklace? yes but this ain't about that hush.

Kol and Niklaus are also the most likely to have an affinity for gods like Loki and his children for reasons I feel are obvious lol. The holiday arguments this creates between them and Finn are unhinged.

#answered #tvd #mikaelsons #meta #klaus mikaelson #finn mikaelson #kol mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #freya mikaelson

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utilitycaster · 6 months

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i'm not sure if you read the proposed edits to counterspell in the oned&d UA, but I was wondering what your thoughts were? it was kind of a 'if it ain't broke don't fix it' thing for me, maybe even catering more to the crowd who loves to whine about OP spells, but you have a better sense for mechanics than I tend to :)

I admittedly haven’t been keeping up with the playtesting release by release but the version currently out has a con save and also your spell isn’t wasted, and I disagree with both of these. The spell should be wasted - that’s a big part of counterspell, and also it doesn’t make sense: you cast a spell, and then, after you release that spell energy, it is countered. We can tell this because you can counterspell the counterspell, thus making the spell go through.

I’m also not totally thrilled about the con save in that this does favor sorcerers and artificers (and eldritch knights/certain multiclasses) specifically (Con save proficiency); it should be your spellcasting stat, in my opinion. I do actually think making it a saving throw rather than ability check is valid though.

If I may: I think the white guy with glasses and a youtube channel set dislikes counterspell because people will click on their videos if they say this and it's as simple as that, but most other people are just...annoyed that D&D is a game where sometimes your attempt at a cool moment fails. This is a group to be ignored, in my opinion. Counterspell is a thing that happens in this game if you are fighting certain mages; but also, sorry, even the cool guy rogue can roll a nat 1 sometimes. People should learn some fucking humility and get creative instead of whining that the enemy didn't roll over the second they showed up. Also, the thing about counterspell is that it's available to the DM and to players; unless the DM is giving EVERYONE counterspell (and you're not explicitly fighting only mages as a plot thing you're all vibing with) then next fight will be better! Get over it!

#answered #Anonymous #d&d mechanics

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watermelonsloth · 8 months

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The Boruto Designs for the Rookie 9 Make No Sense

(Note: I'm not mentioning the blank period designs because that's a post all on it's own.)

A lot of people have complained about the designs of Naruto's generation in Boruto and I can't blame them(I actually agree with most of the criticisms made), but the number one problem I have with them I haven't found voiced. That problem is that they have no rhyme or reason behind them.

I don't think that Naruto was the pinnacle of character design or fashion in anime or anything, but I did like it for one big reason. All of the designs made sense for the characters. To me all of the Naruto character designs come across as in-character because, not only do they fit the personalities of the characters, the changes in the designs(specifically between Part 1 and Shippuden) feel like the natural progression of their designs.

The designs fall into one of two categories: more mature versions of their last designs(for the characters that have changed during the time-skip outside of getting more mature) and significant changes(for the characters who did change during the time-skip, usually in response to the Sasuke Retrieval arc).

The more mature ones include Naruto(he got longer pants, a new headband, and shoes, and started wearing black), Hinata(she lost the fur, got more color and new shoes, and grew her hair), Shino(got more jackets and color), Shikamaru(continued to look more like a chunin), Ino(lost most of the bandages and arm things, and got elbow and knee protection), TenTen(getting longer sleeves and new shoes, and simplifying her color pallet), Rock Lee(got a chunin vest and lost his headband), and, I'd argue, Neji(swapped the color beige for white, got longer sleeves and a skirt, and lost all of the bandages). Every aspect of their designs can be chalked up to Kishimoto's art style simplifying or adjustments that make the characters look more mature or protected. When you put their old and new designs next to each other, they're the natural progression of their last outfit(and a beautiful example of "if it ain't broke, don't fix it"). Hell, if you know the characters well enough, you can probably imagine their thought process while they were out shopping(Hinata being embarrassed to still wear fur lining as a chunin, Shikamaru being tired of fighting to get his chunin vest over his jacket, etc.).

