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ivystoryweaver · 1 year

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Decadent chapter 2

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Summary: Your first week on the job with Miguel

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings/notables: AU story. 18+, cursing, smut, p in v, masturbation, handjob, it gets messy, workplace nonsense, use protection people! a brief moment of throat squeezing. not beta'd we die like everyones uncle ben... mentions of blood. a mention of violence and death

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook those thoughts from his head. It was next-level annoying to have super powers at his disposal but still feel like shit half the time.

Blood was the key.

But in sustaining his body, he felt he was losing his soul.

He smelled you coming off the elevator.

New blood.

Fuck, he was hungry. He should have just fed last night. Then he wouldn't be distracted by--

"Miguel, your new assistant is here," LYLA chimed.

Miguel nodded to the hologram figure of his artificially intelligent assistant. "Thank you, Lyla. Send her in."

"I hope you're not attempting to replace me," Lyla voiced. "My capabilities are--"

"Yes, yes, I know," Miguel huffed. "She's not here for that. She's working on her doctorate and needs some practical--"

"Experience. Yes, I'm aware."

"Do not interrupt me," Miguel chided. "Just...send her in."

Miguel was a man who had no trouble getting a date. He didn't hire you for your looks. But damn if you didn't take his breath away as you scurried into his office, dressed to kill.

"Mr. O'Hara," you cheerily intoned, smoothing your sleek suit before extending your hand. "What an honor to meet you in person."

"Pleasure," he smoothly returned, taking your smaller hand in his while minding the retraction of his talons. "I've been anxious to meet you. We have a lot of work to do."

He shouldn't have touched you. Miguel rarely touched anyone unless he needed something specific from them. The blood temptation was too intense, and between talons and fangs and super strength - well it was better to just not bother.

Outside of the bedroom, he was sure he hadn't even hugged or held anyone since his daughter died... Better that way.

So the soft skin of your hand, so confidently extended - the gentle squeeze of your fingers as you smiled up at him beautifully - it made him jerk his hand away abruptly.

His eyes, which you noticed were dark red? in person, roved freely down your figure as if sizing you up, rather than checking you out. As his gaze returned to yours, you wondered how he managed red irises. They had looked light brown on your video call.

"You have excellent taste, but I’m afraid you’re overdressed," he voiced, turning his back to you as if he were busy with 100 other things. "I think you'll find that the work we do lends itself to a lab coat and goggles. I’ll see that you get some."

"Of course, sir," you swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. So much for a first impression. You would just have to impress him with your mind instead.

Hearing you call him sir sent a jolt of desire through his body.

You were a little caught off guard by the pierce of his crimson gaze as he turned back to you - and by the massive span of his broad shoulders. He was far more handsome in person, but you quickly reminded yourself that you were here for his brilliant mind.

"Let’s take a look then, shall we?"

Your first day in the lab completely blew you away. Miguel's intelligence somehow exceeded his good looks, and the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. He admitted to you that he had hired you because of your specific theories on genetic coding an gene splicing.

"I've read all your papers," he admitted, "and studied your coursework, all the way back to high school."

You were floored. You might as well have been an aspiring songwriter hearing that their favorite artist wanted to record their song and sing it as a duet.

What Miguel didn't tell you was that he was looking for someone specific. Someone with your intelligence and specialties, but someone...pure. Someone uncorrupted by mega corporations, or too much success or money. Someone young and eager, whose ideas on genetics lined up with his own. He needed someone to eventually help him get rid of his affliction.

He didn't want to drink blood anymore. He didn't want to be Spider-Man anymore. After all his dark deeds, after losing his little girl - he only wanted to see if he could ever be human again.

Unfortunately...or perhaps fortunately, the mutual attraction between the two of you filled the air with questions for him. He could see the effect he had on you, and he was pretty certain that resisting the softness of your smile, the angles of your face - the curve of your body ... it would be a losing battle for him.

He wanted you.

The two of you didn't last a week.

Longing gazes lingered, hands "accidentally" brushed. Complimenting one another's intelligence finally led to remarks that really weren't quite suited to the workplace.

You weren't an idiot. Suspecting Miguel had likely slept his way through his entire staff, you assumed that giving in to this burning in the center of your chest (and between your legs) would make you a name on a very long list. But you were a modern woman. You could fulfill your desires without it reflecting on the quality of your work. Hopefully Miguel would feel the same.

The tension while working together became unbearable and you really started to believe that relieving that tension would actually help your progress in the lab.

The thing you loved most about being around Miguel was that, inside the lab, he was all business. A reputation for being demanding and condescending aside, he really did treat you like an equal. He listened, he challenged you and he did not flirt or make anything personal. In the lab, there was only the science. You felt free to express your ideas without feeling inferior or objectified.

In his office, however, his desires were quite clear - a little more each day.

"You look stunning today." Your third day.

"Come take a look at this, will you?" Your fourth day. He beckoned you around his desk, prompting you to lean over to peer at the screen he'd been studying. Your side pressed against his thickly muscled arm. Your face was close enough to brush up against his cheek. What you wouldn't give to climb across his lap and sink your fingers into his dark waves.

"I thought I told you not to dress up." Your fifth day. You wore a skirt and explained to him that you could still dress professionally under your lab coat. You liked to dress nicely and, honestly, you wondered how he would react. His scarlet stare fixed itself on your legs the entire day.

"You're so beautiful I can't think straight." Your sixth day. Miguel had thought that he would get your gorgeous legs off his mind by draining a criminal over the weekend. Today he was well fed, but it did nothing to lessen his desire to have you. If you planned to tell him to fuck off, or otherwise reject his advances, he'd rather know sooner rather than later. The tension was killing him.

"How do you think I feel?" You fired back cheekily. "I have a thing for shoulders. And dark hair. And jaw lines."

"I have a thing for legs," he darkly responded, easing out of his office chair and stalking toward you. "Can't stop thinking about how yours would feel wrapped around me."

"Can't stop thinking about how you would feel between mine," you shot back as he rushed forward, scooping you up to do just what he said. Your back hit the wall with a thud as he pulled your shapely legs around his waist, pressing himself against you.

"Best not to tease me like that, hermosa," he growled, pinning you in place with his hips while pushing up your skirt, his thick fingers caressing your thighs.

Hooking your heels into the round shape of his ass, you rolled your hips against him. "I don't tease when I want something this bad."

"Fuck," he gasped out, your delicious body writhing in his arms - your beautiful eyes just begging him to take you. "Better be sure, baby." Even as he asked for permission, he helped you hop down just long enough to yank down your lace panties while you pulled open his pants.

Shoving things out of the way and pulling him free, you let out a little whine at his sheer size. Grasping his hand, you guided his fingers to your center, rubbing your wetness over his knuckles.

"I'm sure," you panted.

"Careful," he chided, swiftly pulling his fingers away. He hadn't exactly explained his retractable talons to you. They wouldn't hurt you as long as he concentrated on keeping them down. But as you stood there, flushed and panting, soaking wet, he wondered if he would be able to keep his concentration in tact.

Frowning, you peered up into his ruby eyes. Didn't he want this?

"Come here," he breathed, lifting you right back up to where you started, but this time, as he pulled your gorgeous legs around his waist, he used one hand to guide his hard length between your wet folds - rubbing himself up and down, just feeling you. Shuddering at how hot and wet you felt on his tip, he somehow managed to control himself just a little longer.

Pushing the tip of his cock over your clit, he felt your wetness mingle with his. He grinned wolfishly as you hissed in pleasure.

"M-Miguel, god, please," you moaned, the sound of it sending desire thundering through his body. Lining his cock up with your center, he pushed inside, all the way in, and stopped.

Your body was suspended there against his office wall, held in place by his hands gripping your thighs and his thick cock shoved up inside you. But he didn't fucking move.

Your hands gripped his muscular arms, attempting to pull yourself forward, or use gravity's advantage to plunge you down - something to feel some friction.

"Wh-what are you--"

"Look at me," he darkly ordered, squeezing your hips to almost a painful point.

You complied, but he still didn't move - his scarlet stare burning you alive as his thick, dark hair tumbled across his forehead carelessly.

"This is how I feel between your legs," he gruffly teased, reminding you of your flirtatious words from several moments ago. "Tell me what it feels like."

God, you felt like an insect caught in a spider's web. If you only knew how apropos that analogy was.

Pressing one strong hand to your lower abdomen, he pushed down firmly. "Tell me," he growled, his playful disposition dissipating.

"Just like I imagined," you panted. "Thick. Hot."

He groaned.

"I feel so full of you, Miguel." You squeezed your inner thighs against his torso, using that leverage to manage a small thrust.

How he was able to hold his shit together was beyond you. He hadn't even fucked up into you yet and you were about to come, mostly clothed, against the wall.

Pushing the hand on your abdomen up over your breast, he squeezed, then moved all the way up to your throat. He didn't apply pressure, but just the thought of it made you moan again.

"Love the sounds you make, hermosa. I'll make it good for you," he darkly whispered, giving your throat the faintest squeeze. "But I'm so bad for you."

Letting out an embarrassing whine, your head thumped back against the wall. He was driving you insane.

"What do you want?" you pleaded, digging your heels into his ass impatiently. "You want me to beg?"

"I just want you to understand," he purred against your cheek, his hot breath making you shiver with want. "I want you to be sure."

No. You weren't going to beg. Not today.

"Then let me down off this wall and I'll show you I understand." You stared right into his glowing eyes, locking your arms behind his neck. If you had to push him down and ride him hard, you would. But you had to have him now.

Apparently, he agreed.

Easing both hands back down to your thighs, he began to fuck you...slowly. You found his sudden switch so tender that you were sure he would kiss you...but he didn't. Instead, he breathed hotly on your ear.

"Wanted this...you...from the first second you walked in that door."

The rate of his deep thrusts quickened slightly - the power of his solid body and thick cock easily bucking you like a doll.

"Gonna try not to hurt you. Want to fuck you so hard," he panted, every jolt of his hips, juust a little deeper, faster.

"Please." Now you were begging. You didn't care. "I want you to. I need you to."

You thought, then, that he would start mercilessly pounding into you, but he didn't. Pulling away from your ear, he gazed down into your eyes, loving the way your lips fell apart as you gasped for air. If only he could kiss you. But his fangs were not retractable and he could really hurt you. No, kissing was something he never, ever did.

Kissing was for lovers and no one could love him. Not the real him - the spider. The monster.

So he buried his face in your neck, pumping just a little faster.

Mistake. Fuck, your blood smelled good. He jerked away quickly, deciding it was better to stare down at you and watch you fall apart, rather than tempt himself with his mouth on your throat.

He was right about working you up slowly, going a little faster and harder with each thrust. He was pretty sure you would be expecting him to hammer you into the wall, but he wasn't a college freshman. He knew how to make your beautiful body fall apart.

The two of you had worked up a delicious pace, bouncing together against the wall, the sound of slapping skin and harsh pants music to his ears.

Just a little more speed, and a slight tweak of his hips to see if he could just find the perfect spot...

"Yes, yes, Miguel, right there. Right there," you gasped, gripping his solid biceps once more as you started to bounce wildly.

"Knew you would look so pretty like this," he growled, pushing the palm of his hand down over your mound. The force of his length inside you combined with the heel of his hand roughly rubbing just where you wanted pressure made you shriek in pleasure.

"Don't stop," you begged, heat flaring up your torso and over your neck, punching gasps and whines from your throat. Buzzing, searing, thrilling pleasure twisted through your body, until a wave of rapture pulled you under like a rip current. Pleasure surged through every part of you, from your fingertips down to your curling toes.

Miguel had expected to work you up and watch you come before he finished, but he wildly underestimated how your tight cunt would feel gripping him as you came. He gushed inside you before he could even think to pull out, groaning at the wet mess the two of you made together.

Pulling out of you suddenly, he turned away and stuffed himself back into his pants, leaving you there - skirt bunched around your hips and the heat of him slipping down your inner thighs.

"Shouldn't have done that," he voiced aloud, reaching down to grab your panties as some sort of weak offering. "We have to be more careful."

You thought he meant the sex. Or perhaps the noise you both made.

But he knew he shouldn't have done that. Not without you knowing the risks of who - what - he really was. His...genetic material was not something to mess around with.

Grabbing your panties out of his hand, you shoved your skirt down, feeling a little foolish. You knew this would just be a bit of fun for him - a quick fuck with new assistant - but you didn't expect to be scolded the moment he finished inside you.

Whatever. At least if felt good.

Seeing he had made you uncomfortable, Miguel reached for your arm. "You can clean up in my private bathroom," he said softly, nodding toward a small door you'd yet to go inside.

Rolling your eyes, you did just that, feeling humiliated. Oh well. You had really put yourself in this position.

As soon as you shut the bathroom door, Miguel sighed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He had hoped that giving in to the sexual tension between you would make things easier. It was inevitably going to happen at one point or another anyway. He thought maybe he could just douse the spark you two shared.

Being inside you was gasoline on a flame.

You exited the bathroom a few minutes later, your irritation thinly cloaked under the sheen of professionalism. Without even looking at him, you rattled off a few questions about a hypothesis you'd been thinking through.

If Miguel wanted to be all business, then you would oblige.

You amazed him - how easily you could switch modes from vigorous sex to brilliant hypothesizing. It was just as enticing as your gorgeous legs or beautiful mouth.

He couldn't concentrate - it was the first time you had been all business and he had been distracted. Well, did he want to work or did he want to play? Maybe the two of you should head to the lab to get some real work done.

"What are you staring at, Miguel?" you impatiently huffed.

"You," he quickly and openly answered.

"Why? I thought we 'shouldn't have done this'," you quoted him.

Then he understood.

"Wait, no. Come here," he beckoned you over to his desk, where he was seated.

You hesitantly complied. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized, peering up at you. Reaching for your hand, he pulled you to stand between his legs. "I wanted to do...what we did. I never want to stop doing it," he confessed. "I just...I should have talked to you before I...finished like that."

Ohhh. That's what he meant. Well, fair point.

"You're right," you agreed, raking your fingers through his dark hair. "I guess we got a little carried away."

He rested his forehead on your stomach, pulling you close. "I didn't mean to, I...you felt so good. So fucking good." Pulling back, he gazed up at you hungrily. "You have no idea the things I want to do to you. The things I could do." His strong hands had wandered from your hips around to trace the curve of your ass.

"Even now, I want to...already...again."

Without asking, he roughly turned you around, using his hands to push your skirt up your thighs - again - while pulling you down on his lap. With your back to his chest, he spread your thighs wide, slowly starting to thrust his hardening length against your ass.

"Miguel," you whispered, completely ready to be putty in his hands. So much for getting work done.

He growled in frustration, but you took it as desire. The two things he wanted to do right now were difficult for him - he wanted to kiss your neck and finger you until you came. He needed to show you how good he could make you feel, but he couldn't. Not like that.

If his mouth went anywhere near your neck, especially while he was hard, he wasn't sure he could continue keeping his fangs from piercing your soft skin. Or his talons safely retracted. He was used to the things he couldn't, or shouldn't do to a woman, but you made him want to do exactly those things. Even the thought of laying you across his desk and eating you out was too dangerous - not until you knew more about the creature he was.

Obviously, he found ways around these things from time to time, but there was no way he was going to risk hurting you. If he somehow scared you away...well that was just not an acceptable option. Not professionally, and now he was starting to think he didn't want to lose you on a personal level either.

"I want you to touch yourself," he finally whispered on your ear, "while you bounce on my cock."

