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1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt · 9 months

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Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

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venusrising91 · 3 months

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Noise Complaint

Pairing: Wonho x Male reader

Genre: Smut, enemies to lovers/hate to love (no plot just vibezzzz)

Summary: Your new nextdoor neighbor, Wonho (Lee-ho) is a loud, inconsiderate gym rat. He keeps you up all hours of the night with his seedy escapades and you're sick of it.

Word count: 2,014 (2 pages)

T/W: aggression, physical violence

It was 4am and you had work at 8, yet rest was as far from your reach as the sun would be once it rose.

Short hours.

You had short hours to get some much needed sleep. But no matter how hard you’d tried, you hadn’t been able to reach the REM state and it was all thanks to your obnoxious, ridiculously muscular neighbor, Lee-ho.

For the third time this week, giggling voices and blaring music, followed by high-pitched moans had kept you wide awake. Usually, after one or two rounds with whatever girl he’d picked up scouring city night clubs, the mewls and slaps and yes daddys would subside, and you could finally drift. But tonight, he seemed to have endless energy. You heard his date come four times. Back to back.

It was almost 6:30 by the time they wore themselves out.

You’d barely slept. At the office, you struggled to keep your eyes open, staring through slits at the charts on your computer. The project manager noticed you nodding and called you into her office after the meeting. As head graphic designer, you were expected to oversee and execute this assignment—because securing this client would ensure you a raise next quarter, but the arrival of your new neighbor had thrown a wrench in your performance.

She threatened to take you off the project and her disappointment was all you could think about on your commute back home.

In the apartment lobby, you pressed the button on the elevator console so hard it nearly jammed.

“Sup bruh.” You whipped your head around and there was Lee-ho, all 6 feet of him, donned in gym wear and sipping on some colorful drink. You clenched your teeth.

“Hey,” you mumbled back with listless regard.

The elevator doors opened and Lee-ho walked gingerly ahead of you. Before he could step inside however, his cell slipped from his pocket. As he bent you couldn’t help but notice his butt: firm, round, muscled. You tore your eyes away and carded your hair. Inside, the music was soft and unobtrusive. The exact opposite of Lee-ho.

“How you feeling?” he asked, plunging his hands into his pockets.

“Tired.”

He snorted. “Oh yeah, me too.”

“I’m sure you are.” You glared at him, slightly envious of the angle of his jaw, of how much sharper it was than yours. And envious also of the broad span of his chest, his neat features, his lips, his hair. He was by all accounts, an objectively better looking man than you and this only added to your irritation.

“What d’you mean by that?” asked Lee-ho, quirking his brow. He must have sensed your frustration because now he was folding his arms, closing up. You didn’t care.

“You know the walls that separate us are paper thin, right?”

“Yeah, and?”

The doors slid open on your floor. “I can hear everything. All the time.” You stepped out before him, stalking down the hallway.

“My bad, dude. I’ll keep it down,” he shouted after you. There was a smug air about his tone and you ignored him as you shoved your key into the lock. It was only 7pm but you were exhausted. After a quick dinner of leftover pasta, and an even quicker shower, you went to bed, desperate to get back the hours you’d lost. You drifted in minutes, sleeping soundly, until loud music and moans yanked you from your dreams at 2am.

You leapt from the bed, pulling on a robe, not bothering to tie it. It took less than two minutes for you to reach Lee-ho’s door. You pounded on it furiously, on and on, until he swung it open. For a moment, each of you stood silently observing one another. He was fully nude, sweating and cupping his genitals as his eyes swept over you. They lingered on your chest, you noted, then trailed up to meet your gaze. Despite your robe, you felt suddenly bare, and exposed. Quickly you tied it, covering yourself from him.

“What the fuck, dude?” said Lee-ho.

“Keep it down.”

“Yeah and what if I don’t?”

“I’ll write a formal complaint. You're violating code of conduct with this shit. Some of us have actual jobs, you know?”

“I have a job.”

“Gym bro influencer and fuckboy does not an occupation make.” This was rude, and uncalled for. But you were sleep deprived. Lee-ho's shoulders slumped down a measure—he appeared somewhat diminished in the face of the insult and you almost felt bad for him. Your eyes fell on his abs however, and then, without meaning to, dipped even lower, catching a glimpse of what was too large to be completely covered by his palm. Even his cock was better than yours—he didn’t need your pity. Without waiting for a retort, you turned and stormed down the hall.

Back in your bedroom, the beginnings of an erection tugged at the tender flesh between your legs. And by the time you lay back in bed, you were rock-hard, and aching.

In the morning you shaved and contemplated calling out, but you really couldn’t afford to. At work, you tried to concentrate but all you could think of was Lee-ho, of his throbbing head, peeking up from behind his hand in the middle of the doorway. You didn’t like men. At least you thought you didn’t. You’d had a few girlfriends in the past and once or twice thought about experimenting with a guy back in college but no one ever drew you in. No one ever attracted you the way—

Enough, you weren’t doing this. What were you thinking? You weren’t into dudes and especially not ones you despised as much as Lee-ho. He probably never had to work for anything a day in his life. Just had to show up and collect everyone's praise and adulation.

Prick.

Back at the apartment, you took the stairs to avoid crossing paths with him. Thankfully it was Friday, and you could catch up on your shows without feeling guilty for missing the sleep that was so hard to come by lately.

After dinner and a shower, you binged a season of a new show on Netflix, and dozed off halfway through. But a short while later, a sharp knock on the door jolted you awake.

You shuffled to it, half-dazed. Waiting on the other side was Lee-ho, glaring a hole through your forehead.

“You know, you’re a real asshole?” he declared.

“Could say the same about you.”

“What you said the other night—you don’t talk to people like that. I want an apology.”

You scoffed and made to shut the door. But he stopped it, forcing it open. “Get off the door and fuck off,” you clipped.

“Or what?”

Impulse and anger drove you to shove him, which was stupid. His arms alone were twice the size of yours. He shoved you back and you stumbled into your apartment. Lee-ho stepped over the threshold, letting the door slam behind him. Then his hands were on you again, crashing into your chest. It knocked the air from your lungs. Enraged, you swung and missed. He caught it and wrapped his hand around your throat, pinning you against a wall. His face was inches from yours as he strangled you, but slowly, his grip loosened. Each of you were panting. He smelled expensive, like Tom Ford—the scent filled you, clouded your head and senses. His breath on you was warm, his lips resting short inches from yours. He brought them even closer, until the tips of your noses were grazing.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“I—I’m not—I’m straight but…your…” he trailed off, hand sliding across your chest.

“You wanna fuck me, that it?” Neither of you said a word, only stood there, gazing, panting. Then your hand traveled down, until it landed on his crotch. You palmed his cock, and found it was already hard for you. After the other night, you couldn’t get it out of your mind. Once it was in your mouth, he made the most helpless sounds, cupping your head and guiding you as you swallowed it again and again.

“Fuck, your throat feels s-so good,” mewled Lee-ho. You fought against your gag reflex, getting harder each time he shoved it in, down to the hilt. Your eyes watered. You never thought the taste of cock could turn you on this much. Women were lovely and all but this was something else entirely. It was like satisfying some primal urge you never knew existed until now. You squeezed his balls gently, sucking him all the while. He came in minutes and stood over you shivering as the orgasm rippled through him.

You rose, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Lee-ho dropped to his knees, pulling down your boxers. He took you in his mouth and it felt like the world stopped spinning. His tongue swirled around the tip, one hand cradling your heavy balls, the other gripping your ass, a finger seeking the rosebud. He tried to slip it in but you panicked, bucking away like a spooked horse.

“I thought you said you were straight?” you whispered.

He popped your cock from his warm mouth. You twitched as he smirked up at you. “Chicks like it sometimes. I figured you might wanna give it a try. Feels tight though, got any lube?”

You hesitated, wondering what it would be like to have his finger circling inside you. There was nothing but heat and silence as you stared down at him. “In the bedroom,” you said, breathlessly.

As you lay on your back watching his chiseled body shift in the dim light, he slathered the lube you kept in your bedside drawer onto his middle finger. Then he drizzled some over your erection, spreading it with long strokes.

“Fuuuuuck,” you whined, arching at the pleasure, at the way he gripped you.

“You like that?” With this, he slid a finger inside you, taking it slow. The pressure had you arching even more. Once he eased you past the initial pain, all you could do was moan and claw and look down at your rock-hard cock as he pumped you in two places, at different paces. In the front he squeezed tight, giving you fast, steady strokes, but in that pulsing spot between your cheeks he worked you soft and deep, taking his time as his finger explored your depths. The pressure was glorious, and you felt your entrance contracting around him. “You’re dripping for me,” he cooed. You looked down at yourself as he gripped the base, a long rope dangling from the tip onto your stomach. He licked it, dragging the pad of his tongue along your abs, then swallowed you whole. After a few hard sucks he pulled back, finger still buried in you, coaxing out spasms you couldn't control. Fuck he was so attractive, you never thought a man could make you feel this good.

The next moment, you were shooting ropes in the air, convulsing under him and fisting the sheets as he drained you. He let you pant there, chest heaving, before taking your length back into his mouth. He sucked and finger-fucked you through your sensitivity, ignoring your loud moans and cries. You asked him to stop but you didn’t mean it. You wanted more and he gave it to you. All night. After your third orgasm you could barely stay conscious.

Lee-ho crept beside you, watching as you shivered your way through the leavings of your latest high.

“I’m s-sorry,” you muttered between waves of it, “about the other day. You’re right, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. I’ll be quiet from now on, promise.”

You couldn’t quite keep your eyes open, and drifted then, still tingling from what he'd done to you. Your rest went uninterrupted for the first time in weeks. But when you woke, Lee-ho was gone.

From then on, the noise had stopped, just like he'd promised. But a few times a week, just before bed, there came a knock at your door, and a smirking, half-naked Lee-ho waiting on the other side of it.

#wonho imagines #lee wonho #lee hoseok #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #shin wonho #lee hoseok smut #monstax smut #monsta x wonho #kpop x you #kpop x y/n #wonho x reader #wonho x you #yaoi #bl manhwa #mm romance #male reader

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ladykailitha · 4 months

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The Magic of Christmas Part 3/8

Just an extra long chapter here because they didn't want to shut up. They're getting closer and their best friends are slowly coming on board to the idea.

Part 1 Part 2

***

Eddie was vibrating. Chrissy had done a total deep dive into this guy and other then being a bratty teenager and having shit parents there was nothing in Steve’s closet that would set off alarm bells.

Steve Harrington just knew how to deal with people to get what he wanted. He knew when to back off, too. In fact, Eddie was trying to get the dude stop backing off so much.

He was a people pleaser with eroded boundaries. And while that was certainly a problem, it wasn’t a ‘might be a serial killer’ problem like Chrissy thought.

So yeah, Eddie was vibrating because he was going to show Steve his first set of sketches for him to okay the design.

Steve was late. He had called to let him know he would be late. A meeting had gone over and he would be there as soon as he could.

Eddie pulled out his drawing pad and flipped through the designs he had come up with. He itched to pull out a pencil and “fix” a line or seven. But he had to refrain. If he started on it he would be so far down the rabbit hole that he would have three new designs before Steve got here.

A shadow crossed over him and he looked up to see Steve standing there.

“Steve!” he greeted warmly, getting to his feet.

They shook hands and then sat down.

“So what have you got for me?” Steve asked eagerly, leaning on his forearms to see Eddie’s drawing pad.