The significant changes match the characters who most needed a jump in practicality and probably went through character arcs related to taking their career more seriously. Sakura's outfit in Part 1 was cute but it was fashion over function. In Shippuden, she kept her hair short to avoid it being grabbed again, shortened her skirt for better mobility, changed her color pallet to look more mature, and got boots(with a heel, but it's low enough to be passable), elbow pads, and gloves for better protection. She's planning to seriously help Naruto find Sasuke and fight off the Akatsuki and her outfit reflects that. Sasuke has a very different outfit in Shippuden to reflect both his drastically different fighting style and his connection to Orochimaru. Kiba(changing into a more protective leather outfit) and Choji(wearing straight up armor and growing his hair out to better match his teammates) also fall under here and it's most likely in response to nearly dying on the Sasuke retrieval mission.

I'm not going over them, but the other members of the cast(if they even got a new look) also follow this trend.

The Boruto designs break this trend and give us worse designs because of it. At least that's the case for the rookie nine. Outside of the rookie nine, the trend continues and any complaints I have come down to personal preference. This time, their designs fall into three categories: salvageable, time moves forward and their clothes move back, and what the fuck?

The salvageable ones are Naruto and Ino. I can understand giving Naruto more black and shortening his hair to make him look older, I just think it could've been better and needs a second draft. Ino is fine just plain(something made worse by her being the most fashionista-like member of the Konoha 12). I'd say it also needs a second draft, but it doesn't. The anime just needs to start using her design in the Boruto manga(I know it's kind of hard to see since we don't get any panels showing it off, but it looks good from what I can tell).

The time moves forward and their clothes move back ones I have an easy to guess problem with. Kiba and Choji's outfits resemble their Part 1 designs much more than their Shippuden designs. Kiba lost the leather and Choji lost the armor despite both of them still being active shinobi. Instead of progressing, they regressed for some reason. Choji also cut his hair shorter. If they really wanted to give him a different haircut(because they insist on much of the cast having different hair), why not tie his hair into a ponytail to better match his teammates?

(I'm gonna give Sakura her own section since I have a lot to say.)

Remember when I explained how Sakura's more practical outfit in Shippuden denoted character growth? Well, that all went out the window. First, I have two nitpicks that I think add to the problem, but would probably be fine otherwise. 1. She's now wearing heels that not only remind me more of Tsunade than herself, but they also look bad for working in a hospital, let alone going on missions. 2. She chose to start parting her hair differently because... of reasons. This was literally the first thing I noticed about her design. I know this sounds super minor, but changes like these do impact character design and recognizability. However, the main problem is how many awkward call backs there are to her first design. The attaching part of her top is curved, the tail of her top(I don't know what else to call it) falls to her knees again, the Chinese elements of her top, and the white lining. In some ways, her design is actually worse. Not only is she wearing loose looking heels, but she's also wearing tight-fitting, non elastic pants. Why doesn't she dress like a ninja anymore??? What possible reason could there be for any of this??? I'd also like to bring your attention to her wearing make-up and jewelry. I like hyper-feminine characters. I especially like hyper-feminine characters that are also badasses. I don't think it's good character design to add hyper-feminine elements to the design of a character that has an entire moment dedicated to how their insecurity and resulting focus on their ability to live up to female expectations distracts them from their job and goals.

The what the fuck designs I have the most problems with. I'll do my best to keep my complaints to a reasonable length because I could do a full rant on all of them.

Shino is the easiest to explain. He lost the layers of jackets associated with his clan, he completely changed his hair, and he replaced his sunglasses with a weird thing around his head(I don't know what to call it). At first I was gonna say he more resembles his Part 1 design, but it doesn't resemble any of his designs. He looks like an entirely different character and I have no idea why Kishimoto changed him so much, let alone Shino's motivation in-story. Did they think he looked more like a teacher this way?