All you wanted to do was turn around and kiss him hard and then give him what he demanded. You wanted to ride him until he came inside you again.

But he held you in place.

"Show me," he purred, pulling your panties aside, deviously using one talon to slice them free of your body.

You moaned, thinking he had ripped them.

Rubbing your ass against his erection, you slid two fingers between your folds, making a show of masturbating for him. "I'll show you, Miguel. I'll show you what I do in bed at night when I think of you fucking me."

"Oh fuck," he growled, pushing you over on the desk long enough to shove his pants back down. Reaching for your hips, he gripped you firmly, pushing you down on his cock.

Letting out one of the little whines he already loved to hear so much, you did not do the slow and steady game he had played with you up against the wall.

Obediently, you rubbed firm circles over your clit and started to bounce.

Gasping, Miguel had to restrain himself from shredding the rest of your clothes with his talons. Instead, he worked open the buttons of your blouse and pulled it off your arms before unclasping your bra. Your breasts sprang free, bouncing freely as you worked yourself over his cock, there in his lap. Your fingers returned to your clit, pleasuring yourself.

"Look at you, using me like this," he panted. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, he watched your little show. Sliding his hands up your soft stomach, he fondled your tits, rolling your nipples carefully between his fingers. "Take what you want, baby."

Putting on a show for him made you fucking feral. Gripping the edge of his desk with one hand, you leaned slightly forward, vigorously riding him, and furiously rubbing yourself. It only took you a few more seconds to come on his cock, panting and moaning his name.

Miguel dug his talons into his thigh to keep from joining you - determined to feel you tight and wet around him. He let you finish and felt you go limp in his arms - biting his lip as he stilled his hard length inside you.

Remembering what he had just explained to you, you eased off his cock, shifting over to his bare thigh. He groaned as your wet pussy and slick thighs soaked his leg.

"Let me take care of you," you panted, sliding one arm behind you, up into his dark curls, while the other hand eased over to his hardened shaft. Teasing the tip with your thumb, you felt his breath on your cheek. He hissed when you moved your hand down to his balls, toying with them with your fingertips.

A string of Spanish curses fell on your ear as you dragged your hand up and down, twisting your wrist and rolling your thumb over his tip deliciously.

"Talk to me, Miguel," you softly ordered, halting your motions. You needed some feedback.

"Fuck, don't - don't stop," he husked, his hand joining yours to jerk him off. It took him a little bit longer than the first time, but as his warmth coated your hand, running down your wrist, you realized that working with Miguel could end up being a lot of fun.

@deputy-videogamer

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#miguel o'hara #decadent fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #sm: atsv #sm: atsv fic #au spiderverse #tw blood #miguel o'hara smut #spiderverse

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celestoria · 11 months

Note

For the event, how about 15, 19, 23 for Xiao?

Tags: orgasm denial, oral (f), mirror sex, dance partner!Xiao x idol!reader

Do not interact if you are 17 or below (17+)

You and Xiao were collaborating on an upcoming project and of course, it included a choreography. While your movements were graceful and confident, what the dance truly needed was sharpness and energy, which was perfectly displayed by the lead rapper and main dancer of 4NEMO.

Since this was something both of you were working on, Xiao can’t let you just struggle to master your moves if he knew he was more than capable to teach you. With the dance studio about to close up and the filming right around the corner, you agreed that you’ll take it to his place. But what started as a casual dance practice, turned into a steamy session.

The man understood you knew your moves by heart, and it appears to him the issue was with your differences in skill. He wanted to know your stamina and as well for you to know how your body moves.

And what’s a better way than eating you out while you stare at the mirror?

“Xiao,” you moaned, his head buried in between your legs and his hair slightly covered by your short pleated skirt. By his order, your eyes stared at your lewd reflection, a perfect display of your curves and figure being ravaged by a man you were tirelessly working with earlier this afternoon. Oftentimes, however, you would catch yourself looking away at the embarrassing view.

Your thoughts turned blurry, lost count of time with how long he’s been eating you out and how many fallen orgasms he gave you. Longing to know that sweet release once again simmered in you every time Xiao’s tongue pulls away from lapping your sore cunt, causing the knot in your stomach to fail to tighten every time he suspects you’re looking away.

“Didn’t I tell you to only look in the mirror,” Xiao interrogated, his lips glistening with your juice. Golden eyes darted at you like a furious predator and his arms tore your thighs further apart, spreading your private parts, wet from a mix of slick and saliva.

“Please,” you needily begged. “Let me cum.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, unlatching the clasp of your skirt, now pooled around on your ankles. Xiao trusts you’ve learned to never look away from the mirror, a lesson he knows will be useful to you when the next practice session in the dance studio comes. He just hopes he isn’t wrong. “Show me that you heard what I said.”

Xiao takes off for another round, already knowing your most sensitive spots at this point. Your eyelids began to grow heavy, tempted to shut themselves to relish the pleasure flowing through you. But you knew better than that with Xiao monitoring you despite sticking his tongue inside your hole.

You focused on yourself, how your body jolts, how your fingers grasp on his green hair, and how your smudged lipstick ruined your face. Your body glimmered with a thin layer of sweat coating you, and your hair was disheveled from your makeout earlier.

Sharp flinches came abruptly and lively moans made it seem you were far from being tired out. That’s what Xiao expects from you and it was enough to tell him he didn’t regret teaching you a few lessons you needed to learn from him. He hummed in satisfaction, both from your savory taste and the fact his efforts paid off.

He went harder on you, making your body lean forward. False hope and blinded trust riddled you when it came to his passion; you’re not sure if he’s going to give you what you want but naive faith promised you that he’ll send you to heaven sooner or later.

Your knees buckled, causing his head to be squished between your thighs. Yes. This was it. Just a little more and you’ll be off with euphoria.

His tongue, aggressively slurping on the sides of your entrance, swallows every sip of your essence he can get. With Xiao’s eyes still locked on you, your head carelessly rolled back up to the ceiling, breaking contact with yourself in the mirror.

No. No. No. You didn’t mean to get too caught in the moment. Shit, you were so close if it wasn’t for your stupid mistake.

Xiao frowned, foolishly expecting you were about to go through with it this time around. His brows furrowed. “Tsk.” One simple sound was all he needed to say to completely show his irritation and disappointment towards you. “Do you want to cum or not,” he said, slipping his hands away from your legs, perfectly showing he was not too far away from calling it a day.

You nodded eagerly. “So bad. Fuck, just let me cum, Xiao. I promise I won’t do it again,” you whined. “I’ll be a good girl for you this time. Please.”

God, you’re so adorable when you beg like that. So eager for him to just make you see the stars above. You’re lucky that you effortlessly charmed Xiao with your pleas.

His hold on you squished the softness of your legs again, this time far rougher than it was earlier. His hoy, heavy breath tickled your twitching cunt as he descended into you. “All right, but keep the end of your promise,” he grunted before sucking on your clit for another round.

Xiao would never admit it to you, but he just loves it when he knows you’ve been completely bewitched by his touch.

#referencing the ifuudoudou genshin video that took the fandom by storm #he was dancing with so much energy there kskfjslvjc #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #xiao #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao smut

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hanasnx · 1 year

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❝ exit music for a film. ❞

── knightfall!anakin skywalker x reader

PART ONE ✩ PART TWO MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 1.4k SUMMARY: somehow aware of anakin skywalker’s knightfall before the events take place, you seek to change the ending before it happens. NOTES: based on the dream i had last night where i knew everything that happened in rots & couldn’t tell anybody & was trying to change the ending of the movie WARNINGS: lowkey angst | size difference

It was a mistake. All of it. There was no way for you to tell where it went wrong, only that the result would be devastating and the events were en route to that at a rapid pace. Your only guide granted to you was your memories. Lack of allyship, lack of plan, lack of hope… As if your brain was running away with you again, the heels of your hands pressed hard into your temples, restraining tears threatening to fall. Exhaustion was an understatement. You were run ragged, and there was no time for anything else.

Your watchful ear ensured you knew what transpired around you, any information was helpful. However, it could only do so much. You could not be everywhere all at once, and there were so many moving pieces in this perfect storm.

It was impossible to confide in anyone what the future held. They wouldn’t believe you, and the soundness of your mind once questioned, would be difficult to trust when it was absolutely necessary to. Everything up until this point, was leading to this moment, and you were the only one who could save everyone.

The burden was crushing to bear, but nonetheless you sustained on nothing but the desire to set things right, even if it meant snapping your neck under the pressure.

You knew. You knew— what ANAKIN SKYWALKER would become.

There was a reason you were here. There was a reason. You told yourself.

To change fate.

No one noticed your aversion to General Skywalker. The way you’d avoid him in the halls, would not speak to him unless spoken to or unless an order was given to relay to him. It tightened your throat to face him, and you were positive he could hear your heartbeat.

It was no secret how daunting Anakin Skywalker was. Commanding, large, severe, intense: were a few words you’d use to describe the emotion he invoked in people simply being near them. He had to be, in order to hold the power he did over his battalion, his peers, and his enemies. Your only wish was that he did not know you were one of them. His enemy. That would be unrecoverable. There was a miniscule percentage of opposers who could measure up to the General’s superior prowess. His formidability was unquestionable.

You could not survive him.

As many will not when he fulfills his destined path that he has been set on since birth. The path you were convinced you were put here to derail him from.

Attempt after attempt, you failed to find what dejarik piece was replaceable in order to change course. Like a puppetmaster behind the scenes, aware of how the story ends, you futilely bargained with the writer. Offering solutions that fell through, and annotations that were ignored. Any suggestion only furthered the rising action until you were completely persuaded that it would take your direct influence in order to see any impact.

Being the sole person in this realm that knew what he was truly capable of, made the betrayal everyone would endure by the actions he takes, on you.

One of them being Master Windu’s death. You were too late.

When you had scrambled up to the Chancellor's office, intending to intercept Anakin before he talked to Windu, stall Anakin while Windu spoke with Palpatine, or hell even interrupt the convention and give Mace time to cut the Chancellor’s head off and deal with the aftermath of Anakin’s wrath so be it. Instead, the door opened and there stood Anakin, staring down at you quizzically.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a curious lilt to his tone disguising something far more sinister as he advanced on you, letting the door slide shut behind him in order to cover up his recently committed misdeeds. You drew a blank, unable to explain yourself since you were in such a hurry. Blinking hard, you regurgitate the first thing that comes to mind.

“I was looking for you.” The most despicable excuse in history, for now you had to lie about it further by fabricating why you would possibly be looking for him.

Anakin, a newly brandished sith lord, raised a suspicious brow at you, and it was enough to run your blood cold. Did he know you were lying? Did he know you knew about this entire ordeal that was bound to happen? Did he know you were late to save Mace Windu because you were busy burning your fingers, tirelessly sabotaging his speeder so he could not pay a deadly visit to the Jedi Temple?

Order 66 was about to occur any second, you need to do something. Anything. You screamed at yourself to act. Your gaping mouth finally pushed air through, “I thought you might be with the Chancellor, and I had urgent news for him.” You went to pass him, but he stepped in front of you, blocking your way with his broad body.

“I’ll tell him.” He left no room for argument, but still you were desperate.

“It’s classified.”

That only served to further his suspicions of you, narrowing his eyes. “I outrank you.”

Your legs shook from fear, meeting his fiery gaze, focusing on anything else if it meant not crying in front of him.

“Come with me.” he told you, but it wasn’t a request as he grasped your upper arm, lifting you effortlessly as he dragged you out of the Chancellor’s hallway. Glancing over his shoulder, you eyed the view of the door receding. Your stomach dropped further with each distancing step.

You clenched your jaw, halting your chattering teeth, worried for not just your safety but the safety of others. Forcing an inhale to calm your bustling nerves, you filled the dreadful silence. “General Skywalker, you’re being irresponsible—“ Once he’d found a suitable spot, he shoved you into a darkened corridor, caging you against the wall looming over you. Makeshift privacy for an ambushed interrogation.

“What did you hear? Did you see anything?”

You didn’t have to.

“What are you talking about?” you feigned ignorance, but he remained unconvinced. Suppressing your deceit by his large hand covering your mouth. He stooped to your level,

“Look me in the eyes.” he ordered, that severe gaze that scared you to your core boring into you like daggers. “It is imperative you tell me the truth. For your sake.”

Floundering, you were near bursting into tears, begging him to spare your life, to spare others’ but that was forbidden, and it’d do you no good anyway. He couldn’t explain his feeling about you, something was telling him not to give this up. Slowly, he lowered his palm from your mouth, and your expression twisted, convicting you.

Fear coursed through you, fighting through the urge to faint. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, unprepared and panicking.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him reach for his saber, and as if a demon took control of your body, you threw your arms around him, standing on the tips of your toes to reach him, interlocking your lips. Against your stomach, his arm relaxed, and you knew he’d halted his route to his weapon in bewilderment. The unprecedented kiss served its purpose, catching the General off guard.

In reality, this was your last resort. Your sign off to your death wish. Your goodbye. You’ve loved him quietly, but there was no room for that. Not after becoming privy to his future knightfall.

Anakin pulled away from you, eyebrows furrowed as he looked through you, deciphering where that came from. Is this that feeling he was describing earlier? Is this what he interpreted when there was something emanating from you he was propelled to discover?

Recollections surfaced in his mind. All the times you’ve kept to yourself around him, wordless, rarely looking at him.

“Something wrong?” he had asked, blocking your way from your walk in a hallway. You had merely peered up at him with wide, glossy eyes.

Was your bashfulness towards him, your evasive habits… caused by an attraction towards him? Why did that matter to him?

He idled. Stunned.

As if a gift from the gods themselves, you were granted mercy, and you slipped out from the corridor, allowing him time to process what had happened as you escaped.

By the time he looked around the corner to ask you why you came onto him… now of all times… you were gone.

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annaizscribbling · 9 months

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Is Logan really a nerd?

There is something to be said about Logan's character, when looked at through the lense of the various stereotypical archetypes the show loves to use.

For example, Roman is a dramatic theater kid, Virgil is emo, and Patton is a happy go lucky dad character.

And if course, Logan is a nerd. A teacher character. But there is an emphasis on the nerd thing.

But like. Is he though?

The "nerd" characters often depicted in film and television don't actually have much in common with Logan. Stereotypical nerd characters are usually small, awkward, unsure of themselves, weak, picked on, unassuming, and easy to mock.

Logan is not that.

He's confident, he enjoys leadership, he stands up for himself, he's extremely capable, proud, irritable, strong, serious, prone to anger, and really just not at all like a typical "nerd"

It's true he has a love for learning and knowledge, but that's really all he truly has in common with the nerd archetype.

He actually has far more in common with the tortured genius character type. While not as official as some other archetypes, we can see many examples in mainstream media

BBC's Sherlock, Walter white, Bruce Wayne, Nate Ford, fcking Hamilton, the list goes on. They are characterized by their intelligence, their inability to confront their own emotions, their leadership, their drive, their capabilities, and their cold nature that drives others away.

Logan surely has far more in common with these characters, and even tells us that directly. His favorite character is Sherlock Holmes, and we don't exactly see Sherlock as a nerd exactly.

#logan sanders #sander sides #anais rambles #thomas sanders #sasi #ts logan #look I'm getting nitpicky but look #i have a point here right

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strawberryamanita · 2 years

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Y'know, I didn't think it was possible, but I hate Peach's voice even more than Mario's. But I'm accrediting this mistake not to the actor, but to the voice direction.

