#like I get they were hammy at times but they were all so over the top megamind level showy that it made up for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fredwkong · 8 months

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The Boxers

Sometimes, the perfect life just finds you, bruh.

I used to be a pretty normal guy. Wait, scratch that, I was a total fuckin’ nerd. I spent all my time playin’ video games and readin’ fantasy books and shit. I was getting a degree in computer science, so I spent all my time alone, coding shitty apps and nerding out on Reddit.

I had, like, no sex life, lmao. I was a weedy little Indian geek, bro, you know the type, right? I had negative game. Every weekend, I’d spend all night playing WoW or whatever, then go to bed and fantasise about how many bros I’d get once I was, like, CEO of a multibillion dollar startup.

I guess the universe looked at me one day and said, “Why wait, bro?”

I got back to my dorm one night and these, like, gross boxers were sitting right on my floor. I remember I thought they were totally lame, because they had the Sriracha logo all over them. “Who wears those but nasty frat boys?” I thought to myself. Huhuhu, little did the old me know.

Anyway, these boxers were totally messing up the vibes of my dorm. I used to be such a neat freak, bro. A place for everything, and everything in its place. A smelly, used pair of boxers made my skin crawl. So, obvi, I went to pick them up with two of my slim little fingers and toss them in the trash. I figured it was some kind of gross prank on me.

Once I’d picked ‘em up, I could see exactly how dirty those boxers were. The legs were stiff with layers of musky sweat, the smell wafting off them strong enough to make my eyes water. There were a couple of grease stains on them, like some dude had eaten dinner in just his undies. The crotch was crusty, too. Someone, maybe multiple someones, had cum in these boxers.

I remember wondering why the thought got me hard.

Rather than taking the Sriracha boxers to the trash like I’d planned, I found myself giving them a second sniff, and then a third. Goddamn, they were fuckin’ gross, bro. I thought it was just my disgust making me smell them over and over again. Like I was trying to figure out exactly what had gotten on them.

Before long, I was palming my lil cock through my slacks, holding the boxers close to my face with my other hand. It was, like, a total head rush every time I took another sniff. Like I could feel my brain blanking out as I took more and more of the musky stench into me. Not that I knew that was what was actually happening, huhuhu.

When I stripped off my pants and undies to jerk off better, I suddenly had an awesome idea. I could, like, wear the Sriracha boxers and jerk off in them. My brain was already at least halfway transformed by then, lol. I was definitely no nerd at that point. The idea of wearing another guy’s musky boxers got me so fuckin’ turned on.

I pulled the boxers up my skinny brown legs. They hung on my hip bones, barely able to stay on. I laid down on my bed and felt my rock hard cock through the crusty fabric. It was like I could feel the cum and sweat of everyone who’d ever worn that underwear seeping into my skin as I massaged drops of precum out of my balls.

As I writhed on my sheets, lost in pleasure, my skinny Indian body started to change. It started with my feet, which cracked and stretched as they grew big and thick. They started to sweat, a funky foot musk joining the renewed stench of the Sriracha boxers, which were getting super wet with my precum. It was like the brown leached out of my skin with my musky foot sweat, too, as my big feet got all pale.

The change continued up my bare calves, which got super hairy as the muscles flexed and swelled. My legs lengthened as huge quads and hammies swelled up under my whitening skin. God, said my musk-addled mind, I love leg day. I started to flex and wiggle my bulky thighs, feeling the muscles stimulate my growing prostate.

I let out a high pitched little bitchboy moan as my ass inflated with juicy muscle and fat, but I knew that my voice wouldn’t sound like that for much longer. I’d totally embraced the transformation as my cock and balls filled out the pouch of the boxers. They were no longer, like, loose and shit. My fat ass and big bro cock were stretching the sweaty fabric to its limits, bro!

My chest followed, going from slim to bulky so fast that all the buttons on my nerd shirt hit the ceiling. Sweat instantly started to roll off my furry new pecs, and I ran my soft little hand up and down my thick, firm belly and flexed the solid abs I knew were underneath the fat. More than the boxers and the smell, my body was starting to turn me on, bruh. I was becoming, like, a total frat god.

The curly brown hair that grew in my armpits smelled sooooo good as sweat started to drip off it. I totally buried my little nerd face in my own pits and licked up my sweat as I watched my arms bulk up and get all pale and hairy. It was so hot flexing my bicep and watching it bulk up before my eyes, dude! I felt my hand grow as I tugged my big jock cock in the Sriracha boxers, thickening up and getting some hard-earned weightlifting calluses.

The last thing to change was my head. My moans got deeper, slower, and totally dumb-sounding as my neck thickened. A thick brown beard grew on my cheeks, framing my cheesy dumb smile perfectly. My nose cracked and grew into a big ol’ sniffer, even more sensitive than my old nose so I can really take in my bros’ musk.

My old black buzzcut grew out into a curly brown mane, totally greasy from all the sweat I soak it with when I work out, huhuhu. As my forehead got all pale and my eyes turned blue, I felt my cock go over the edge, and I came right into the Sriracha boxers. Pump after pump of musky frat bro cream, taking my old self with it to impregnate the boxers with even more fratty juice. As the room filled with the smell of my thick load, I totally passed out.

The next morning, I woke up in an unfamiliar room. I was in a big bed with musky, sweat-stained sheets, a bunch of stale, unwashed gym gear all over the floor. I was still wearing the Sriracha boxers, my cum caked into the stain along with all the other bros’, along with a cap that I turned backwards as I sat up. I pulled on a tank without too many sweat stains on it and went to explore.

Turned out I lived at the Mu Upsilon Sigma frat house now. The whole place smelled like a sweaty armpit, and it was full of musky bros who were more than happy for me to get all up in their smelly pits and cracks.

I wore the Sriracha boxers for a couple days. Honestly, I dunno how long, I usually only change my boxers like once a month, huhuhu. I worked out, jerked off, got drunk, got fucked, and jerked off some more, all while wearing those boxers. Then I left ‘em in some nerd’s dorm as a prank, huhu.

It was so hot to watch the lil Japanese guy get as zonked out on the musky boxers like I had, bro. We hid in his closet and watched while he jerked off and turned into another musky white frat boy like us, then carried him to the MYS house once he passed out.

It’s been a couple weeks since then, and MYS membership has only grown, bruh! Each bro wears the Sriracha boxers for a few days, adds his personal touch to the, like, seasoning, and then we pass ‘em on to another nerd and induct him into frat life! Maybe some night soon, you’ll see these bad boys in your dorm, huhuhu. Life's perfect in the frat, bro!

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #male tf #dumber tf #race change #musk tf #white tf #fratification #broification #mu upsilon sigma #all fwkong

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syoddeye · 1 month

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useless, part three

Part three (and the finale!) of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. As a reminder, I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. I finally used my third prompt.

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years

14. Opposites attract

66. Price or Reader is auctioned off for a date as part of a fundraiser

cw: one pregnancy mention (Reader does not get pregnant, has never been pregnant)

Read Part One, Part Two. Tag list: @v1x3n @kiranezra

~4.2k words, Price x f!Reader. This is the most self-indulgent shit I've written in awhile. Please enjoy.

It's past midnight when you limp through the front door of your flat, dropping belongings and articles of clothing alike, shedding both the weight of personhood and your eighteen-hour day. You set your keys down on the end of the counter, ignoring the thin folder for the umpteenth time. James will undoubtedly text about it in the morning, his patronizing messages more reliable than any alarm clock. A half-hour commute home, and you didn't even glance at your phone in fear of accidentally seeing another email from his lawyer. Solicitor. Whatever.

Hamhock slinks out from his lair beneath the bed, weaving between your ankles when you drag yourself into the bathroom.

"Hello Hammy," You whisper, eyeing the newer crop of gray hairs near your roots with a weary neutrality. Definitely the fundraiser's fault. Your hair started to change long before this year's planning began, but this is the longest period you've gone without dyeing it. One thing to thank James for. Not only did his departure give you a crystal clear focus, it freed you from his ridiculous expectations. He'd've commented the moment he spotted the wisps of silver, then casually worked something like anti-aging cream into the conversation.

The prick poisoned the well, and now the only man in the world for you currently lies at your feet. How it should've been from the start, really.

After checking the orange menace's automatic feeder, you slip into bed, allow him to assume his nocturnal throne—your armpit—and plug your phone in one-handed. Your eyes glaze over at the sight of notifications, thumb swiping by muscle memory, and set an alarm. With two weeks left until the big day and more than a hundred unsold tickets, you need every moment you can get. You sigh, counting the tasks of the day ahead instead of sheep.

You'll sign the divorce papers tomorrow.

Naomi practically forces the granola bar into your hands. The assistant stage manager and the props lead—the younger woman is the glue to your glue. A newer fixture at the Bramble Theatre, she was you to an extent, maybe a decade ago: fresh-faced, eager, and optimistic.

"I didn't like how you were looking at the wax fruit."

"We should swap the oranges for plums. Or pears."

"We've been through this. The oranges fit the palette, from the paintings to Dotty's–oh, quit pulling my leg."

You grin, then jut your chin at the stack of slips in her hand. "Are those the waivers? Did all the volunteers sign?"

"Yes, I can post headshots today on socials, so that should boost sales."

"Good. That's one fire extinguished," Rubbing your temple, you lean back in your chair. "I feel gross about it, though. I mean, we run shows that are hundreds of years old, but a date auction? Why don't we raise a guillotine out front and sacrifice effigies to raise money?"

Naomi blinks and whips out her phone. "...Okay, one, I'm noting the effigy idea for next year, but two, the auction won the vote, and everyone participating volunteered."

You grimace. "I know, it's just–"

The sudden opening of the door to your shoebox office interrupts. Theodore, business manager, director, and occasional movement coach, bursts in. Everybody's a multi-hyphenate.

"Terrible news!"

Wonderful. A new fire. You squint, chewing, and watch Naomi try to stifle a laugh valiantly. "Whatever could this be about?"

The older man slams his palms onto your desk, his layered pendants tinkling. "I've punched the numbers, including a best scenario, stars aligning–"

"Teddy. Out with it."

"–we're going to be £40,000 short. Even if we sell out, even if we raffle off the company like cattle, we are circling the drain!"

The tired amusement leaves your body, and in its wake sits a five-digit number and the distant idea to schedule a salon appointment.

The annual fundraiser for the theater, your hard-won home, is a dramatic, demanding, and near-disastrous event every year. The theater has continuously operated a hair above the red, but the laundry list of expenses from the last year cannot be ignored. The new light rig, the stage flooring replacement, the curtain repairs—they never stop. Sponsors and grants only go so far.

Originally, you took this job for its laughable but slightly higher pay and because running around like a madwoman between four gigs at a time wasn't as thrilling or charmingly bohemian as it was in your twenties. Your livelihood depends on the playhouse's success. And the economy. And the general public's attitude toward the arts. All wildly variable. It made you resourceful, and already, you were composing a mental list of people to politely bully for pledges promised in years past. You need time and a phone charger.

"Teddy," you set the half-eaten granola bar down. "Go get ready for afternoon rehearsal. Naomi, cover for me today?"

"'Course."

Theodore swipes his spindly fingers over his brow, nodding fervently at your resolve. "If anyone can pull it off, it's you. Do tell if there is anything yours truly can do." With a flourish, the director departs your office, but Naomi lingers.

"You know if it's donations we need…"

You shake your head, immediately knowing what she intends to suggest. "Out of the question."

"But think of her–"

"I'd rather debase myself and resort to dinner theatre."

"I'm just saying–"

"Naomi," You stress. "I am not calling my mother."

She frowns. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Are you really so proud you wouldn't leverage your family's connections to save the Bramble?"

It makes you pause. As usual, she's right. Irritatingly so. You could take another salary cut, but you'd need to find a flatshare, a humiliating idea. Hammy wouldn't survive it, the sensitive thing. You sigh and dismiss her with a wave.

"Fine I won't rule it out. But I'm going to shake down half the city first."

An hour later, you've managed to secure a percentage. Not too shabby, but far from the goal. You take a break to read James's team's latest, vaguely threatening missives and entertain the idea of withholding your signature until he makes a donation. What's a little extortion in the name of art?

You know it's wrong to delay this ugly process. How close relief is should you simply sign the papers. But it's another failure, another black spot in your life's ledger. Another dream crushed beneath the boot of reality. With a wave of bitterness, you type out a curt reply, ensuring you will sign the papers and ask them to arrange for a courier tomorrow.

Naomi's suggestion takes advantage of your mind's lethargy, testing the strength of your will and stubbornness. The last time you phoned your mother was months ago, on the anniversary of dad's death. The old man took his last bow five years back, and it destroyed the last bridge between you and your formidable mother. In retirement, she still holds court with major political players stateside…and across the pond.

Before you let your loathing catch up, you pull up her contact card and dial. It's after noon in D.C., the middle of the week. You might get lucky and reach her voice–

"Is everything alright? You're not in the hospital, are you?" Her donnish, sharp voice hurtles you through time and space to your teenage years.

"No," You answer with gritted teeth. A headache waits in the wings. "No, I'm fine, mom."

"Then why are you calling?"

This is why dad handled conversations. You stand, swiftly shutting the door to your office and locking it. "Can't I just call my mom?"

"Of course. Historically, you do not," There's a low murmur of chatter in the background. She's at a luncheon or at the club. "So I assume there is a reason."