I don't even know what to say for Shikamaru. I can only assume that they said "We should give him a goatee like his dad" and then they gave up. He's wearing a black jumpsuit with a beige-ish green-ish jacket and brown gloves. I couldn't tell you why and I doubt Kishimoto could either. Why are his colors completely different from all his other designs? Why is he suddenly interested in wearing jumpsuits every day? Why is he wearing a necklace with a circle hanging from it(it's too big to be a wedding ring and Temari isn't wearing one(or any ring for that matter))? Why is he wearing gloves if he never goes on missions?

Technically, Hinata has three designs(one for the epilogue, one for the anime, and one for the Boruto manga), but all of my complaints are for the one used in the anime so that's what I'm gonna talk about. First, why is her design so busy? The art style used for the Naruto series has been getting progressively simple throughout its run time, so why does her design have so many unnecessary elements? Her hooded sweater is lined, she has three layers, her outfit consists of five different colors, and there's a little thing hanging off of her sweater. I know these all sound minor, but none of the other adults get this detailed. If anything, the others have designs that are too simple. The only exception, kind of, is Sasuke, but Sasuke is always covering his layers with a plain black cloak. Also, keep in mind, Hinata only has this problem with her anime design, her other designs are much more simple. Wouldn't it make more sense for the anime to use one of the simpler and better looking designs? Second, was there any thought put into her design elements? Her design looks so different from her Shippuden one that I feel like it would be a waste of time to list those differences. Just look at the two, they look completely different. If I had to guess, the only thought that went into her design was "how do we make Hinata look like a mom?" Which is a shame, because they should've been asking "how do we make Hinata look like an older Hinata?"

Last, we have Sasuke. Where do I even begin with Sasuke? Why is he suddenly wearing what looks like a button-up shirt and vest into battle? Why is there so much detail in his design if it's all gonna be covered by a cloak anyways? Why does he have two belts? Why is his hair brushed downwards? But, most importantly, why doesn't he look like Sasuke? It's not like the Shino situation where he looks so different he might as well be a different character, I can tell it's Sasuke, but he doesn't dress like he used to at all. He's the one character that it would've made sense to dress him like a more mature version of his Part 1 outfit and then they chose the worst characters for that instead. He doesn't even resemble his parents or Itachi at all. He doesn't resemble his clan at all. Nothing's really "wrong" with the design. It's not infuriatingly impractical or ugly and it only needs a few tweaks at worst. But it's probably one of my, if not my number one, least favorite Boruto design. It doesn't look anything like the character it's for and there's no in-story reason why that is.

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mywritingonlyfans · 8 months

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Your Boy. // Alex Turner X Reader! (Smut)

prompt: reader feels briefly insecure and alex is there to listen to her. (some fem oral, riding, missionary and some more comfy and goofy and sex stuff)

words: 3.1K

a/n: this fic was originally written with alex, but yes i posted it here before intended for someone else. but since i'll be posting it on wattpad i thought it was fair to post here as well.

You appeared distant, your gaze unfocused, but it was evident that your unease had nothing to do with sadness caused by him. Silence filled the car, a departure from the usual comfort it provided between you. Your eyes were fixed on the road, avoiding his, a shift that had taken place sometime before leaving the party. As he drove, he lightly brushed his fingers over your knees, his touch gentle, leaving his hand there for reassurance once he realized that you weren't feeling unwell because of him. The guitar calluses traveled the place with dexterity, meant for you. Your delicate hand touched his, fingers playfully interlocking, and you found solace in that simple contact. He found himself smiling gently at the gesture.

In your mind, avoiding moments like this would possibly make you seem more mature in his eyes. But all he really wanted was for you to feel comfortable enough with him, that any of your concerns could be shared with him. After all, he loved you, and it was only fair that you’d both be a safe space for each other. Cupping your face, he carefully kissed you, and you responded with slow, pleasurable movements, allowing him to guide you through it. Gradually, he kissed away your tears, until a soft smile broke through your silent deep sighs. You embraced him, seeking comfort in his chest, finding his embrace unlike any other. He kissed the top of your head in silence, waiting until you let go calmly.