Eddie grinned at him. “I’ve got loads, big boy.” He turned the drawing pad around and Steve paid diligent attention to each piece.

He went back to the third design and turned it back to face Eddie. “I like this one. But I have one suggestion, if I may?”

Eddie shrugged. “Sure.”

“What if the dragon’s wings spread out over the four other pieces connecting them?” Steve asked, biting on his lip.

Eddie began to sketch furiously while Steve watched in fascination.

“Have you ever thought about streaming your process?” Steve asked. “It’s very enthralling.”

Eddie’s head jerked up like he’d forgotten Steve was there at all. He looked down at his pad and blushed. “I never thought I’d have the patience for it, you know? The whole explaining it while I’m doing it.”

Steve nodded. “I can see why that might deter you. But if you just drew or painted and put music over the top, I think it would do very well.”

“And would you be my first subscriber?” Eddie teased.

“Hell yeah!” Steve said with a grin. “And I would tell everyone I know to subscribe too.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He slid the drawing back over to Steve, who grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Edward Allen Munson!” Chrissy hissed as she threw open the door to their loft. “You tell me right now: are you joking about the YouTube channel?”

Eddie looked up from his sketching and blinked at her. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

She walked over to where he had sprawled out in front of the five canvasses and flopped down across from him. “I am pleased but only if you aren’t trying to butter me up to leave you alone about your ridiculous crush.”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth, licking and smacking his lips as he struggled for words.

“It’s about the crush but not in the way you mean…?” he said with a grimace.

She crossed her legs and put her elbows on her knees. She rested her head on her knuckles to stare him down. He wiggled and squirmed under her gaze.

“Explain.”

So Eddie did.

Chrissy rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “So no talking but what if I convinced you to let me write words to put up on the screen while you paint talking about the subject matter and why you chose it?”

“Oh!” he said brightly. “Even better! Why don’t I talk about D&D or music while I paint? That way I can babble to my hearts content without out having to drone on about the process.”

She blinked at him. “Eddie Munson you are a genius.” She rose up on her still crossed legs and kissed him soundly on the forehead. “I love it and you.”

Eddie blushed and went back to his sketching.

“Steve!” Dustin screamed into his ear when he picked up the phone mere days after his last meeting with Eddie.

“God, kid,” Steve groaned. “Tone it down. I don’t want to go deaf please.”

He could practically feel the eye roll from here.

“Eddie Munson has a YouTube channel!” Dustin continued to scream. “Oh my god do you know how big this is?!”

“One, I need to you to breath before you pass out from lack of oxygen to your brain,” Steve said. “You like your brain, don’t abuse it like this.”

Dustin let out a slow shuddering breath. “Right. I’m breathing.”

“Good,” Steve said slowly. “And two, I know about the channel because he told me about it.”

“You already know?” Dustin squawked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Steve sighed. “Look at the clock and tell me what time it is?”

“2:37pm. Why?”

“What time did the channel go live?” Steve asked, pinch the bridge of his nose.

“About one.”

“And where would you have been at one?” he asked, his eyes fluttering shut against the audacity of this kid.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, bud,” Steve said. “Oh. You were in class. Which I still don’t understand why you are taking summer classes. You’re young, you should enjoy your life.” He tilted his head. “How did you find out so fast anyway?”

“I follow Eddie on twitter, Facebook, Instragram, and his fan Discord server.” This was said as though it was obvious.

“Well now you have one more place to follow him,” Steve said ignoring the tone.

“Steve…” Dustin said, his voice low and dangerous. “Why are you his first subscriber?”

“Look, Dustin,” he said trying to keep the giggle in his throat from bursting through, “I’ve got to run. I have a meeting.”

“Stev–”

Steve sighed as he held the phone against his forehead, grateful they weren’t in person.

“Yeah, Steve,” Robin said from the doorway, “why were you his first subscriber?”

He blushed a dark red. “Because I promised I would be when I suggested the channel three days ago?”

Robin narrowed her eyes. “I see.”

Steve wasn’t sure what she saw, but he knew he would find out soon enough.

Eddie was working on Dustin’s first because he felt like it was the most important to get right. Wizards were usually portrayed as dusty old men and it appeared that this kid had done the same. But then the character was created ten years ago.

But Eddie decided to avoid a Gandolf/Dumbledore looking dude and went more for a Jafar that had gotten the time to grow old. A neat goatee, a sharp piercing gaze and weather-beaten skin.

His robe had stars on it according to Will the Wise’s picture of them. So he decided to make the robe look it was filled with swirling galaxies and nebulae.

Eddie was working on the cave background when his phone chirped. He tucked his paintbrush behind his ear and pulled it out.

Rich Pretty Boy: I got ahold of a couple of friends of mine that are going to help promote your charity. Nancy Wheeler is an investigative journalist most of the time but she owes me a favor and is willing to interview you about the charity to get it seen on a national platform. I’ll email you the details.

Eddie blinked at his phone in shock. Nancy Wheeler was the new and improved Barbara Walters (improved as in she wasn’t an ass to the people she was interviewing.) That must be a huge fucking favor she owed Steve if he got her for this.

EM: Holy shit! What kind of blackmail do you have on her for this?

RPB: LOL! I’m sworn to secrecy, sorry. :(

EM: All right, keep your secrets.

RPB: That’s LotR, right?

EM: Correct. I know you keep telling me you aren’t a nerd, but dude every time we talk I gather more and more evidence to the contrary.

RPB: I blame Dustin. He wore me down.

EM: Then I take it upon myself to complete the education that Sir Dustin has begun!

EM: Meet me at my loft on Friday at 8pm. We are going to start with the animated classics of the 80s!

RPB: Beer or wine?

EM: Beer.

EM: I’ll see you later, pretty boy. I have this huge project I’m working on that is on a deadline.

RPB: Curse the bastard that’s taking up all your time. ;)

Eddie laughed out loud.

EM: He’s the worst. ;)

RPB: See you on Friday, Eds.

EM: Laters!

Eddie put his phone down with a fond smile on his face. It was absolutely ridiculous how much he loved this beautiful idiot that had come in and swept him off his feet.

“Tell me again why I have to be here for this?” Chrissy complained for the fifth time that hour.

“Because fair Christine,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “it’s not a date and he’s bringing his best friend.”

“How is his secretary his best friend anyway?” she groused, folding her arms and burying herself into the big fluffy sofa.

Eddie rolled his eyes and flopped down next to her. “They were friends before he took over the business. They had worked together in every job they’ve ever had so when he took over he put the one person he could trust in front of his office to shield himself from the assholes who make his life a living hell.”

Chrissy pursed her lips. “Fine.”

He kissed her cheek and went to go get the popcorn and candy.

“You ever going to tell this Steve you have a hard on for him?” she asked as he kept swapping bowls around for best placement.

“No,” Eddie said firmly. “Not while he’s paying me, anyway.”

She shrugged. “I guess that’s fair. It’s just...”

“That I have it so bad my only two thoughts are painting and Steve?” he finished for her.

“And me,” she agreed. “But pretty much.”

He put his head on her shoulder. “I’ve never fallen this hard for a person before. He’s sweet and funny and an absolute dork.”

Chrissy kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be good tonight. No bitching or being mean.”

Eddie snorted. “He’s also a queen bitch. So you can be you all you want. Just...”

She turned on the sofa, bringing her knees up to her chest. “But what?”

“When he starts gushing about something don’t...” he floundered for the right words. “Just don’t make him feel small about it.”

Chrissy tilted her head to side. “Has people made him feel small about his interests?”

Eddie nodded. “I think his parents were like yours, if I’m honest.”

“Rich, entitled assholes who wanted a doll and not a child?” she asked bitterly. He nodded. She sighed heavily. “Yeah okay. You got me. I know the signs and will adjust accordingly.”

He threw his arms around her and gave her a wet sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Just then the doorbell rang.

“They’re here,” Eddie said nervously.

Chrissy leaned down to look at him. “Do you want me to answer the door to give you a second to prepare?”

He nodded.

She gave his hands a squeeze and gracefully slid off the couch to do just that. She bounded over to the door and threw it open. And yeah, objectively she knew what Steve looked like, but seeing him out of his trademark blue power suit was a revelation. And immediately she got why Eddie fell hard for this guy.

He was wearing a David Bowie t-shirt from his Ziggy Stardust era and tight, light blue jeans. His sneakers were Nike’s, and his watch was Schwartz but those were the only major shows of wealth.

Next to him was not what she was expecting either. Chrissy was expecting someone more bookish. Glasses, frumpy. Or even the extreme opposite, a fashion plate. Someone who fit the sexy secretary stereotype. But nope.

She was fashionable, Chrissy had to give her that, but not in the way she thought. Billowy pants with a long-sleeved button up with sleeves rolled up to her elbows and pair of colorful suspenders. Her blonde hair was artfully tousled and she had freckles on her nose and cheeks.

In short, Chrissy was in love.

“Hi!” she greeted as though her heart wasn’t going to leap out of her chest to prostrate itself before this lovely maiden, only for her stomp all over it.

“Hey,” Steve smiled back. “You must be the agent/best friend, Chrissy I’ve been hearing so much about. It’s nice to put a name to the face.”

The woman elbows him. “Face to the name, dingus.”

Steve flushed. “I’m so glad I have you here to correct me.”

“Come on in,” Chrissy said warmly, moving out of the way for them to enter the loft. Inwardly she briefly wondered if maybe the best friend was the cause of the “limiting” as Eddie called it.

“Thanks!” he said and then pointed to the woman next to him. “This is Robin my platonic soulmate, best friend, and all around Stevie wrangler. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“Aww,” Robin said with a smile and hip check.

Steve stumbled but laughed, too.

By the time they reach the living area Chrissy still wasn’t sure what to think about these two.

Eddie leapt to his feet at the sight of them.

“Stevie! Robin!” he greeted brightly. “You found the place okay?”

Robin nodded. “I’m glad you gave us directions on top of the whole GPS otherwise we would have ended up in some cemetery.”

Chrissy grimaced. “Yeah. But that cemetery was here before the condos and high rises so I can’t complain. Even though I really, really want to.”

“How old is the cemetery?” Steve asked eagerly.

She looked over at Eddie for help. “I don’t actually know.”

“Uh...” Eddie said unhelpfully. “I don’t know exactly but I know it’s over a century old.”

Steve lit up. “That’s so cool.”

“You like old graveyards, Steve?” Chrissy asked. She sat down on the sofa and grabbed the bag of popcorn.

“Steve is obsessed with them,” Robin said playfully.

“Am not,” he said and then turned to Chrissy and Eddie. “I’m really not. I just think it’s super neat.”

“What makes them so neat?” Eddie asked, taking the beer from Steve and setting it on the table with the array of goodies.

“Like seeing a bunch of people with similar death years knowing that it was because of a pandemic,” Steve said. “Or on Memorial Day going to see all the American flags for those that died during war time. It’s all just endlessly fascinating.”

“I could take you some time,” Eddie said. “Have a picnic lunch, make a day out of it.”

“You’d do that?” he asked eagerly.

Chrissy bumped Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie here likes graveyards because they’re spooky.”

Steve laughed. “That’s a great reason to like graveyards.”

They settled down to watch the movies Eddie had picked out for them. A double feature of “The Hobbit” and “The Return of the King”.

“Holy shit!” Steve said afterwards. “How did they get more faithful to the books in less time than Peter Jackson?”

Eddie laughed. “Good story telling.”