Having an ex-ambassador for a mother is a joke. All that practised charm for everyone else in the world, none of it reserved for you. "Okay, yes, there is a reason."

"Thought so. Well, darling, what is it? Is it James? Don't tell me you're pregnant."

You return to your desk and eye the bottle of bourbon on the corner. "No. James and I are divorcing, remember? This is about my work."

There is no acknowledgement of the separation. Instead, your mother pulls the phone away from her mouth, excuses herself from wherever she is, and the background noise dissipates.

"Your work."

"Yes, the Bramble? Look, we're two weeks out from our big annual fundraiser, and–"

"Oh, you need me to write a check." The clicking of her heels halts abruptly, and if you didn't know any better, she wilts. "Fine. How much do you want?"

Your face heats with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. "I am not asking for money. If you would stop interrupting me…Ugh, mom, I need help contacting some of your old friends here. If there's anyone you know looking for tax deductions or a pet project to brag about, the Bramble is in a bad spot financially."

In the past, whenever the theatre and, by extension, your chosen profession came up, your mother took the opportunity to lecture. She reminded you of the wasted opportunities she afforded you. She brought up your old schoolmates and their current positions. And most insulting of all, she always, always compared you to a certain soldier. Bracing yourself for her monologuing, you reached for the bottle.

"Why didn't you open with that, darling?"

Your fingers close around empty air, and you nearly pitch out of your seat in surprise. "What?"

"Send me the information. I've been meaning to reconnect with some old friends. When is the fundraiser?"

"In two weeks," You repeat, scrambling to pull up your email on the ancient desktop. "Tickets are–"

"Email it. I'll book my flights today and let you know when I'm getting in."

Your hands hover over the keyboard, and your neck protests the angle it bends to keep your phone lodged between ear and shoulder. "Oh, no, mom, you don't need to come."

"Nonsense. I'll, of course, make my own donation, and as a donor, I ought to see where my money is going."

Christ. For the Bramble, you remind yourself and exhale. "Okay. You do that. Listen, I have to get going…but mom?" It kills you to say it. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome. Oh, this will be so much fun. I haven't visited since before your father. You know, on the topic of reconnecting, I happened get an email from the Prices the other day, and John–"

There it is. You kick into fourth gear, rattling off your exit. "I've really got to run. Thanks again mom, send me your flight info. Love you. Bye!"

You feel like you've run a marathon and dodged a bullet. And yet, as you send the email and file the waivers, your mind snags on your mother's words. On a name. His name. It's not the first time your unhelpful brain's waylaid you with a trip down memory lane. Admittedly, it's happened more since James asked for the divorce. Most nights, if it isn't life's stresses hounding you, it's an endless parade of what-ifs behind your eyelids.

What if you studied economics instead? What if you stayed in America? What if you hadn't gone to that stupid New Year's party? What if you hadn't kissed John? If you didn't get on the train?

The people in your circle frequently speak about living life without regrets. It's a romantic notion and a highly unrealistic one.

Your phone buzzes—Naomi. You're needed. Pushing the past where it belongs, back on a dark shelf, and head out to put out another fire.

Three days before the fundraiser, your mother lands in London and hosts you at her hotel for dinner. Playing catch-up is a professional sport with a whirlwind of names you barely remember and memories you remember very differently.

You pick at dessert, listening to another story.

"–and he was so insistent that that school of yours was a breeding ground for monsters, and I told him, isn't that what's needed in today's society? People need thick skin in politics and business. You'll be happy to know, though, he bought four tickets to the fundraiser."

You don't remember who you're talking about but smile and nod. It's a tough pill to swallow, your mother's success at rallying old friends with deep pockets. Teddy's practically in love with her despite having never met her, popping his bald head into your office to sing her praises whenever another pledge arrives.

Your response is rote. "That's wonderful, mom. Thank you."

She prattles on for another half hour before you decide it's time to return home to Hamhock and burn the midnight oil on the fundraiser's date auction. You asked the company for fifty-word bios and actors, bless them, struggle to contain their self-praises. When she finally pauses to take a sip of wine, you rise. "I should head home, lots to do–"

Ignoring you outright, her head turns, and she grins. "There you are!"

Following her gaze, your brow lowers in confusion until you clap eyes on a trio headed in your direction in the company of a server. Very briefly, you consider the melodramatics of matricide. You've been set up.

Mr. and Mrs. Price look well for their age, puttering toward your mother. They are greyer and a little shorter, but the warmth is there.

John, however…

The universe is intent on humbling you.

The hair is the first thing you notice. Short, kempt, and annoyingly a dark shade of brown. It's crept southward onto his face in a beard of a choice style. There is comfort in the finer details that clarify as he nears. He hasn't escaped time's passing with a face marked by crow's feet, frown lines, and forehead furrows. Beneath his shirt, there's a slight suggestion of a belly, though, with his thick arms and the narrowing of his waist, he's clearly a wall of muscle.

The worst part is how infuriatingly kind his smile looks. It's the beard. Softens him. Once an arrogant prick, always an arrogant prick.

John rumbles your name in a whisper, reeling you in for a polite peck on the cheek. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

You're years beyond fifteen and twenty-five, but how swiftly the impulse to snark resurfaces is alarming. Maturity tempers you. "You look good, too."

After a few minutes of greetings, the two of you are tasked with heading to the bar to fetch drinks. Wholly unnecessary what with a server, but it's a clear command to let the 'adults' talk for a spell. Nevermind being shy of forty. John's quick to try conversation when the order's in.

"You haven't changed a bit," He observes, leaning against the bar beside you.

"Now there's something a woman wants to hear after a decade." You huff, casting your eyes across the restaurant, finding it difficult to look at him. The dark blue of his sweater makes his eyes pop.

"Fourteen years, actually," He corrects. "Drinking martinis, actin'…"

You snort. "You're half right. The Martini half."

His elbow gently knocks into yours atop the bar. "Apologies. My mother told me you'd been in My Fair Lady last summer."

That draws your attention. "No. The theater put it on, but I'm the stage manager. I haven't been on stage in ages." Your eyes flicker to the table, then back to him. Heat crawls up your collar. What other information has your mother passed along? Glancing down at your bare ring finger, you turn the conversation. "Not so different from a Captain, I reckon. How's that going?"

John squints a little, and his mouth pulls into a familiar smirk, tugging at old strings in your stomach. "Can't complain."

"Riveting stuff," He chuckles at that, a deep rasping sound, and you find yourself grinning. "Don't suppose that bit of clandestine, secret agent-type shit your mom's talked about?"

"Secret agent?"

"Yeah. Mentioned it in a Christmas card maybe three years ago?" You smile triumphantly into your glass. Seems both your mothers have a penchant for dressing up the truth.

His jaw works a tick, and something heavy passes behind his eyes. "Well, 'm not. Not exactly."

"Let me guess. If you told me, you'd have to kill me?"

He refocuses some, and a short laugh leaves him. "Something like that."

It's all painfully familiar, but it feels different with a little more life under your belt. His mere presence keeps you on your toes, yet you haven't felt this comfortable in months. For all the history and tension, talking to him is easy. A silence passes, the drinks arrive, and you ferry them to the table.

The night passes better than you expected when you first saw the Prices. They express belated condolences over your father, you chat about the fundraiser, and John politely navigates questions about his work. It frightens you when he briefly mentions Piccadilly to know he'd been there in the carnage. Part and parcel of military life, you guess.

"John, be a gentleman and walk her to the station," His mother chides as the five of you congregate in the hotel lobby.

"He doesn't need to do that," You hastily say. Not again.

"'Course."

There is something dreadfully giddy to how your parents wish you both goodnight.

At least you do not need to take his arm this time. Still, there is no way John isn't thinking about that night. Not when that look of quiet desperation he wore is seared within your memory. It's silly, but you peeked at his hands earlier, and like yours, they're naked.

You break the silence to fish. "How long are you on leave?"

"A week. Got in yesterday."

"Do you normally visit your parents?"

"Often."

Doesn't mean there isn't a woman in his life. 'Often' is not 'always'.

"Visit anyone else? Friends?"

He chuckles. "Sometimes."

You roll your eyes. "You know, you haven't changed much either. Aside from the beard and smoker's lung. Still a stunning conversationalist."

John smirks down at you. "Picked it up in the army."

Oh, yes. He remembers.

The conversation lulls, and the walk is short. You figure John's keen on a repeat when he wordlessly escorts you to the platform. But today's not a holiday, and the station is reasonably busy. He watches like a hawk, nonetheless, when you check the time.

"Brings back memories," He quietly comments.

Nodding, your thumb rubs where your wedding band used to rest. "Sure does." You respond and meet his gaze.

You studied theater, moved back to London, went to the party, and kissed John. You didn't regret those choices—only one.

The invitation flies out of you as your train emerges from the tunnel.

"Do you want to meet Hamhock?"

"He's…certainly orange."

"Don't rush to spend all your compliments at once," You glare, arms full of Ham, then coo at the cat. "John's jealous because he's going grey in the beard."

"I am not."

"Saw them on the Tube. Can't those from me," You tease and set the cat down, giving your kitchen a quick glance. A silver lining of work eating up your schedule is that you last cleaned two weeks ago, and it's held.

"What're those on your head then?" He gestures with a finger and toes off his shoes.

"Details of a person ageing gracefully." You play it confidently, but part of you holds a breath.

He hums and sidesteps Hamhock. "Suits you. It's pretty."

Maybe inviting him over is a mistake. The bolt that runs through you from the compliment pokes at something you thought buried. "What a gentleman," You try to inject as much sarcasm as possible, but your voice quivers. "I'll be right back. Sit tight?"

You leave John in the kitchen to retreat to the bathroom to regroup. Come on, you scold yourself over the basin for getting worked up. It's just John.

And yet, what remains of your confidence perches on a cliffside at the sight of John pointedly staring at the folder of your copies of the divorce papers on the counter. Fantastic.

His small smile is genuinely sympathetic. It's enraging.

"Y'know, I knew you were married…When I didn't see a ring at the hotel, though, I wondered."

Your chest tightens, and you shove the folder into a bookshelf. "Yep. Finalized the divorce two-ish weeks ago."

You're not in the mood to be reminded of your failures.

"Sorry it didn't work out," John murmurs.

"That's life. That's how it works sometimes," You exhale, then force a smile. "Want a drink? Bourbon? Wine?"

He lets you change the subject, and you let him have a glass of whiskey.

You sit on opposite ends of your short couch, Hamhock acting as a gentlemanly barrier. The conversation rekindles itself after a few fingers of liquor, and eventually, John migrates to the floor, idly playing with the cat. You confide in him about your worries about the event and whether the funds raised will be enough, and he listens. There is no condescension, no bulldozing. Not a trace of smugness at all when he makes suggestions. You don't realize how you've slipped into an old, practically ancient formation until he peers back, eyes creasing from laughter. You're fifteen again, and it is useless to deny it – you are regrettably in love with John Price.

"Can I confess something?" He suddenly asks as your cat waddles off with a catnip toy in his mouth.

Your heart lurches. "If it's a crime, I'm a terrible conspirator."

"No. Nothin' like that, but I lied earlier." He chuckles, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. "My mother didn't tell me about My Fair Lady."

"What do you mean?"

John turns sheepish. "I came an' saw it when I was on leave last summer. Thought I'd surprise you, but I got to the theater and lost my nerve."

Instantly, you pick through scraps of memories from the production. There is no way you would have known he was in attendance, not with how hellishly busy you are.

"You, Captain John Price, lost your nerve?"

Color blooms high on his cheeks, and he turns on the floor, rubbing his neck. "I knew you're not acting but I didn't know how to mention it without soundin' like a prick." His eyes look soft. Different from how they looked that night in his parent's garden. Steady, unwavering, but soft. "I know I'm not good with words. I seem to have a talent for making you angry. But I really am happy to see you. Didn't think I'd get another chance after how I bungled it all those years ago at the train–"

At your grown ages, the angle of the kiss is inadvisable. The two of you fix it without parting, and his hands cup your face when you're finally standing toe-to-toe.

He touches your foreheads together when breathing becomes necessary. "Change anything?"

You don't answer. You lead him to your bedroom and exile the cat.

The fundraiser goes off with a predictable amount of hitches. The caterer is an hour late and forgets half the hors d'oeuvres. The bar runs out of red wine early. Two actors from the children's company slap-fight on stage. Nothing you, Naomi, and Teddy can't fix with elbow grease and stage magic. The caterers re-course. Naomi calls in a favor from her bartender girlfriend. And the children forget their quarrel when they're called upon to defeat Captain Hook.

What you are not prepared for is one of the actors calling out sick, leaving you one date short for the auction. You waste an hour trying to convince one of your fellow techies to step in.

Naomi corners you when you stress-eat a comically tiny piece of toast swiped from a tray.

"You know, if one person is all we need…"

"Your girlfriend won't be mad?"

"Ha-ha, don't get cheeky. C'mon, isn't it time you got back out there?"

You suppress a smug smile. Naomi has no idea. Nobody does. You've gotten back out there and then some.

"Did I not tell you I was grossed out by the auction?"

She's relentless. "Are you really so proud you wouldn't debase yourself a little for the Bramble?"

"Absolutely not."

You'd said it with such conviction, so it's a puzzle when you find yourself waiting in the stage wing, makeup hurriedly refreshed. It takes all your courage and grace not to stumble to Teddy's side when he calls your name. He improvises an introduction on the fly, and you nearly laugh when you realize this is the first time you've been on the stage, under a spotlight, in years.