"I feel so silly," you whispered, wiping your cheeks with your hands and allowing his eyes to comfort you. In truth, he held no judgment in them.

"You're not," he said, his voice strong, sharp accent yet comforting. It could whisk away your worries and clear your mind. "If it's bugging you, then it ain't silly," he added, his hands resting easy on your waist, fingers pressing gently. He motioned for you to settle on his lap as he made himself comfy on the couch near the entrance. A soft chuckle slipped from you, and his gaze locked onto yours. This time, the silence felt easygoing, and you held his eye until you felt like talking. He had a knack for calming you down.

"I get that," you giggled, your cheeks turning a bit hot as you admitted it. You knew he'd never given you reason to doubt. He nodded and his fingers brushed your chin, his brown-puppy eyes tracing every feature on your face. "I'm having trouble wrapping my head ‘round it, babe," a tiny wrinkle formed between his brows, showing his confusion. A gentle kiss from you smoothed it out.

It was good to watch because most of all, he was still shy, and it was remarkable, but he wanted to see you well.

"I sorta need you," your breath hitched, and he chuckled, understanding. "I can feel it, little one," he took your hand in his and kissed it, then you traced the sharp line of his cheekbone and ran your thumb over his redness. He closed his eyes, and you found yourself melting into his embrace, adoring the more pronounced lines of his expressions, the way they smiled and relaxed along with him, making it clear that he didn't regulate his age with yours. But it was lovely. He was so attractive, in a way that was hard to keep up with when he was this close. You brushed his hair away from his face and touched your lips to his forehead, placing kisses along his nose, cheeks and down his neck, and over his shoulders until you found your way to his chest. Your body was restless, and while you might not have recognized it, he could feel the heat building beneath you. He let out a low grunt, spreading out across the seat as you wriggled on top of him, peppering him with kisses and playful bites.

"I don't want any bad thoughts lingering in your head, not even the most fleeting ones, got it?" Still seated, he lifted the hem of your dress, placing wet kisses on your thighs until he reached your lower belly. His nose nuzzled into your skin, so gentle it made you feel slightly guilty for being this desperate. Alex chuckled as he observed how readily you lifted the fabric to give him better access, and with his eyes on you, he trailed his fingertips along your pulsating nerve, seemingly begging for his touch. You pulled back a little, but he shook his head. "Don't move, little one," he anchored your hip with a firm grip, his fingers circling the area, your body involuntarily pressing into his touch for more. He let out a deep, drawn-out sigh as he felt you make his tips sticky through the thin fabric. His throat tightened as his temples throbbed, his body yearning to feel you melt under his mouth as you always did so wonderfully.

Without dragging it out for too long, as he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it for much time, he delicately interlocked his fingers with the hems and pulled them down. His lips moistened as he saw the lace peel off you with some difficulty due to how damp it was. And sure, there was indeed a wet patch on your panties. For balance, you grasped his shoulders, squeezing eagerly with a pleading gaze, and he shut his eyes, kissing the area, his mouth watering and devoid of prior thoughts. He held you firmly in place and licked from the center up, gathering your essence on his tongue, his eyes closing in pure pleasure at being able to feel you. Yours clenched shut, and your mouth fell open as you experienced the warm sensation and perfect pressure of how he sucked you, as if it truly granted him as much bliss as it did for you.

With his eyes locked onto yours, your body still trembling, you found your words stuck in your throat. He was just as desperate as you, though he concealed it well. The snug trousers he wore due to his position, and the zipper left open, which you only noticed now, made you wonder how uncomfortable he was. "Can I ride you, babe?" You were soft and mesmerizing to him. He appreciated how you always asked, an act so delicate for such a moment, but it had become characteristic, and he would certainly miss it if you changed.

"I want to be good for you," you whispered, and he couldn't deny that even if he tried as he shed the layers of fabric that held your disapproval. He marveled at how flustered and nervous you sounded, unable to control both your mind and your senses at the same time. And in a matter of seconds, you were on his lap once again, your head nestled on his shoulder as he kissed your neck and face. You began to grind against him, your touches growing more fervent.