(Rant incoming)

I haven't seen too much of Anya Taylor-Joy's work, but I have seen firsthand that she is capable of exerting some level of energy in her voice when she acts. I'm not putting this on her head.

No, no, this one is Illumination's fault -- because their past movies are rife with this. So many of their heroines are given these super quiet, super scratchy, too-far-away-from-the-microphone-ass voices in order to seem ✨️casual and cool and level-headed and aspirational✨️ blah blah blah whatever fuck off.

Taylor Swift in the Lorax movie. Miranda Cosgrove in Despicable me. And now this bullshit. Im sure I or someone else can name more, but I haven't really watched too many Illumination movies and shit like this is exactly why.

Eugh. Eugh, I say, eugh.

The way Peach is written, at least what we can see from the trailer so far, does not match up with that kind of voice direction. We all knew from the jump they were gonna girlbossify her, that's a Free Space on the Bingo card. I can handle her being a headstrong sovereign, probably has to overcompensate for ruling a kingdom at her age and being unwed and all that, that's fine; but she should sound like she has the level of confidence and discipline that kind of role would suggest.

Not everything needs to be spoken with a smirk to sound badass, Hollywood. Some heroines are allowed to be sore winners. Please write that down on a Post-It note and put it on your fridge so you don't forget.

And they clearly know how to cast actors with energy! This movie's gonna sound so disjointed and uneven, because Jack Black, Charlie Day and Keegan Michael-Key are knocking it out of the park... but the main character and the leading lady, who are probably gonna have the most lines/most important lines in the movie, are gonna be where we're gonna roll our eyes. Chris Pratt is in a league of his own, but this happens remarkably frequently with Illumination's heroines.

Who's fault is this, culturally? Do we blame Bella Swan? Do we blame Elsa? Why can't fantasy heroines sound interested in the fantastical adventure they're part of? You wanted a "Spirited Princess Peach", Mr. Miyamoto? A spirited heroine in an Illumination film? I Have To Laugh!!!!!!!!!!

Because if I don't I'm gonna throw a fit (for unrelated reasons)

If we're gonna get Martinet to do Mario's lines through Cameo, we might as well find a Peach as well. Hynden Walch, Kelly Sheridan, Joan Cusack, anybody with a modicum of respect for the art of voice-acting, I beg of thee...

#super mario movie #mario movie #super mario bros movie #super mario #mario #super mario bros #mario bros movie #mario bros #princess peach

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anonymous-astronaut · 2 years

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Mercs vs one of those fake mechanical rodeo bulls

Scout

Confidence 100%. Execution… 0%. Scout goes in thinking he is about to beat every record ever set at the venue, he already has his rodeo bull trophy acceptance speech fully planned out in his head. But the second it starts to move he is tossed head-over-ass into the air like the worlds gangliest Frisbee. The only thing he broke was his ego and the record for how far anyone has ever been thrown. 2/10

Soldier

He is roaring out war cries before the machine even starts bucking, but he holds on for a pretty decent amount of time once it gets going. He treats it more like a wrestling match, and when he starts sliding off the side he tries to put the fake bull in a chokehold. Perceives the bucking as it fighting back and starts throwing punches. He has to be dragged away. 4/10

Pyro

They just want to pet it! If they did try to ride it they would be perfectly capable of staying on, but they see no reason to make it upset. 🐮/10

Heavy

He is very reluctant to give it a go, thinking he’s simply too big for the machine. If someone does manage to convince him to get on, it’s like watching a grown ass man trying to ride one of those spring-horse things at the playground. Staying on isn’t even a challenge for him. 9/10 (-1 for lacking enthusiasm)

Demo

If he is only slightly wasted, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that Demo is just that guy who straight up stands on the mechanical bull ans rides it like a god damn surfboard.

If he’s too wasted however, Demo will be clutching at the bull with all four limbs, clinging on for dear life and wailing until he slides off pathetically. 11/10 - 1/10 depending.

Engie

Oh. Oh this is his time to shine. Engie is making this his MOMENT. He’s got yee-haws and wah-hoos for days, riding like he’s straight out of a western film and headin for the sunset. Out of everyone who attempts it, he’s the only person who actually does it correctly. Them hips be rollin baby, and Engie is mesmerizing and living his best life. Doesn’t even spill his beer. 100/10

Medic

This man is… shockingly bad. He can’t stay on for the life of him, either spinning off in a twirl of limbs or flopping headfirst over the front. He does think it’s great fun though, and attempts it multiple times much to the enjoyment of the crowd who get to watch him eat shit every single time. 4/10 (bonus points for being a good sport)

Sniper

Sniper isn’t ridiculously bad, but he isn’t exactly great at it either. He can hold his own for a while, but it certainly isn’t pretty. This man has about as much grace as a bale of hay. It’s like watching an inflatable tube man in a hurricane, he just flails around until it finally throws him off. At least he put some real effort in. 5/10

Spy

An absolute disgrace, and the best show of the night. Someone would have to literally blackmail this man in order for him to actually do it, but by god it’s worth it. It’s like the bull is actively tying to beat him up. He’s light enough that it tosses him up in the air but his cat-reflexes and death grip means that it can’t quiet get rid of him. He ends up just getting tossed around like a cartoon character, somehow always landing on it just to get thrown again. Perfect combination of desperately wanting to get off but far too scared to let go. 3/10 skill, 10/10 performance

Miss Pauling

She’s way more focused on having a good time than staying on for as long as possible or beating anybody else. Still, she probably sets it to the highest setting just for the fun of getting tossed around, and she manages to stay on for an impressively good run. She has a fucking blast, as she should. 8/10

#tf2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 demoman #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #tf2 engineer #tf2 soldier #tf2 scout #tf2 pyro #tf2 heavy #tf2 miss pauling

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i-hate-spitelout-jorgenson · 2 years

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Nonononono I would love to hear you get into why you despise the hidden world i am always ready to add more reasons to my list

This is gonna be super messy and infodumpy but you asked and I deliver. fueled by rage, 40°c/100°f weather and no aircon.

First of all, The Hidden World was NOT exactl up for success. The first two films had two people workin together: Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois. in the first film they were both directors, in the second one was a director and one was an executive producer. The first two are regarded generally as some of Dreamworks' best work, only really tailing films like Shrek and Shrek 2. The Hidden World isn't. I cant say I know a lot about what Sanders and DeBlois individually contributed to the films, but I can say this with confidence: DeBlois does not understand the dragons on a fundamental level. Time and time again the dragons are shown to be intelligent, capable understanding human speech and sarcasm, being fully sentient and sapient just as we are. For whatever reason, DeBlois never seemed to get this. Thats why The Hidden World treats the dragons like wild animals with instincts and a call for the wild when theyre shown to not be like that at all. At some point during the film, Astrid says, "What did you expect? You gave him his freedom, Hiccup." (paraphrased). Thats bullshit. And thats not even headcanon, its just bullshit. The whole idea of dragons being called away by their instincts to start a family and move on was already done in Gift Of The Nightfury, and it did it better! Literally the entire point of that short was that the dragons CHOSE to come back. They didn't want freedom, they wanted companionship - which clearly they understand as deeply as we do. Toothless is a special case, because its debateable that he never had those instincts to begin with. To that I say: Why didn't he have them to begin with? What was different about this time? That he SAW the lightfury? Gift Of The Nightfury was made to explore the idea of dragons laying eggs as a part of their instincts. If laying eggs is part of the instinct, why did Toothless and the Lightfury only do that like fifteen-twenty years later? And I dont have an answer for that. DeBlois did not direct Gift Of The Nightfury, but he worked on it. He watched the project grow and go through all of its developmental stages and came out of it learning apparently nothing. How To Train Your Dragon and How To Train Your Dragon 2 (as well as its respective TV shows) recognised the dragons as a very expressive, very complex part of the universe that have friends, familial ties, personalities, morals, emotions, understanding of human language. They dont get this treatment in The Hidden World. In The Hidden World Toothless is reduced to a romanticised, horny house dog.

DeBlois also doesn't seem to fully grasp the bond that the dragons and riders have. Toothless specifically has repeatedly risked his life for Hiccup. Off the top of my head, he saved him from that avalanche and risked being buried alive or dying of hypothermia; he (several times) swims far too deep to attempt to rescue Hiccup; he dives into the Red Death's fire to save hiccup; he deters, oh I don't know, a BEWILDERBEAST in order to protect hiccup. He has never truly in his life chose something over Hiccup. And you're telling me the Lightfury shows up, SHOOTS AT HICCUP, and Toothless still risks it all for some pussy? Like seriously? That bitch would have been GONE within seconds.

Now, I can't find a source for this, so take it with a grain of salt, but just like how the original villain of the second film was Valka, apparently the original pitch for the third was that they find a cave full of Nightfuries. First of all this wouldve been so much more interesting. I cant speak for Race To The Edge, but the ENTIRETY of Riders of Berk, Defenders of Berk, and even How To Train Your Dragon 2 lead up to the idea that maybe Toothless wasn't the last of his kind. I couldnt tell you how many times its alluded to in the show alone. And you're telling me, after, what, seven years, your answer is just, "That guy killed them all"? Which brings me onto Grimmel.

The selling point of Grimmel is that he's smart. He's the most intelligent villain they've fought yet. Personally I think thats fucking stupid. Thats not only blatantly untrue in regards to the actually intelligent antagonists they HAVE faced, hes also just not that smart. When he presents the ultimatum, among other things, Toothless could literally just shoot him. When he shows up in Hiccup's hut, Toothless could literally just shoot him. Even if hes fireproof (which i dont remember if he is) hes not momentum proof. A better point of interest on Grimmel would have been, "Hes the first villain weve really seen actively murder dragons." (Unincluding the red death). Which, ok, maybe. Hes still boring.

The designs. the designsbfurghensnebdndbd d

OKOK SO. Lets start simple. Toothless is so chunky. They really didn't understand what makes Toothless intimidating. Hes scary because hes sleek and aerodynamic and not because hes a beefy macho wrestler. Hes a panther! Thats the intimidation!!! And i guess I cant put it off anymore so lets talk about the Kids Youtube monstrosity this film gave us i guess.

The lightfury is... a mess. in every way. The dragons in the series are very dramatic and stylised, sure, but in a very intentional way. A Monstrous Nightmare's teeth are in no way practical but they go with the big bad carnivore idea. A Deadly Nadder is not at all expressive compared to other dragons but neither are birds, which it resembles. Most boulder class dragons would in no way be able to fly, but it adds to the idea that they are heavily armoured and underestimated. In the case of the Nightfury, it makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint. It has large eyes because it lives in dark coastal caves. Its black because it is mostly nocturnal with hunting. It has echolocation BECAUSE of said dark coastal caves. However, when it comes to the lightfury, the design is... lacking. Smushed face not at all practical for fishing. Certain bird of prey and even dinosaurs (e.g spinosaurus) have distinctively long, thin mouths/beaks FOR FISHING. Lightfuries are not aquatic, and since they are presumably an evolution branch away from nightfuries, they probably cant spend too long in the water. Lightfuries have strangely smooth, round features. Its tail fins and wings being round make. next to zero sense. For the first film the creators took a pilots class to understand how flying works. I didnt. but i dont think that work, especially not for one of the fastest dragons. Its legs are weirdly shaped and It. Fucking. Sparkles. Its sparkly. Its 2019 fella I thought we learnt our lesson with Twilight. Shes so unneccessarily feminine its gross. And sure, The idea of variation between sex is shown but in very minor incidences. For example, The main differences between male and female Nadders are the curvature of the horn on the nose and which jaw is out more (overbite/underbite but idk which is which).

The Lightfury is also. Mean? Literally a softcore manic pixie dream girl? Its not even the cliche of like, she teaches him about the wild while he teaches her about stuff he learnt in "captivity" and theyre both endeared by the others ideas and home lives. She actively puts him down for everything and leads him on at the same time? its very strange. Also, Toothless' mating dances couldve worked on a Nightfury. We dont know. Theyre different species at the end of the day.

And the worst part about the Lightfury to me is that all of these issues are so easily solvable. For design, you have at least 2 options:

1. Make her a Nightfury.

I recognise they made her white so they were easy to tell apart. solution: Albino. done.

2. Make her a variation of Nightfury.

Plenty of people on this site have pointed out itd be plausible that there are, for example, Northern Nightfuries that live in harshly cold environments and are bulky and stong! Toothless seems like a wifeguy anyway let the man have a beefy wife

I've expressed this before, but I think that the ending is very lazy. Just tacking it on at the end that they have to leave bc they dont want more films. I have read the books before. I dont remember a lot about them, but I do remember that very little tracks. Like a couple of character names and thats basically it. Theyve NEVER attempted to replicate the books before, why start at the end of the final film? Its not even like there was very much motivation behind it. The dragon riders always win. I genuinely believe that the third film would have benefited from killing off Snotlout.

And yeah. I love him, hes my favourite character, this blog is centered around how much i hate his shitty dad. But his character went NO WHERE in the last film. Id even argue he got worse. Snotlout is a character where a lot of the appeal comes from the hope that he will be better. And he is! Compare his behaviour from The first few episodes of Riders Of Berk to the end of Defenders Of Berk. There is probably less than a year between them and it is night and day. He goes from being a school ground bully who neglects and actively deprives his dragon of sleep to someone who would maim, kill, die for him. You get to Race To The Edge and he is still the same cocky asshole, but he cares so deeply about his friends. He is inconsolable for days when Hookfang is thought to be leaving him. He cries of happiness at the wedding of his cousin and the girl he liked. He shows, more than probably anyone in the series, incredible growth. And then The Hidden World happens. To name a few things, he:

- Flirts relentlessly with his aunt

- Mocks his cousin's recently dead father ("Who died and made you chief?)

- Competes for power with Hiccup

And I think that killing him off would check the boxes of being closer tied with the books, Giving him a full redemption, and giving Hiccup a (albeit extreme) reason to send the dragons away. At that point Hiccup would have lost his mother (although she lived), his father, his leg, and his cousin (or best friend depending on interpretation) to dragons or to fighting FOR dragons. Thats got to be enough at some point.

Back on the subject of Hiccup, he was so... off. He's an absolute nerd when it comes to dragons (/pos)! He would never find a species of dragon and get upset that Toothless spent time with it, especially not A FURY???? He spends the whole film talking about Toothless and the Lightfury as if hes an over protective dad which again leads back to the ides of DeBlois not understanding the dragons fundamentally. The joke, to my understanding, is meant to be that he is treating his pet like his son that just started dating. But Toothless isnt his pet. Toothless is his friend. Thats not the relationship at all. And again, Hiccup wouldn'nt be??? upset???over that???

Ruffnut lost ALL of her nuance and interest and is now just "stupid." Tuff is... okay, i guess. Fishlegs is reduced to being motherly and feminine when hes otherwise CONSTANTLY shown being extremely intelligent and would also NEVER leave out Meatlug???? Ive already spoken about Snotlout, and Astrid is now just kind of. Hiccup's sidekick?? What happened she was literally so cool and stern and cutthroat and genuinely had chemistry with Hiccup. Now shes just there to give him advice. Dont get me wrong, I love the conversational parallels that have with the first movie, but they dont feel earned. they feel like its trying to leech off of nostalgia of the first movie. She also looks physically very different for some reason.

TL:DR, The Hidden World is a movie aimed at kids for a franchise that was always aimed at families. the themes are dull, characters are ooc, designs are ugly, and the problems are easy fixes

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catsafari25 · 7 months

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A/N: Hello! This is my first foray into bionicle fic, where I wanted to explore a possible line of reasoning that Roodaka might have used to turn Vakama against the Rahaga specifically... and then this became a Roodaka-POV fic because villainous POVs are so muxh fun to write (plus it makes it distinct from the book version).