The bidding opens, and you hold your breath, letting it go when a few unfamiliar voices call out numbers. A humbling embarrassment clutches you by the throat. But then a paddle raises more confidently in the front row. The light is bright, but you know whose hand hoists it high.

He collects you at the end of the night as you lock up.

"There's my prize."

You can't stop the grin that splits your face. "It's just a date, John."

"Yeah, doin' things a bit out of order, aren't we?" A glimmer of his younger, puffed-up self shines through, and his hand envelops yours.

As you walk, your elbow digs into his ribs, "What will our mothers say?"

"That a big deal to you?"

"To some people."

"Well, love, you're not 'some people'."

#ocaptainchallenge #john price #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #price x reader #price x f!reader #lieutenant john price #cw alcohol #i love love #i love corny shit #i needed to write something soft okay?#lightly edited bc i don't think i'll have time to write tomorrow and the deadline is tomorrow!

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bimbobaggins69 · 1 year

Text

Gonna make you wonder why you even try. (hard times series)

part one masterlist

Roommate!eddie munson x Roommate fem!reader (established friendship)

summary: after getting your electricity and water shut off, you and your roommate are desperate for money, so desperate that you’re willing to have sex with each other on camera, but will your 10+ year friendship be able to with stand all the drama that comes a long with shooting a porno?

⚠️warnings: eventual smut, 18+ mdni, financial hardships, angst, use of the nickname ‘mini’ no use of y/n, unwanted pining, eventual best friends to lovers, mentions of porn, kinda mean!eddie, mentions of bullying, mentions of reader being called slurs but none specific, mentions of sex.

note: I am so sorry, this took longer than expected! I kind of hate the way I ended this but don’t worry I am going to start on pt three as soon as this is posted (remember to tip your writers with a comment & reblog)

wc: 5.5k

It’s the night you and Eddie have been dreading, Hawkins high's class of 86’ reunion.

Let’s just say you and Eddie weren’t the most popular, actually the complete opposite.

You were constantly bullied and harassed by your peers, specifically the jocks and cheerleaders.

You and Eddie played dungeons and dragons, listened to “odd” music and while Eddie dressed in band tees, ripped jeans, leather and band patched denim, you wore whatever hammy downs you acquired from your older cousin, who was a boy.

You can imagine the slurs a girl would be called that dressed in boy's clothing, but it was all you had and at that time you didn’t know yourself well enough to even care or to throw a fuss about it. You knew you weren’t what they called you so you let it roll off your back, most of the time.

Tonight you were going to dress to impress, no oversized flannels, big T shirts and baggy jeans. No, tonight you were going to be the center of attention.

You were finally going to catch the eye of Jason Carver. He was Hawkins highs resident golden boy and your high school crush, okay sure also your biggest bully but you didn’t care, you’d daydream about a time when you and Jason were out of high school, you’d run into each other in a grocery store or coffee shop and he’d tell you how beautiful you’ve gotten, you’d exchange numbers and eventually get married and have kids.

Yes, a big stretch but a girl can dream.

Eddie knew about your little crush, there was nothing you didn’t know about each other since you two had become friends.

He had no room to make fun though as he had an ever growing infatuation with The queen of Hawkins high, Chrissy Cunningham who also happened to be Jason’s girlfriend.

It was a fucked up situation you could definitely admit that now, but you’ve since heard they are no longer together as far as you know Jason left to NYU while Chrissy left for Berkeley.

There is a possibility he’d met a girl in college but you were trying to stay positive.

This was your chance to make that day dream you fantasized about your whole high school career come true and since these weird feelings you’ve been harboring recently for your best friend were beginning to deepen everyday, you needed to make your move and fast.

“I don’t know how I can be of much help, Min,” Eddie said as he sat on your wrinkled duvet, arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe you should call ya know, a girl?” He chuckled, bringing his left shin to cross over his knee.

“Oh come on, you’re my best friend and I really need a guy's perspective here, please?” You turn away from the mirror, putting the two dress options you were holding up to your body, to drape over your desk chair. Batting your long lashes with a slight pout to your lips, you begged.

“please, Eddie?” His eyes widened a bit at your plea, he scans over your face for what seemed like minutes before he looked down at his Reebok shoe that was still crossed over his knee, it must’ve fallen asleep because he was now bringing it back down to the floor, bouncing it up and down as if he was an anxious mess.

“Fine, let’s see em” He says in a defeated tone.

“Yay, okay close your eyes so I can try on the first one.” You eagerly say as you clap your hands together.

Eddie rolls his eyes before dramatically covering them with both hands.

The first one was a black mini tube dress. It was hard to maneuver over your hot curlers that were sitting in your hair, but once you finally got it on you turned to look in the mirror. The dress showed off lots of skin but that was the point, you felt hot and confident and that’s what you needed to be tonight.

“Okay, open.” You squeak, turning around to face your best friend. His eyes almost pop out of his head as they scan over your body, you begin to feel self conscious under his lingering gaze.

Eddie never looked at you like this but you also never wore stuff this revealing so.. the air in the room was new, an almost awkward energy coursed between you two, one you never wanted to feel again.

“Um, yeah that’s um, that one’s nice.” He says as he gives you a weak nod of his head.

“You sure it’s not too much?” You ask, rubbing the fabric over your thighs making Eddie’s eyes shift down to your moving hands. “I mean, it shows a lot of skin if that’s what you mean?” He chuckles before his eyes flicker back to yours.

“Okay,” you say before grabbing the lower hem of the dress and pulling it up, exposing your panties and torso, before you could lift the dress any higher, realization set in;

“whoaaa” Eddie shouts before slapping his hand over his eyes for a second time.

“Shit! I forgot to tell you to close your eyes, oh my god!” You squeak in embarrassment.

Eddie chuckles at your high pitched whine “I didn’t see much,” he smirked.

“Wow, thanks!” You sarcastically yell at him while throwing the dress that was just adorning your body at his covered face, it drops down onto his lap, he grabs it with his other hand holding it there while his thumb rubs over the fabric.

“No, not like that. I just didn’t get a chance to see much,” he shrugged. “Oh, nice granny panties by the way.” He cackled

“Eddie! You asshole, You know we can’t do laundry, all I have are my bigger panties left!” You gasp in embarrassment.

The panties in question weren’t that bad, a pale pink with a little rose on the front. Very different from the dental floss you usually wore.

You would’ve been mortified had Eddie seen you in some skimpy little lace g-string.

You slip the red silky fabric over your head, fixing the front area to fit over your boobs, so they’re equal parts exposed but not too much.

Before even having to ask Eddie for his opinion, you already knew this was the one.

A red silky strapless dress, the front was low cut showing off your assets and very nicely, might I add. The hem reached mid thigh. You would’ve never been able to wear something like this to school without being sent to the principal's office.

“Open” you sing-song, before putting your hands on your hips in an attempt at posing.

“Damn” Eddie whispered under his breath as he took you in. It made your whole body heat up, you felt your belly fizzle like you had just downed a cold can of Mountain Dew.

This was all so foreign and new, these reactions you were receiving from Eddie.

Most of the time when you’d ask him how you looked, he’d take his eyes off what he was doing for a second barely even glancing your way before huffing out a “you look nice.” His attention going back on what he was doing.

You’ve never had him look at a loss for words or like he may have thought of you in a way that was less than friendly.

“That- mm that’s the one.” He says as he clears his throat.

“Okay, I’m gonna go get ready now.” He says, not even turning to look at you again, eyes set on the floor as he walks out of your room and into the hallway.

The ride to your former high school was one of the quietest rides you and Eddie have ever had together, aside from the music that was blaring through the speakers.

Eddie always played his music in the van loud, but he also always made it a point to turn it down when a thought would enter his mind, and since you’re on your way to go mingle with your old classmates that caused you both hell, you would think Eddie would have a ton to say, but instead he kept his eyes on the road, a tight grip on the steering wheel and every time you’d glance at him his jaw would clench.

You wanted to ask if everything was okay, but you also didn’t want to be the first to break the ice.

He had been weird with you after he left your room and you weren’t going to grovel at his feet to see what you did wrong.

It hurt that he didn’t even ask your opinion on his outfit which he usually always did before an event or one of his shows. That didn’t stop him from looking extremely fucking good tonight, which just made you mad.

Eddie had on his usual black jeans, a black button up that was only buttoned below his chest, his tattoo piece on full display for everyone, he even did his hair by blow drying it instead of his usual air dry method. On his feet were his doc martens he only pulled out on special occasions and to top it all off he had that stupid dangly earring in one of his lobes, he looked damn good and he knew it.

Being back on your old stomping grounds was bittersweet, as much as you hated it and couldn’t wait to get the fuck out, you also remember all the really good times you had, most of them being with your best friend.

You and Eddie walk into the auditorium that has been decorated to the nines in purple and silver streamers.

The theme was “disco night”, which resulted in disco balls being hung from almost every corner.

First, you both had to sign in and confirm your names were on the list before you could enter.

The line had a couple people ahead of you and every time you got a glimpse of the woman sitting behind the desk, you wondered who she was, her face was vaguely familiar but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Finally you walk up to the mystery woman, her strawberry blonde hair curled away from her face in an almost 70s’ Farrah Fawcet esk way, her blue eyes widened when they fell on you and Eddie.

“Oh my gosh,” she giggles “Eddie and Mini, right?” You nod in confusion while the man to the right of you chirps “wow, Chrissy! Look at you!” He says with a bemused tone.

She looks down while her cheeks turn three shades of pink. You want to roll your eyes and tell her to let you in and away from Eddie’s obvious flirting, but you don’t wanna be rude and make Eddie even more distant than he’s being.

“If you two could just find your name and sign on this side,” She points to the blank spaces that haven’t been filled under the ‘sign in’ section—

“Then you can be on your way.” She giggles again while looking at Eddie.

You sign first before passing the clipboard over. You decide to just walk in without him, but you don’t miss him asking Chrissy if he’ll “see her in there?” Which makes you roll your eyes for a second time as you stick your tongue out in disgust.

You’ve never been jealous or hurt when Eddie talked to other girls. Let's be honest, the man was a whore. He has had many relationships and “booty calls” since you’ve been friends, and you’ve always encouraged him in his rendezvous but something has shifted within you and it leaves an empty feeling in your stomach. You’ve never been able to not tell Eddie what’s bothering you, but this is something that you can never let him know and that kills you.

You grab some punch before making your way to an empty round table, you didn’t feel like mingling just yet.

As you take another sip of the red liquid a hand pats you on the back, you turn around to see Eddie with a cocky smirk on his face, you already knew what that look was about and normally you would make some smart comment and ask him why he's smiling like that, but you just can’t tonight.

Instead he tells you anyway. “Can you believe Chrissy Cunningham was flirting with me?” He chuckles “I think she wants me, man” he says as he takes your cup and downs the rest of it—

“Hey!” You mewl before snatching your cup from his hand and stalking away for a refill.

You make your way to the refreshments table, pour punch in the same clear plastic cup but instead of going to sit back down with Eddie, you scan the room.

You notice a familiar silhouette in the distance, the blonde locks you’d spend hours fantasizing about touching, your feet move before you can give it much thought.

“Hey.” You interject as you tap Jason on the shoulder to gain his attention.

“Uh hi-” the look of confusion written all over his face, that was still very much as handsome as it was in high school, his hair a little longer as he shifted uncomfortably in his navy blue suit and tie.

“Um, you probably don’t remember me” you said with a wave of your hand and playful roll of your eyes.

Your cheeks couldn’t hide your embarrassment, as you grinned awkwardly.

“Oh, Mini, right?” He mused with a snap of his fingers.

“Yup, in the flesh.” You chuckle lamely

“How’ve you been, hot shot?” You continue trying to regain your composure as you throw in your best flirty timbre

He chuckles back before continuing “I’ve been great actually, life’s been treating me pretty good.” His smile was so genuine you couldn’t not smile with him

“That’s great to hear.” You nod while the smile never falters

“How about you? I mean wow look at you, you’ve really grown up.” He glances over you and your body, a little too quick for your liking.

“I’ve been good, ya know as good as it gets while still being in Hawkins.” You playfully grab his arm as you giggle.

“But me? Wow, look at you.” You continued to bat your lashes with a sly grin.

“You look even better than you did in high school.” Your eyes travel up to his blonde quaff of hair and all the way down to his shiny black dress shoes.

Before you can say another word, a man you are sure you’ve never seen before comes up behind Jason.

You don’t miss the way he puts his arm around Jason’s waist and whispers something in his ear, making him snicker.

“Oh um, mini this is my boyfriend, David.” He gestures to him by grabbing his shoulder from behind his back, tightening his grip on the man.

“David, this is Mini, we went well-.. here together.” He laughs as he gestures to the auditorium

“Nice to meet you Mini, is that short for something?” He questioned.

You tried your best to hide your surprise and disappointment, it all felt like too much information at once.

“Oh, um no,” you softly reply as you tell him your real name.

“It was a nickname I got for being short.” You tried your best to laugh with them but you needed to get away from this.

“I'm sorry it was so nice meeting you David and good seeing you Jason, but I have to find the ladies room.” You informed before awkwardly excusing yourself, you didn’t miss the faint nice seeing you too, before your eyes began to water.