You worked your way onto him, lifting yourself slightly and settling back down, taking him all into you. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, husky and accentuated, filling you up completely. “Aren’t you, doll?”

"It's okay, pretty girl, I've got you," he whispered amidst more persistent sighs, his hands gaining a rhythm against your hips, making your body more relaxed and ready to accommodate him. You rubbed yourself on him just beautifully. His lips grazed your collarbone, wet kisses and nips tracing over your exposed skin. He lowered the straps further, your breasts on display for him, in a gentle sway prompted by you. He took one in his mouth, your nails grazing him, marks he knew would be left, but he relished in it. He sucked on the flesh, releasing it with a wet sound before giving the same attention to the other, fingertips skimming over the erect nipple and then warm tongue soothing you through it all. He gave them time and attention, enveloping them slowly, taking it to himself until the tip of his nose was all dipped in your scent and then letting go cunningly, lost in desire. Your hands tangled in his hair, a sound escaping him as he rested his forehead against yours, leaving you even more soaked. Your legs grew sluggish, and you found yourself grinding against him more than riding, a detail he didn't miss. He lifted with you briefly, and soon you were lying on your back, him atop you. His face was still close, breath mixing with yours in the warm space between you. You clung to his shirt collar firmly, both for control and to keep him close, and he chuckled. "Please, I'm aching, Al," your vision blurred as tears formed, your body trembling without any movement from him. He trailed his nose across yours, his hair falling onto your face, which you brushed aside to kiss him better. You hugged him tight, curling into his chest, and gradually, air filled your lungs as your body was brought up and down with his.

"You're being so good to me. Look at what you do to me, fuck. How could you even think you're not just mine, and only mine alone?" His voice was disoriented, dark and staggered, clearly needing to focus intently to sound coherent. And then his gaze locked onto you, eagerly waiting to take in every last bit of it. He was gentle, even in his urgency, and you loved that he knew your body so well that you didn't have to tell him what you needed. With him deep inside you, feeling your senses growing restless, he braced his hands above your head, applying more pressure, your eyes closing as he held you tight to him. The tears running down your cheeks that would soon be kissed clean. He loved to watch it. He whispered soothingly for you to calm down, sweet nothings while he thrust you through that sensation until your mind was filled with his rough, broken moans as he peaked along with you. His body collapsed onto yours, the weight becoming comfortable, your fingers tracing lines along the spots of his back, and he didn't fail to kiss your exposed skin. "I love you," you said, breathless, his hand affectionately running over you.

And you were right; you'd fall asleep next to him, entwined, and wake up with a clearer mind. You could already imagine getting up in his shirt, going to sit on his lap while he wore his glasses and had a book ready to be put aside for your more important presence. No one else could bring you the comfort he did. He settled beside you, both your breaths gradually returning to normal, and just before his lips brushed yours in a smile, he whispered in his lazy voice, "I love you, and I'm yours, only yours, my girl."

...

taglist: @ohladymoon @indierockgirrl @bloo-wisteria @bellaturner @cosmoschaotic @nikisfwn @andrews-lovr @nela-cutie @artimonkii @alexturnersbbg3

...

to be tagged you can just lmk or open my !google form! (you can decide in which ones you want to be tagged and also let you're request or thoughts there with me!)

#alex turner x reader #alex turner #alex turner smut #arctic monkeys #alex turner imagine #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you

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messier-47 · 7 months

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RE7, RE8

A study of Ethan Winters cause I love him as a character and he's so fucking weird? definetely interesting.

I've taken a few liberties about his character

RE8 is so fucked up.

I hate it.

Okay, so Resident Evil games have this entire set up/scheme that they religously follow. If it ain't broke, don't try to fix it, right? RE7 was different because it was a FPS with a very intimate horror setting. It relied solely on horror and not just the adventure side of most Resident Evil games. RE8 was crafted exactly like a typical Resident Evil videogame which isn't bad but Ethan made the difference.