Please forgive any glaring inaccuracies; until a week ago, I'd only ever seen the films and am still familiarising myself with the lore/other content!

Roodaka almost doesn't recognise the creature her Visorak bring to her.

Almost.

There is more the monster than the Matoran, more the Rahi than the Toa, about the once-warrior now, and the two sides war in odd ways across the ensuing form. The limbs are elongated, but erratically; one side might almost be called Toa-like if one was feeling generous, while the other ends in a wicked-looking blazer claw. The mask bears the least resemblance to its former shape, a mockery of the Great Kanohi it had once been.

"Alone, you say?" she asks the Visorak.

It bows its head in the best approximation its spidery form can muster, and chitters in its gnashing tongue a tale of a single Toa Hordika wandering far from its pack. Then, after a dubious pause, it asks if it should send word to the King.

"No."

More chittering, nervous now.

Roodaka snaps her head away from the unconscious Toa. "Do you doubt me?" she hisses.

The Visorak shakes, as if knowing all too well that any alternative answer will lead to a rapid drop in its quality of life, followed by the abrupt cessation of it. It instinctively lowers itself to the ground, reassuring her it knows exactly how far down it hangs in the pecking order.

Roodaka is mollified enough to let the infraction pass. "Why bring Sidorak back for one captured Toa when he is still in pursuit of the other five?" she croons. Fear works wonders, but a pinch of reason never does any harm. "Better to let him focus on the task at hand, and have this as a pleasant surprise upon his return."

The Visorak doesn't respond immediately. Then, in as careful tones as its speech will allow, asks what is to be done with the Toa.

What to be done, indeed?

A more cautious Vortixx than she might harvest the elemental power now – one fewer strand in her web to tie up later – but, then again... he is only one Toa, and she needs all six for her scheme to succeed.

"Keep him somewhere he won't cause trouble," she orders. And then, "No cocoons. I want him to be able to wake eventually."

After all, live bait is always a better lure.

The Toa returns to consciousness the same way he left it: alone.

So much for their precious unity, Roodaka scorns. The reports from the Visorak tell of the other Toa moving across Ga-Metru, with apparently no looking back for their missing companion. Is it confidence in his capabilities that leaves them unaffected, or something more... fractured?

Either way, she is left with a Toa on her hands, alive and kicking and doing precious little to serve as the bait he should have been.

That's fine. She can work with this.

Awake, the Toa's reaction to the Hordika venom is ever more marked; his movements are capricious, tarnished with that feral fear of a caged Rahi, and there is little left of the tactician leader the Toa had once been.

So she leaves him to it. Sidorak is not due back yet – not unless he captures the other Toa, and the whispers that reach Roodaka tell of a merry chase – so she has time. Let the Toa wallow in his fear and his desperation for a little while longer. Let him descend further into his rage.

She can wait.

It is only once the howls begin that Roodaka makes her approach.

She has heard the like before, when an ash bear had fallen into a freshly-made crevice, courtesy of the quakes, and broken a limb. It had howled all through the night, calling for its kin and only summoning the Visorak instead.

The howls hadn't lasted long after that.

The howls of the Toa are similarly primal, gutteral with a wordless rage that sends him reeling in its wake. Only when she hears his horrified, "What is happening to me?" that she realises she is surprised to hear speech still remains. If the venom keeps up its course, it may not be long before even that is gone.

An idea takes root, insidious and brutal if she can pull it off. After all even a beast, if it retains some semblence of language, can be reasoned with.

Or manipulated.

He was found alone, her Visorak had told her. And alone he still was. A strange state of affairs for a Toa... but perhaps not so much for a Hordika.

"You are becoming," she rattles.

The Toa scoffs, ire curdling the sound. "Yeah, but what?"

She steps into the light. The Toa keeps his gaze averted as she nears, evidence enough that the Hordika in him knows not to challenge with a stare. She crouches before him, one claw catching the base of his mask and tilting his eyes to meet hers. The eyes, she sees, still carry a Toa spark. The rest is Hordika. "A friend," she offers.

He snarls and tears his gaze away.

"Or a foe," she adds. She rises back to her full height. "That's for you to decide, and why I invited you here."

"Some invitation."

She surveys her captive. Hordika venom is such a messy process, Roodaka can't help but judge. It lacks the finesse, the cruel creativity of her own power, changing at random what would be better done with intent.

Still, she cannot fault its effectiveness. It might be a sledgehammer to her chisel, but in a matter of days it has reduced the Toa responsible for trapping the Makuta into something belonging to a Matoran's nightmare.

"Then perhaps this one will be more to your liking," she says. "I have a... proposal for you."

"And if I don't want to hear it?"

Roodaka smiles, and approaches the Toa once more. From this proximity, she can appreciate the subtler touches of the Hordika venom – the joints that fit at odd angles, the crude connection between the Rhotuka spinner and armour – and as she brings his gaze to meet hers once more, she sees rust-flecked spots across his mask. A side effect of the mask losing its powers? Or a consequence alone of the Hordika venom?

"Be reasonable, Vakama," she croons.

"How do you know my name?"

Her hand dips from the mask and lingers before his heartlight. It's green, she notes; a far cry from the burnished red that had once matched his eyes. A sign, perhaps, that her plan has merit. After all, if the venom has already taken root there, it's only a matter of time before it spreads further.

"I know a great deal about you," she says, and cleaves a claw through the webbing that binds him. "What harm could come from listening?"

And when she tips his gaze again, he does not look away.

While fools might prattle on about the power of love or loyalty as a driving force, Roodaka knows power itself is the strongest motivator of all. And so she speaks to the fragmented Toa of strength and fear and authority; things she knows the once-leader has fought with himself. As a show of her own confidence, she allows him to trail behind, and only once does she hear the whirr of his spinner warming up.

("I wouldn't do that, if I were you, Vakama," she had warned without even glancing to him.)

("Then perhaps you should know better than to turn your back on someone," he had replied. "What's to stop me blasting you off the face of Metru Nui?")

(She had gestured almost lazily to the Visorak guard trailing them. "You can try, if you so wish. But how far do you think you'll get before you're trapped in another web?" She had waited for this thought to sink in before adding, "Who knows what another round of Hordika venom would do the second time? That is, assuming you ever wake.")

The Rhotuka spinner quietened after that, and Roodaka hasn't heard it since. Just enough sense left in him, then, to listen to reason. And listen he does, albeit not without complaint.

She wasn't lying when she said she knew about him – from the whispers of Makuta, from the reports of the Visorak, she knows enough to know where the Toa's insecurities lie. She brings him to a balcony that overlooks his old home.

Ta-Metru still glows with the light of fires and molten protodermis, but rather than forges and foundries hard at work, it is the result of cracked furnaces and flooded lava that raises such smoke. Still, there is enough to leave the Toa scrambling to the edge to catch just a glimpse of his metru.

In better times, it would have been his to protect, the same way the Toa of Fire before had, but now it is only a place to be fled. So she offers him the chance to change that, talks of leading the Visorak to rule rather than ruin.

And when she orders her own guard plummeting over the edge and they follow – not because they trust her, not because they think she has a plan, but purely because not following is a worse fate than an almost-certain death – she knows she has his attention. "Obediance," she proclaims. "This is but the first of many lessons I can teach you."

The Toa hesitates. But not as much as he ought to. "And this is something your king would allow?"

"There is a way," she purrs. "Six ways."

She senses something shift then, the balance of the conversation tipping in her favour as a wall, somewhere, comes tumbling down.

And when Vakama looks to her, it isn't the gaze of a Toa, but of a Hordika.

"I'm listening."

"Good." Roodaka starts towards the main body of the tower, and only hears the slightest falter before Vakama follows after her. His shambling gait is still the noisy thing it was before, but now there is a pattern to it. A natural rhythm.

"If you wish to gain Sidorak's trust, you must prove yourself," she says. "The Rahaga have been a thorn in Sidorak's side for too long; deliver them, and he will surely see your worth."

The Toa stills. "The... Rahaga?" There is hesitation in his voice, as if even he is surprised that his response is not the outright refusal it once would have been. "What have they done?"

"They are meddlesome creatures, as I'm sure you've discovered, too fond of interfering where they don't belong."

"Like saving your captives from certain death?" he asks.

Roodaka smiles, and ignores the bite in the question. "Do you think they rescued you for anything but their own purposes?" she returns. "Or are you blind enough to think it was purely an act of selfless generosity?"

A growl rises through the Toa, and she hears him continue behind her. "What are you saying?"

"Only that if they were rescuing you solely from an untainted sense of duty, then where are they now?" Roodaka glances back and reads the defensive hitch of the Toa's shoulders. "Where are any of your friends, Vakama?"

"Like I would tell you–"

"You don't need to. I know where they are. The question is: Do you?"

Vakama doesn't meet her gaze. "If you're thinking that I'm expecting any sort of great rescue–"

"I never said anything of the sort," Roodaka croons. She doesn't need to. By the sound of things, his mind is already doing it for her, wondering when the other Toa will realise he's not coming back. Wondering if they will even care. "Only, how sure are you that they will follow their duty without you to guide them?"

"Toa are bound to their duty," Vakama begins.

"Of course. As they are to their unity." Roodaka gives this a moment to sink in to the lone Hordika Toa. "And their destiny."

The once-Toa of Fire has no reply to that, and that is all Roodaka needs to know the truth of their origins have come to light. She steps out onto a neighbouring balcony, but Vakama lingers in the archway.

She motions to him. "Come along."

He begrudgingly does so, and his gaze finds little of interest in the waterway metru below. "Why have you brought me here?"

"Because this is where your friends are."

Vakama takes a second look at Ga-Metru, overrun with webs but presumably still recognisable from its better days. His head tilts, his eyes narrow. "Ga-Metru? Why...?"

"My Visorak say the Rahaga are leading them to the Great Temple," Roodaka relays, and this indeed is true enough. "They say the Rahaga are seeking an ancient Rahi, the next steps of which they hope to find within the temple."

"Keetongu," Vakama mutters.

"Yes."

Vakama wars with this knowledge, the conflict clear in his silence and his mask. Then, in a halting, hating tone, "The Matoran–"

"Are not the Rahaga's priority," Roodaka finishes. "Don't you see that, now? Why else would they turn the other Toa away from their duty the moment you weren't there to remind them? All they want is to chase after a Rahi myth, and with the help of Toa, they finally have the strength to do so." She sets a clawed hand upon his shoulder, anchoring him. "The Rahaga are not all they appear, Vakama."

A scoff rises through the Toa. "They are old and weak."

"They were not always so," she says. "Once, they were Toa like you, until their meddling left them as the malformed creatures they are now. That is why they truly seek Keetongu; they believe he has the power to undo their change."

It is a half truth, but one supported by enough that the Toa has no reason to doubt her. He has no way to know Roodaka's powers were the catalyst of the Rahaga's transformation, nor that nothing – no mythical Rahi, no Kanohi power – can unravel their altered forms.

Her hand tightens. "Or perhaps you've already begun to suspect the truth?"

A tremor in his breathing betrays that questions of the Rahagas' origins have crossed his mind before, but only now is he realising the possible ramifications of it. "They want to find Keetongu for themselves," he snarls.

"And they need the support of the other Toa to do it," Roodaka says. "Now do you understand? They are not your allies, Vakama; they are parasites. And you know what should be done with parasites."

"Yes," he growls. "I do."

#bionicle #lego bionicle #cat writes #also written in present tense because i find that easier for some reason w/ emotions #this was mostly fuelled by 'what if roodaka revealled part of the rahaga's origins and convinced vakama they were using the toa?'#thus making his first step down this path one that isn't inherently lashing out at his team #but will make returning to the light that much more difficult #also discovering that roodaka's power is mutation really put fuel on the fire for this #i love the idea of her seeing the toa hordika not just as mutated toa #but as a variation on her abilities #part of her dissecting the changes and judging them #i also like writing scheming characters who have a pov with an aggressively agendaed take #anyway idk if ill post this elsewhere #i also want to explore the idea that roodaka sent vakama to the great temple for not just kidnapping the rahaga #but also to drive another wedge between him and his destiny #since entering the great temple will feel Wrong to him #and if nokama hasnt shared her experience then he might just take it personally #okay enough rambling in the tags #if you got this far: congrats!#feel free to shout at me about bionicle

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joandfriedrich · 2 years

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I got his comment left on YouTube, what do you think?

"We often discuss how Laurie and Jo shippers injure their favorites characters' arcs as well as Amy's, too, but Marmee, also, more subtly suffers from this blasphemy as well. An important scene between book Jo and Marmee is omitted, and Marmee's role as wise confidante gets upended by this omission. It is Marmee who agrees with Jo's own assessment of Jo's and Laurie's relationship, and encourages her trip to New York. Mrs. Kirke is even a friend of Marmee's, without whom Jo wouldn't have otherwise found such easy employment that far away from home. Marmee loses important credibility in the film versions where Laurie is concerned. Jo would never be advised to act against her judgment and understanding of her own nature. Marmee is as much a mother figure to Laurie as Jo is, and is as privy to his follies as she is to her own daughters' character flaws. She does not only speak of her awareness of their incompatibility, but actively assists Jo in her plan to discourage Laurie's affections. I have often wondered why Jo never said anything about her mother as her champion when Laurie says that their families expect their union. But Jo stands on her own two feet, taking responsibility for her own feelings and insight, and that makes her even more of an endearing and capable person in the face of personal choice despite heartache"

I agree, most films remove Marmee agreeing with Jo that she and Laurie would not be a good match, the only one that comes to mind that actually did this was the 2017 miniseries, but often, the other versions don't have this. I recall the 33 and the 49 versions do have some sort of scene with Meg in which we see that they talk about Amy and Laurie being together and her asking Jo if it's a problem.

But yes, Marmee being Jo's confidant, besides Beth, being taken out really does do more harm than good, as I feel that it takes away any sense of closeness she has with her family and the showing of her growth, otherwise it either happens on the inside which makes people wonder how she just quickly matured, or it doesn't happen at and she remains the childish and immature girl she started as.

Like the commenter said, Marmee is as much of Laurie' mother figure as she is Jo's actual mother. She has watched them both grow up, seen their flaws and their strengths, but she ultimately knows that they would be bad together. As she says in Chapter 32 when Jo asks why Marmee is glad Jo is not in love with Laurie :

“Because, dear, I don’t think you suited to one another. As friends you are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over, but I fear you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love.”

This insight not only enforces what Jo had felt as she said immediately after, “That’s just the feeling I had, though I couldn’t express it," but reaffirms to the audience that these two are destined to be nothing more than friends. This line makes it pretty obvious that the line Laurie says later, about how everyone wants them to be together is just not as true as he thinks. We do not see any of the characters trying to put Jo and Laurie together, not in the way that Jo had tried to put Laurie with either Meg or Beth. If that was really true, why didn't we see people trying to hook them up? Oh, because they didn't want them to!

It isn't surprising that fans of Laurie x Jo omit this bit, and to be fair if they have not read the book, they are going off of the movies that omit this scene, but still, it really takes away not only the obviousness of the anti-Jo and Laurie, but the quite a few of the character's depth.

#answered asks #little women #jo march #anti jo and laurie #Marmee #theodore laurence #amy march #Amy x Laurie #amy and laurie

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magdaclaire · 2 years

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you’re a modern day housewife

deanbenny domestic fic. inspired almost entirely by @transdisabledbearbenny, thank u my friend

"Darlin', I'm sure that thing don't owe you any money," Benny says, his back leaned up against the counter beside Dean's cutting board. Dean snorts.