They finally left for the night and Eddie closed the door behind them.

“Thoughts?” Eddie asked.

“And prayers,” Chrissy said. “Holy fuck do you have it bad. And I’ll swear under oath that if there is a god, he made Steve especially for you.”

He blushed. “Fuck, you can’t say that.”

“Why not?” she asked raising an eyebrow.

“Because it feels that way for me, too,” he whined, “and if you think that too, then I’m royally fucked.”

Chrissy sighed. “Yeah.”

***

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @carlprocastinator1000 @mogami13 @samsoble

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #christmas #artist eddie #businessman steve #autistic steve harrington

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

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Carpe Noctem 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You sit against the arm, one leg hooked over the other as the silent third mirrors you, nursing a gin as you set aside your flat soda. You really just want this to be over. Looking at the twins, neither of them have got very far into their cocktails. This isn’t just going to be an in and out deal. In fact, you’re more than certain they’ve duped you again.

Your best efforts as usual add up to nothing. You’re stuck there, the designated driver, the third wheel, the ugly one, beside a huffy brat ogling the dollish twins from afar. Well, you guess you’ll just have to wait this out.

You take out your phone and pull up your last message from Johnny. The usual; asking if you want him to save some slices for you. You hope it’s not too late to say yes. You reply and lean your phone against your leg as you once more peek over at the girls. They can flirt but you’re all going home together. That’s the agreement. Besides, these dudes are shady.

You check your phone. It’s close to midnight. He’s probably gaming or passed out on the couch. You kind of envy that thought.

“What’s wrong? Too good for me, sweet cheeks?” The voice draws you away from the screen and you hit the lock button.

“No, I’m good,” you assure him, “enjoying the music.”

“Ha, right,” he empties his glass, “you want a drink?” He looks pointedly at your forgotten soda, “a real drink. Might loosen you up.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Ah, geez, you think you’re a real catch. Well, whoever you’re texting doesn’t seem to agree.”

He stands up and strides away. You frown and put your phone back in your purse. Typical loser. You’ve dealt with the kind before. You’ve been in this same position too many times. The twins don’t really learn lessons. Mostly, because you’re there to keep them from any hard ones.

Whatever. Johnny’s at home waiting. That much you know. That guy doesn’t matter. Besides, he’s a bit old to be preying on the regulars here. It’s a bit ridiculous, pathetic if you’re cruel.

He sits back down and slurps loudly. You try to ignore him but can’t as he stretches an arm across the sofa, his hand close to your shoulder. He wiggles on the cushion, as if trying to bother you. You acknowledge him with a terse look.

“Lloyd,” he introduces himself with a wink.

“Wow, it only took you one drink to settle for me,” you tut and roll your eyes, “dude, don’t even. I get it. Let’s just both count our losses.”

“Hey, you got me all wrong. I get shy with the cute ones,” he pokes his tongue out, “aw, come on, let’s have a bit of fun.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? The one ignoring your texts?”

“He’s not– it’s none of your business.”

“Oh, don’t be so uptight. I can play nice. I can be a shoulder to cry on… a lap to sit on.”

You nod and give him a sardonic smirk, “does that usually work?”

“Well, I’ve slept with a lot of married women and I’ve never walked down the aisle,” he boasts.”

“Okay, so you’re scum.”

“Wow, that hurts,” he retracts his hand and touches his chest, “you’re missing out. I would put that extra cushion to good use. With how tight your wound, I can tell the boyfriend isn’t doing much with it.”

“Alright, thank you for your commentary,” you shift and turn so he’s only a blur in your peripheral.

“It’s not an insult, baby, it’s an offer. And it stands… much like something else.”

You shudder in disgust and flick your fingers in his direction. You’ll give the twins thirty more minutes.

🎀

“We should go. I wanna dance,” you say to Selena, “it’s girls’ night. Not girls and some dudes.”

“Alright, I get it,” she leans in, almost condescending and slightly drunk, “but he’s fucking loaded. And so hot. Like girl, there are boys down there, these are men.”

“Right, and I’m sat with the creeper with a broom growing under his nose.”

“Look, if you wanna just go, go.”

“And leave you with a bunch of strange men.”

“I don’t think you need to stick around because I don’t plan on leaving with you.”

“Come on, Selena, you know I can’t just leave you.”

“Well, I’m telling you to.”

“Please–”

“Enough. You’re not my mother.”

“No, but I’m your friend,” you insist.

“I’ll make my own mistakes,” she shrugs, “so, tell that dude to get a life and go home to yours.”

You stare at her. She gets like this and it’s no arguing. You always found that twins always acted like the stereotypical only child. They got their way and would settle for nothing less. She struts off and you look over at Sabrina. Great, she liplocked with the other one.

You go back to the sofa to get your bag. You’re frustrated. You won’t be able to sleep with the pit dipping in your stomach. You’ll be up all night until you get the text telling you they’re okay.

As you stop at the end of the couch, Lloyd stumbles, almost into you, before falling and flopping onto the cushions. His drink splashes over his shirt as he pats the spot beside him.

“Why don’t you sit down?” He invites you in a slur. You can tell by his eyes that he’s bombed.

“No thanks,” you grab your purse but he catches the strap, “hey–”

“Oh,” he reaches to set down his now empty glass, the mess glistening all over his satin shirt and his chest bared beneath it, “let me clear the throne.”

He wipes his mustache with his finger and you cringe. You tug on the strap but he doesn’t let go. He giggles and his head lolls as he does. It’s almost pitiful watching him. Out of his mind and almost helpless to his own vices.

Great. The twins are going to owe you.

You drop your bag and go to the bar. You grab a few of the cloth napkins folded neatly on it and return the man as he grumbles. You wipe off the stray droplets on the couch and sit, focusing on cleaning him up. You can’t just leave him soaked with gin, can you?

“Mmmm, lower,” he purrs as you wipe along his chest.

You say nothing and try to dry off the open collar of his shirt. You feel a tickle along your side and it crawls down to your hip. You stop him, tossing his hand away from you.

“Look, I’m just getting you tidied up, then I’m leaving.”

“Can I come with you?” He snickers.

“Please, no,” you retort.

He pouts and lets his head fall back again. “We’ll see.”

#dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #the gray man #carpe noctem #the club #au

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the-plantlikefishie-dafi-writes · 1 month

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Agreement with the Sun

An Arataki Itto x Reader Fanfic

Tags: Arataki Itto x Ruler!Reader, Fake Marriage, Made-up means of governance for Inazuma haha, SLOW BURN (At least I think it is <3), Reader is reserved but a little arrogant, Workaholic Reader, Himbo! Arataki Itto, Sunshine Arataki Itto, Eventual Fluff

Author's Note: Wow I actually gained the courage and posted this fic! Constructive criticism is much welcomed! Take note, I got too silly...

First Sunrise, First Moonfall - A Child of Ame-no-Uzume

🎶 O, Sunkissed Moon, beloved by the Sun, Its rays kiss your face, love questioned by none 🎶

He didn’t know what he expected. But, definitely not this.

If only he could get into a spar right now. Bust some bad guys with a jab, left-right, and a 'kapow!' that would be sure to wake him! But instead, the insanely boring stacks and stacks of papers made his eyes heavy even though he usually slept with his eyes open. Like, dude, what were these even for? It was a waste of good trees if you ask Itto.

If only he could catch some awesome beetles, he would have some fun with a bunch of kids by now and finally break his ridiculous losing streak which has been a major headache! However, two out of three cups of tea got cold from the incredibly long conversation by nerds who he would rather not upset unless he wanted to live in a nightmare.

Without having anything fun to do, he just spaced out. After all, Itto was surrounded by walls made of the finest purple silk and materials. Its design resembled the gentle waves of the sea and the eloquent color of electro. He eyed the gifts of foreign jade trinkets, placed proudly on quality wooden tables and the illuminating lanterns crested with Inazuma’s proud element. The scent of fine sakura perfume wafted through the air in the dim yet well lit room in Tenshukaku.

Man. He shouldn’t be spacing out like this! He is Arataki Itto for archon’s sake! The Arataki "Above All, Bold-Blooded" Itto! He can do whatever he wants… So why couldn’t he do all those he would rather do?

Well, it was because of you, The reigning ruler of Inazuma. He didn’t realize there was another ruler other than the Raiden Shogun. He didn’t really care who is in charge of Inazuma as long as he can live life as much as he wants, but maybe, you were also the reason why the humans became friendly to the onis and the rest of the yokai. He huffed, only a little as to not interrupt the conversation you and Shinobu had.

If only he wasn’t so awesomely charming and handsome that night!

You were just looking around that night. You were tiny, small compared to him, maybe, a little shy. With your cloaked figure, were you possibly a traveler?

"Hey, man! You look like you ain't around here!" he chirped as he tapped your shoulder and his hand returned to his hips. "Enjoying the festival so far?"

"Oh. I actually live in Inazuma. I just don't come out often." "An introvert! Hey, gotta respect that. You know, a lot of cool people I know are introverts like the renowned golden-haired traveler! Savior of Dragons, Conqueror of the Abyss, Teyvat's hero! Too bad, they ain't here though. Miss 'em." You nodded at his words as you dropped your hood down. And here it is, Itto always knew he was talented since birth at making friends! You finally lowered your guard, and you even gave him a smile.

…Hm? Pretty?

"Haha. I did meet them. I'm glad they reunited." Oh, so you knew the Traveler’s goals too? You’d have to get pretty close to them to do that. Just who are you, small mysterious person? "I haven't enjoyed the festival yet. I don't really know what to do," you added with fingertips pressed together and an awkward smile.

A smile curled up and a loud boisterous voice emerged from Itto, "Hahaha! Well, you are in luck, my compadre! I, Arataki the "Festival King of Fun and Revelry" Itto is here to serve you! When there's fun to be had, I am most undoubtedly there!" Oh, he could feel that adrenaline pumping into his veins! He has to get the gang into this! He looked over at his growing gang and shouted, "Hey, guys! Let's show 'em how to rock a real Festival!"

That was how the great Arataki Itto managed to get the seemingly-uptight you to a night of holler and laughs. What surprised him the whole night was not during the height of the clinking drinks and shared enthusiasm, but during the distant singing of an old man and the diminishing hype of the night. Shinobu had just pointed out your status as ruler, as the esteemed sun of Inazuma.

No way. No way.

You know how to party, he'll give you that. But, he can't believe he has been picking up, carrying you, oni-handling the second-in-command from the Raiden Shogun like a bunch of boxes… For the whole night no less!

He was also crazy loud, and he hoped he didn't say a joke that was offensive that could ruin his 150-day streak without getting into jail.

He began to shove the feeling of cold sweat in the backroom of his mind, and Itto smirked as his pointer and thumb framed the chin of his gorgeous face, "Heh, looks like Arataki the "Festival king of Fun and Revelry" served a hotshot tonight! Was my service just as awesome as you expected, esteemed sun?"

You let out a laugh. "Mister Arataki, you are adorable."

Shinobu and Itto flinched and widened their eyes. A hoot of laughter was so unusual to see from someone who is deemed stoic by the public. And, a compliment? Surely, Itto has greatly achieved many things tonight compared to everyone else in Inazuma. Of course, it is expected of the oni king! And, "Mister Arataki"? Prissy and pretty name to add to the long list of titles and all, but where did the sudden politeness come from? He just remembered that you were calling him "Itto" as the whole gang hollered while you were trying to scoop some goldfish.

"Of course, I had fun," you grinned.