Ethan is "a regular dude" given the motive "save my daughter" with the added emotional turmoil of "my wife is dead". Kinda sounds familiar right? it's almost in parallel with RE7.

"My wife's been missing for 3 years" -> "i just my wife get murdered"

"I must find my wife" -> "i must find my daughter."

So now we have Ethan's entire emotional state and motive to go forth into dangerous scenario to base videogame off of. However...all too quickly everything gets way out of hand. In RE7, the presented story is something understanble and maybe even relateable to Ethan's understanding of the world. He went into the deep swamps of Louisiana and there's a crazy murder family who'd been snatching victims (this is without the explanation of mold which is later revealed to him). Now he walks into a european village and there suddenly werewolves? steampunk man with metal powers? marionette witchcraft? hunchback of putrid mutant? evil seraphim? this is way out of his league of understanding!

And yes, he had some form of military training and was in some form of witness protection program? However there's a BIG difference between "yeah I survived Louisiana madhouse that just happened to be a mold hot spot, afterwards getting military training" and then Leon Kennedy level of bullshit bumfuckery. speaking of Leon, RE8 was odd because it kept treating Ethan as if he was Leon!

I don't mean the "Ethan Winters your reputation proceeds you" or how RE8 was just a reordered version of RE4 with some diverse bossfights, it was the "let's treat Ethan like the heroic character" when...he isn't. RE8 would have been so much better if Miranda and the Lords weren't so concerned over Ethan's appearance. What if Miranda and the Lords were going about their business getting ready for the ceremony when suddenly there was "some guy" who starts culling their army reserve?

Ethan's character in RE8...is pretty bland in comparison to RE7. Again, it's probably because he's a "quiet" man who doesn't really talk to the camera about what he knows, what he's thinking or feeling. RE8 is so big and momentous that it sorta drowns him out as a character with agency. His dialogue isn't as rich, his choices are very guided towards an endpoint, and...even the shit we do see makes Ethan out to be more heroic than what we've seen in RE7.

It's...odd? and maybe this is just bais and opinion at this point but Ethan Winters is a character ill-fitted into the protagonist role of RE8. Whereas Chris Redfeild, Leon Kennedy, and Jill Valentine could all be fitted into heroic roles and imagery like King George and the Dragon, David and Goliath, and Joan of Arc, Ethan was never a character to lead an epic journey. He's more of a "silent hunter"? idk, keep having the image of a slow and steady persistence hunter, verses...whatever the hell the other heroes got going for them.

Really, the storyline of RE8 is ill-suited for Ethan. Can't say I don't understand, a videogame is often just a videogame so the story is compromised to better fit the gameplay. and because it's so bad, I'm really tempted to do a RE8 rewrite fanfic out of pure spite but lmao ain't got enough braincells to spread across two fandoms when i'm already invested in one.

So we go up against the 4 Lords before we have a face-off against Miranda. The segment in Lady D's castle...was awkward in a character development sense. Ethan heads into the castle over and over against cause it's the biggest building around and thus the most likely to have his daughter, except even with the Duke's hints and encouragement, Ethan's motive was really shaky. Why? Because was he in the castle to save his daughter or to kill vampire ladies? would've been better if that part of the game was more dedicated to "run, hide, and investigate" with the sisters trying to hunt for him just like later Lady D would do. Instead we have multiple mini-boss fight scenes before we see the cradle and remember why we're in the castle in the first place. then we fight+defeat Lady D. Which is weird? Okay, so game mechanics Lady D just happens to find you after you kill her 3 daughters and start tomb-robbing. However...story wise it's weird because your PRIME motive is "find my daughter" so why go on killing spree? why the heroics?

we go to Duke and finally get our mission to find/build master key and also collect daughter parts from the 4 Lords.