"I'm just dicing it, or whatever," he replies, blush coming up from his neck when he realizes that he just used one of Benny terms, like the first time he called all of his ingredients laid out mise en place and Benny gave him the biggest smile he had ever seen. Of course, he knew the word dice before he met Benny (unlike the word mise en place), but it's not like he had ever used it accurately before. Like, a slice and dice sorta film, maybe. Not in fine, small, medium or large, not in knowing it's different from chopping, not like knowing because of Benny's calm voice leaned over his shoulder to explain it. Benny talks so slow it's like syrup, a warm blanket, and it reminds Dean of home. Whatever home means.

"You're massacring it is what you're doing. You need three, right? Can I show you how it's done?" Benny coaxes, and Dean knows he's being coaxed, and it's a hard thing to argue against, if he's honest. Benny's got an unfair kind of charm on him.

"I can cut an onion, Benny," he protests anyway, part out of the obligation to be a bit of a dick, and part because he really can do this. Even if it doesn't look as pretty as when Benny does it. He's still capable of it. He kept him and Sammy and even Dad fed for years, and fed Lisa and Ben too when he had them, he knows how to use a kitchen knife! It's just... it's not untrue that it used to be said that Dean's food was better for eating than for looking at. That's what food is for!

"I know, baby. Would it be okay if I did it for you?" Benny asks, and Dean's face warms all over again. Benny gives him a sweet smile, equal parts love and teasing. Dean scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"You're an asshole," he says, but his voice is far too fond and he hands Benny the onion anyway, backing away from his own cutting board. Benny turns and sidles up to it in that way he does, smooth and confident, and just the motion of him make Dean want to kiss him. Be kissed by him. All of it. Benny fucking Lafitte. Benny's hands are careful and sure as the fingers of his left hand take a curled position with every swipe of his knife, his knife hand wrapped steadily around the blade. There's nothing about him that isn't ten shades of sure of himself. It'd have Dean some kind of flustered if he wasn't also frustrated.

"Why's it gotta be cut like that? What was wrong with how I did it?" Dean asks, incredulous. Benny raises an eyebrow at him, first onion neutralized, and grabs the other.

"When you cut one, you take this end," Benny says, his thumb swiping over the stem end, "and you cut it off. When I was in school, we were taught that the stem keeps the onion together, and that if you cut it off, the entire onion falls apart. What I do, what I was taught, is to cut off the other end to give myself a flat surface, then turn it onto that and cut it in half. Now you got two half onions with the anchor. Peel the skin off, slice and dice to your hearts content." He does as he's saying as he explains, and so when he's done explaining, two halves of peeled onion are sitting on the board, uncut.

"You gonna finish that?" Dean asks, hopping onto the counter. If Benny is gonna take over for a bit, far be it from Dean to stop his ambitions. His favorite parts are the actual cooking and baking parts, not the knife work and prep. Benny loves both with a zealous that inspires Dean more than he would like to say. He wishes he could love anything like Benny loves a kitchen.

"Gonna get me to do all your dirty work, Winchester?" Benny asks, but he's smiling, and Dean doesn't feel the need to make himself small. Instead, he grabs one of the tomatoes from behind the cutting board.

"Are tomatoes dirty work?" he asks, and Benny laughs. It's a nice sound, rich and warm, and it always makes Dean feel good to have inspired it. Benny takes the tomato out of his hand. It looks like an apple in his hand, almost small, round and ripe and able to be eaten plain. Dean pushes himself back onto the counter further.

"Tomatoes are fine work. Want me to take care of your peppers too?" Benny asks, and Dean just nods. He always puts the peppers last now; Benny taught him about oils in peppers and knife contamination (though peppers are not nearly so bad as meat, and the oil can just be wiped away if you're strapped for time; knives have to be washed after cutting meat, apparently), so Dean always puts his peppers last now, meat after that, to keep the same knife the whole time and keep it safe. Benny'll leave the meat for him to cut without asking, because Benny knows that he likes it. And of course Benny knows. They've probably done this three or four dozen times, this song and dance in where his vampire best friend/boyfriend teaches him how to cook and takes over to cook for him regardless, too in love with the kitchen for Dean to even want to stop him. Being a live in is making him go sappy. He feels like a shitty, old-timey housewife, his 1950s husband taking over when he doesn't know what's what.

Except, they're both men, and Benny is older than the 1950s, and Dean actually loves Benny. Wait a fucking second.

He actually loves Benny.

"Fuck," he says aloud, and Benny looks him over.

"I'm holding the knife, how'd you manage to cut yourself?" the vampire asks, and it's only just then that Dean realizes he's bitten through his lip. Benny's smelling his blood, and all he looks is worried. A soft feeling blooms unbidden in Dean's chest.

"I didn't cut myself, I just- I'm in love with you. I think. That's crazy, right?" he asks, laughter spilling out of him like he's a sieve holding water. Benny puts down his knife and grabs a paper towel, wiping off his hands before they come up to hold Dean's face, Benny stepping between his knees.

"Maybe it's a bit crazy. But we've never really been quite right, have we?" Benny asks in a whisper, kissing Dean slow and careful like he's something precious. Dean holds onto Benny's forearms for all he's worth, giving Benny back all the love he gives, and his lip is bleeding still, and it should hurt, but it doesn't. He doesn't realize he's leaning back until his head hits gently against the upper cabinets, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to knock them apart. Benny is halfway pulled up into his lap by now. Dean grins.

"Like it, then?" he asks, because Benny doesn't have to say it back, but it's nice to be wanted. To be desired. For somebody to just like that he's around. Benny kisses him again, quick and brief.

"Like you, baby. In love with you. Want you to stay," Benny says, his voice going quiet and raspy, and it sends shivers through Dean. With Benny nuzzling up into his throat, nosing and licking but never biting, everything is fuzzy when it comes to Dean's mind. To stay? To be wanted to stay? To be with Benny in their little world away from the world, Benny working at one of the local restaurants and Dean getting familiar with the local mechanics shop, just how they've been doing, to be able to keep doing this.

"Jesus, Ben, you're gonna get me used to this," he says quietly, his fingers curled up in Benny's hair. The vampire pauses at his eager pursuit of Dean's windpipe, pulling back a bit. Dean holds back his reflexive whine.

"That's kinda the point, sweetheart. Want you to get used to this, used to me, want you to wake up everyday happy and safe. Doesn't that sound nice? Sleeping and I'll keep watch, make sure nothing ever comes after us again. We could be safe,"

"I can take care of myself, you know," he reminds Benny, lips firmly pressed together. Benny chuckles.

"Darlin', I know you're more than capable. Is it so hard to believe that I don't want you to have to?" Benny asks, and Dean can't help the answer that follows.

"Yes," he says, plain and simple and right to the point. How's he supposed to think that he's not supposed to take care of himself? He's been doing that since he was four years old, it's been the bare minimum expectation the whole time. He doesn't realize how hard he's clinging onto Benny's arms until the other man dislodges his fingernails, which had dug a bit into his skin, wordlessly to put his palms to Dean's face. It's always so embarrassing how careful Benny is with him, fine handed like Dean is made of glass, like he's worth something. His fingers twist into Benny's shirt.

"Oh, sweetheart. Somebody's expected far too much outta you for far too long, huh? Why don't we put a pause on dinner, if you're not too hungry. We can go lay down for a while and I'll come back and make it in a bit?" Benny asks, that coaxing note back in his voice, and laying down sounds pretty fucking nice, as long as Benny is there.

"We'll come back and make it?" Dean offers as a compromise, not wanting to let off that he doesn't really want them in different rooms right now, but that's so goddamn clingy. Benny smooths his thumbs over Dean's cheekbones even when he doesn't say it, wide fingers catching on his stubble. Benny leans forward to rest their foreheads against each other.

"Sure," he says, smile soft. "Alright if I carry you to bed?"

"I can walk," Dean protests, but it's token at best. He was never really carried as a kid, after a certain point, one which is easily sorted out if one thinks about it. It's nice to be picked up now, even when it's not in a sexy way. Even when it's just Benny taking care of him. Whatever that means.

"Let me carry you anyway?" Benny asks, and Dean gives in, nodding. There's nobody else here. It's just him and Benny in their hideout house kitchen in North Carolina, the location a compromise they came to because Dean wasn't willing to go to Louisiana. He won't live somewhere it's always hot. North Carolina sure isn't cold, but it isn't Louisiana either. "Alright, sugar, hold on," Benny says, and as soon as Dean's arms are settled around his shoulders, he lifts Dean as if he doesn't weigh a thing.

They leave mise en place out on the counter. It's their house to leave it in.

#deanbenny #denny #dean winchester #benny lafitte #enjoy the evidence of my self indulgence #contentnatural #mine #spn

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cerise-on-top · 2 years

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Hi! I saw that requests were open so here I am to make a request. But, then in one of the requests that was about the reader being a shapeshift and having a cat's body limbs made me have an idea which in this case is the request I'm going to make now, which is basically what it would be like if the Player turn into a cat, like, be shaped like a cat (who can still talk like the judge), but has cat quirks. How would the batter take care of them? would he like to caress them? idk I just like to imagine the Player rubbing against the batter, while he doesn't know what to do other than standing still and staring at them hehe :D

(Sorry for any typos, English is not my first language.)

Batter with a Cat!Reader is absolutely adorable! Have you ever seen that video of the person with a cat on their head being filmed and getting very angry because of that? I do think if reader ever just jumped on his head like that he would simply let them!

Batter with a Cat!Reader

To say that Batter didn’t imagine your true form to be a bit different than what it really was would be a lie. However, this did not mean that he was displeased with what he saw at all. You, his beloved Player, were a cat, and, much like the Judge, were capable of speaking and understanding your shared language.

Throughout your travels your smaller size was quite useful as it allowed you to reach places Batter couldn’t, grabbing items that he would have missed otherwise. Another advantage was the fact that the Elsen had taken a liking to you almost immediately, asking you if they may pet you, to which you would gladly agree.

The residents weren’t the only ones wishing to do so. For as stoic and serious as Batter usually looked, he did find you adorable. Had it not been for the fact he was the puppet and you the puppeteer, he would have loved to pick you up and hold you for a bit.

Although you didn’t do so immediately, needing to warm up to him a bit first as well as letting him get used to you as well, once you had gotten acquainted well with and taken a liking to each other, you would rub your face against his leg while purring. Batter may have been stiff as a board at first, but soon got used to the feeling, even if he was still uncertain whether or not he would be allowed to pet someone as great and holy as you.

If you do give him permission to pet you, or outright ask him to do so, he would be more than happy to oblige. Once again, it would be awkward at first since he would be very uncertain of how to do it. Should he pet you here? Is that spot okay? Is he being too rough? Should he actually be scratching here? He’ll get the hang of your likes and dislikes eventually and be more confident.

Despite your physique being far different from his and capable of taking less hits than he could, he would still trust you entirely, letting you guide him and the Add-Ons. And, because of your feline tendencies, namely your quick reflexes and your nimble movements, Batter would also worry slightly less about you getting hit by spectres. Though, he would still keep a close eye on you.

When coming across the Judge while you are a bit further away, just out of reach so you won’t hear him, he would ask him how to properly take care of you. About what cats usually need, their general preferences, what makes them happy and what he should avoid. In spite of being amused by Batter’s lack of knowledge, Judge would answer his questions, but not without adding a remark about how worried the former is about stuff a lot of people seem to know.

While he does his best to implement Judge's advice in how he takes care of you, he will also be treating you with the respect of a superior still. No matter how much he wishes to just do so, he will always be asking you for consent on anything regarding handling you. After all, you are his Player, your happiness and his mission come before everything else.

#off (game)#batter x reader #batter x player #also your English is fine!#English isn't my first language either!#another idea I had was if Batter was ever upset he would stare at reader when they aren't looking #hoping they would notice and come over to rub against him and purr #if they were to ever ask him to carry them he would be so happy #it would be one way to replenish his CP if you ask me #also headcanons for the first time ever #I'm too drained from work to write a proper scenario

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theselittlegreycells · 2 years

Text

A character study of Linnet Doyle

“See you, around a person like Linnet Doyle there is so much — so many conflicting hates and jealousies and envies and meannesses. It is like a cloud of flies — buzzing — buzzing...”

I watched Kenneth Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express back when it came out in 2017, & remember cringing at the just-not-Agatha-Christie-ness of it all. The action seemed over the top (yes, I know changes have to be made when one adapts a book into a movie, but that chase sequence was completely unnecessary), the denouement unearned, and the mention of a death on the Nile at the end felt like a cheap attempt to link two of Dame Christie’s most famous novels together. David Suchet’s Poirot series had started out small, adapting her short stories before graduating building their way to the more well-known full-length novels. In contrast, Branagh’s choice reminded me of Warner Brothers’ approach to the DCEU, with its rush to put the most well-known pieces up first in hope of drumming up audience interest.

I also remember breathing a sigh of relief when I heard that Gal Gadot had been cast as Linnet Doyle, née Ridgeway.

Aside from being slightly on the older side for Linnet — her youth was a legit plot point in the novel, as she wasn’t yet old enough to assume control over her fortune, and her marriage precipitated matters for those handling it on her behalf — I thought Gadot was an example of perfect casting, with the potential to present Linnet as she was written in the book, avoiding earlier incarnations’ cliched characterisation.

Turns out, I was only half-right. Gadot’s Linnet was not explicitly bitchy (unlike Lois Chiles from the 1978 film version and Emily Blunt from the 2004 TV series), but she is equally distant, if not more so, from the book version. I mean, can you imagine Christie’s characters attempting sexual intercourse in an Egyptian temple? When the rock came rolling down, I was willing it to hit them, because if you are deviating this far from the original material, you might as well kill them right there and end everyone’s misery.

Anyway, I should stop ranting about the Branagh version, which murders Linnet’s character way before her actual death in the film, and focus on what she should be.

Linnet, as perceived by those around her

In the novel, Linnet was introduced as a figure to be envied: beautiful and capable (“devastatingly efficient”, as one of her friends terms it), with a tendency to be high-handed in her dealings, but without any sign of active malice. This makes complete sense, given her background: she has the upbringing to know what should be done, the intelligence to know how to do it, and the confidence that she will get her way once she sets the wheels in motion. That’s the way things have always been, and there’s nothing to suggest it will ever turn out otherwise. Why would she not behave nicely, when doing so has never worked against her?

Another character in the novel, also a young pretty girl but one struggling with family problems, has an outburst that likely reflected what many contemporaries feel about Linnet in private:

“I'm odious. I'm quite odious. I'm just a beast through and through. I'd like to tear the clothes off her back and stamp on her lovely arrogant self-confident face. I'm just a jealous cat — but that's what I feel like. She's so horribly successful and poised and assured.”

Such sentiments tend to fly right past Linnet, secure in her own perception of the world and her (central) position in it. At one point in the novel, when confronted with the living reminder of someone financially ruined through her family’s business, she allegedly remarks “It's pretty awful when people hate you without even knowing you,” and this was viewed as a personal revelation. As Hercule Poirot himself observes,

“For the first time she was feeling the burden of her inheritance and not its advantages.”

Linnet, the person underneath

If one strips away all the outer trappings of riches, brains, and beauty, what kind of character does Linnet actually have? In all honesty, I’d say she is rather average. When the story begins, she’s a twenty-year-old heiress who has never been denied anything. While her actions have generally been objectively positive, they have never called for actual personal sacrifice on her part.