Phew. Good thing you aren't nitpicky. He bowed exaggeratedly as he chuckled, "I am glad to be of service."

Itto knew you could see how his head was getting bigger than his body now. You smiled a little wider, "I enjoyed it so much that…"

Huh. There's more? Well, he was ready for you to compliment his entertaining charm.

"I wish to be your betrothed. Arataki Itto, will you marry me?" Itto witnessed you shine and sparkle to coax him to agree— you placed your hand on your chest as you knelt down on one knee, staring into his eyes with eager glee.

….HUH?

You met eyes with your day-dreaming future husband, and gave him a welcoming smile in the midst of an important discussion, cold tea, and stacked papers. It was a little forced, but the way he smiled back was so genuine and infectious, your true eloquent smile appeared. His infectious aura and presence was what made you enjoy that night and what made you choose him.

Good. He is the perfect candidate as a husband for you: an intimidating resting face everyone will cower in fear from, then the friendliest smile that knows no inequality, exclusive and outgoing personality, the leader of a gang that has been giving itself a good name in recent years, and no true influence to the government of Inazuma.

You were glad to have met him that night.

It was your time to rest in the stuffy yet plain room. Tired eyes fluttered to the beautiful sights of the Festival. Dancing sakura petals of the wind waltz with the lights of the city. The hustle and bustle sang and harmonized with the music of Inazuma. Culture of games, masks and silk infested the streets to satisfy the people and Yokai. Commissioner Kamisato was right; the Shirasagi Himegimi outdid herself this time. The night was too alluring to stay in your room as warmth started to bubble in your heart. Maybe, you won’t spend your night in your stuffy room today.

Indeed, those elders would criticize and lecture you, but at the very best, those grimy sons or selfish daughters of theirs will have no room in your work and your thoughts. At the very least, in your marriage with Itto, he wouldn’t do much for Inazuma other than some minor inconveniences. He would do his own things, and you would do yours. He wouldn’t have any problems with money, shelter, and clothing, and you wouldn’t have any problems with annoying suitors. Now, you have a reason to turn them down.

You also gave your husband his freedom to love whoever he wants.

In the lengthy contract that cited rules and regulations and written agreements between the Arataki Gang Leader and the Esteemed Sun of Inazuma, there, you have written: “The Esteemed Sun of Inazuma, □⁠□⁠□□, agrees for the Arataki Gang Leader, Arataki Itto, to have a romantic or sexual relationship outside of the contractual marriage between the two parties.”

“Hm, are you sure you want this part to be in the contract? Won’t it cause some kind of scandal? It might not jeopardize you, esteemed sun. But the Arataki gang will face grave repercussions." Kuki Shinobu voiced out.

How lucky was Arataki Itto to have a jack of all trades like her? You got a little envious, but the feeling hid behind the curtain. "Dear Kuki, is someone with the likes of Itto even interested in romance?" you whispered.

She actually pondered on your joke, but you pressed on with a grin. "Either way, please notify me if he plans to have a lover. I will make a scandal wherein I have another lover as well as make the narrative sympathize with Itto. Now, they won't be so rude if they think with their little heads. To kill the attention on me, I will announce something beneficial to Inazuma’s-"

"Wait," Itto tapped in, long fingers playing a rhythm to the dark wood. "You're going to sacrifice your reputation? For me to have my own lover?" He raised his brow.

"Of course? My "love life" won't affect my service.”

“Aren’t you technically my lover according to this contract?”

“Well, do you love me?”

“Uh…”

“Think of this as a marriage for convenience, Itto,” you gently smiled, mostly because he was cute, but slightly you placed him at a corner. “We don’t have to love each other.”

"Heh! Well, think again, sunshine!" He crossed his arms and widely opened his mouth. "I'm not gonna be some kind of cheating jerk and fail this marriage! I ain't gonna fall in love with anyone or ain't gonna make out with anyone else but my future wife! I am gonna be an awesome and committed husband as granny oni taught!"

Honestly, you stifle a laugh. "Is that so? It isn’t really cheating since we don’t have feelings for each other, and this relationship is obviously one of empty commitment. You will get bore-"

Before you could add anything, you could feel Itto's hand grab yours as he brought it to his lips. "Then, I'll use my good ol' Arataki "The Handsome Oni" Itto charm to make you fall for me" he winked.

You pondered. Does he read those cheesy light novels?

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

Thank you and God bless!

#notice how I posted at April 1 #HAHAH #arataki itto x reader #itto x reader #arataki itto x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #arataki itto fanfic #itto fanfic #genshin fake marriage #genshin fluff #Dafifish writes #itto slow burn #arataki itto slow burn #arataki itto eventual fluff #itto eventual fluff

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lnsfawwi · 4 months

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why marvel hates stucky? because Captain America is (should be) a man

let's be real. Marvel isn't erasing stucky, they are merely erasing Bucky from Steve's storyline, not the other way around, they even went so far as to canonly admitting that Steve's Bucky's homecoming. why can they tolerate a possibly queer Bucky but not Steve? because to them, Steve Rogers is Captain America and Captain America is this white, straight, masculine national hero who embodies the traditional male fantasy. Bucky is just a sidekick that no one gives a fuck about while Sam is never gonna be the real Cap. bucky is the 'other' and by nature he is not important, he is put in a inferior position and his femininity (being queer) is slightly more acceptable than steve's.

what's funny is that, only Bucky saw Steve Rogers when the whole damn world sees Captain America. Bucky Barnes is the one that makes Steve Steve, as long as Bucky exists Steve can't be the hypermasculine icon Marvel wants him to be. why? bc it's in the fucking narrative. in this sense, Bucky Barnes is the only thing that stands in between Steve and the erroneous reading and presentation of Steve's character. So, he has to be removed.

and I'll expand that on the stomper or whatever knockoff ironman suit they put him in in WhatIf

there's a wonderful meta about why Steve is a feminine character. his masculinity isn't born but made and he was objectified and ridiculed for it. that artificial masculinity gave him the feminine experience and that's what makes him fascinating as an ostensibly hypermasculine hero. this dichotomy between Steve and Captain America created by that body is one of many reasons why Steve ≠ Captain America. by putting him in that suit, they are emulating masculinity with a giant piece of metal and tech that has phallic analogies written all over.

and that makes Steve, what? a knockoff tony stark? bc tony at least designed the thing. Steve is just a dude borrowing it. there's no depth and certainly no positive gendered reading came out of it. he becomes this simplistic male hero fantasy (like ironman). then, Marvel swapped Steve and Bucky's storylines but lost all the nuances because bucky is also heavily female-coded, especially his suffering as the winter soldier. the cartoon has none of that.

marvel is entirely ignorant as to why the Cap trilogy the best Marvel movies and steve&bucky the best characters, and they wonder now why steggy isn't well received. erasing Bucky from Steve's plot just makes the character boring. stucky isn't popular (entirely) bc they were played by cute white guys. it's bc their relationship adds depth, GENDERED DEPTH, to them and that's relatable to all the women that made the fandom so goddanm influential. Steve Rogers isn't your white male fantasy no matter how hard you try.

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #stevebucky #what if #marvel #marvel mcu #what if...?#anti steggy #I'm not even touching the blatant homophobia at play here #because masculinity and homophobia always go hand in hand #I hate that they put steve in that travesty metal suit #they erased everything that made steve appealing to female audiences #and called it feminism?#what the actual fuck #anti MCU #stucky is in the narrative

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lightheaded-dullahan · 10 months

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Alright, strap in for the lie of the decade So I got this ask

So I think; “well what’s this all about?” I open it up and its this pretty quoted interview, so I’m like “huh so what’s ‘oh boy’ about this? Then I start to read. AND OH BOY.

I think most people who look into Fate/Apocrypha have heard of this interview with Nasu and Higashide. If you haven’t; here is a quick run down of its contents.

Written out; if the image is annoying to read:

Trivia from interview with Kinoko Nasu, Takeshi Takeuchi, Konoe Ototsugu & Yuichiro Higashide. (Source from Comptiq, Newtype and etc). - The ligh novel was greenlit by Nasu, as supervisor, Higashide as writter and Konoe as illustrator art. - David, St.George, Kintoki Sakata & Musashibo Benkei were scrapped by Kinoko Nasu’s idea. - Nasu said these servants doesn’t fit into plot and they were replaced by four new servants instead. - Chiron, Avicebron & Achilles were designed by Takeuchi & Nasu, illustrated by Konoe in charge of character design. - Mordred is the culture of festival achievement thanks from TYPE MOON fanbase. - Addition of Mordred into F/A was Takeuchi’s idea and Nasu agreed. - Mordred was orginally to be male but Nasu feel that having two male characters look feminine (the other being Astolfo) would be too much. - However, Mordred as a male was not Nasu’s claim of actual fact. In truth, Nasu didn’t decided for final Mordred’s gender since Fate/Stay Night until Fate/Apocrypha. Which mean Mordred was “genderless” in F/SN. - After the project of online game was scrapped, Nasu said that all servants are too ridiculous powerful and might bored if the player’s powerful servant was facing against other player’s powerful servant. It’s like a hax. - The online game was based on Infamous 2’s gameplay style. - Nasu & Takeuchi were laughing about more Saber clone. In fact, Mordred is the real clone of Saber (Altria), so the wish has come true for those people who still saying about Saber clone. - Karna is Nasu’s favorite servant. Karna’s popularity has been skyrocket thanks to Fate/Extra CCC. - Astolfo is Konoe’s favourite servant. He is symbol mascot of Fate/Apocrypha. Higashide can’t even tell if this is comfortable or not since Astolfo is dude. - Yggdmillennia, Sisigou & Kotomine Shirou were planned by Nasu, Takeuchi & Higashide. - Higashide wrote all Sisigou, Reika & Black camp’s character development, while Homunculus, Kotomine Shirou & four new servants’s character development was already written by Nasu. - Nasu said that Shirou is basically a character who look to have “light outside and darker inside” personality. Uncanny different trait from Kirei. - Homunculus (Sieg) was Nasu & Takeuchi’s idea. Nasu wanted introduce male homunculus in Fate series for the first time. - Takeuchi & Konoe said Homunculus looks cute but dense person. - Takeuchi stated Homunculus & Jeanne are his new favorite characters, along with Altria. - Interviewer mention about why Takeuchi like Homunculus. He reply "It’s a secret" due it will trigger the spoiler. - Jeanne is based on real french student girl according to Takeuchi. She was at same college where Takeuchi studied, before he met someone as model of Arcueid Brunestud’s design from Tsukhime come to his mind. - The difference between Altria & Jeanne is sex appeal. Which is already explained in TYPE MOON April Fool 2012, where Heroine X (Altria) in furious when she heard that Jeanne’s sex appeal is better than her. - Tsukihime is Higashide’s favorite visual novel. - Nasu stated homunculus like Mordred can summoned as Heroic Spirit despite not human being. - The rules of magecraft in Apocrypha universe are same as in Fate/Stay Night & Fate/Zero except that there is no rule of Ruler classes. - Ruler’s duty is protect the Holy Grail and oversee the battle. - Interviewer asked Nasu & Higashide about why Jeanne hijack Leticia’s body rather than ritual summon. Nasu stated it was something broke the rule of HGW and corrupted the system. - Nasu mention the first servant who hijack human body is Avenger, Angra Mainyu from Fate/Hollow Ataraxia. Who control Emiya Shirou’s body and mind since he has no body but void form. The theory that come from Rin Tohsaka was correct. - Roa from Tsukihime was also can hijack the human body (Ciel & Tohno SHIKI) but reincarnation soul while he was in Akasha. - Nasu & Higashide admit it was silly idea in the first place. But they wanted Jeanne to have some disadvantages/weakness for herself due she was powerful servant and might kinda “boring” if she summoned as spirit form. (Avoid fan calling her a mary sue). - Which mean any servant can hijack the human body while in critical condition but it's rarely. - Karna’s background story has been altered in comparison to his original myth in Mahabrarat. This means, Karna is Nasu!Karna, not Myth!Karna which we know. - The rule of summoning Ruler is who can guide the war during in his/her past and a sainthood(?) as specific condition. Only one Ruler class is summoned in one war. The this system works in Apocrypha universe only. - St.George was remove because of this. Karna, however he refuse refer himself a saint and a killing machine who can kill God, summoned as Lancer class instead. - The Greater Grail force summon the servant as Ruler when met the condition completed. - If Jeanne is summoned in different universe without rules of Ruler, her class will be obviously Saber. She still will be summoned as Ruler if the mishap of war affected the result in different universe. - Jeanne was first mention in Kara no Kyoukai’s light novel reference: Mikiya Kokutou mentions her when he was discussing about Heroic Spirits who utilized the power of the Counter Force. - While the design for Jeanne wasn’t made during the production of the Fate/Zero novels, the design was completed around the time of the anime adaptation.