We go to Beneviento's house which was a WASTED OPPORTUNITY for some character exposition. CURSE YOU ETHAN FOR BEING A QUIET MAN!!! We got to hear Mia talking to herself throughout her pregnaucy and honestly without the added context of "Mia was confronting the truth about both Ethan and her baby being mold people" ...i would have thought all her dialogue was due to a hard pregnaucy. This could have been prime real estate to expose Ethan and Mia's relationship, how they healed after RE7, their thoughts about building back their marriage, their fears and even the doubts about having a child. but we get NOTHING from Ethan! Was the monster baby a representation of Mia's fear? Ethan's fear? or was it just a monster? IDK! this part was so good horror wise but storytelling it SUCKED!

the Monreau segment was so lackluster. It was just a RE4 reference except more gross with acid and boogers everywhere. Ethan is able to get ahold of his daughter piece and for some reason he found pity for Monreau's weeping? He definitely stopped to listen to whiny fish baby's tantrum which I find really odd because...why??? He never showed much sympathy so why now would he stop to listen to "Miranda wants her baby back" speech? unless it was only meant for a game mechanic which i'm getting sick and tired of because it's just shit writing at this point.

We go get to reunite with Chris and get some answers as to what's going on but really Chris? you're gonna look the same man who UNTRAINED and COMPLETELY IGNORANT managed to clear an entire bioweapon's mold infestation BY HIMSELF and try to say "stand down" and expect obediance? yeah, your brainwashing military training ain't that strong.

Then we get to Karl's segment and... honestly why? why was Karl even interested in Ethan? Ethan doesn't have extraordinary abilities other than "fuck you" levels of adrenaline and perseverance. So why did he want Ethan on his team as he reblled against Miranda? Heh, almost understanable why Karl/Ethan is a thing because i can't think or anything other than pure lust probing Karl to make his offer. Karl is a bioweapon engineer, having built an army of cyborgs and is probably the only person in the village who know how cellphones actually work. Oh, as he had magnet powers so why does he want/need Ethan? In order for Rose to be reliably handled and managed? she's a 6 month baby, not even potty trained, wtf?

then chris comes clean about everything and Ethan uses tank to defeat mutant Karl with some moves pretty sure Leon Kennedy would be proud of cause they were pure bullshit.

Ethan finds out about his own mold problem and ugh you can't convince me the whole "Ethan knew he was going to die so might as well sacrifice himself" was just add to trigger the fuck out of Chris who'd seen his friend in RE5 die in an incredibly simular way. Very dramatic, heroic scene. Very "i face god and walk backwards into hell"

All in all...RE8 was a videogame. Forgiveable? Yeah, cause it was never meant to be a story. the problem here is that whilst all Resident Evil games are literally video games and makes compromises about characters, their development arcs, their stories so that it's more about the game than an actual narrative, RE8...was just a game with a cobbled together story with no care to the actual characters.

And it wasn't just Ethan who got the short end of the stick. Chris Redfield was casted into an anti-hero role and Mia was a forgotten SUPER SKETCHY character throughout. Uuuuuuggggghhhh at this point i'm just raging against a video game instead of doing an indepth character study. sorry gang

#ethan winters #resident evil #chris redfield #re8 #re8 village #character study #long post #rant incoming

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cptapathy · 16 days

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Do you feel your theatre experience impacts your d&d experience and vice versa? If so how?

An intricate one

I think poem first then full answer under the cut. It's long and indepth.

Does a shoe influence a dance?

Will the thread effect the weave?

Do I age with time?

Or does it age with me?

So, to try and determine how theatre has influenced anything in my life is incredibly difficult. But the biggest thing is helping to sus out when audiences may lose focus.

I have been in professional theatre since I was 7/8 I think, amateur theatre since I was about 6 maybe it's real hard to remember. So naturally everything I do is influenced by it.

My background varies from acting to dircting and lighting design so how theatre impacts is more identifiable.

Part 1 acting

So I was a good actor but not a great one and I think if a great actor were to play a ttrpg they wouldn't do well at it if they approached it how they approach acting.

When I would perform a role I would be thinking constantly about what my character would do right now, how I'm meant to move to this position, the next thing is a big moment so I need to prepare for it etc.