“I should say, Madame, that you have had a happy life, that you have been generous and kindly in your attitude towards others.” “I have tried to be,” said Linnet. The impatient anger died out of her face. She spoke simply — almost forlornly.

And she has. When her newly wedded & much poorer husband protested against splurging on their honeymoon, she gave in to accommodate what she perceived as his pride talking.

Poirot said: “There is one plan you might have adopted. In fact I am surprised that it did not occur to you. After all, with you, Madame, money is no object. Why did you not engage your own private dahabiyah?” Linnet shook her head rather helplessly. “If we’d known about all this--but you see we didn’t — then. And it was difficult.” She flashed out with sudden impatience. “Oh! you don't understand half my difficulties. I’ve got to be careful with Simon. He’s — he’s absurdly sensitive — about money. About my having so much! He wanted me to go to some little place in Spain with him — he — wanted to pay all our honeymoon expenses himself. As if it mattered! Men are stupid! He’s got to get used to — to — living comfortably. The mere idea of a dahabiyah upset him--the the needless expense. I’ve got to educate him — gradually.” She looked up, bit her lip vexedly, as though feeling that she had been led into discussing her difficulties rather too unguardedly.

When she makes an honest mistake in opening another passenger’s correspondence, she immediately goes off to apologise, without taking offence at said passenger’s initial rudeness since the mistake is on her part:

“Excuse me, that telegram is for me.” And Signor Richetti snatched it rudely from her hand, fixing her with a furious glare as he did so. Linnet stared in surprise for a moment, then turned over the envelope. “Oh, Simon, what a fool I am. It’s Richetti — not Ridgeway — and anyway, of course, my name isn’t Ridgeway now. I must apologise.” She followed the little archaeologist up to the stern of the boat. “I am so sorry, Signor Richetti. You see my name was Ridgeway before I married and I haven’t been married very long and so — ” She paused, her face dimpled with smiles, inviting him to smile upon a young bride’s faux pas.

In fact, she seems like an embodiment of the Spoiled Sweet archetype--except the first time she faces a difficult choice, she gives right in. Poirot is unsparing in his appraisal of her actions:

“I am going to speak to you quite frankly. I suggest to you that, although you may have endeavoured to gloss over the fact to yourself, you deliberately set about taking your husband from your friend. I suggest that you felt strongly attracted to him at once. But I suggest that there was a moment when you hesitated, when you realised that there was a choice — that you could refrain or go on. I suggest that the initiative rested with you — not with Mr. Doyle. You are beautiful, Madame, you are rich, you are clever, intelligent — and you have charm. You could have exercised that charm or you could have restrained it. You had everything, Madame, that life can offer. Your friend’s life was bound up in one person. You knew that — but though you hesitated, you did not hold your hand.”

But aside from that one choice, which weighs significantly on her conscience, Linnet of the novel is described as a charming young lady. Until Poirot started digging up every passenger’s background in search of motives, the public perception was that she had no enemy in the world (aside from Jacqueline, of course). Likewise, Simon Doyle’s act of ditching his old flame for Linnet was seen as understandable (if not particularly honourable), and the fact that he did not care for her is a plot twist.

Side note: The 1978 film version changed Linnet & made her actively disagreeable to those around her, in order to give more people (e.g. the doctor) a motive for murder. Personally, I’m not a fan. If you want a victim that everyone absolutely despises, set in an exotic locale, & written by Dame Christie during the golden age of crime fiction, I recommend Appointment with Death.

The missed opportunity with Gal Gadot

Hollywood has no shortage of beautiful actresses who can do justice to Linnet’s physical description as a first-rate beauty, but few can be believable as the character herself.

Take Jennifer Lawrence, for example: when I think about her, I think of someone eating pizza and tripping on the steps as she goes on stage — in other words, someone whose public persona hinges on her being ‘one of us’, and hence too down to earth for Linnet.

Or Anne Hathaway, who has been perceived as the opposite of Lawrence in many ways: she seems like someone who’s always trying to say and do the right things for every occasion, which is not Linnet either. Linnet is not constrained by other people’s opinions in her behaviour (if she did, the inciting incident in the novel wouldn’t have taken place at all).

Fresh from her triumphant turn in Wonder Woman, I felt Gadot would be able to sell that obliviousness in Linnet, the naïveté in not really knowing what advantages she had, compared to other people. Gadot’s Diana had shown that same quality, conveying the impression of a goddess walking among mankind, inspiring admiration and envy in the same breath without actively trying in either direction.

And to some extent, she did. Gadot’s Linnet was self-assured and charismatic, sweet-natured compared to the earlier film/TV incarnations (admittedly not a high bar), but by golly did she come across as DUMB. Instead of having the other steamboat passengers being strangers she met by chance on her honeymoon trip, here they are her own wedding guests — when she subsequently gripes about everyone on board wanting to kill her, I can’t help but wonder why she invited them in the first place. Also, in this version she throws her wealth about like no one’s business, so why, why, why didn’t she charter a private boat? This is illogical, yet we are supposed to believe that Linnet is a sound business woman who could have spotted someone leeching off her wealth once she assumed control.

Here’s the direction I wish the film could have taken (& yes, I’m well aware that I’m complaining about how the director didn’t produce the film in my head): After being confronted by Jacqueline once again on board the steamboat Karnak, Linnet finally faces the facts one night, admits to herself that she has committed a reprehensible act, and resolves to apologise to Jacqueline the next day. She knows they can’t turn back the clock, and she’s already married to Simon (whom she believes has chosen her over Jacqueline), but she intends to start making amends somehow — exactly what she has in mind is not revealed, since she’s found dead the next morning, and the plot carries on. This, I feel, adds more depth to her character, as well as more poignancy to her death, as she’s struck down at the very moment she starts climbing up from the moral low ground she has sunken to, since the start of the novel.

Final thoughts

In Murder in Mesopotamia, Dame Christie described a murder that centred on the personality of its victim. While Linnet — at heart an untested little rich girl — has little in common with that novel’s La Belle Sans Merci, the same point ultimately applies. Her death is inextricably linked to who she was while alive, her personality and her choices, and to change all that for the sake of convenient plot devices cheapens one of Christie’s best crime novels.

#death on the nile

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itsbrandy · 7 months

Text

Burnout Chapter 6

Word count: 6.7k

End of Episode song: Will I See You Again? - Thee Sacred Souls

Chapter 6: Good To See You

Bee didn’t know how to feel or how to act after filming wrapped for the day. What she did know was that her interest in acting had increased far past the point of no return. The sensation manifested on her skin like an incessant itch that she just couldn’t scratch. She wanted more of it. More camera time, more attention, more of putting on a persona that wasn’t her at all.

Not in the slightest. She wasn’t confident, wasn’t sure of herself, and most importantly wasn’t capable of effortlessly conversing with the Dieter Bravo. But all at the same time she was.

And so after half of a work day of interacting with her all-time most intense crush, she felt like she wasn’t sure who she was anymore. More than anything, she felt like she could be Bee, the stunning and vivacious character that she had transformed into without a second thought.

That thought lingered with her as she tried to spin the rest of her workday into one that was productive. She continued on, trying her best to act like the morning hadn’t happened at all. Instead, she scribbled down notes for new pastries, tested out a new lemon curd filled cupcake.

With just an hour left in her shift, she decided she should review the upcoming schedule of Disney releases that still needed creative desserts and snacks assigned to them. The title of the upcoming Star Wars show made her heart flutter in her chest as she examined her options.

“Hopeless,” she murmured to herself. “Completely hopeless.”

There were several options for her to choose from that still required this creative development. She viewed sneak peeks at costumes and poster covers to gain color inspiration, but finally she settled on designing a new Dole Whip cone option. There had been several of these cones produced before for Walt Disney World – Snow White, Rapunzel, Moana, etc. There was a list of possible options for her to choose from, but she decided on two potential options: Aurora and Mulan.

As she sketched out a quick design for both Disney Princesses, she tried to remove thoughts of Dieter and her giddiness from her mind and instead thrust herself in her work. For the Aurora, she chose to go with a blue cone and pink raspberry? strawberry? Dole Whip, she was undecided on the specific flavor. A small chocolate charm of the owl from the film would adorn the Dole Whip portion.

“So…how was it?” Staci’s familiar voice pulled her away from her work.

Oh my gosh, she thought. It was just what she was hoping to avoid for her last hour. She was trying to behave like she was meditating, relaxing even before she had to return back to her sad normal life in her sad normal apartment with her sad normal–

“Helllooooo?” Staci asked, waving a hand over her face. “I asked how it went with Dieter Bravo?”

The actor’s name she said in a hushed whisper that made Bee burst out laughing. It was so ridiculous that the man was a secret between them as if he was still lurking the very halls of their workplace.

“Why are you whispering?” Bee whispered back to her, using her arm to cover up the sketch that lived on her notebook. “He’s not–.”

“--he is!” Staci whispered back playfully. But it was less than a whisper and more of a shriek and her words had Bee so paranoid that she whipped around in her seat to make sure that Dieter was not standing right behind her in the studio.

“Why hasn’t he left yet?” she hissed. “What is he still doing here? I thought they were busy, I thought they had an agenda.”

Staci nodded eagerly. “Most of them have already left! But then I just got back from going to take a pee and I saw You Know Who in the hallway!”

Bee wrinkled her nose at the joke that lived in her head. You saw Lord Voldemort in the hallway? she thought. Or Dieter Bravo?

Who was she kidding, both of them were just as fantastical of creatures. She could hardly believe that she had actually met Dieter Bravo himself that day let alone that he was still traipsing around her bakery while she was sketching out ice cream cones and she had no clue.

Staci shrugged. “I have no idea but he’s definitely still here. How did it go? Do you think he wants to talk to you?”

Bee laughed out loud. A short, sharp, ridiculous Ha! “As if,” she said. “I mean, I think it went well but do you really think so? That’s like fanfiction, Staci. That type of stuff doesn’t happen outside of fanfiction and fanfiction alone.”

“Isn’t fanfiction at least a little bit based in reality?” Staci challenged. Her dark eyes darted down toward her notebook. “What are you working on?”

“It’s not finished yet,” Bee shrugged. “I was just trying to pass the time for the last hour.”

The ticking clock pulled her eyes toward it as if it demanded her attention. Her task of sketching Dole Whip cone ideas had only consumed a mere 20 minutes of the final hour of her workday. The day had begun to feel like three workdays wrapped up into one. Regardless of the sloppiness of her idea, she turned the sketchbook around toward Staci for her to view it.

“It’s a Dole Whip cone for WDW,” she explained. “I was thinking of something similar to the Snow White cone for this one. Can you guess who it’s for?” she asked.

Staci laughed. “Well, yes. But you wrote ‘Aurora’ in the top right corner so that kind of gave it away…”

“Oh my god,” Bee whined. “Leave me alone, girl. I’m tired, okay?”

“It’s good though!” Staci insisted. “I think it’s perfect for her. Pink dress and blue dress, I love the owl as the accent. I’d eat it.”

“Strawberry or raspberry?” she asked.

“Hmm,” Staci placed her pointer finger on her chin. “I think raspberry, but I’m biased. Make both though.”

Bee saluted her. “Aye, aye cap’n. I might work on it some tomorrow. I’ll definitely let you taste it, though. I know you’re the ice cream queen.”

“I am!” Staci said proudly. “They loved my Tatooine Ice Cream Sandwich. Did they like it in your room?”

Bee wracked her brains, trying to remember his reaction to Staci’s dish. Selfishly, she had implanted the memories of Dieter trying her own dishes in her mind. The ice cream sandwich had been the third dish that Dieter and Amanda tried, after her own donuts and cookies.

“I love it,” Dieter said with a little bit of vanilla ice cream on his lip and in his mustache.

She had a distinct and not-so-pure thought of licking it off of his mouth before she quickly put the brakes on that train of thought.

“It’s really good,” Amanda agreed. “Definitely a quality Disney dessert.”

“You have um–” the woman said, pointing to Dieter’s errant ice cream drip.

“Sorry,” Dieter said, licking the ice cream from his lip. “Actually, can I get a napkin please?

He laughed and she felt like her breath was being taken away. A production assistant quickly produced an extra napkin for Dieter to clean the rest of the lingering sweetness from his lips.

“What I was going to say…” Dieter said, the tips of his cheeks turning rosy even underneath the thin layer of makeup. “Was that I love this, but I think I preferred the ones that Bee here designed a little bit more. I might be biased though. Who can tell an artist that they preferred someone else’s art more?”

She beamed from ear to ear. “I don’t hold grudges, Dieter! Speak your mind. If you like this one better than one of the earlier desserts, it’s totally okay! I know they’re all good, I’ve tried them all.”

“He liked it a lot,” Bee said. “He even got some of the ice cream on his mustache and…” She trailed off, unsure if she should share the details with her coworker, but the cat was already out of the bag. Staci clapped a hand over her open mouth in shock.

“Noooo, not Dieter Bravo and my damn ice cream sandwich recipe,” she said, stunned.

“When does this come out? When will I get to see it?”

“You could’ve seen it in real life if you hadn’t switched with me,” Bee said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know why you decided to do that to me but I’m not going to lie, I’m grateful for it.”

Bee closed her notebook and began to fan herself with it for dramatic effect. Staci playfully smacked her on the shoulder to get her to stop.

“I’m glad I did,” Staci admitted. “I was nervous enough as it is with the other two. Sweating buckets, I mean. Actual buckets. I would’ve passed out with Dieter Bravo in the room. Like flat on the floor on my back passed out.”

Bee giggled and turned her attention back to the clock. Just five minutes had passed. “Can that thing move any faster?” she asked. “I swear we’ve been gossiping for more than five minutes.”

Staci followed her eyes to the clock on the opposite wall. “I know, I’ve been ready to go home since after filming. I need a shower and a nap more than anything right now.”

“A nap? I feel like I could run three miles.”

Staci rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Superwoman. I’m emotionally exhausted from all of that smiling and pretending not to be me. I guess that’s what would make you a better actress than me. If you’re feeling pumped after half a day of filming with the hottest man in Hollywood, more credit to you.”

“Maybe it’s just the adrenaline,” Bee shrugged off the compliment. “I’m not a superhero by any means.”

“Sure,” Staci said, and Bee detected a hint of jealousy in her voice.

“Where do you think he is by now anyway? Probably left right?” she asked, changing the subject back to the object of both of their affections.

Staci looked at her with a mischievous quality to her dark eyes. “Should we go find him?”

She set down her notebook with a harsh slap on the table in front of her. “No,” she said. “We shouldn’t.”

Staci raised an eyebrow. “I think we should. 30 minutes left now? We could come up with an excuse to wander for a bit. What else were you going to do?”

Bee looked down at her sketchbook. “Well, I was going to sketch a Mulan cone. And maybe an alternate version of the Aurora one just for good measure. Something with sprinkles on the cone maybe.”

“And that sounds better than looking for Dieter Bravo?” her friend asked. “Actually?”

“It sounds like doing the job that I get paid to do,” Bee said with a bit of sass. “Hunting for Dieter Bravo was not in my job description as much as I would love it to be.”

“Hmm,” Staci hummed in response, her eyes catching on something right behind Bee’s head.

“I don’t think I’d like being hunted,” a familiar, smooth voice said, and Bee’s shoulders sagged with embarrassment.