This translation was provided by @/ shinichameleon - who, in fact, is still pretty active in this fandom. They still post to this day. Now; what’s wrong with this? Well most importantly, Mahabharata is misspelled- no I’m joking that’s not the most important.

Most importantly is This interview is a lie.

https://web.archive.org/web/20151107012557/http://shinichameleon.tumblr.com/post/62039911382/fateapocrypha-vol2-translation-of-detail

This is the interview being claimed has this information. But - this is an interview by Higashide ALONE after Apoc Vol. 2 was releasing. Nasu isn’t in this interview. At all. So; is there *any* interview with Nasu & Higashide? Yes; in Type Moon Ace 8. But that was *before* Apoc began its release so none of this information would have been there. So; maybe its another one? Well, as Petrikow on Fate/Apocrypha Free Range Spoiler thread discovered; no archivist has listed any other interview with both of them. Well what about the rest of the post? Seems like information is just from the product itself, not any interview. But why does this matter? Well; because this user, Shinichameleon has a rather ...unsavory reputation.

In addition this this set; they’ve also posts a supposed new route for the Ufortable adaptation. Which....is blatantly untrue as we’ve seen. But then so this person lies about fate stuff (and gets it circulated for a decade), so what? Well they’ve also got banned from fate reddit(s) for posting false information. This includes falsely claiming Japanese Mordred and Semiramis fans hated each other; than Semiramis was hated in JP, KR, and CN fan bases after vol.4,5, and 6. They also tried to pull something similar with summer Ibuki, which is also proven not reliable at all through machine translation, using their own opinion as proof of character popularity, taking people out of context, and genuinely bringing bad fate (heh) arguments. But what else have they done? Completely make up information about Kiara Sessyoin?? Yep. They completely made up info.

“According from Kinoko Nasu & Takeuchi Takashi in EXTRA Material, Kiara Sessyoin is not her real name. Her real name is Inoriara Sessyoin and her actual age is late twenties. She was born as the daughter of true mantra of Tachikawa yo Tennaga, but she was bedridden and didn’t existed until at the age of 14 because she was sickly by birth. She was caught in commandments, that for their own “pitiable” appearance of the surrounding people who didn’t know it saves by saying, a pure human’s image that existed in the story vanished too.

At the age of 14, the believer was told by a doctrine of spirit hacking, her sickness recovers in a moment completely unknown to the outside. However, it accompanies along missing people and the dead increased suddenly, and she was completely denied in the presence level to the father who became aware of the accident, the reason “Though she is a woman, I am seeking to become one with that woman”, he denied to realize it, then expelled on suspicions of violating two taboos of the Tachikawa Style. To that morrow, she takes away the father’s skull principal image, states “the master is deprived of technique tools” the last taboo was broken with this, the killer match of the believer, it left from all religious organizations that had become the dead, excluding her.

Afterwards, though she has saved the believers’ belief of the Tachikawa Style, the believe who became loved dearly was said to committed suicide one after another for her. In addition, she was put on the wanted list by the Western Europe plutocracy for the exploitation of code cast of the electronic brain, the maximum taboo in history.

Also she can fights and take down an average human nor a weak servant by her own potential without her final boss form. Just look at this video and count how many skills she got (Spoiler alert). And she is the first person who awakes ORT from eternal slumber....according from Koha Ace. Are you for real Keikenchi? “ So; fun fact -- none of this is true. It’s all made up. Oh; but you know what’s the MOST infruitating? “ The difference between Altria & Jeanne is sex appeal. Which is already explained in TYPE MOON April Fool 2012, where Heroine X (Altria) in furious when she heard that Jeanne’s sex appeal is better than her. “

THIS IS FAKE. THE FUCKING SEX APPEAL DIFFERENCE IS FAKE. You know the shit about Siegfried and Semiramis having a different artist and copyright issues with that is probably fake too. Anyways; what does this all mean? WE need to fucking recheck probably a good chunk of things we’re spreading around in this fandom. It also means that a lot of information on the Fandom wiki is likely straight up false (not surprising) which can mean its absolutely *useless* for lore referencing for *anyone*. This is for the English speaking side of the fandom so far; so; yeah. This is pretty fucked. Shinichameleon is now posting in danganronpa reddits so; I guess look out danganronpa fans.

#fate #fate stay night #fate apocrypha #fgo #long post #psa #I've stalled on posting this long enough so here we go.#I think this is a suitable summary of what was found.#this is looooooong

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come-on-shitty-boys · 3 months

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// Welcome to Kink K. Ink. inked 01 //

*The nature of this series may be not be appropriate for all readers. Content warnings include: vulgarity, heavy swearing, and implications of adult relations. Due to these themes, this series may not be suitable for readers under the age of 16. Reader discretion is advised.*

prev << 01 >> next

“Tsukishima’s here.”

“Send him on back, Akaashi!” With a snap of his gloves and swivel of his stool, Kuroo Tetsurou turned to face his last client of the day. “Let’s get this sleeve finished, Tsukki dude.”

By now, Kuroo had gotten used to the unamused look that settled upon his client’s features every time that ridiculous nickname was used, but all the same, Tsukishima sat himself down in the leather seats just like he had done countless times before, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to give his high school friend full access to his shoulder.

“You know the drill by now. We’re going to wipe it down, put the stencil on, you can check placement and design, and then we’ll get started, cool?” There isn’t even a moment for the young man to answer before the cool wipe is passed over his shoulder and the stencil to complete the full look is placed onto the newly clean area. Tsukki turned his body to look in the mirror at the foot of the chair, offering a slight nod of approval before sitting back. “This should finish it all out and really pull together the rest of the sleeve,” Kuroo states, letting the hum of the tattoo machine fill the room as his foot eases down on the pedal.

It seemed like just yesterday he was picking up a machine for the very first time. But now, the weight of the machine and its steady vibration had just become a part of him. Day in and day out, Kuroo Tetsurou did nothing but create the most incredible art pieces, punching ink directly into the skin, watching as his own creation stumbled into existence at his very own fingertips. And at only 27, massive success as a tattoo artist hidden under his belt, he was able to open the doors to a shop of his very own, nothing but a handful of friends and a love for his art to push him forward.

“Hey, Kuroo!”

“I’m busy!”

“Dude, it’ll be quick, I promise!”

Kuroo leaned away from Tsukishima’s arm, easing his foot off the pedal, letting the hum fade. He lifted his head and nearly fell off of his stool from the surprise. “Dude, what the actual fuck.”

Kuroo had never really regretted having his best friend work alongside him in the shop. He would get free piercings or jewelry in exchange for regular touch-ups. But it was moments like these where the tattoo artist had serious questions for his past self. Bokuto Koutarou stood before him, a needle stuck through the septum cartilage of his nose as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck.’ I have a question.”

“Why is there a needle in your nose!”

“I was piercing it, duh.” His friend looked at him with confused eyes as if the needle and his title of body piercer really should’ve been telling enough. But, rather than continuing with what he had to say, Bokuto turned the chair on the other side of Tsukishima around to seat himself backwards, arms leaning against the back of the chair. “What’s good, Tsukki dude! I didn’t know you were coming in today! When are you gonna let me pierce those ears, huh?” He teased, reaching his hand out to lightly flick Tsukishima’s earlobe.

“You are not going anywhere near me with a needle.”

“Oh, come on! I’m good! You can ask Kuroo. Bro, aren’t I a good piercer?”

Kuroo nodded at Tsukishima, slowly turning his machine back on to return to his work. “He is pretty good. Helps that Akaashi always orders quality jewelry so it heals better. If you really wanted to, Bokuto could do your ears right now. I mean, you are going to be here for a while.”

“I am not letting Bokuto pierce my ears. Especially when he has a needle up his own damn nose.”

Bokuto wiggled his nose a little as if he had completely forgotten about the needle all together. “Easy fix. ‘Kaashi! Will you bring me that ring I put in the autoclave?”

Akaashi’s heavy sigh could be heard from the front of the shop as he slid his chair away from the counter to bring Bokuto what he had asked for. He pushed the curtain to the side, placing the tiny septum ring into Bokuto’s hand. “Remember to get rid of that needle properly,” he chided, eyeing the piercer with uncertainty.

“That was one time!”

“Yeah and we got fined for it.”

“We?! I distinctly remember that coming out of my paycheck!”

“Which comes out of my profits,” Kuroo added, shaking his head as he moved the machine over Tsukishima’s skin. “You’re going to be the reason we get shut down, bro.”

“Then we’ll just open a new shop! Easy, bro.” Bokuto reached across to sock Kuroo in the shoulder, sending a jolt through the artist’s body that only dragged an ugly line over the face of the portrait, right where the cherry red lips would’ve gone.

Kuroo slowly raised his head to stare at his friend through narrowed eyes, the shadows cast across his face from his hair only adding an extra layer of intimidation. “I’m going to beat your ass.”

Bokuto’s body stilled, fingers coming to a halt just as he was twisting the last bead onto his nose ring. Wide eyes darted from the tattoo artist and back to his reflection in the mirror. There’s a pointed look from cat like eyes as the hum of a tattoo machine comes to a stop. Before Bokuto even had the chance to make his escape, the machine had been placed gingerly on the table and the quiet peel of latex gloves leaving Kuroo’s hands was the only noise to this ominous soundtrack.

“Akaashi. . . Akaashi, help me,” Bokuto whispered, slowly getting up from his seat, eyeing his high school setter with pleading eyes.

An all too familiar teasing smirk settled onto his tired face as he turned away. “Don’t break anything,” Akaashi stated simply, rounding the corner back towards the front of the shop.

“Akaashi!”

“Akaashi can’t help you now, you little bitch.” And as quickly as his words ended, Kuroo was leaping over Tsukki in hot pursuit of his very own almost-perfect weapon of mass destruction.

Bokuto’s chair clattered to the ground in a desperate effort to keep Kuroo’s long legs at bay for a few extra seconds that could be essential for escape. But he simply hopped over the new obstacle, fingers grasping at the soft cotton of the piercer’s t-shirt, but a quick twist had Kuroo’s hand slipping without firm purchase on anything.