You felt like a complete idiot, but you were glad you found out he wasn’t interested in you before you made an even bigger fool out of yourself.

You were disappointed your high school fantasy would never come to fruition but in a way you were happy for Jason, living his truth and not caring enough to bring his boyfriend with him to his reunion, a very drastic change from the Jason you once knew. Good for him.

You slipped out of the auditorium to the familiar corridor, everything exactly how it used to be.

The same tiger painted on the wall, the same banners and fliers of future events. The whole thing brought on a nostalgia you never thought you’d miss.

You made your way further down the hall. clearly lying about needing the ladies room, you were really on a mission to find Eddie who was nowhere to be seen.

As you continued walking you could hear two whispering voices coming from an open classroom, curiosity got the best of you as you peaked your head in to see who it was, the class was dark aside from a small lamp that sat on the teachers desk, but you could make out Eddie’s back almost anywhere, the way his perfect waves hit his shoulders and his whisper was distinct now that you’ve gotten closer.

“You sure you want to do this here?” Eddie muttered to the girl you could only assume was none other than Chrissy fucking Cunningham. “Yes Eddie, just kiss me.” She whispers.

You hear the sloppy smack of their lips before you could get out of ear shot.

For a second time tonight tears were pleading to escape, but you knew you had no reason to be sad and angry, you and Eddie were FRIENDS, best friends at that, nothing more.

You assume the non rejection, rejection from Jason is what has you feeling so down. Eddie owes you nothing, he can kiss and fuck whoever he wants. If Jason showed any interest tonight, you would’ve done the same thing.

So you wipe your eyes and walk out of the exit door and into the fresh night air, the crickets chirp as you take small steps to the bleachers. The stars shine brighter than usual over Hawkins tonight, you scoff at the idea of it being in your favor.

As you walk up the side steps to the bleachers you realize you weren’t alone in your idea of needing some fresh air from inside’s festivities.

“Robin?” You burst as you clock the familiar face of someone you wouldn’t actually mind talking to at this very moment.

“Oh my god, mini?” She quickly removes her beat up sneakers from the stand, dropping them harshly onto the floor, before standing and making her way over to you.

She’s dressed in brown corduroy overalls over a white shirt. Her hair was best described as a long pixie cut, it accentuated her face perfectly.

You hadn’t heard from Robin since she left for art school in Chicago, her and Steve made the move together and never looked back. You didn’t blame them.

“You look great! Wow, I’m- wow!” Her eyes widened as she took you all in, you were slowly getting used to the reaction to your major transformation.

“Thank you, yeah a lot has changed since high school, I mean look at you, this hair cut was made for you.” You beam up at her as you take a seat, bringing your black strappy heels up to rest on the the stand in front of you, assuming the same position Robin was in before you interrupted her.

She takes a seat next to you, you can feel her eyes lingering on your side profile as you stare up at the stars. “Something happen in there?” She asks as she brings her shoulder to softly bump yours.

“Eh, ya know, same old high school bullshit.” You both laugh knowingly, “so how’ve you been?” You ask.

“I’ve been okay, going through a break up so it’s been a little tough, but I’m getting through it.” The smile she gives doesn't reach her eyes, it has a lot of sadness behind it and you can’t help but to feel for her.

“I’m sorry, Rob. That fucking sucks! But hey, if you ever want someone to hang out with or talk to, I’m always here, I always have been.” Your genuine smile and words make Robin's face flash with guilt.

“I know, and I’m sorry I haven’t done much to keep in touch. I met her as soon as we moved to Chicago so I kind of spent all my time and energy on her and the relationship. She was my first girlfriend so I guess I lost sight of everyone else.” She wistfully says.

“I totally understand, I’m not upset or anything, I know life gets in the way. I just wanted to let you know I’m here.” You smile as you grab for her hand that’s gripping the edge of the aluminum bench.

You decide it was best to change the subject, “so how’s Steve?” Your hand is still clutching robins, until she shifts her body to look at you, knees kissing ever so slightly.

“He’s good,” she says as she scratches at her arm before letting both fall into her lap. Your hands now clutching each elbow as you read the smile Rob gives you, like she wants to tell you so much but doesn’t know if it’s a good idea.

“He’s actually here, I brought him as my date” she says as she puts air quotes around the word date.

“Oh really? I didn’t see him.” You rejoin as you begin rubbing at your arms to combat the breeze that’s picked up.

“You know him, he’s probably in there flirting with some poor girl.” You both chuckle at Steve’s expense.

If Eddie was a whore back in high school then Steve was a tramp, they both used to go as far as making bets at parties to see how many numbers they could get or who could sleep with someone first.

It was exhausting but at the time you didn’t really care about Eddie’s sexual nature, it didn’t bother you because it was something you and him rarely spoke about.

Until you moved in with him, hearing him on multiple occasions jerking off, or him bringing girls back from the hideout.

That’s when the weird feeling in your throat began, but you chalked it up to “who wants to hear their best friend engaging in any type of sex act?”

“I think I’m gonna go find Steve, if that’s okay?” You tell Robin before standing back up onto your heeled feet, she nods her head with a quick hum.

“I hope I see you back in there, before I leave.” You say as you both give each other a side hug.

But before you turn to leave she stops you, “oh hey, here’s my number just in case.” She gives you the torn receipt from some craft store in Chicago, her number written sloppily in red ink. “Thanks, it was nice seeing you Rob.” you give her one last smile before you finally turn to leave. “Nice seeing you too, Min.” She shouts back as you take your first step down the side stairs and back onto the concrete path, making your way back inside.

Your heart rate picks up when you walk past the once opened classroom that is now closed. You continue making your way back into the auditorium, swallowing down the golf ball sized lump in your throat. You can’t feel like this, not for him. You continue to repeat that sentiment over and over again in your mind.

Once you walk back into the gathering, you notice way more people have shown up. But you’re on the hunt for one person in particular and it was just your luck that he happened to be alone at the refreshments table, he seemed deep in thought like he was trying to decide between a chocolate chip cookie or a cupcake with the words class of 86’ written on them.

“The cookie seems like the better choice.” You giggle, as you walk up behind him. His head whips around to see who the suggestion was coming from.

“Oh, yeah definitely, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” He shoots you a cocky wink as he grabs for the baked good.

“I’m Steve,” he says as he now turns to face you.

“I know who you are.” You scoff as you shake your head in amusement

“Oh?” His eyes shoot up under his perfectly styled hair. Nobody would ever question why this man garnered the nickname “the hair” in high school.

“You don’t remember me?” You say with a pout of your lips, you lock your fingers together in front of you, the gesture pushes your boobs up more, Steve's gaze falls on them, before it continues to roam your body.

“Mmm, I think I’d remember a pretty thing like you.” He says before taking a bite of his cookie, he licks his lips clean of any fallen crumbs before he steps closer to you.

You were having far too much fun messing with him, “well that’s not true, cause if it was you’d remember me Stevie.” You chuckle as you watch the cogs go off in his brain, you and Eddie were the only ones allowed to call him Stevie, well so was Robin but she made a habit of just calling him dingus, which you had adopted on a few occasions.

“Holy shit!” He gasps as his eyes do one more once over. “Mini?” He chuckles with you at the realization, “no fucking way?” He says as his head falls back in laughter, his cheeks and neck showcasing a splotchy red tinge, embarrassed that he didn’t recognize you but also that he was trying to get into your pants just a moment ago, oh who was he kidding? He was still going to try.

“Yup” you say as you give a little spin, Steve swallows hard before he continues his praise “wow, mini you look fucking great.” He says before pulling you in by your waist for a tight hug. “Thanks, so do you!” You say as you look up at him, his hands still on your waist.

“I’m- wow I can’t believe it’s you.” He whispers down to you, making you giggle again before shoving him playfully. “C’mon I wasn’t that bad.” You resume your stare up at him, god he looked better than ever.

He’s also a porn star, whoa you’re talking to a porn star right now, you think to yourself before clearing your mind of those thoughts. He’s still your Stevie though, no matter what.

“No, you weren’t bad at all, you just- I don’t know, look different. More mature, more confident.” He continues as he places one of your voluminous curls behind your ear.

Oh he’s good.

“Yeah? Well thank you.” You smile as your cheeks now hold a sweet dust of pink.

“No need to thank me, beautiful.” He was laying it on thick, and to your bemusement it was working.

“So, um how’s Chicago been treating you?” You ask as you try to put some room between you both.

“Wanna go find a seat with me and we can catch up?” Steve suggests with a shy smile.

“Yeah, sounds good.” You agree before he takes your hand and leads you to two empty seats at a rather crowded table. Nobody even bats an eye at the two of you before you’re plopping down on the cold orange chair, turning to better see and hear Steve over the bad 70’s disco that filled the room.

“So Chicago?” You speak again, breaking Steve from his trance, he was looking at you like you were a cold drink on a hot summer day, it made you shift uncomfortably in your seat, you’ve never been good with lingering stares and intense eye contact.

He clears his throat before he answers, “Chicago's nice, me and Rob have an apartment together. It’s been cool, more stuff to do and see in that city, I don’t know if I could ever move back to a small town like Hawkins after experiencing that.” He chuckles. “You should come visit sometime, I could show you all the sights.” He whispers as his eyebrows bounce up and down, suggestively.

“Yeah, I’ll have to do that.” You say as you play with your hands nervously in your lap, all of this attention and flirting was making you flustered, totally forgetting about Eddie in the process.

“So, I came across something the other day.” You begin as your heart rate spikes, you were even more nervous to broach the subject of Steve doing porn, but you were kind of desperate considering your electricity and water were still off and the apartment was becoming almost unbearable to live in. It was almost fate that Steve showed up in Hawkins after you found the tape at work and had the “brilliant” idea of possibly starring in one in order to pay the bills.

“Oh yeah? And what was that?” He says as he places a hand on your crossed knee.

“Me and Eddie found one of your tapes while we were working,” you say as your eyes scan his face for any type of reaction to your words.

“Oh?” He smiled mischievously. “Did you watch it?”

“No, I actually didn't.” You retort as you continue “but I am curious to know how someone gets into that line of work?” Your eyebrows raise in question, no judgment in your face, just curiosity.

“Why? Do you know someone who wants to do that?” His voice was charming yet curious.

“Well, me and Eddie actua-” you start before you’re interrupted by a voice calling your name.

You look over to see Eddie walking towards you, his eyes stuck on Steve’s hand that is still placed on your knee as he continues to gently rub your skin.

“Mini? Where’d you go? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He says, making you roll your eyes but the action was not missed by Steve.

“I’ve been here, where have you been?” You snap, a little harsher than you meant to.

“I just told you, I was looking for you.” He snaps back, Steve could definitely tell there was trouble in friendship paradise but he wasn’t going to ask until he was alone with you, again.

“Hey, Eddie, nice to see you too.” He cuts in with a wave of his hand, making Eddie’s harsh gaze shift towards him.

“Hey man, sorry. Nice to see you, how’ve you been?” Eddie asks through gritted teeth, eyes returning to the hold Steve still had on your leg.

What the fuck was his problem?

“I’ve been good dude, how’ve you been?” Steve responds, he could clock Eddie’s jealousy a mile away, he smiled at the thought of riling him up more.

“Hey, mini do you wanna go grab something to eat with me tomorrow before I head back home?” His eyes falling on you as he gently squeezes your leg. He could keep it there all night and you wouldn’t say a word, it’s the most action you’ve gotten in a while and being touched felt nice.

“Sure, yeah I’d love that.” You respond before getting up to go anywhere else. Eddie’s energy was way off and it made you feel too uneasy to be next to.

“I’ll let you both catch up, while I go to get a drink.” You suggest before shooting both men a quick smile, Steve hums before saying “I’ll get your number from Eddie, here.” You nod your head and turn on your heel, before walking back over to the table you’ve spent what seems like most of your time at.

You glance around the room again. Chrissy catches your eye as she wiggles her hips to I wanna dance with somebody by Whitney Houston, alongside who you assume to be Jessica Carlson, another former cheerleader. She’s all smiles and giggles, the sight makes you clench your fists, you should be the happy giggly one, she got Jason in high school and now she’s gotten Eddie too, it was hard to not feel bitter towards her.

You decide it’s best to lock those feelings away and carry on the people watching. Your eyes fall on the guy walking towards you, he’s wearing a hellfire shirt under his flannel.

Your eyebrows furrow, as you try to rack your mind. “Oh my god, Jeff?” You beam. “Mini mouse? Whoa look at you!” The nickname made you scrunch your nose, in the cute way it used to.

“You know I hate that.” You laugh before going in for a hug. “I know, but it’ll always be my nickname for you.” He smiles down at you. “Is Eddie here?” He asks before scanning the room, “yeah he’s sitting over there.” You nod with your head towards where Eddie and Steve are deep in conversation.

“Where’s Grant?” You ask as Jeff turns back to look at you. “He had to work, couldn’t get the night off.” He says with disappointment. “Aw, that sucks!” You say as you cross your arms.

Jeff and Grant live in Philadelphia, both getting full ride scholarships to Penn state after graduation, you were sad to see them go, but knew they were off to bigger and better things. What you didn’t know was that the guys begged Eddie to go with, throwing out plans to get an apartment and continue playing in the band together on weekends, he declined. His excuse was that he didn’t want to leave Wayne, but all the guys knew it was you he stayed in Hawkins for.

Thank you for reading!