A great actor doesn't do that, they just do the stuff they don't think about it. It does mean that great actors can be terrible fits if the character I too different from them but if it's the right character it's seamless.

However the tendency to think in depth about each action is incredibly useful in ttrpgs especially combat focused ones like dnd or PF as the alienation of the mechanics fits nicely with the alienation of thinking though each action and intention.

Although apparently everyone does improv and everyone recommends improv I've never had a great experience with it and that is entirely because most aee comedic. I can't help but find it funny and feel the pressure to be funny.

However the few times I've done dramatic improv it's been brilliant and I've been able to hone that to a T in TTRPGs I've never before had the scope to perform dramatic improv like that before.

The final acting thing I can think of is my voices, I hated my voice after it broke for some reason, can't possibly imagine what would make me, a trans girl, hate her deep voice.

But because I hated my voice I inhabited a number of different voices and accents and would spend hours in the playground making weird noises just to stretch and flex my vocal skills. To this day it's really difficult for me to not slip into the accent of people talking to me.

Doing lost of different voices helped immensely with acting and has been invaluable in TTRPGs as a player and gm. Obviously no one needs to do a voice for TTRPGs but I can separate characters in my head by their voice and the wild thing is that similar characters will accidentally slip into each others voices more than similar voices do.

Part 2 Directing

This is easy, directing and GMing are almost a 121 parallel.

1. Organising a group of disorganised performers/players

2. Ensuring the table/rehearsal is safe and comfortable

3. Steering said disorganised group towards a conclusion, theme or ending that aligns with the script/adventure and each other

Like, running rpgs is how I get my theatre fix during the slow times.

There are a number of things that I have learnt from directing which I tend to apply in rpgs. A lot seem obvious but common sense ain't so common.

Dramatic irony: incredibly useful to engage the audience/player. Obviously this requires a game where secrets are a thing but if that is the case having some information that others don't can pull players in especially if they hold only a part of the puzzle and are trying to figure out the rest

I am a creative editor not dictator: in theatre there are directors who accept no challenges to their vision. I am not one of them, I believe in the inherent nature of actors/writers/designers as creative and that when we collaborate we make something better than we could have made alone. So when I GM or play I take that attitude with me. There is no right answer, most of the time I will have a number of idea of how to solve things but whatever the players suggest I am more inclined to enact that what my original plan may have been.

Part 3 theatrics/design

When I run in person games, I will narrate an opening cinematic, think game of thrones/civ 5 openings with camera cuts and transitions focusing on actions the characters have done in the last session and giving hints to what may come up in the story.

I will plot this narration to music, try my best to time it correctly, and spotlight moments from each character to make them all seem badass. Sometimes I will incorporate character backstory scenes to give background if we are going to be focusing on one characters arc over others for the session.

I think this has become my signature style as a GM and, personally, it makes for an epic opening. It also is a clear indication of "the game has begun" which is an issue I see with a lot of GMs where there isn't a hard start to the game and it can get a bit meandering and slow to start.

Another related element which is tough to enact in game is the rule of inverse (I just made up that phrase)

The rule of inverse is if you have slow slow fade to black or snap to black transitions through the entire play you maintain the one you use until THE MOMENT, the moment when everything changes, the tonal shift, the revelation, the denouement/climax etc. At that point you change how transitions happen snap transitions if you were fading or slow fades if you were snapping to black.

This highlights the "everything has changed" sense and sets the audience on edge.

In TTRPGs its very helpful to have a sudden shift in energy to let players know something has happened or changed, that we are now in another phase. This is generally changing the frequency of rolls and opportunities to act drastically.

If speeding things up it may result in limiting player agency in the moment if they are unsure of what to do but you can mitigate this by either adding an IRL timer and/or taking a moment to tell the players things are different now, (you can stop this being jarring and pulling players out of immersion by setting a key phrase to indicate that this is happening)

Anywho that's how I approach TTRPGs with a theatre background.

#jess answers #poetry #poem #long post #ttrpg #dnd #theatre #@serotoninswitch

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