“Get back here, you absolute cow!”

“Hey! Just because you’re mad that you don’t have an absolute dump truck of an ass,” Bokuto pauses, sending a loud smack to his butt, wiggling it in Kuroo’s direction, “doesn’t mean that you get to be mean about it.”

“What? Did I hurt your poor little feelings?”

Bokuto laid a hand over his heart, golden eyes pouting at his friend. “You know what, yeah, you kinda did, bro.”

Kuroo’s shoulders drooped and the intensity in his eyes disappeared, softening as he took tedious steps in Bokuto’s direction. “Bro, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t take my insecurities out on you like that.”

“It’s okay, bro. I forgive you.”

“Bring it in, bro?” Kuroo held open his arms. His true bro nodded solemnly, opening his own arms to engage in the manly exchange of friendship, a bro hug to end all bro hugs, heavy slaps to the back that concluded the concerto of shouts and pounding footsteps against the tile floor. “It really is too bad, bro.”

“What is, bro?”

“That you fell right into my trap!”

Bokuto’s frantic shrieking as he tried to wiggle out of the headlock that he had been forced into pierced the air and it would’ve had the desired effect on an untrained ear, but Kuroo knew. He had trained and prepared over many years to be unphased by the absolute pterodactyl screeches that Bokuto was capable of producing.

“You fucked up my tattoo, you piece of shit,” Kuroo hissed, rubbing the knuckles of his free hand against Bokuto’s scalp, only making the piercer writhe in his grasp even more, pleas and apologies dripping from his tongue.

“Please! Please, I’m sorry! Just let me go,” he begged. “I’ll buy your lunch!”

“You owe me a lot more lunches than just one!”

“Okay, okay! I’ll buy your lunch for the rest of the week!”

It really was as simple as that. The promise of food was enough for Kuroo’s arm to release its hold around Bokuto. “You’re lucky that I’m so kind.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re so gracious,” Bokuto muttered, staring at his reflection in an effort to fix his hair that had been displaced from Kuroo’s ruthless assault on his head.

Kuroo released a hefty sigh as he sat back down on his stool, staring at the now mess of a tattoo. “Listen, man. I’m going to need a bit to figure out how to work Bokuto’s fine design skills into this, so just sit back and chill for a bit while I get some sketches going, okay? I don’t know, maybe Akaashi will let you do one of his sudoku puzzles. Go get some lunch, take a nap, beat Bokuto’s ass, I don’t really care. But, you’re going to have to give me a bit, cool?”

“You really should put a door to this room instead of just a curtain. You could keep a lot of pests out,” Tsukishima grumbles, sitting forward in the chair to lean his elbows on his knees.

Bokuto quickly turns around to give one of his not-at-all-terrifying glares, adding a loud, “Hey! I am not a pest!”

The blond snickered in response, a twisted smirk present on his lips. “Never said you were. But, now that you mention it, a door with a lock might be better.”

“Tsukki! Aren’t we supposed to be friends?”

“I don’t remember us being friends. I come to get tattoos, not hang out with you.”

“Yeah, so that’s why you sat around until we closed last time? To get tattoos? Nice try, Tsukki dude. You know you love us.”

“I’m going to get a coffee.” Tsukishima shakes his head, fending off the laughter and high-fives from the other two, securing their win in his lack of an objection.

“Bring me back a black coffee,” Akaashi’s voice calls from where he was sat at the front counter, his eyes never leaving his current puzzle.

Kuroo’s laugh fills the shop. “You’ve had like three cups already. Shouldn’t you drink, I don’t know, water?”

“There’s water in coffee.”

“Akaashi, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count.”

“You’re bitching an awful lot today. I think you’re dehydrated. Maybe you should drink some water. Tsukishima, bring Kuroo back an ice water, will you?”

“Akaashi!”

“Make it two. He’s really dehydrated.”

“Two waters and a black coffee. Okay,” Tsukishima mutters, typing out the list on his phone. “I’ll be back.” There wasn’t even time for Bokuto to add in his request for a hot chocolate or for Kuroo to object to the order that was placed for him because Tsukishima was already leaving, the little silver bell jingling above the door being the only noticeable sign of his departure.

And the time should’ve passed normally. Everyone had busied themselves with their own work. Akaashi placed orders for new jewelry, more inks, new needles and gloves, everything that possibly could’ve been needed. Bokuto’s next appointment for the day had come in, the quiet sounds of his voice as he soothed his client’s nerves resonating through the shop.

“We’re going to do three deep breaths, okay? You’ll feel a little pinch on the third and some pressure as I put the jewelry in. Ready? One . . .”

It was the jingle of the bell, the signal that should have signaled Tsukishima’s return, that pulled heads away from tasks and it was Akaashi’s steady, “Welcome to Kink. How can I help you?” that had Kuroo’s head snapping away from his sketchbook.

“Stop calling it Kink! You know it’s K dot Ink, you bastard!”

There was a murmur of a voice that was unrecognizable before Akaashi spoke up again. “I’m sorry. He’s busy right now preparing work for another client. Can I take a message? I’ll pass it along to him once he’s free. Excuse me- Excuse me! You can’t go back there without an appointment! Bokuto!”

Akaashi really thought that Bokuto’s large stature coming to block your path, still gloved up from his current client, would’ve deterred you, but you simply shouldered past him, a white-knuckled grip on a small black binder. You stopped in front of him, the tattoo artist whose work you had admired on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook. The one who drove you to want to pick up the trade yourself. The one who was known for turning potential apprentices away at the door without so much as humoring them with a glance at their portfolio.

It was the binder slamming down on his table, sending pens scattering across the floor that finally forced those amber eyes up in your direction, unamusement painted over his features.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Y/N. I’m your new apprentice.”

{taglist: @boosyboo9206 // please send an ask or a dm to be added for future updates}

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #inked

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beatcroc · 1 month

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turns out i have to make an unnecessarily wordy thoughtspost about doombox too bc there is nothing about this character that isn't fucking ridiculous and also really funny and i'm kind of really obsessed with all of it. ordinarily i would just start firing but in this case I need to just. paste his bio and then go through it step by step because every phrase here is absurd when looking at how he's handled along with the other characters and the world as a whole. here we go

first sidenote: i should also add 'nonsensical' to the list of descriptors up there, because this is a fighting game and no doubt has the typical Bad Fighting Game Writing at play that doesn't really hold up when put under scrutiny as i'm about to, but understand that this is something i've come to love about the genre and its typically batshit lore, and it further enhances the experience for me. it's all utter nonsense and its my favorite shit ever.

the biggest thing to me that makes his entire shtick ridiculous is that he was explicitly made to be a weapon. like his express purpose is destruction and/or killing people, and he certainly has the disposition to be doing that. except that he is not doing that. he's out there playing Ball Game, evidently of his own volition.

i feel it is also important to highlight that he was not originally or intentionally a boombox; he just kinda lives in there. his own bio frames it as happenstance, but sonata's dlc skin lore** implies he isn't permanently stuck in there and can kinda just hop out and take control of whatever he wants whenever he wants. there is an entire goddamn tank just sitting there in the background of one of these stages. he is a weapon. there is heavy artillery readily available to him that he could be commanding if he wanted to, but he's not doing that either. he is still a boombox. i think he likes it in there. *there's an argument to be made that maybe he's not powerful enough to control something that large, or maybe just that switching hosts is really tiring or risky. im just saying though there's like a bajillion host devices better suited for A Fucking Weapon than a boombox, but he seems really committed to this for some reason. while im here btw it's fucking terrifying that he apparently can possess thing that are Not tech as well **as a side note from that the specific mention of her boomhammer is interesting. i don't think it's an intentional implication but i enjoy the idea he has an affinity for sound-based devices; i like to think the boombox left an impression on him with its being the initial thing he possessed and got used to

and then there is the berserking. the 'rampaging', as it is otherwise called. not exactly strange on its own given his temperament and designation, but strange for the way it's characterized as only a tendency. it's only that he's prone to rampaging. he rampages often, but not all the time. just often! what is he doing he is not rampaging? getting a custom trimmed jacket with his own logo emblazoned on it? like a nerd? and on the flipside, what exactly do these rampages even entail? because it's apparently not anything destructive or disruptive enough for anyone to care about stopping him under normal circumstances.

like how are you a giant angry "not exactly stable" weapon of a guy and everyone's like 'yeah that's fine. that's our doombox!' toxic's specific wording regarding his getting unfucked postgame is "back to his old raging self", which implies to me there's almost a certain fondness, or at least amusement, at his being like this. i know one of the core themes of lethal league is letting these oddball misfit dudes do their thing and freely be who they are, but like. is doombox sincerely just not a threat for that? like really? dice's interactions also sort of imply that his actually trying to kill someone is really out of the ordinary for him so truly like. db my man what ARE you doing out there. * re: toxic and dice's talking about him; i do also find it amusing that one of his defining traits is just being pissed off all the time. again, not surprising given his purpose/designation as a weapon, but funny in that it's like. how he's KNOWN; in the sense that it is immediately noticeable and a cause for concern for other characters to see he is Not angry. fuckin social barometer of a guy. local angry guy isn't angry, something's wrong.

the "reasons for playing in the league unknown" bit also strikes me as a little odd even though it REALLY shouldn't. i'm like 97% sure it's just written like that to make him seems mysterious and unpredictable and dangerous, but it's a weird thing to call attention to when you consider that...less than half of the other characters' reasons are known? raptor is there trying to get info on his dad, that one's well out there. dust & ashes i think have some kind of implied reason for being there as well but it of course isn't elaborated on, and grid is like trying to impress "the youth" and establish a profile or something. nitro seems like he might not actually be IN the league as an official competitor? it's just helpful for him to know how to ball for the situations he gets into with his investigations. everybody else's "reason" pretty much seems like they're just out there to have fun. and toxic says as much in the story mode intro! the game was developed for people to escape the monotonies of shine city! so to imply doombox has a separate, non-recreational reason for being here is weird. the easiest read on it for me is just that he was drawn to it cause it's intense and destructive but at the same time.... if all he wants is an excuse to wreck shit....why are you competing in a structured sports game with rules and shit my dude. you are a weapon. just go attack people. except that we've established that he doesnt really do that. so. once again. what IS he doing out here

----

aside from the bio though, there's of course random little tidbits of characterization throughout the game itself and they are all also likewise ridiculous.

he refers to himself in third person, which is always an amusing choice for a character in general. it carries with it a certain sense of ego, an awareness of and and pride in one's presence and gravitas. this was mostly just surprising to me bc before i started looking at everything, i'd assumed he was more or less mindless and, yknow, robotic; without much personality/reason for being there beyond being the Biggest Baddest Best At Ball Game Guy doombox is already very imposing, so this is frankly a well-earned sense of pride for him to have.....but it still doubles back to being funny again because, as i've established above, he could stand to be a hell of a lot scarier! but he doesn't seem to notice or care that there are many readily-available options for becoming more powerful and/or establishing himself as unquestionable top dog. so instead he is a boombox. third-person is also often used for characters who are a little dumb, and i think this applies to doombox as well. he is a weapon, and clearly a brute-force-over-precision type of weapon at that, he doesnt need smarts. i think this is also sort of hinted at with his voice lines; where the other characters have some kind of snarky phrase or one-liner for their kill/score voice line, doombox just goes "bye-bye". Which is still appropriately Disrespectful, but it's also very, uh... simple. again i just think there are... more imposing things a guy like him could be saying there, but i guess he hasn't got anything more than fucking. bye-bye.