Part three coming soon…

*taglist*

If you have been removed it’s because you’re an ageless blog. I do not want interactions from minors so pls put your age on your blog!

@livsters @prettypeachsworld @akiratoro420 @samanthasgone @dylpickleblog @lightcommastix @little-wormwood @gaysludge @emxxblog @eddieslittlewh0re @sillypurplemurple @lovely-lynn-writes @tlclick73 @ajkamins @dilfs-lover @lolalanaie @aocxdx @ambthegamer @alanamarie @josephquinncore @bebe07011 @bambipowerblueaddition @marriedtoeddie @chopper-witch @dissociatinginfp @stairwaytozai @edsforehead @itsametaphorbriansblog @haylaansmi @thoughtsoftheantagonist @paranoidmunson @totalmesstm @parkerloveer @elesoteri @chloes-files @melhoran @lezzy-bennet @killer-joy3 @aysheashea @wolfiepirate @mmvnsons @sluggzillaa @thehuntresswolf @mommymilkerfanclub @mcueveryday @likeficsinthewnd @elvendria

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series

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anxiousheart7 · 7 months

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*spoilers* Astarion’s story - analysis and thoughts

I’ve been thinking quite a lot on Astarion the last couple of weeks, and the journey I’ve been on with him. I’ve seen a lot of content about him.

I’ll start by saying this - I didn’t ascend him. I couldn’t. I did, however, watch the ascension on YouTube but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I’m going to explain why.

Here’s the TL:DR version, with my deeper dive below.

As Astarion gets his revenge in Cazador, his flurry of knives felt oddly satisfying to me. It was a release as grim and cathartic. That cry of pain and ending felt necessary for him. I came out of that palace knowing that it was ok and he’d be ok.

The ascension felt gratuitous. Watching him carve exactly what Cazador put him through should have been cathartic too, but it wasn’t. I just felt a shiver of cold. And that was the moment I knew it was the ‘bad’ ending.

Experiencing Astarion’s Journey - delving deeper

I don’t think I’ve ever quite experienced a character story like his before. Here’s someone who is quite clearly designed to draw you in via the usual routes. He’s attractive, he’s got the funny lines. He’s the rogue - a lot of D&D players’ favourite class. He quickly becomes indispensable.

At the start, his flirting was fun. Act 1 I think is supposed to be a light hearted toe in the water, so to speak. Right up until your first major choice with the goblin vs tiefling conflict. Then it becomes real. But until then you can spend copious amounts of time wandering and chatting to your new friends in camp while some of them (namely Lae’zel, Gale, Karlach and Astarion) go straight to ‘i want you’ territory. And you’ll gravitate to those that are ready to get hot and heavy because…video game sex.

There was such a focus on romancing your camp and you lean into that so heavily in act 1. Approval is all-important. And his approval is harder to get, so you try harder with your choices. You want this guy. Like really want him. He’s like ambrosia. And, if you’re not one of the 100k rejections toted in Larion’s infographic, you get him.

As a recovering people pleaser, I’m not going to lie, that was a hard concept to grasp. To make your choices based on who you were trying to impress is exactly the kind of behaviour I’ve been trying to step away from in real life. But hey, this is a game so I’ll be ok.

And then it starts…

Looking back, there’s this line that stood out ‘it felt like you weren’t all there’. Despite his insistence later, Astarion was very likely going to that place of dissociation that he talks about later on. And that’s sad, because as Tav you want this milestone to be special. You want them to fall in love with you. The reward for all your hard-earned approval hiking.

But Astarion masks. He masks well, but you can tell on Insight that it’s all an act. Even when you look closely, the ham fisted complements he throws at you reflects the 10 charisma he’s carrying around. He works as a lothario not because he’s an adept silver-tongued Casanova. It’s because he’s simply beautiful. People see him and want him. His looks mask what’s going on underneath. But then you look into his eyes and it’s right there, plain as day.

There’s so much more underneath. I have watched the scene over and over with the hammy chat up lines as he’s trying to convince you to sleep with him again (I got propositioned first before the tiefling party) and the more I watch, the more I believe that ‘I love you’ wasn’t an act. They wouldn’t have given you three brush off comment choices if it was. He meant that, and I don’t think he even realised he meant it until he found the words coming out of his mouth - as though he was daring himself to say it.

With Astarion, it’s all in the eyes.

And, as someone who has seen those eyes in the mirror on a pretty regular basis, I knew there and then until he started revealing his backstory - the scars, the master and all the rest, I knew this was going to hit very hard and this man was a deep well. He was so lost that he barely had any idea of who he was any more.

By the time you’re well into Act 2, you’re starting to get the gist of him. You learn about his sadness and sense of loss around his identity before he was turned. You learn about the scars. And you learn about Cazador. I got the sense that all of this exposition was almost like a therapy dump from him. Thoughts and feelings he’s wanted to express for decades but hasn’t had a soul to tell - or he’s been compelled not to by his master. Now he can get them out. He can voice how unfair and unjust it feels. The sarcasm, the cynicism, all a way of expressing how much pain he is in. But one thing he’s never lost is the knowledge that he doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t been beaten down so much to believe that he is unworthy of better treatment. And that sense of self is what I believe has kept him going all this time. He knows it wasn’t his fault. He knows Cazador was a cruel, sadistic monster.

And I hugged him. Of course I hugged him. I defended his autonomy from the moonrise drow and I hugged him after. At this point I’d fallen as hard for him as he had for me. I cared for him. I couldn’t make any of those obviously awful choices with him. When the details of the ritual came up I felt a knot in my stomach. And sure enough every time we talked after that point he talked about taking that power and I thought ‘this will be rough’.

It reminded me of a lot of really bad experiences I’d had in the past. Boyfriends and friends who were clearly bad for me and I was bad for them. And yet, I needed to help this guy. This person who had nobody for so long. Who didn’t know what it felt like to have someone actually care about him.

I looked this as someone who has experienced trauma in their life. How would I feel. How have I felt? To be scared of so many things. To wonder why on earth would I do something nice for someone else when I’ve sat in alleys, starving and in pain while people just walk on by. No gods to answer my pleas for help. I’d be cynical and disapproving too. I’d have a warped sense of humour. I’d want to never feel that again. Of course he saw the one thing that could protect him and feel compelled to grasp it with both hands.

Astarion has conjured up feelings in me I thought were long gone.

Astarion’s finale

The images I’ve included in this post have been doing the rounds on tumblr and this hits so hard it hurts. Astarion’s journey ends in such as way that it’s meant to be hard.

If you’re a gamer that commodifies your characters as a series of stats or objectifies them based on their design, then ascend him. It doesn’t matter to you. And I’ve seen plenty of people on message boards and Facebook saying exactly that - “but he gets these powers and is so badass”. They’ve never seen past the facade. He was a jerk at the start of the game, a creepy flirt and a vampire ready to be staked. And that was it.

Every excessive power in this game has a major consequence that you have to live with. This choice I think is one of the biggest before the climax of the game.

The ascension pretty much erases him. It takes who he was and the healing that he’s done and throws it away, as if it never really mattered.

And to him he’s worth exactly what he thought he was to begin with. His self-worth is warped into superiority and his hunger and fear replaced with a hunger for power and dominance. He’s not free in this form. He just becomes a new kind of imprisoned. He’s placed in stasis forevermore. And this won’t last forever because as absolute power corrupts absolutely, it also falls. Just like Ozymandius, he’ll rise and collapse under his own grandiose. And he’ll take you with him if you let him.

That steamy scene before he turns you is basically exactly what the Larion writer is saying - you’ve not empathised or grown here. Have your sex scene and then enjoy your eternal enslavement with New Cazador. It’s a bad ending for you and Astarion. You get to be exactly what he was, no matter what pretty words he tried to convince you with - he’s still that 10 charisma trying to convince himself as much as you. He’s Act 1 Astarion with some nifty new powers. He will control you like a doll and yours will be the same half life his was. He’ll start with promises of being his right hand, but somewhere down the line you’ll do or say something and he’ll do to you what was done to him. It’s the ultimate narcissistic relationship.

If Astarion walks away, he’s him. Truly him. With purpose and a new path to walk. You can build a new life together with nothing holding you back. The trauma behind him, he can now walk a path of healing for himself and learn who he is. It makes me feel hopeful and joyful that he gets a second chance.

And that’s where I’m at. My ideal ending is for them both to go off together searching for a cure for his vampirism. Whether it’s possible, who knows - on writing this I’m still to finish my first run of the game. But at least there’s that glimmer of hope in that ending.

I think Astarion is beautiful. There’s a reason half the internet is madly in love with him right now. But if you let yourself, he becomes more than a nice body and a pretty face. His complexity opens up like a puzzle box and you feel the satisfaction of a truly beautiful arc come to its climax. He’s a beautifully written and crafted character and I’m so glad to have experienced his story.

I could say so much more…but it’s long enough as it is. Thanks for reading x

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion

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teencopandthesourwolf · 9 months

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THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN EVERY EPISODE OF TEEN WOLF EVER

part ii (part i HERE)

coach finstock philosophy being the thing that actually fixes you

a soundtrack that consists of the sort of music that makes you wish you were no longer alive, plus (ironically) the excellent song lose your soul by dead man's bones

jeff davis forgetting character's ages and back stories and sometimes the characters themselves (fuck you forever for kira, jeff, you massive poopy head)

jeff davis forgetting the plot

jeff davis forgetting the fact that nobody likes him

tuning in for sterek and staying for sterek even when jeff davis stops giving the sterek scenes together, and staying for sterek even after one half of sterek leaves, in the hope that the half of sterek who left will one day return so you can keep on watching for sterek even though sterek is not even canon and you know inherently it never will be

brilliantly appalling special FX

meredith having even crazier eyes than the character from the show orange is the new black who has crazy eyes and is actually named crazy eyes

tyler hoechlin hands down having the best spine-tingling-hairs-standing-up-on-the-back-of-your-neck werewolf roar of any werewolf on any film or tv show about werewolves ever FIGHT ME

queer allegory my beloved <3

isaac inexplicably wearing a scarf all-year-round

all the characters bar derek (only bc it's hard to get it wrong with a henley and black jeans which is all he ever wears apart from the one-time crimson thumbhole shirt that was inspired drip) having honestly the worst fucking dress sense

jackson being the angriest most brilliantly hammy antagonist ever with the best facial expressions known to humankind who ends up evolving into the most adorable gayest gay to ever gay living his best life in londonia with his lovely boyfriend ethan where they are now both runway models for jean paul gaultier (who everybody knows is a french werewolf from way back when in the la bête du gévaudan era)

getting the feeling you should be doing absolutely anything else with your time instead of watching these idiots yet being completely addicted to loving this penny and dime clown show more than you love your own nearest and dearest

VOID STILES BEING A 1000 YEAR OLD FOX DEMON THAT MAKES YOU HARD

having the constant need to shake scott vigorously because he is the funko pop! bobble head we all know and are forced to tolerate

chris argent being such a cringe over-the-top-gun-toting-who's-your-daddy-badass that he somehow actually manages to circle back around to being rad af

chris argent being so real and a dilf

none of the characters ever talking about the fact that scott's dad was an abusive arsehole apart from stiles because stiles is a champion amongst men who makes sure to tell scott's dad between scenes that his head looks like a cross between a crescent moon and a foot

every single character on the show knowing that there is not a hint of a shadow of a doubt that derek and stiles are doin the narsty—even the off-camera characters we never get to meet are always congregating on the reg in the grocery store or the coffee shop or the WSWA (We See Werewolves Anonymous) bi-weekly meetings and are all like "you know that furious-looking autistic dude with the spectacular monobrow whose eyes are sometimes definitely way too blue? and the noodly peewee herman MIT ADHD kid with the duct tape jeep whose dad is the sheriff of this fictional town none of us live in? they are definitely fucking omg."

each and every school lesson we see scott and stiles attending actually being a top secret pentagram level mission impossible code for whatever supernatural shit is about to go down in beacon hills that day

outing you as the monsterfucker you really are LMFAO

(find part i HERE)

#teen wolf truthing #the saga continues #show of all time #my beloved <3 #teen wolf #sterek #every teen wolf episode ever part ii #tcats posts #a wolf and his queueman

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thatscarletflycatcher · 2 months

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Sense and Sensibility (2024, Hallmark) a review

I had expectations for this movie. They were not surpassed. It didn't perform below them either.

Spoilers under the cut.

So, this is a short movie (1.24hr long) a tv movie, a hallmark movie. You must keep that in mind as a frame of reference for what I'm about to say. You cannot really compare this with theatrical movies on equal footing.

Where to start. Costumes and sets. It is Bridgerton's world and we live in it. Everything is VERY colorful and shiny and not very real looking; that was to be expected. I think that sort of semi-fantasy aspect didn't hurt at all, and it was consistent. If you are not going to stick to the time period, at least go ham and show me something really interesting. I'm looking at you, Netflix Persuasion. There are some dresses that are pretty, and some others that... aren't. Considering that apparently the costume designer had to make something like 60 pieces in a month, it's kind of impressive that it came out as it did.

One funny bit, though, in this respect, is that they complain about how small the cottage is like some actual estate houses aren't the same size IRL XD Allenham we only get to see from afar, and it is rather disappointing.

Music: nothing to write home about, to be expected. Yes, we got one of those Vitamin String Quartet modern-song-played-by-strings. IDK. They were a bit dorky in their heyday, I don't know why they are so sought after in these pieces lately. I digress.