She turned around to address the person who had entered the room – Dieter Bravo – she had no doubt. If she hadn’t been overwhelmed by the idea of seeing him again, she would have sworn she could smell the masculine notes of his cologne that drifted to her from where he stood to where she sat with her sketchbook and her closest work friend.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bee said with ease. She had to stop herself from freezing completely at the sight of him. When he was standing, and she was sitting – the height difference – she didn’t even want to get into detail within her own mind about it. “I was just talking to Staci, and she told me that you hadn’t left yet. We were going to come find you to say goodbye.”

Dieter smiled, one deep dimple appearing in his cheek that sent her heart fluttering like eager butterfly wings. She felt like the creature itself, emerging from a sticky cocoon and becoming the person that she wanted to be.

It was then that she realized that being in front of Dieter wasn’t easy because she was a good actress. Instead, it was because she was being herself in front of him. She could crack jokes, smile, open up, and be herself without worry of judgment or being “too much”.

“That’s funny,” Dieter said, leaning against the doorframe in a way that only served to make his body appear larger. “I was just coming to find you to say goodbye.”

“Oh,” Bee’s face fell a bit. “Well, in that case, it’s great to see you.”

“It’s more than great to see you,” Staci said with a slight squeak to her voice that didn’t exist when they talked normally to each other.

“Your name was…” Dieter sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “I’m sorry, my memory has not been great lately. Don’t tell me –.”

Staci stood eagerly, anticipating what Dieter was going to guess her name as.

“It starts with an ‘S’,” Dieter continued. “And that ‘S’ is for….Staci! Staci, right?” The smiles from both women answered his question.

“You got it!” Staci said.

“Ugh, I’m so glad,” Dieter said with a bit of fake dramatics. “I would’ve hated myself for forgetting. I just wanted to say thank you to the both of you for today. I know that you’re both very busy women and our filming ate up a good portion of your workday.”

“It’s no problem,” Bee said. “I actually enjoyed it a lot. It was nice to have a break from a normal day and I like being in front of the camera.”

“You’re a natural at it,” Dieter said genuinely. “Seriously, I mean it.”

Bee felt herself blushing, a deep heat spreading across the apples of both of her cheeks. “Oh, no you don’t need to flatter me,” she said. “I promise you. I know that I’m not the best at it.”

Dieter shrugged. “No one said you needed to be the best to be good at something, Bee.”

The silence that took place after Dieter Bravo said those words to her left her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her girlish heartbeat was no longer comparable to the wings of a fledgling butterfly, but of a thundering stampede that was so loud she could hear it consuming her mind. She was so nervous. So nervous. But at the same time, talking to him felt natural.

“I guess you’re right about that,” she said finally. “I’ve always been a little too competitive for my own good.”

Dieter chuckled. “Aren’t we all?” He then looked to Staci, careful to not leave her out of the conversation. “I’m sure you did wonderfully in your room, Staci. I loved the desserts that you made. The ice cream sandwich was incredible.”

“Thank you, Dieter,” Staci said happily. “I’m so glad you liked it. It was a pain to get right but so worth it.”

“All of the desserts were wonderful, and I think the footage we got today is really going to make these a hit in the Parks,” Dieter said, removing his arm from the doorframe and righting himself again. “Thank you both, Staci and Bee. It was a pleasure to meet you two talented ladies.”

He thinks I’m talented, Bee thought. Oh my god he thinks I’m talented.

“Thank you, Dieter,” Staci said.

But Bee found herself suddenly speechless with her celebrity crush right before her. The thought that this interaction could be the last that she would ever have between herself and Dieter. What do you even say to someone for the last time? How do you say a final goodbye to someone that every fiber of your being wants to say more than ‘hello’ to?

“Thanks, Dieter,” she settled on. Like an old friend. “It was good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, Bee,” he said, echoing her sentiment. “Nice to meet you, Staci.” And then he was gone. Back down the hallway where he had originated from after copying her reluctance to not close their door, but rather leave it open.

Even though he probably just said the same to her to be polite, she couldn’t help but feel like maybe Dieter wanted to see her again. As soon as he was out of earshot, Staci grabbed her by the forearms and shook her with excitement.

“Oh my god, I think he likes you?” Staci said with wide eyes. “Why does he talk to you like that?”

“I-I don’t know,” she answered. “He’s just so nice, I don’t even know where to begin.”

“There’s something there, I don’t think I’m imagining it,” Staci said before she looked over her shoulder to the clock that dictated how long they needed to stay at work. “Let’s get out of here, we only have 10 minutes left. I doubt the boss would say anything if he found us at our lockers a little early.”

Bee nodded, a little too starstruck to disagree with her friend's rule breaking. They were careful not to speak about Dieter as they walked through the hallway toward the lockers that held their personal belongings.

Instead, Staci kept Bee’s mind busy with chatter about upcoming pastry ideas and events that Disneyland was hosting that they needed to keep an eye on. They spoke about work, only to have an excuse if they were caught trying to sneak off early from their duties. The idle chatter kept Bee’s mind busy and off the insanity that her day had been so far. The talk consumed those painful last 10 minutes as the two of them packed up their things and made their way to their vehicles.

“Thank you for keeping me sane today, Staci,” Bee said as she slipped into the driver’s seat of her car. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Same to you, girl!” Staci yelled, waving the hand that contained her jingling keys.

The Los Angeles traffic did not help her to keep her mind free from thoughts of Dieter. Her mind went wild as she drove, inching forward on the freeway as the radio played and her windows were half-rolled down.

As she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the radio, she thought of his smile and his eyes and his dimple – that dimple. Each feature consumed her thoughts and each nudge forward of her vehicle through the early afternoon rush of traffic had her dreading the return to her apartment more and more.

Going home was a must, not an option but the mere suggestion of her thoughts straying to a fantasy world where she could drive home to Dieter who waited for her at home instead. She would drive through several hours of traffic and it’s start and stop pattern if it meant that she could go home to him instead.

Her mind drifted to the way that fanfiction authors described him from the light in his eyes to the curve of his lips. It was all so stunningly true. He was like a character brought to life for her.

The only thing that she was missing was the plot.

Because in this story, there was no next step. In this story, if she was the main character, she was meant to return to her “normal”. There was no big break, no romantic gala, no dinner in a crowded restaurant full of hot people where he only looked at her.

Her chest ached at that thought. What she would give to be in a room full of hot people where Dieter Bravo only looked at her.

As she continued home, the traffic eased and the lanes grew less congested, so did her mind. Instead of focusing on Dieter, she began to focus on turning all of this frustrated energy into something productive instead. She hadn’t followed up with Claire properly, the instructor from the acting workshop.

The rest of the way home, she thought of what it would take for her to begin to act. She would need headshots, certainly, and perhaps more lessons. She would need an agent, eventually, and to quit her job. She’d probably need to move too. Her apartment was in a less than ideal location for acting gigs if she was landing roles shot at the studios in L.A.

But all of these details were minimal when it compared to the heartache that would be breaking this news to her partner. He had accepted her one-time deviance of skipping work for a simple, cheap acting workshop, sure. Would he accept a long-term departure from the career that she had so intensely dedicated herself to?

That answer was less clear. And so, she walked up to the door of her apartment with a clear mind and no more jitters and emotions for Dieter Bravo in her heart. Instead, she would play the role of a doting, attentive girlfriend as her home life had quickly turned into her most important acting role.

“Hey babe,” she said happily, setting down her belongings and rushing over to the couch where her partner sat.

Watching the news, she thought sourly. As he always does, always watching the nightly news.

“Hey!” her partner said, looking up at him from here he sat. “You seem like you’re in a good mood today, what’s up?”

“I had a good chat with Staci at work today,” she lied with ease. “She really set me straight. Any idea of what you might want for dinner?” She leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of his head.

“Um, I’ll take anything you have to offer,” he said with a shrug. “What were you thinking?”

She frowned. “I want to make something that you want to eat. I’m trying to do something to make you happy.”

“Okay,” he said. “I guess I’m fine with that nice garlic cheese-y pasta that you made last week. I loved that.”

Bee straightened up and headed straight to the kitchen. Good, she thought. It’s deceptively easy to make.

“Alright, I’m right on it,” she said as she pulled the ingredients from the pantry and arranged the pots and pans that she needed. She placed her phone on the counter and pulled up a Dieter Bravo forum to look at what the fellow Dieter fans had been saying about him. More than anything, she wanted to anonymously leave a comment shouting to the world that she – NOT them – had spent more than half of a full work day with him.

Anything they had to say about him, they didn’t even know the real him. But she? She did. Bee had been lucky enough to chat with him, receive compliments from him, and see that adorable dimple in person.

She left her phone unlocked as she filled the pot with water in order to bring it to a boil. Her partner stood from the couch and entered the kitchen to get himself a glass of water before leaning his frame against the fridge, kind of like how Dieter had in the doorway at her work.

Except her partner had not nearly the character or the body to do so and look anything remotely like Dieter did. Bee averted her gaze, trying not to make the comparison for her partner’s sake and locked her phone screen. As she did so, a text message popped up from her mother, lighting up the screen from its brief darkness.

[Mom]: How are you?

“Who’s that?” her partner asked, jealousy like the tone that Staci had held with her earlier that day.

Bee held her phone screen up and showed it to him. “My mom.”

Her tone was less than kind, but her partner accepted the biting tone as he had been the one to pry without reason to. While it's true she had been texting the Whole Foods acting guy, they hadn’t communicated about much more than acting. Even that would be innocent to someone from the outside.

“Oh, well then text her back!” he said eagerly. “How often does your mom text asking you how you are?”

Bee frowned. “True.” She unlocked her phone and hit reply.

[Bee]: I’m not really having a great time, but I’ll live.

For once she replied honestly, rather than sugar coating how she was to her mom. As a defense mechanism, she usually pretended that all was right in the world when she interacted with her mother. That way there could be no room for criticism or question. After a childhood that was filled with control, her adult life was consumed with disallowing any level of it.

She set her phone down on the counter once more, face down this time to avoid her partner’s prying eyes. Turning to the stove, she turned on two of the burners to bring water to a boil and warm up the pan to melt butter with garlic and some fancy cheese.

Her partner kissed her on the cheek before returning to his place on the couch once more, leaving her to do her duty and cook them dinner.

The first half of this recipe was simple enough that she could text her mom through it and as the text messages of questions and demands as to what was wrong with her came flooding in, Bee found herself opening up to her mom over text message.

She told her how unsatisfied she was living in Los Angeles without pursuing the dream that had once consumed her. And she opened up about how boring she had begun to find her partner or maybe it was that he was boring so that’s why she picked him.

Much to her surprise, her mom listened to her and didn’t try to overcorrect. Mom had always known that she wasn’t working to reach her full potential. They hadn’t come to this country for her to be a baker living in an apartment with two dogs and an entrepreneur boyfriend with no personality.

Her daughter was supposed to accomplish great things. If it was too late to go to medical school and become a doctor, then trying to go for the big screen still counted in her eyes.

[Mom]: I always thought he was a nice American man. [Mom]: But not much more than that.

Bee’s heart sank at the words on the screen. She knew it, her mom knew it. And honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if her partner knew it too. What more did he have to offer than a little bit more financial security than your average Los Angeles man, a love for their dogs, and her cooking.

Bee scowled as she turned her attention back to her cooking, beginning to work on the butter, garlic, cheese mixture for the pasta.

[Bee]: I know mom. I just don’t know how to change the things that are bothering me in my life.

She added the pasta to the now-boiling water, but her mother’s reply had returned immediately.

[Mom]: You just do what’s best for you. [Mom]: If you don’t, you will be unhappy for the rest of your life.

Damn it, Bee thought. She was so right. More right than her mother had ever been. In fact, she couldn’t recall a moment in her life where her mother had been so encouraging of her to drop everything she was doing and start on a new path. In the past, she had been so staunchly against Bee doing anything against the realm of “normal American success story” that she had felt completely and totally suffocated by her impact.

[Bee]: Thank you mom. [Bee]: I love you and miss you.

[Mom]: I miss you more.

She probably did, but Bee didn’t want to admit that to herself. Having a strained relationship with your mother was a painful wound that rarely healed itself. The only thing that could be done about it was to work on the relationship, to treat it like a baby that needed to be fed and nurtured.

Up until today, her mom had been so stubbornly opposed to that notion that they had made very little progress. Today, her unquestioning support made her feel like her mom actually cared about her wellbeing more than her perfect American dream…even though her support of her acting had been like…at least a little bit based on that.

“It smells good!” her partner said from the couch.

“It’s going to be so good,” she called back. “I’m adding more cheese to it this time.”

“Nice!” he said, giving her almost absolutely nothing to form a reply off of. She gritted her teeth at that. Why on Earth was he so boring? Why is talking to him like pulling out her teeth one by one from her molars to her front teeth?

Rolling her eyes, she pulled her phone out once again and texted Claire, the instructor from her acting workshop. Though it had been a full day since the workshop and she still hadn’t texted, Claire responded to her quick “Hey Claire, finally getting around to texting you about getting connected with your agent.”

[Claire]: I was wondering if you were ever going to text me!

[Bee]: Of course! I’m sorry, I just had a busy day at work to deal with! How are you?

Bee stirred the pasta in the boiling water idly as she watched the three dots that showed that Claire was typing back to her.

[Claire]: I’m great! Even better now that you texted. I spoke to my agent about you, and they really want to meet with you soon.

[Claire]: Here’s his number. His name is Mark Carter, and he has an office right here in L.A.

[Claire]: You should text him tonight so you can meet with him before the weekend.

Bee read the messages as she switched over to the other pan and stirred her garlic butter sauce. She began to feel giddy, getting that heartbeat flutter that she had felt when she was around Dieter. It was almost like taking this step was her next step to seeing him and so it excited her especially so.

Quickly, she inputted the agent’s contact information into her phone and made a mental note to text him after she finished dinner with her partner. There was no way that she could text an agent without absolutely squealing and letting loose that she was planning on making a real pass at being an actress.

Just then, her timer went off and signaled the end of the eight minutes that the noodles needed to be in the boiling water. She tucked her phone away in her pocket and grabbed a strainer from the cabinets to strain the water from the pasta.

She quickly completed the meal and plated enough for her partner and enough for her. She was ravenous after skipping lunch from her nerves after meeting with Dieter.

“Dinner’s at the table,” she announced. “Do you want extra parmesan on top?”

“Yes please,” her partner said, getting up and meeting her at the table for food.

“How was your day?” she asked, putting a forkful of pasta in her mouth. The pasta was warm and cheesy and everything that she could have ever imagined in a meal after such an insane day.

Her partner shrugged. “It was good. Not too much news or new developments.”

“No news is good news, right?” Bee asked him.

He nodded, unable to respond to her with his mouth full of pasta.

“I had a pretty fun day at work myself,” she said, trying to coax him into more meaningful conversation. “I designed a new Dole Whip cone for WDW. And I did some testing in the test kitchen. There was a film crew at work today too.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” he said. “Were you on camera at all?”

Yes, I was. And with Dieter Bravo at that. For over an hour in the same room. And he liked me and talked to me, and he was so nice to me.

She shrugged. “We’ll see if I make the final cut.”

“I’m sure you will, you’re too fun to not make it,” her partner said with a goofy grin.

Too fun, she thought. Not too pretty or too beautiful…

“I hope so. It was pretty fun, but you never know. I had a good day at least,” she said. The two of them ate in silence for the rest of their meal, both of them not leaving a single noodle behind of their pasta meal.

“Did you like it?” she asked. “Just as good as last time?”

“Better,” he said with a smile. “What next? Want to watch a movie?”