anyways the ego thing i think is well-echoed by his stupid fucking jacket. none of the other characters have their logo as part of their design and i'm pretty sure the rest of the symbols are just game abstractions and don't exist in-universe, but like. doombox is just going around wearing a jersey with his own damn face on it. ok. to be clear i love his jacket but it is literally so silly for him to have that. imagine being the guy having to custom-fit a fucking boombox. did db pay for it? how? we're getting into unproductive territory here but you could ask a million questions about that jacket and they all have hysterical implications. while im on the topic of designs i'd also like to say that while i don't count any of the other blaze redesigns as "canon" like actual events the characters went through between games [like raptor in particular would have already had to have the stitches since that's his backstory, it's just they weren't a design point before], doombox is in a weird spot since the first game's design for him was very specifically referencing its HUD in a meta way for his flavor and that was pretty much the entire extent of his flavor; while in blaze he and the HUD are very much separate distinct things with their own flavor. there's more to talk about here later but as it pertains to design what im saying is i think he just went out and found a better and cooler boombox to be in between games. and also got a funny jacket. *actually i have no idea if there's even a Timeline here. the gut vibe i had been running on was that blaze happens a couple years after the original, but looking at it now that doesn't seem right. does blaze Replace the timeline of the first game? are there even Events in the first game to count as a timeline? do they run concurrently?

alright anyway the last point here is the 3rd-person thing is even moreso interesting to me though bc i was under the assumption that 'doombox' was something akin to a codename he was given when other people saw this big fucking Thang rampaging through the streets. but seeing as 1. he's definitely aware of it, and 2. not even the damn scientists who made him knew he was in a boombox [as implied in his dlc skin lore], i'm led to believe he came up with the name himself. the fucking tape in his cassette player does just say 'doom' on it so i am choosing to believe that's either where he got the name, or that he put that on there himself.

MOVING on, another really good thing is that he does this

i just think it's funny he's continuing to use the thing as an actual boombox; i feel like that isn't something he necessarily Has to do. obviously he's susceptible to certain quirks and limitations of being a boombox re: mind control tape, but i don't think that means he has to play out its every function. i think he's doing that on purpose and i am filing it under "he likes it in there". hes listening to his jams.

also on a similar note,

this is also not important and i realize it's mostly just a quirky videogamey way to get around saying the robot kinda character is "asleep", but i do enjoy the implication that shine city's biggest terror is like out there running on 4 D-cells.

also i'm making this guy out to be a city street menace, and the vibe i had assumed for him before was like, a random encounter in the back alleys that you super do not want to run into; but his associated stage/hangout seems to be the desert/scrapyard? which i don't really have anything interesting to say to that, but it's definitely a different vibe for his character if he typically hangs out in more desolate areas.

---

i think maybe the most baffling thing doombox has going on is the apparent "rivalry" with dice. this is also bizzare from dice's side of things. what the fuck does it even mean to be "rivals" with doombox? what are they competing for? what kind of things does dice get up to that doombox would even give a shit about in the first place, let alone to be considered a rival in? i mean, like, the league, probably, but why dice specifically, out of everyone? would doombox's league rival not just be whoever's the [second] strongest there? i believe dice when he says they're evenly-matched, but there isn't really anything that implies dice is of particularly high prestige within the league so it feels like he shouldn't hold much interest as a target. to be fair dice doesn't seem like the type that would care about prestige, but again, if he's not out there flaunting his shit or trying to claim he's the best or whatever, why does db care? this would be a lot easier to understand if it was a one-sided thing on doombox's part like okay maybe dice pissed him off one day and he's still mad about it. whatever. that's the vibe they go for in story mode, but then there's dice's dlc skin description, which seems to run entirely counter to that and has dice as the aggressor:

when deprived of his usual sense and restraint, dice's first thought is I Gotta Go Fuckin Kill Doombox? even if he's over it under normal circumstances, it's clear both of them have some deeper-rooted beef in this exchange. there is yet another layer to this in that doombox is, weirdly enough, not really shown to be the kind of guy that's interested in revenge. again, going back to his own dlc description, he- and i quote- "couldn't care less" about the guys who made him capturing him and chaining him up. his only interest there is breaking out and getting back to doing his thing. if you want to be really generous, you could also read this vibe from the story mode epilogue: doombox was not the one hunting down the safety league, that was nitro. doombox was simply, as stated before "back to his old raging self". both of these to say, he simply does not seem to give a shit about people who have directly wronged him and only wants to Do His Thing. so. once again. what the fuck is going on with dice that they both have lasting beef here. i truly cannot fathom what either of them did to be so mad specifically at eachother. this rivalry is something they reference a LOT too like it's a big deal in-universe, or something otherwise really important to portray. like

lore so strong you gotta put it on an achievement!!!!! really!!!!! and there are no details whatsoever about this????? * while i'm here i'd just like to say have more questions about dice than fucking anything else in this game. sadly there's practically nothing to intuit from the game about any of his situations so i don't have much for coherent thoughts to post on him, but my god. what the fuck, dice. this rivalry is arguably the single strangest thing doombox has going on but it doesn't even break top 5 weird things about dice.

anyways, the final section and MOST interesting thing to me in all this is that, coming out of the first game, i was really under the impression that doombox is just the arbitrary final boss monster you gotta kill; no real purpose or personality his own to speak of, and most importantly just synonymous with the game itself and its aesthetics re: mirroring the HUD design. he certainly still holds the role of big scary final boss monster in blaze too, but blaze 1. has him much more fleshed-out as his own Guy, and more importantly, 2. doesn't really consider him a Problem like your typical big angry final boss monster. or at least not moreso than anything else going on in the game. he's not a threat to be eliminated, he's respected as a character and as a competitor in the league; and more than that he just seems to be... liked? as in, liked by other people in-universe? and he's liked enough that they'll readily help him out so he can keep doing his thing? i do think latch fixed him up postgame mostly bc he felt bad about being the one responsible for getting db brainwashed in the first place but like. the game could have just as easily gone "and then doombox was defeated yay" and left it at that. instead, they seem to have a vested interest in keeping him around. most transparently this is likely just a "we can't get rid of any of the playable characters or else story mode would be noncanon", BUT the point of this post is trying to read cohesive narrative sense into places there probably isn't any, and my read here is that doombox is a sort of inadvertent guardian of the league. for 1, he does still very much embody a lot of what the game [both The Videogame and the league itself] is about, but more importantly i think his presence is just really good at keeping a lot of the more minor threats at bay. if you try to fuck with the league, you will eventually be squaring off with doombox, most likely having freshly pissed him off in the process, and i can't imagine that goes well for who or whatever is in that situation. there's probably not much that wants to stand up to him by himself, and there's even less that can challenge the league as a whole unit; he's really just a good guy to have on your side like in general when you are running an illegal sports operation. i think at Worst toxic might see him as the league's funny little mascot but realistically i think she has more respect for him than that. either way i don't think he's going to care and it doesn't affect him much regardless. for this, doombox simply gets to keep doing his thing, whatever the fuck that may be. there are certainly still forces beyond his control at play here [as demonstrated in story mode by the safety league], and when these come into play, the league in turn looks out for him and keeps him on top of his game. i'm not sure if he has the, uh.... kind of cognitive ability that he could be grateful for this, but if nothing else, we know he seems to enjoy playing in the league, so he probably at least recognizes that he's not going to meet a lot of resistance in it and/or that it's a good environment to keep doing as he pleases. i don't mean for this all to sound so transactional, but it's hard to say whether he has much charisma in-universe for people to want him around for more "legitimate" reasons. likewise, there's also still a lot up in the air on how like... sapient doombox actually is. whether he can have complex motivations about anything or if he has some concept of "having friends" or if he can experience emotions besides rage; i tend to lean to "no" on those because i am really trying my damndest not to woobify this guy, but ultimately i don't think it matters much; in the end, he and the league are still mutually beneficial for eachother, and they still enjoy having the other around. and i think that's pretty cool :)

#lethal league blaze #lethal league #doombox #babygirl i can write misplaced analysis about anythinggggg #also ik im making this post in 2024 but to be clear i've been playing this series since 2016 #i never talk about it much but it has always held a special place 4 me.#i come back to it briefly like semi-anually. it just happened to REALLY grab me this time around for whatever reason #and i got really obsessed w doombox. as it goes i suppose #speaking of which the final word count for this one is.... apparently a little over 3k this time. oh my god.#usually these character/game writeup things are like half that length. look i just think hes neat #as my friend said: ''He seems like he should be so self-explanatory but he just isn't''#and ''We learn just enough about Doombox to know we don't know fucking anything about Doombox''#boy id like to know. the things id do for literally any kind of external loredump for this game. auuggghhh

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stusbunker · 4 months

Text

Spotless: Fermata

Chapter Five

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam/Madison, Chase the waiter

Word Count: 1815

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, Dean casually getting dressed in front of the reader, third wheelin', Dean is a smooth motherfucker, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

The glossy finish of Dean’s desk stuck to the sweat of your palms as you sat on the surface, waiting for him to finally decide on an outfit that Bela wouldn’t roll her eyes at the moment she saw him. He had been going through his wardrobe in front of you for the better part of an hour and you were both on the cusp of entirely different versions of frustration. He strutted out from his massive closet, pants undone and flashing you the same pair of boxer briefs you had been salivating over all morning. His shirt was open, showing off his one and only tattoo, high on his peck as he futzed with the collar, trying to get it to lay right and then he started to button.

“Can’t believe you set me up with some hoity toity wardrobe Nazi,” Dean grumbled a repeated accusation in a new and more colorful way.

“Don’t give me that crap, I know how much you like playing dress up,” you shot back.

He spun and glared at you. “Traitor. Even Charlie knows this dog-and-pony show is not the same as fighting orcs in the valley.”

You put on a face of mock sympathy. “You poor, poor thing, having to wear the free shit designers send you out in the wild.”

Dean flipped you off with one hand while tucking in his freshly buttoned shirt with the other. The way his shoulders stretched the gray fabric was more distracting than the thickness of the offensive finger.

“I’m not wearing a tie for fucking coffee,” Dean griped.

“No, you’re not. People’d think you went to church first and the last thing I want to start is cult rumors for either of you.”

Dean hopped on the balls of his feet as he zipped his fly, finally standing before you in an acceptable outfit. You looked him over as he fiddled with his cuffs.

“Roll them up, shows off your arms,” you coached him, as he went between glancing in the mirror on the back of the door to across the room for your appraisal.

Dean chuckled, but did as he was told.

“So, you calling in the paps or just seeing who catches on on their own?”

“I’ll have Bela post something, showing off you and her plate with a tag to the restaurant. I might snag some candids just in case, but I’m guessing you’ll get noticed.”

Dean dug through his rack of belts as you talked. “Can’t you get fired for leaking photos to the press?”

“Technically that is my job description, dude. But honestly? Only if I’m making extra money off of it— or if my boss decides to be a bigger dick than usual,” you sighed, avoiding scrolling through your phone as it buzzed next to your hip.

Dean smirked. “I’ll show you a bigger dick than—”

“None of that, god, Dean, shove down the locker room talk for like two hours. Please?”

He rolled his eyes and threaded his belt. “When it’s go time, I will be fucking angelic. I promise. I’ll show everybody what a gentleman I am. But you can’t just toss me a perfect spiral and get mad when I run with it.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “You hate football.”