The acting. Deborah Ayorinde was a really good Elinor. She definitely deserved better writing and direction. The rest of the cast was good enough; I feel some roles really benefited from their characters being a bit hammy already in the source material (Lucy, Mrs Jennings, Anne, Fanny, Robert), others were really struggling because of being given very poor dialogue (Mrs Dashwood), and others were just... not good (Willoughby and Brandon, sadly). Edward was... a very special case. I can only describe it as the actor having two expressions: one, an attempt at reaching Hugh Grant's adorkableness AND Dan Stevens' ease at the same time, and two [SCREAMING INTERNALLY], but I guess those two were indeed enough to make it work just fine!

Which leads me to the writing. We all knew this adaptation was going to live or die in the writing, and most likely die.

The thing is that most of it is written around repeating 95' and 08's greatest hits, while attempting to compress the narrative into an hour and a half. And that goes as well as you can expect it to. Some scenes are painfully rushed -Brandon's backstory was extremely awkward to get through- some things are over before you have any time to assess their real weight -Marianne's illness, and many others end up being... incongruous.

Let me stop a little on those. The movie keeps Margaret, and gives her the whole play acting as a pirate with Edward from 95', but then removes the only real plot relevant thing she does in the book. So why keep the character at all? (Willoughby asks for Marianne's handkerchief in exchange for Queen Maab, instead of cutting a lock of her hair).

Because 2008 makes Brandon suspicious of Willoughby from the get go, this one makes it so that they know each other and implies that Brandon knows dirt on Willoughby, but then plays the rest of the story straight, which makes it... pretty inconsistent.

Speaking of Brandon, we have reached adaptation #5 that cuts out the fact that he tried to elope with Eliza sr. This time the backstory is that his father promised to let him marry Eliza if he proved himself as a soldier, but when he came back, he found his father has kicked her out of the house. Yeah, that was utter nonsense.

The adaptation makes a clumsy attempt at including the dinner at Mrs Ferrars... but Brandon isn't there to see Marianne defend Elinor.

We needed to have a "Brandon rescues Marianne in the rain" scene, but in this case, she's not faint or anything, he just grabs her because she's sad XD

And the list goes on and on and on. It was to be expected that the shadow of both 95 and 08 would be large over this one, but it truly is to the point that the references and contrivances are almost constant. Which is a pity because I think most of the original choices were interesting.

For example, Marianne twists her ankle running after Margaret, to try and stop her from asking something embarrassing, which is a good choice in terms of showing that Marianne is passionate, but she has more sense than Margaret.

On his deathbed, Mr Dashwood makes Elinor promise that she will take care of her mom and sisters and keep the family together. That added pressure on Elinor works really well in the context of the adaptation, and ads a new layer of interest.

John Dashwood is written mostly as a hapless but not malicious idiot. This is similar to what From Prada to Nada did (though there it made more sense because of the father having two families simultaneously), but I'm not sure where was that going. They did cut the Palmers, so I suppose the choice was so that they could go to Norland instead on their way to Barton (it is never established that Norland is so far away as it is in the book, so I guess one could give it a pass), but in that case, I feel the most cost effective shortcut is... have them go to Barton? Because we do get to see Barton (Marianne goes alone with Brandon to see it close to the end, and they get engaged before Edward returns, don't think much about it, manners and such are... for this movie... loose guidelines. But it isn't super offensive most of the time).

Anne Steele is decent fun as she's supposed to be, but Lucy really suffers the flattening. The mastermind has been flanderized into just a mean girl, and that's a pity.

Oh, Edward is sassy at times! And the sassy jokes land! I have to say it is not my preferred way of doing the character, but he does show some sass at the end of the novel, so, you know, I'll allow it I suppose XD

Edward's return and proposal started pretty good, but it overstayed its welcome. I cannot emphasize enough that, when writing this kind of proposal, you must avoid the word love if you can, and if you must use it, use it once, and with great reluctance.

The movie chooses to dedicate quite a time to the reveal of Edward and Lucy's relationship, and it's honestly... decent? For a scene made out of whole cloth it stands on its own feet reasonably well. But there's no Fanny freakout. This is probably the most shocking plot twist in the adaptation. This very on-the-nose Hallmark adaptation decided to cut the Fanny freakout of all things. Impressive restraint.

One thing, however, that was sadly cut out was Elinor and Marianne's conversation about Willoughby at Barton. It is instead replaced by an unsubtle comparison between Willoughby and Edward, and an exchange between Brandon and Marianne. It is one of the several points where the storytelling relies on previous knowledge of the work.

These are my main, disordered thoughts. I leave you with this choice from the ending, that I cannot form a thought about:

At Elinor and Edward's wedding, on the first pew are in attendance, from center to side: Mrs Dashwood, Margaret, Marianne, colonel Brandon... and Eliza Williams with her baby in her arms.

As a summary, I'd say Elinor and Edward's story was good enough, the relationship between the sisters was sweet, there were some odd choices, some interesting choices, and overall the writing was severely downgraded by attempting so much to stick to the choices of previous famous adaptations.

#Jane Austen #Sense and Sensibility #Sense and Sensibility Hallmark #Sense and Sensibility 2024

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 1 month

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CKB hear me out. Haters will say it's fake but ....... blanche youngest child. The Victorian maid garb? He's tired of being in the shadows of those before him and is trying to set his own identity. Extreme violence? A big ol temper tantrum and cry for attention. I dare say i would lean on him being youngest child just because Lev fits the disaster middle child ALL too well 😮‍💨.

I see why some will say Lev as the youngest but i feel like he's suuuuch a middle kid like, even if he's stupid, he'd having a good time and that's all he cares about. I feel like youngests are actually more deceitful and tricky wheras middle kids are pretty true to themselves and more easygoing? Like them youngest kids are used to sneaking around and just so cunning, showing different faces (not unlike blanche who does a 180)

Like blanche, yves can also fit all 3 perfectly. He does kinda seem like the overstressed, overworked, will nag out of love, can never relax, will shoulder responsibility for you eldest child (i feel like eldest children also have a really clean aesthetic? Middle kids are either cozy wear or pop the Fuck off. And youngest kids are always flashy but in their own way and my god if that isnt blanche 💀)

Also i feel like eldest kids (yves) have a great fear or failure and losing things so theyre lowkey control freaks. Youngest kids (blanche) are oddly possessive and entitled like they think the last slice of pizza is their god given right. And middle kids (lev) are so used to losing things that they get obsessive over the things they do have, and a bit pathetic abt it if they feel it slipping away.

Youngest kid blanch really does seem like a big brat (but who cares) to me. Like he sees reader as his dead pet hamster that he accidentally squeezed to death trying to hug it but he refuses to believe it's dead so he keeps leaving food out for it and stroking it. Middle kid Lev sees you as a cute hamster and buys you cool wheels and a rolling ball and toys and sleeps with you in his bed. Eldest Yves will not allow anything to happen to pet hamster so he has a seperate temperature controlled room for it, homemade pellets, probably wipes hammies ass after it poops and everything.

This was just my random musing though and im excited to see what you end up making the order!!

Also i think i was ur 🐰 anon and i used to send in all those theories for language barrier LOL. Ummmmm the bunny thing *totally* didn't have to do with Lev, so, uh, don't tell Blanche, my latest hyperfixation 🤭 (or Cyprus because goddamn-)

🐰 anon

🐰 anon also said: Oh! Also feel like blanche would be a lot younger than the other two. Like modern au or whatever if they were all together, yves moved out when blanche was a kid (because he was independent) lev was never home bc he was always out and just kinda ended up living w one of his friends (never 'officially' moved out but he's living elsewhere) and followed the party life, and blanche was probably raised and spoiled by a family elder, making him feel like an 'old soul born in the wrong generation'. But hold onnn i didnt know therewas a blanche pt 2, lemme go read that and see if it changes things LOL 🐰 anon

🐰 anon also said: no blanche is actually so middle/youngest child coded it's insane bc i refuse to let go of middle child lev (actually i need to give bunny a reread before that too, and ofc more content on him when it comes out lol) but brooooo them youngest kids be weird as FUCK like, smth abt blanche feels like he's playing dressup, pretending and trying so hard to be this old fashioned adult gentleman, meanwhile yves actually is more calculated, composed and knows what to do for his shit. I actually initially thought of yves being the youngest but i feel like blanche being youngest fits so much better imo. Like blanche is just here to do his own shit, he's a bit selfish, and pushes for hinself. Yves puts his responsibility first and pushes for reader. Plus yves has that blonde mom in target drinking a coffee doing 3 hours of shopping in 12 minutes before her next hot yoga class and thats soooo eldest child coded. Idk something abt blanche as a person (not a character) seems so underdeveloped and child like in a disturbing yet innocent way? 🐰 anon

🐰 anon also said: "unromancable, unfuckable weirdo." No im sorry Blanche is actually the youngest child Bunny anon

Holy fuckin shit bunny anon always comign in with a banger , yess that's what im talking about them tasty brain chews i like i like

shid man like u really lay out their vibes and everything and even imagined them in modern AUs , presented evidence and cited your source like what the fuck this is such a good analysis like damn bro i fr appreciate the enthusiasm

Like all the stuff you sair fr made sense even to someone who has no siblings, its as if i had those little shits living in the same house as me and i observed the dynamic, like yeah damn Yves really fit the oldest child

Its really fitting cause if you think about it, they're all like centuries old or whatever and both Yves and Leveret are pretty youthful looking with no grey hairs- they went on their own quests to preserve their looks, Whereas Blanche is considered to be the most unkempt out of the three with his salt and pepper hair growing uncontrollably to the back of his knees, no manicures just natural long nails but he's still considered youthful cause ykno 50 year old looking man vs his actual 5 million year old age , but it just shows that he doesn't care about looking youthful as much as his older brothers

i notice the older siblings from other relatives and friends they tend to looksmaxx more than the younger ones. and they try to keep up trends, like Yves and Leveret is pretty modern whereas Blanche is fuckin ancient with his stuff, mannerisms and dressing up

and yes he is ironically the most immature (as in childlike) of them all, even tho leveret is like spontaneous and has his slipups, but damn bunny anon like ur analysis is always bangers like what the hell bro i love them and i love you

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #oc leveret #oc blanche #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #yandere ocs

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fandomsforpotterheads · 1 year

Text

Study hall

Pairing: Viktor Krum x reader

Warnings: None

Request: @fantasyinna

Story:

Hii! Okay so I haven't done this before but may I request a shot with prompt list 1) and 47) with Viktor Krum x reader? Love your writing! Thank youuu!

***

Ever since the Yule Ball, you and Viktor Krum have been spending any free time you had together.

Feelings were strong between you both and the both of you could feel it. Neither of you said anything to each other in fear of rejection, rejection was what stood in the way of confessing. But that was all about to change when one evening, you were in the library before curfew and waited on Viktor to come and join you.

Your studies were going well until they were interrupted not by Viktor Krum, but by the Slytherin prince as what everyone seemed to refer Draco Malfoy as. Despite the fact that you were a Gryffindor, that didn’t stop him from developing a crush on you and was upset that you turned down his invitation to the Yule Ball, telling him that Viktor Krum had asked you and you accepted. At first, Draco Malfoy didn’t believe you, until he saw you that night locked onto Viktor’s arm and that fueled Draco Malfoy with jealousy and even hate. From then on, Draco would not let up on teasing and picking on you, and there were times he was even downright cruel to you. As these things were going on, you didn’t say anything about it to Viktor, you didn’t want any sparks to give reason for more trouble to be caused.

Hearing unrecognizable footsteps getting closer to the table you were at, you peeled over your book held up close to your face, just long enough to get a glimpse of the bleach blonde hair boy walking by. Your tormentor wasn’t alone, he had his little gang walk beside him while doing everything he tells them to do. For a brief moment, you thought about getting up to leave the library, but what had you stuck on the chair was the thought that Viktor could possibly be not far from there by this time and would walk through the doors any time now. Overall your wishful thinking, you would hope that Draco would walk away peacefully weather it was just you there or the pair of you and Viktor Krum together at the same table.

However, that’s not what happened. You were too preoccupied on that thought that it made you forget that you had on Viktor’s oversized sweater on. Because of your small figure, the length of the sweater almost made it look as if you were wearing a thin almost sweater through dress that reached down to your ankles. This sweater was not only cozy, but it was comforting, especially in the times when you and Viktor couldn’t be together, but those were rare occasions. By the time you hear Draco’s footsteps once more, there was still no sign of Viktor. Seeing that you were alone, Draco takes this opportunity to start teasing and picking on you again, and this time, you were going to fight back.. aggressively if it comes to that. There had to be some way to get that message to leave alone in his empty head and mind.

Before Draco could say anything smart, you held your hand up still not looking away from your book, giving him the one and only warning you were willing to give.

“Don’t mess with me right now, Malfoy.” You warn.

“I can’t help it, you’re too much fun not to mess with, (Y/n).” Draco mocks.

You scoffed.

“It would be in your best interest to leave me alone if you know what’s good for you.”

“Naw, I think I’ll stick around. I like that hammy down sweater, but it would look better on you if you were made part of the patch of gits Weasley family.”

You try to ignore him, although your blood was boiling to the maximum level.

But Draco continues.

“Where can I get one?” He mocks again.

Again, you continue to ignore Draco.