She yawned and stretched. “I’m actually pretty tired from today. I was thinking of going to bed early actually.”

“At seven o’clock?” he asked. “That’s really early.”

Bee shrugged. “Well, I was thinking of playing around on my phone for a bit first. I just want to lay down is all. Want to come with me?”

She offered the company but knew that he would decline. He hated laying down in bed and doing nothing. He would much rather sit upright on the couch and listen to political nonsense than cuddle with his girlfriend or spend time with her more than he had to.

“I get it,” she said. “I’ll see you when you come to bed then.”

He stood up and kissed her on the forehead. “See you then, enjoy your extra rest.”

Bee smiled and cleared the plates from the table before heading straight to their room where she changed into a set of shorts and a loose t-shirt.

As soon as her legs slipped underneath the covers, she found herself typing in a Google search for ‘Mark Carter agent’ just to verify that the agent was a real person. She wasn’t about to text some random stranger without knowing for sure that Claire had been telling the truth.

Deciding that he was in fact a real person, she decided to text the newest number that was now in her contacts. She must have typed out the message two or three times before she finally got the courage to hit ‘Send’.

[Bee]: Hello Mark, my name is Bee, but Claire might have introduced me as a different name. I was in her acting workshop yesterday.

The reply came too quickly for Bee’s comfort, almost as if he had been sitting there and lying in wait for her text message.

[Mark]: Bee, I like it. That makes for a pretty good stage name! I’m excited to meet you and glad you reached out. Claire was very impressed with you which means that I’m impressed with you.

His next reply had her feeling a bit too anxious for her own comfort, so she texted Claire and let her know that she had texted Mark. She also thanked her for her guidance and asked if she would like to get coffee sometime to talk about acting things.

[Mark]: Claire told me that you’ll need some headshots taken. I have a photographer that I use for my clients. If you call them in the morning, they might be able to squeeze you in tomorrow sometime between 12 - 5 pm.

Bee added the phone number for the contact card that Mark had sent her for his photographer. She felt giddy at the prospect of making so many new connections in the industry. It had been years since she had gotten headshots done.

She considered taking a half day or even calling in sick for the next day. Her ends were fried and she needed to get a trim at least. A haircut was in order before she got her pictures taken. And she had no clue what she was going to wear.

[Bee]: Sounds good! I will call them first thing in the morning. Thank you, Mark. I really look forward to working with you.

[Mark]: So do I. Don’t get your hopes up but from what Claire told me about you, I might already have an audition for you sometime soon. If you can get me those headshots ASAP, we can discuss more.

Bee clapped her hand over her mouth in shock at the words on the screen.

“Oh my gosh,” she whispered to herself. “There’s no way, there’s no fucking way.” Her fingers were shaking so hard that she had to correct multiple typos to make a coherent text. Finally, she skimmed it over and hit the ‘Send’ button.

[Bee]: I’m so happy to hear that! I’m excited to get my photos taken and submit them to you. Thanks again - Bee

[Mark]: I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Thank you, Bee.

Bee set her phone face down on her chest and closed her eyes. She imagined herself at an audition for a big role, she imagined herself walking the red carpet for the release of her first big movie or TV show. And in her imagination, she saw Dieter standing beside her, with her arm looped through his.

He was smiling at her and telling her how great she was. He was proud of her and how far she had come. From a nameless nobody who he had called a silly childhood nickname while filming a baking video to his equal partner on his arm at a premiere.

In her imagination, she wasn’t starstruck with him. Instead, she was at ease. He was so natural to her and even though she was still taken in by his looks and his height and his charm, she felt like he was her home.

When she opened her eyes, the surroundings of her apartment disappointed her. The masculine scent on the pillow to her left was not the same as the hints of Dieter’s cologne that she had smelled throughout the day. Instead, they were her partner’s, the man who day-by-day she was falling more and more out of love with.

Rather than returning to the living room after she had completed her acting-related texts, she stayed in bed alone and instead thought of Dieter. She pulled up one of her favorite fanfictions on AO3 that involved Dieter falling in love with a fellow actress and she read the entire fic from start to finish, imagining that it was her instead who was the object of his affections.

After their day of filming together and the interest that this agent had in her, she was stunned that her impression of him only enhanced the experience of reading these stories, rather than taking away from it. She could more clearly see the expressions; she could edit the story to fit the truth of Dieter Bravo. She knew how his cologne smelled, rather than the author of the fanfiction that merely had to guess.

As she drifted off to sleep, earlier than she had really planned to. She fell asleep with acting on her mind. Plans to get her hair cut, plans to get her photos taken, plans to get her first audition, and perhaps most importantly, a plan on how to get Dieter Bravo to really see her as any equal.

When she opened her eyes, her partner was in bed next to her, with his heavy arm draped over her waist. The time on her phone read just past 8 in the morning.

Slowly, so as to not disturb him, Bee slid out from under the covers and padded out to the living room before dialing the photographer’s number to leave a message. Instead, the photographer answered the phone immediately.

“Hi, I’m Bee,” she said confidently. “I was asked to call you by Mark Carter for some headshots.”

“Hi Bee,” the photographer said eagerly. “I’m happy you called so early! I’m open whenever today, you can drop on in when you can, just text me and let me know when you’re on your way.”

“Okay, sounds great! And your name was?” Bee asked.

“Sam,” the voice on the other line said happily. “See you sometime today! Bye!”

“Bye,” Bee said. “I look forward to it.”

She briefly considered getting back in bed before she realized that she should get an early start to what might just be the first day of the rest of her life as Bee, an actress.

Chapter 7 | Series Masterlist

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x ofc #Dieter and Bee Universe

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autelrobotics-a · 1 year

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EVO NANO Series

The Ultralight Companion For The Photography Enthusiast

1/1.28″ CMOS

EVO Nano+ is packed a 1/1.28-inch(0.8-inch) CMOS sensor capable of 50 MP photos. A RYYB color filter array design with a large aperture of f/1.9 offers superior noise reduction capabilities and the power to effortlessly produce quality images in low- light conditions.

Track fast-moving subjects with incredible precision through PDAF + CDAF autofocus system; Squeeze rich detail from shadows and highlights no matter how extreme the lighting conditions using HDR mode, which rapidly snaps several photos at different exposures so they can be stitched together in post-production.

1/1.28" (0.8") CMOS

RYYB Sensor

2.44μm Pixel

PDAF+CDAF Autofocus System

Super Sharp. Ultra Smooth.

The EVO Nano is equipped with a 48MP camera that can record ultra sharp 4K/30fps video. Paired with a three-axis mechanical gimbal to prevent vibration, the Nano provides everything you need to ensure your footage is smooth and stable no matter how rough the conditions.

1/2" CMOS 3-axis Gimbal

HDR: Darker Shadows. Brighter Highlights.

With HDR on, Nano and Nano+ will snap several photos at different exposures and automatically stitch them together- resulting in a photo with more contrast and dynamic range.

Add A Splash Of Color

Life is more than one color — and now so is your drone. Dress to impress with an elegant Arctic White. Fly under the radar cool and

confident with a sleek Deep Space Gray. Make a statement with Blazing Red. Or go boldly into the unknown with the classic Autel Orange.

Superlight. Ultracompact.

At only 249 grams, the EVO Nano and Nano+ weighs about as much as a smartphone and fits almost anywhere- from the side pocket of your hiking pack to the palm of your hand.

SkyPortrait: Your Personal Paparazzi

With the touch of a button, the Nano will rise into the air and snap a photo of you and your friends, automatically adjusting the lens so no one gets left out. Blur the background automatically for additional cinematic effect or dramatically reveal your epic destination — whether it's the top of a mountain or your own backyard.

Dynamic Track 2.1: Master Subject Tracking

Recruit your Nano to automatically follow any person, so you can focus on your activities while your Nano handles the cinematic side.

Cinematic Shots Proficiency With A Single Click

Create dramatic, professional-level shots at the touch of a button with four automatic shooting modes. Add a soundtrack and filters in the Autel Sky app to make your video even more epic, allowing you to produce unforgettable results whether you're a veteran pilot or completely new to the drone game.

MovieMaster:

Easy Movie Making And Sharing

The Autel Sky app provides you a suite of video templates for quick and easy movie-making, allowing you to drastically reduce the tedious editing process so you can create and share your creations on the spot!

SkyLink Video Transmission

Fly Free—More Range, Less Interference

Fly farther while maintaining crisp, clear visuals with the all new Autel SkyLink, our strongest image transmission system yet, which offers a transmission range of 6.2 miles, transmission quality of 2.7K/30FPS, and superior anti-interference capabilities, all while relaying stunning QHD video.

SuperDownload

Done shooting? Simply place your smartphone close to the Nano to download photos and videos at a speedy rate of 160Mbps(20MB/s) using the Autel Sky app.

SoundRecord: Bring Your Videos To Life

Record voices and ambient sounds on the ground through the smartphone, allowing you to bring your videos to life even when your drone is far away or use it to narrate while filming for better editing workflow.

Fly Safe With Advanced Obstacle Avoidance

The EVO Nano series is the first and only aircraft series of its size to offer an advanced obstacle avoidance system — making it the obvious choice for users looking to avoid crashes and preserve the life of their aircraft. With three-way binocular vision sensors that enable the drone to perceive obstructions in front of it, behind it, and below it. The EVO Nano series can easily brake to avoid collisions and navigate obstacles.

More Battery. More Time. More Creativity.

The EVO Nano can fly continuously for 28 minutes, which means plenty of time to experiment with creative angles and dream up inventive shots.

#drone #specs

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pinnaclegenerators · 1 year

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What are the uses of Mobile generators?

Generators are devices that are used to supplement the current supply. They are also used to meet power requirements in industries such as road construction, mining, offshore drilling, outdoor filming, event management, etc. Generators generate electricity as current and voltage by employing the principle of electromagnetic induction.

Mobile generators are immensely valuable because they serve as your power plant, converting fuel into electricity on demand. There are a variety of generators available, both permanent and mobile, ranging from units that a single person can carry to units that require the use of a vehicle to move.

What exactly is a Generator?

A generator converts mechanical energy into electrical energy (from coal, oil, natural gas, wind, water, nuclear processes, or other sources). When we apply torque to the generator, it continues to rotate. Rotational mechanics occur as a result of mechanical energy. This motion generates electricity for us. It is based on the idea of conserving energy. Based on the conservation law of energy, the generator does not generate energy; rather, it converts one type of energy into another.

Advantages of Mobile Generators

Mobile generators provide manoeuvrability and flexibility that a stationary generator does not. While mobile generators have limited output capabilities (after all, there is only so much weight that can be easily towed around and positioned in the sometimes soft ground), it can be moved from one site to another site. A semi-permanent or permanent generator may take days to install and start-up, whereas a mobile generator can usually be dropped on site and started up immediately.

Mobile generators can also be quickly swapped out for maintenance. Whereas a permanent generator must be turned off and may leave a site without power for a short period, mobile generators in Hyderabad can be swapped out for another portable generator when maintenance is required, resulting in minimal downtime.

A portable gas generator used for residential emergency power lasts approximately 2,000 to 3,000 hours. While this is significantly less than the 20,000 to 30,000 hours of diesel generators, these small generators are typically used far less each year and can have a decade-long lifespan.

The Need for Mobile Generators in an Emergency

Power outages: These can be caused by anything from fires to tornadoes to accidents, and having the ability to restore power can mean life or death in an emergency. Mobile generators in Hyderabad ensure power, regardless of how far away or urgent an emergency is.

Outdoor Activities – Running hundreds or thousands of feet of temporary wiring from the nearest hard-wired powerpoint is dangerous. When an outdoor event requires power, mobile generators can be strategically placed to reduce electrical hazards, trip hazards, and the need to purchase thousands of feet of electrical wiring.

Job Sites: During the early stages of a project, you may discover the need for electricity for power tools and lighting before the site has been wired. With mobile generators, you can move from job site to job site with the confidence that your devices will have the power they require.

Power backup: Power outages can occur anytime at home or at work. A mobile generator can respond quickly and be stored off-site or in a storage building, keeping it out of your way when not in use.

Uses and Applications of Mobile Generators

Running watts

Mobile generators ratings indicate the amount of power measured in watts. The more watts you have, the more items you can power. Watts are classified into two types:

Running watts are the watts produced continuously to keep the power on. Starting watts are the additional power needed to create larger motor-driven appliances and equipment and control multiple items simultaneously.

When buying mobile generators, estimate how much energy you’ll need to power essential equipment. Insufficient voltage may cause a utility “brownout” or even damage the items you are attempting to power up. To find the voltage requirements for your appliances or devices, consult the owner’s manual.

Aside from power, some models are lighter than others, and some units have the technology to reduce the noise commonly associated with Mobile generators.

Safety

Remember that Mobile generators, like all small-engine machines, emit hazardous carbon monoxide fumes. When using a generator, never use it in an enclosed space, such as a garage or shed, and keep a safe distance away from it when it is turned on. Even if you leave a door or window open, odourless carbon monoxide can accumulate and pose a safety risk. Always keep portable generator fumes away from homes or offices, and keep them away from doors and windows.

Some models include built-in carbon monoxide detectors that automatically shut down the generator before levels reach lethal levels. While this feature may increase the unit’s price, it is worth considering. Of course, if you or someone else is experiencing dizziness or other symptoms, get to fresh air right away before seeking medical attention.

Maintenance and storage

Mobile generators are frequently required for emergency backup power, so proper storage and maintenance are critical. Keep your generator in a dry, easily accessible location, such as a designated area in a garage or shed.

When storing for more than a few weeks, keep the tank empty or, if you want the generator to be ready to use, keep the tank full but add a fuel stabiliser. This solution, typically made from petroleum products, provides a protective layer for the fuel in a gas tank and discourages the formation of gunk, which can clog the fuel system.

Operate the generator for a few minutes after adding the stabiliser to allow it to circulate through the carburettor. Adding a stabiliser to your fuel can help keep it fresh for up to 36 months.

Product Compliance and Suitability

The product disclosures in this guide are provided solely for general information. These product statements do not constitute a product recommendation or a representation of the information’s appropriateness, precision, comprehensiveness, accuracy, or timeliness. The information in this guide does not replace the use of any manufacturer instructions, technical product manual, or other professional resource or adviser available to you. Always read, understand, and follow all manufacturer instructions.

Natural catastrophes

Hurricanes, bushfires, cyclones, floods and natural disasters are nothing new in Australia. Mobile generators, however, rescue when the power goes out. Relief organisations and emergency services use them to keep rescue operations on track while also assisting families in remaining safe and secure.

Adventures in Camping

Nothing surpasses taking in nature’s best, especially when you have a few of life’s luxuries at your disposal. Whether camping, caravanning, boating, or 4WD touring, a portable Inverter Generator will help you power up the devices you need for a comfortable and enjoyable trip, such as laptops, a small freezer, a radio, and a mobile charger. Because of technological advancements, you can now select a silent generator that will not annoy your next-door neighbours.

Nutshell

Pinnacle Mobile Generators are available at Central Diesel. These heavy-duty generator systems are built to withstand the rigours of special events, construction sites, and emergencies. They can be towed to where they are needed and removed when they need to be moved to the following location because they are mounted on wheeled platforms. So contact us today to learn how we can assist you with your mobile generators in Hyderabad needs!

#Best Generators Sale In Hyderabad #Best Diesel Generators For Oil Industry #Generators Sale In Hyderabad #Best Mobile Generators In Nacharam #Generator Company In Hyderabad

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