Things would have gone down if it weren’t for Viktor’s appearance at last. The funny thing was that Draco was much too preoccupied in mocking you that he didn’t take notice of Viktor’s presence, that it was no longer just the two of you. A third party was now in the room, standing behind Draco as a smile formed on your lips the second you have locked eyes with Viktor. That seemed to make Draco even more agitated then before, thinking that you weren’t listening to him.

“What are you smiling at?” He barks harshly.

“Me.”

The sound of Viktor’s booming voice caused Draco to jump in fight, which was amusing to see.

When it comes to protecting you, Viktor could appear as more intimidating then he had meant to be, but you know he really wouldn’t hurt a fly. All it took was for that side of Viktor to show if he was wanting to scare someone off and that was clearly his intention with Draco. Just like before, Viktor was successful in looking more intimating then what everyone was used to seeing as the two of you watch Draco immediately taking off without another word said. After you could no longer have to worry about having to deal with Draco anymore, Viktor turns back to you with a victorious grin you knew all too well.

“Don’t listen to that prick, (Y/n)…” Viktor starts, taking the seat beside you.

“I think you look really cute in my sweater.”

“Thanks, hon.”

Although you’re always flattered by his compliments, you can’t help but feel as your cheeks flush a shade of light pink.

Viktor chuckles whilst getting back to your studies together. No words could be described on just how much he loved you, and as for you to love him.

You both make a great team.

***

@fandomsforpotterheads

Requests: Open

Character list:

• Harry Potter

• Ron Weasley

• Fred Weasley

• George Weasley

• Neville Longbottom

• Oliver Wood

• Cedric Diggory

• Draco Malfoy

• Tom Riddle

• Snape

#harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter #ron weasley imagines #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #oliver wood #neville longbottom #cedric diggory #draco malfoy #tom riddle #snape #request #requested #requests

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columboscreens · 5 months

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As of last night I have officially watched every episode of Columbo. Random thoughts:

1. I don't know what my favorite episode is but Troubled Waters is always the first one I think of for some reason

2. I think No Time to Die and Undercover were my least favorite episodes just because they were so obviously not Columbo stories

3. Sometimes messaging with the format of the show works! Usually it doesn't

4. Any episode with Patrick McGoohan is a good episode

5. I got a little tired of hearing "This Old Man" as a recurring musical theme, but if they were going to commit to it then I'm disappointed we didn't get a rave club mix for the final episode

Overall 10/10 show, can't wait to watch it all again

1. troubled waters is a good pick, but i find the pacing kind of drags and the plot underwhelms. that said, the performances are great, the setting is fun, the photography from ben gazzara is second to none

of course the Everything from peter falk is marvelous

2. agreed!

3. agreed, though i always respect attempts to deviate from the formula even if i dislike the outcome. i usually liked when the deviations were kept one-dimensional (e.g. columbo is in mexico, columbo has a cold, columbo is on drugs) vs. entirely new formats (e.g. columbo comes bursting into a potential sexual assault-murder-suicide case involving his niece while brandishing a gun)

4. true. mcgoohan can be pretty divisive amongst fans and i do 100% see how he can be over-indulgent and hammy. for the most part though i'm in the camp of Number 6 Likers

5. i completely agree and absolutely loathed the gratuitous This Old Man scoring but honestly the rave mix is something i had no idea i wanted until now

#columbo #ask #misc #need the nightcore This Old Man

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mercyedes · 17 days

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What caught your eye about hambone? First I thought he was silly bc of the gold teeth but I learned more about the real hambone and I love him sm!! <3 the actor is so beautiful

my first watch of mota when he showed up in ep 1 & the end of ep 2, i recognized him as "wtf this dude has gold teeth oh he's defo a fuck boy" but didn't think much of ham LMAOOO i was still madlyyyy obsessed w/ buck and crosby i didn't have time for my eyes to wander <3

wait hold on i wrote way more than i thought i would lemme read more. i love hambone. he is everything to me

and then like episode 5 came around and i kept rewatching the first couple of episodes and i should've known better because i KNEW he was (is) fine as fuck i simply could not ignore it any longer. i always love the off-putting pretty bitches and hambone is exactly that, an off-putting pretty bitch. i was endeared by his bright ass blonde hair because it reminds me A LOT of an f1/f2 driver i love (liam lawson) so i feel like i kinda was set up from the beginning to be partial to this tall blonde pretty boy 😩💜

AND JUST LIKE YOU when i decided i was way too curious and enamored to ignore hammy's existence any longer, i just started researching more about real ham and just fell in love with brady's crew in general and found hammy so interesting and cool -- there is a part in a wing and a prayer where crosby writes about how hambone (unlike harry) genuinely wanted to get to the war and during training he was worried the war would already be won and over before he got the chance to go fight in it. and another member of brady's crew wrote in a journal he kept about how, while they were still in the U.S., all of brady's crew agreed with one another that they didn't wish to fight for the honor and medals of it all, they just wanted to go do their jobs, help return the world to something peaceful, and then go home. we love humble kings. anyway this is a side note but i'm ngl i feel like sometimes people in the fandom kinda mischaracterize/"Fanon"-ize hambone a lot and it sometimes rubs me the wrong way. but that's just me

obviously he probably still counts as a minor character in MOTA, but idk i love the character jordan still portrayed, he's a lil weirdo and a little silly with his gold teeth of course, but i fully love the bits of personality we got from him <33 he's a funny, witty boy with pride and confidence about his job (bombardiers r so hot it's just true. they are sexy af being competent) but also stubborn and a little aloof and easily irritable, doesn't seem to be all too bothered by being overly kind to people he doesn't know/we often only see him socializing with people from brady, crank, or blakely's crews (all men who irl hambone shared barracks with and had close ties to !) ... i love a dude who keeps to himself / doesn't feel the desire to step too far outside of his close social circle, it makes him even more intimidating imo and i love it. he's so hot. he's like a cryptid to me and i find his freaky vibes insanely alluring. like even the cat killing CANNOT put me off, if anything it made him sexier idk why .... like he's a lil vicious yes but he's also a resourceful bastard like that, like brady said protein is protein & hambone was very kind to his buddies to make them cat soup <3

ALSO he's just very very fun to write. i adore writing him he's so interesting.

#WELCOME TO MY HAMBONE HAMILTON RAMBLING HOURS. this is also the sweetest ask to ever receive anon i love you for giving me the chance to #absolutely yap about hammy . because he is so fucking beloved to me. <333333 ur so right also jordan is beautiful it's kind of inhuman #.asks

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the-lighthouse-lit · 8 months

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Hey remember that crossover between Miraculous and Teen Titans?

Well here’s a sort if follow up to that; Hawkmoth decides to switch up his strategy somewhat. He’s made the realization that utilizing average citizens of Paris as potential targets for his akumas only limit the chances the akumatized individual has before the need to replenish his powers for the day. If he are going to bring a person to seize the miraculouses, he might need someone who has the combat experience, knowledge and will power that can actually be a legit challenge to teenage superheroes without eh need of an akuma.

He one day looks though archival footage of one particular person who has fought against the American based team known as the Titans to a stand still numerous times and not only survive but even eludes capture from them to the present day.

With one quick phone call across the dark web, Hawkmoth is able to meet with this one super criminal who also acts as a mercenary and has a simple offer; being him both Ladybug and Cat Noir directly to him alive and their miraculouses intact and he’ll be handsomely rewarded

This individual, a Mr. Slade Wilson, is intrigued…I’ll let you take it from here

(This would probably be better if I’d watched the movie where the rest of the world’s superheroes come in, but whatever! Here I go!)

OKAY so initially I was picturing cartoon Slade (competing with Hawkmoth in classic-villain serious-business hamminess) but then I thought, 80’s/90’s comics Deathstroke… with all his brutal pragmatism and the snark for days… how glorious would it be, thrown into the Miraculous world, experiencing the over the top campiness and having a lot to say about the genre conventions?

Like picture this guy

If he has a lot to say about Gotham’s colorful villains and the boy-scouty Titans, picture him meeting the ML squad

And maybe you were thinking ‘Hawkmoth hires Slade for money’ but my immediate thought was ‘two big villains trade arch-enemies to take them all by surprise’ (Maybe Slade’s end of the deal was ‘take care of the Titans for me’)

Now for the first showdown!

So Ladybug and Chat Noir are targeted by an actual mercenary and they have no idea. They’d break his sword, guns, and whatever else he brought (which Slade is naturally delighted about) trying to find the akuma and keep coming up empty handed.

I fully see that Ladybug is out swinging a yo-yo and Slade's trying to shoot her.

It’s a tossup whose scheme would succeed when Slade ‘90% brain function usage’ Wilson meets Lady-‘crazy contrived Lucky Charm solutions that somehow work’-bug. Maybe Ladybug and Chat Noir win the first round from having the element of surprise.

Slade would get away un-deakumatized and Ladybug and Chat Noir would have to face the possibility there's a new supervillain in town.

I see Slade leaving the battle being glad he managed to destroy Chat Noir’s staff and being surprised and mildly impressed these kids don’t care the three of them managed to destroy the Eiffel Tower (of course) and two other national monuments in the fight… only to see LB regenerate everything via a cloud of pink confetti and go “…Really?”

Meanwhile, let’s say in San Francisco, Hawkmoth holds up his end of the deal and the Titans have to fight an onslaught of new transplanted supervillains (which are incredibly colorful and kind of cheesy-looking. This one guy's motif seems to be pigeons, that lady fights from atop an entire musical pirate ship, and that other guy’s just a giant snowman made of ice cream?), and fight them in measure of the power they seem to have, only for them to revert to civilians afterwards, and maybe the Titans are met with public scrutiny when the media makes it seem like they used undue power in regular people, and disoriented French tourists to boot?

Tossing this back to you*, how do both superhero parties find out what happened?

(*Also opening this up if anyone wants to join in!)

#Thank youu for the ask and Sorry for the incredibly belated response! No excuses I just suck :)#would you believe I’m steadily working for my actual TT fanfic based on MLB-world premises as hard as I can?#I hope to push it into the light of day aaaany day now #teen titans #teen titans fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #ask #paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 #teen titans miraculous ladybug crossover #teen titans miraculous ladybug AU

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yr-obedt-cicero · 1 year

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What is your opinion of the Ron Chernow book on Hamilton? I'm reading it now and it's informative but I don't know how I feel about it yet and we're already almost at Hamilton's wedding. Thoughts?

Oh boy, that book...

Honestly, I hate it but I also quite appreciate it. It's one of the only Hamilton biographies that goes so in-depth about Hamilton's life, and almost covers everything. Like, it's the size of a Bible for a reason and I really did enjoy the background checks on all the figures that were brought up (Like especially Faucette, or Maria). But also it's entirely bias, and filled with inaccuracies. I haven't read the book in a year, and no longer have it in my possession but here are a few things I remember that I hated about it;

Rambling — oh God, does Chernow have a tendency to go on and on and on. He often repeats the same thing several times throughout the book, especially in regards to praising figures in the book, but I'll talk about that and his glorification a bit later. I completely understand the habit to ramble on, but there is the opportunity to edit over your work. I swear after Hamilton did anything, Chernow would copy and paste the same sentence about how “hAMilTOn WAs JUst sUch aN InsPiRaTiOn wIth hIS iRrepresSiBLe pAsSiON aS An ImMiGrANt” I get it. I know. I would go on about how rising from your poor status wasn't anything new or unheard of, but I'll spare that for today.

Glorification — Chernow has a terrible case of glorifying the historical figures mentioned in the book, mainly Hamilton - as he is the protagonist, I suppose - but also Washington. He paints everyone else that is featured as these evil, big, bad villains that are just out to ruin poor, innocent Hamilton's life. And that if Hamilton did anything wrong; it was obviously all their faults and they somehow influenced him into this terrible decision. Chernow glosses over so many times Hamilton ruined other's lives, and throughout it portrays him as this inspiring hero.

Misogyny — you'll notice pretty quickly on; Chernow portrays all the women in the book as pathetic, (Or evil if they ever wronged Hamilton). He does a great injustice to Maria Reynolds, and makes out the affair to be all her and her husband's malicious influence. Because poor Hammy Ham, and not the oppressed woman getting abused by her husband, right? He even has the audacity to frame Elizabeth as a villain throughput a lot of it as well, claiming she wasn't doing her “wifely duties” and drove him to commit the affair (Jesus Christ). It's worse than the portrayal of these women in the musical.

Homophobia — Chernow quite often dismisses the homoerotic undertones throughout Hamilton's life. I'm not saying he has to do an essay on the plausablity of Troup and Hamilton having something more than friendship, but man, you could at least say anything but “lol but they were very no homo”. But the case that pisses me off the most is the complete dismissive attitude towards Laurens's and Hamilton's relationship. Chernow only scaps the surface of their relationship by quoting the April 1779 letter, and then shrugs it off and says that men just had those flowery - platonic apparently - sext letters during those days. Oh, but don't worry, he can dedicate half a chapter in regards to how true the debunked Angelica+Hamilton love affair was.

Inaccuracies — I don't know what I was expecting from a guy who has a very questionable education, but Chernow makes many inaccuracies throughout the book. I can't name them all off the top of my head but; he claims Jefferson said nothing on Hamilton's death when he did, he got Hamilton's children baptism dates wrong, made the same stupid mistake of calling William's portrait as actually Philip's, and misinterpretades many letters. If you want more on the subject, @runawayforthesummer literally has a tag called “Chernow was wrong”. And speaking of villianizing, I urge you to read about Burr outside of Chernow because that is the worst portrayal you'll read him as. Chernow made up this whole betrayal backstory for Burr and Hamilton, when they were actually never friends, or anything beyond acquaintances or political rivals.

Chernow isn't a historian — he's a journalist and a biographer. But biographer doesn't necessarily mean he has taken any studying in regards to being a historian. I'm not staying if you didn't go to college for a four year institution, that you're immediately unqualified to write a biography. But. You should take some initiative to get some education in that matter. Because we have things like this where Chernow makes glaring mistakes.

Phew, okay, that's a rundown of everything I found wrong with it. I'm sure I'm missing other things, but these were the major issues in my opinion. I mean, if you've gotten that far in the book, might as well finish it. Just remember to do your own research, and fact check before you take someone else's claim on something. Once again, Chernow's biography has some good aspects, like how detailed it is. Just remember his major flaws with it too.

#amrev #ron chernow #alexander hamilton #queries #sincerely anonymous

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prismatoxic · 5 months

Text

i know the original mgs1 graphic novel has been around for almost 20 years. i'm sure it’s been analyzed to death by people smarter than me, with more innate knowledge of the series than i have, but serzh and i watched the digital one (with all the voices and animations), and i've been thinking about it ever since.

mgs1 is my favorite. in comparison to the rest of the series that followed, it's far more subdued; the voice acting is more sincere, the setting is less fantastical, the enemies more human... when things like psycho mantis's manipulation or vulcan raven's ~mystic native powers~ (ugh) come into play, the juxtaposition of those events with the more grounded rest of the narrative makes them feel more severe.

is mgs1 perfect? god, no. maybe raven's portrayal can be somewhat forgiven from a game from 1998, but a lot of the issues it has come down to technical limitations and plot discrepancies, imo. i have a lot of thoughts about how stilted snake and meryl's relationship is, too, but i kind of want to give the game a point for that one since they fell apart after the fact anyway. i just don't know if that was intended from the start. if not, they wrote an unsalted cracker of a relationship story for no real reason, and that's sad.

but my thoughts don’t end there, nor do my thoughts on twin snakes and, later, the graphic novel, which was eventually billed as a way for players to get the story of mgs1 without having to play it. i feel like that framing makes things far more egregious than they already were. regardless, if you’re interested, my thoughts on all this will be under the cut. i’d love to hear other fans’ thoughts, too. fair warning, though: a lot of this will be centered on the dynamic between snake and otacon, and their individual characterizations, bc those things interest me most and also made me the angriest when changed.

so let’s get twin snakes out of the way first. twin snakes is a bastardized version of the story that i love, which somehow manages to mangle the narrative while also changing none of the dialogue. i’ve heard the story of david hayter personally paying all the other returning VAs to get them to come back, but you can tell they don’t really have a lot of passion for re-recording things they already said years ago. david himself, while not so disenfranchised, has fully switched to the later snake portrayals here, and while i do think he’s a very talented VA and the only snake i’ll ever agree with, the direction he was nudged in from then onwards makes snake so... over-the-top, and hammy. it’s embarrassing at times, and in twin snakes it’s at its worst.

then there’s the characterization. ignoring the voices, for a moment, you will also run into situations where the characters’ actions and movements paint a picture of them that contradicts the characterization they had originally. snake is... over-the-top, like his voice, and then you have otacon. i am still mad about otacon. i am so mad about otacon. without changing a single goddamn one of christopher randolph’s lines, they butchered his character, turning him into a joke: he’s constantly falling down in silly slapstick ways, even during the wolf death scene. one of the most powerful scenes in the entire first game, if not THE most powerful one, and they turned it into a fucking JOKE. (and had an actual wolf carry her body away at the end??? what????)

...but this has absolutely been talked about by people smarter than me. here’s an article by the english translator for mgs1 about his work and experience with the game, and here's a video by youtuber jackdonsurfer about the differences between mgs1 and twin snakes, and why twin snakes is a bad remake. i highly recommend both of these, they’re very good.

so moving on from twin snakes, we have... the graphic novel for mgs1, the bastard son of the two games combined with a bunch of its own ideas as well, for better or worse. i’ll be referencing the digital version, but anything that isn’t related to the voice acting will still hold true for my thoughts on the actual book.

the graphic novel uses the same voice direction as twin snakes, but toned down, more befitting the tone of mgs2 or 3, which did seem to learn from that particular mistake. the actors also seem to have regained their passion for the project, and for the most part, give it their all. gray fox is voiced here by rob paulsen, as well, and that’s a decision i understand, same as in twin snakes; greg eagles voiced donald anderson along with gray fox, and the similarities between his anderson and gray fox voices were inescapable once you recognized them. i do think greg eagles did things a lot more passionately, and his version of gray fox is very different from rob paulsen’s, but at the same time, the more mechanical read of gray fox’s lines—up until the tail end of the fight in the lab, or the REX fight, where he gets more intense—does lend an interesting interpretation to his character. so, in the end, while i think i overall prefer greg eagles’ version, i don’t think rob paulsen’s is bad.

so everyone is doing their best, and the writing isn’t as godawful as it was in twin snakes... however, several things jeremy blaustein discussed specifically changing in his english translation of mgs1 in the polygon article i linked are instead lifted from the twin snakes version of the script, or based largely on it. so it’s not great. better, but not as good as it could be.

so with that out of the way, and with me having a subzero interest in talking in depth about the art (it’s really stylized, but there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s perfectly serviceable), it’s time to talk about the story.

there are some things the graphic novel does alright, or even really well. i like the added scenes between FOXHOUND members and other main characters; i like otacon’s justification for wanting his own codename; and i love the psycho mantis section. absolutely fucking flawless concept, wish they’d done that in the game instead of making the controller vibrate. ah well.

the rest, though. god.

i mean, a lot of it is fine, i suppose. slightly more dramatic spins on the original narrative, cutting out parts that only made sense in-game, shifting some events around, and otherwise just sort of doing things the same. but i have some very specific grievances about some of the portrayed relationships.

so, if this post gets out farther than i expect, like some of my other mgs posts have, here’s some background: i’m an otasune shipper. i don’t think that affects my biases too much, as the story and characters are really important to me as-is (in the original, obviously), but i am particularly invested in snake and otacon’s relationship, even in a strictly canon sense. otacon is my favorite mgs character, too. so let’s discuss some of this while also knowing those things about me, for transparency’s sake.

onto the point, i think snake and otacon’s relationship in the original game is massively important to the narrative. the video i linked by jackdonsurfer discusses this, and is one of the reasons i originally started fully considering it, but to be more precise: snake and otacon are very explicitly narrative foils.

snake is a military veteran, a mercenary, a soldier by birth and by trade. he kills people for a living, and he does it well. he’s gruff and aggressive and with rare exceptions, looks out for himself first and foremost. he’s rough around the edges, sharp, pushing away meaningful connections and never letting anyone get too close.

otacon is a scientist, as well as an anime fanboy, two of the first things we learn about him. we also quickly learn that he’s a pacifist—upon accepting that he’s responsible for a nuclear weapon and not a defensive machine, he immediately vows to fix it, refusing to cause any more deaths than he surely already has. he’s soft and kind and passionate, and he wants to help people, whether it be the whole world or just snake. he wears his emotions on his sleeve, and even when snake is holding him at arm’s length, otacon is trying in earnest to connect with him.

they tend to bounce off of each other like polarized magnets, but in moments like the “love blooming on a battlefield” scene or wolf’s death, they come together, finding common enough ground to understand each other while remaining distinctly different. you can feel snake warming up to otacon before the end, even without taking into account the otacon ending (which is noncanon anyway, but its exploration into their relationship in that situation is still very sweet). otacon is willing to sacrifice himself to ensure snake and meryl’s survival in the canon ending, and snake makes especially sure to request otacon’s extraction when the bombs don’t fall.

this all segues nicely into their dynamic come mgs2, but even taken only by itself, it tells a very concise story. even though they both have romantic interests in mgs1, their relationship with each other is important, a key factor in both of their character arcs.

why am i bringing all of this up? well, uh, because the graphic novel tries to downplay it in favor of the romances.

look, i don’t ship either of the “canon” ships in mgs1 (if we can even call otacon/wolf such), but i don’t think they’re done poorly, either. as i said earlier, i felt like snake and meryl’s stilted, almost forced romance lends well to the timeline between mgs1 and 2, because the idea that she’d eventually realize he was exactly who he said he was—thereby seeing the real him, and not this idea of him she had in her head—and subsequently realize she didn’t want that and wind up leaving, is really good. it’s an interesting story, and adds to the overall narrative. as for wolf and otacon, i always got the sense that otacon was in over his head about someone who’d shown him the barest hint of mercy, and wolf was mostly neutral on him in turn. the moment when she reaches out, and snake asks what she wants, and she says her gun? with otacon visibly in frame behind the gun? that’s powerful. he’s inconsequential, meaningless; yet to him, she’s everything, this symbol of “love blooming on the battlefield”. it’s an interesting story.

the graphic novel giving us more scenes between snake and meryl/otacon and wolf isn’t something i mind, especially the latter. i want to see more of that! i want to know why otacon feels the way he does. the first time he runs into wolf in this story, she wants to kill him. (never mind that she “doesn’t kill for sport” in the game, huh.) the second time, she uh. decides she likes him a lot? i’m willing to accept her being at least somewhat fond of him (he does have her handkerchief, after all), but her sudden pivot to openly liking him is... odd. and then the third time, he bursts onto the snowfield to stop snake and wolf from killing each other (this is good, i like this idea), and she can’t bring herself to shoot him to lure snake like she did with meryl (which feels... not like a problem a trained killer like her would have, especially given that she discusses shooting him in non-vital but crippling ways, specifically). her death scene is similarly impacted by this increased focus on her and otacon, stripping away the mood of the original in ways i really wasn’t fond of.

now, snake and meryl i have less to actively say about because we genuinely skipped a lot of it. it was painful to watch. i like meryl—i think her being an inexperienced wannabe soldier who is desperate to prove herself is a great story. she idolizes “heroes” like snake, who were never heroes at all, throwing herself into the war machine to live up to this ideal that will never exist. (mgs4 handled this well too.) i guess i don’t have much to say on how the graphic novel handled her because of the skipping, but i can say that there was ample focus on her and snake, and in a way, i feel like parts of otacon and snake’s story were surgically removed to make more space for it.

remember the “love blooming on a battlefield” scene? of course you do. it’s one of the most iconic scenes in the entire game—maybe the whole series. how does the graphic novel handle it? it, uh. doesn’t. it’s gone.

and at that point, i can’t help but wonder if part of the entire point of this was to make the story seem less gay. maybe that’s just a tinfoil hat thing. but why would you remove one of the most powerful, character-driven conversations in the game? it doesn’t sit right with me. were they worried snake and otacon would eclipse the oh-so-important romances if they were allowed to be proper foils?

some of the stuff towards the ending is pretty good. i like some of gray fox’s changes, and i like snake being forced to fire the stinger because fox begs him to, though the original version where snake can’t bring himself to is still good. i like that snake cuts off liquid’s arm, setting up ocelot’s arc later on. i like that the patriots are mentioned; of course they weren’t originally, bc they hadn’t been conceived of yet, but it’s a good addition now that they’re part of the series.

i don’t like how otacon is stripped of the chance to demonstrate his conviction and loyalty, because he’s already safely out and hacked the security doors in advance. i don’t like how he mocks snake’s real name instead of making a 2001: a space odyssey joke. i don’t like how him escaping with snake and meryl has made for some very confusing fanfics where writers think he was at the cabin at the same time as meryl because that’s the only version of the story they know.

and that, right there, is the worst part of it all, isn’t it?

this version of events, with all its changes, has been presented multiple times as a stand-in for the actual game. it’s not the only one in this series, but it is the only one i’ve seen, and it veers so wildly from established canon that it actively changes several dynamics and story beats—and people without access to mgs1, or who don’t like the look of it, or can’t quite get into it, or aren’t able to play video games in the first place, are given this story as a way to bypass having to play it at all. it has been presented as being just as good as playing the game to see its story. it’s officially sanctioned konami content.

i genuinely hate it.

i liked a lot of things, like i said. some changes were good. psycho mantis was great. several of the VAs did a stellar job (though there was one part when otacon meets wolf and her dogs where the voice christopher randolph uses for him is exactly huey’s, so much so that it makes a genuine statement sound manipulative with that context, but this was recorded before peacewalker/mgs5 so it absolutely wasn’t intentional). a lot of it was a really interesting take on a familiar story, but some of the parts they changed just... were really bad. i was kind of fine with it when we finished it, but the more i thought about it, the angrier i got.

i don’t know what the point of this is. i mostly just wanted to get out my thoughts, i suppose. it drives me insane that this is billed the way it is, like a canon thing and not some fanciful retelling by a fan. i wish it was better, but i’m at least comfortable with the fact that a lot of people in this fandom don’t seem to have any open feelings about it, if they’ve seen it at all. mgs1 hasn’t been lost to history even a little bit, and i love that.

if we hadn’t skipped a lot of it, i’d probably have more to say, but also, i never want to see it again, so this is what you get. thanks for reading; i’m gonna write otasune fic now probably.

#metal gear solid #mgs #sorry for thinking so hard about otacon all of the time #tox.txt

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