Dean marched back across the room with a pair of Italian leather ankle boots and sat on the edge of his ridiculous bed to put them on. “No, I hate the televised corruption of football. It shouldn’t take twenty or thirty minutes for a two minute drill. But I wouldn’t say no to landing the Halftime show of the Super Bowl.”

“Noted.” You fell to the temptation of your phone, now that more of Dean was hidden than exposed. Bela had texted you twice, both with mirror selfies, you snapped a picture as Dean finger gunned his reflection to send back. She replied with a stream of positive emojis and you barked a laugh.

“What?!” Dean demanded.

“Outfit approved,” you spun your screen so Dean could read Bela’s response and his stupid face went from concentrating to smug in two seconds flat. He waggled his eyebrows at you but you stole your screen back before he could go scrolling through the conversation. His finger hung in the now empty air.

You typed a simple ‘you’re welcome’ to Bela and put your phone aside, screen down as Dean started on his hair in the en suite bathroom. You hopped off the desk and slinked into the doorway, bored and anxious in equal measure.

Staging public appearances had always been a hit or miss with Dean.

“You gonna be alright being Sam’s third wheel? I know you want to make this seem like it’s just me and Bela out, but we could still make it a group thing.”

“I’m so not dressed for an outing with Bela—”

Dean huffed as he washed the product from his hands.

“And we really need the focus to be on you, less distractions, better angles for candids, all that crap,” you said, professionally side-stepping the question.

“Yay,” Dean muttered with mock enthusiasm.

“You love the spotlight, remember?”

“Not the same thing. But I guess I have to live with it, don’t I?” Dean lamented, waiting for you to move out of the doorway and lead the way downstairs. He called for Sam, telling him that it was time to go over his shoulder. Something had shifted between you and you felt every ounce of his regret at the forced circumstances like it was a second skin.

Sam’s laugh, somewhere to your left, drew you out of your careful scrutiny of Dean’s posture across the patio. Madison had been telling a story, and though they both knew you were only there for work purposes, you still felt guilty for ignoring the conversation. You turned and faced the table and took a sip of your coffee. Sam gave you a squint, but didn’t say anything about your sudden return to reality, bless him.

“I think I’m going to do the eggs benedict scrambler. What are you thinking, Y/N?” Madison reminded you to look at the menu.

“Uh, I think I’m leaning more towards lunch, actually,” you said, because you really hadn’t processed anything on the laminated list in front of you.

Sam sipped his fresh squeezed grapefruit juice and you tried to speed read as your waiter returned with a cheerful look on his face.

“How’s it going over here? All set to order?” His name was Chase and he either was a bodybuilder on the side or he was an actor, which didn’t really take skill to parcel out in L.A., but it was still obvious.

Sam, the traitor, answered happily, “sure thing. I’ll have the kale frittatas and could we get a pitcher of Bloody Marys, please?”

“Okay, then,” Madison chuckled, shaking her head at Sam trying to get her tipsy in the middle of the day.

“Definitely, man,” Chase the waiter replied, typing in the order on his tablet. He then turned to Madison, which earned him an appreciative smile as your eyes darted back down onto the options.

You didn’t bother listening to what she ordered, too busy deciding on something you could eat without too much distraction. There was a certain columnist at Rolling Stone whom you wanted to get back in her good graces and if you could get her a good enough shot of Dean being Mister Charming, the better.

“What about you, doll?” Okay, you didn’t have an ounce of a fuck to give to this waiter who probably thought he was being slick.

“I’ll take another water and— the DELICIOUS BREAKFAST SELECTION with wheat toast.”

“Got it. Alright, that’s all in and I’ll be back with your drinks in a sec.” Chase finally left, freeing you from scripted social interaction. Sam gave you a reassuring head tilt and turned back to Madison. Both of them were polite enough to not point out you did not actually order a lunch selection.

Bela and Dean were near the railing of the patio, perfect for visibility from passersby, but what caught your attention most was that they seemed to be genuinely smiling at one another as they talked over their meals. The urge to join them welled up, to know what had two people so close to you so amused, to be included in their tiny bubble. You stayed put, managing to snap a few pictures of them before the table next you was seated.

So far, it felt like it was working.

The rest of the meal went by in a blur, you checking your phone more than was strictly polite but neither Sam nor Madison seemed to mind. The waiter continued to be a little extra, but all you cared about was the couple of people that had gathered across the street not so subtly snapping pictures. Bela’s post must have done its job. Dean and Bela lingered after he paid the check and you wondered if they were waiting on your permission or actually enjoying themselves. But before you could text either of them a posh car pulled up next to the patio and Bela was standing up to confirm her ride.

You watched on bated breath, Dean ushering Bela out of the iron gate of the patio with a hand on the small of her back. He was always at ease with physical touch and you were grateful for that fact as he sold your lies. Bela turned to face Dean outside the waiting car. She smiled up at him and he said something, making her bite her bottom lip. Oh, shit, she was milking this!

That’s when he leaned in and planted a quick kiss on her lips, just a breath longer than a peck. Sam kicked you under the table but you ignored him. They were really doing this and you couldn’t deny they looked damn good together. Dean held the door as Bela climbed into the backseat and closed it when she was situated. He tapped the roof and turned to walk towards where he parked the impala. He kept his head up, but you could see the slight smirk on his lips which only deepened as you gave him a double thumbs up as he passed your corner of the patio.

Fucker had this down.

You watched Dean walk away, hoping the photographers got that because you were not prepared for the goodbye kiss. And when Sam nudged your ankle for the second time you sighed and glared at him. He just raised his eyebrows. You ducked your head, trying to hide the heat on your cheeks. Which didn’t really make sense, you had gotten caught staring, so you chalked it up to mild embarrassment. It wasn’t jealousy, you had set this whole thing up. You were fine.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch@mrswhozeewhatsis@cosicas-cuquis@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like@suckitands33@ladysparkles78@deans-baby-momma@stoneyggirl2@sassy-pelican@leigh70

Chapter Six: A Due

#spotless series #dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #dean/bela #rockstar au #fake dating #angst #jealousy

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sapphire-weapon · 8 months

Note

If you're comfortable, I'd actually LOVE to hear your Ada x Wesker opinions.

The way that Ada talks to Wesker in Separate Ways is very different from how she talks to literally anyone else in the series. She is more casual/colloquial with him than she is with anyone -- with the sole exception to this being the way she talks to Leon in Damnation. Basically, the way that Ada talks to Leon in Damnation? Is how she talks to Wesker in Separate Ways.

And... what happened between Leon and Ada leading into Damnation?

Just saying.

Separate Ways tried to heavyhandedly put more sass into Ada's character in general, but it's more honest when it comes to Wesker. She cracks jokes at him and emotes openly at him. She gets openly annoyed with him at times, and even has a tone of "dude, come on" with him when he gives her a ridiculous order.

She just always seemed very... comfortable with him.

And it always struck me as weird that Wesker wanted Leon dead so badly in Separate Ways. It is the only time in all of Resident Evil that Ada is given orders to assassinate/kill someone. And it's the way he goes about telling Ada to kill him:

"And that US government lapdog, Leon -- if you do happen to encounter him, put him out of commission. We can't let him interfere with our plans. [...] He's a survivor of Raccoon City. We could do without the extra distraction. Take him out."

Like, obviously, Wesker sees Leon as a threat to Ada's mission, and the pretense that he gives overtly for it is "If he can survive Raccoon City, there's no knowing what he's actually capable of."

But the "extra distraction" part always seemed like a weird choice of words. It was like Wesker knew that Ada had some sort of attachment to Leon already and thought that he would get in the way of her mission not because he'd overpower/kill her, but because she'd be too distracted by him to do her job.

And that struck me as being a little jealous.

Later, when Ada reports to Wesker that Luis is dead and Saddler has the Sample, his response isn't... anger or frustration or irritation or even disappointment. It's:

"Have you had a chance to eliminate Leon?"

It's only after Ada says no that Wesker gets the idea in his head to use him. He didn't ask her that with the intention/plan of using Leon if he was still alive; he just wanted to hear that he was dead -- and, when he didn't get that, he drums his fingers against the arm of his chair in thought and then comes up with the idea to use him.

And what's crazy about it is that Leon plays his part perfectly and unknowingly does exactly what Wesker wanted him to do -- and Wesker still wants him dead. And since he's clearly not going to get his way and have Ada do it, that's when he decides to sic Krauser on him.

And after Krauser dies, Wesker is still on this, and he's all like: (paraphrased) "Make Leon and Saddler fight each other and then kill the winner. MAKE SURE YOU KILL HIM, ADA."

And then he fucking hangs up on her.

It's starting to feel a little personal, at this point.

And then Umbrella Chronicles happened. And it's revealed that Wesker saw all that shit go down between Leon and Ada in real-time.

Which now makes his desire to see Leon dead feel really, really personal.

When Wesker contacts Ada in Umbrella Chronicles, he does so via video chat (somehow in 1998 the tech for that existed shut up), and her reaction on seeing him fucking shocked me.

I expected that her reaction/tone would have a hint of "oh shit" behind it or "oh god here we go" or even just cold, unfeeling business -- kind of like how a soldier "Sir"s their CO. But that's not what she does.

She sighs his name in that dreamy sort of way she sighs Leon's name during Separate Ways.

At the very end of Umbrella Chronicles, Ada says in her narration:

"[Wesker and I] are both used to being backstabbed and manipulated. I have a feeling our relationship will last for a little while longer."

Ada's hookshot? That has become a huge staple of her gameplay and character design? It was a gift from Wesker -- it's what he gave her so that she could make it out of Raccoon City alive.

And she never stopped using it.

NOW, WITH ALL THIS BEING SAID

I am not trying to make a case that Wesker and Ada loved each other or that their relationship was romantic at all.

What I am saying is that I do think that their relationship went deeper than just a professional working one. I think that they were definitely sleeping together, and I think that Wesker knew and understood who Ada was better than anyone ever has in her life, and I think Ada knew that.

Wesker is a sociopath, but he still trusted Ada's ability and her judgement and seemed to, on some level, also genuinely enjoy her company.

And Ada, I think, found some comfort in Wesker's familiarity and felt a connection with him based on their similar past experiences. I think that her keeping the hookshot even after she betrayed him and after he'd been killed is her way of honoring who he was to her and what he did for her without remaining beholden to him in any way.

Leon was the reason why Ada ultimately betrayed Wesker in the end, but it wasn't a matter of "Well, I love him now, so I'm going with him. Boy, bye." Ada says in Umbrella Chronicles that her meeting with Leon changed her, and she says at the start of Separate Ways that betraying Wesker is part of her own objective -- which, presumably, has to do with the way Leon changed her. It had to do with a change in worldview, not a change of heart.

And I think that what Remake is trying to do is to show that change in her happen in real-time. That's why she doesn't go into RE4make already intending to betray Wesker; it's a decision she comes to organically as a result of Leon's impact on her inspiring her to ask questions as to where her efforts are going.

She didn't betray Wesker because she fell in love with Leon. She betrayed Wesker because she started to look at the world differently and realized that Wesker's ambitions were incompatible with her new worldview. It wasn't personal -- it was just that their lives were now going in two different directions (two separate ways, you might say ayyyyyyy).

But I think that there will always be a part of Ada that's grateful to Wesker and holds some degree of affection for him -- even if it's not at the intensity of actual love, it was still meaningful, and he still had a profound impact on her life.

In some ways, I view Ada's attachment to Wesker the same way that I view Leon's attachment to Ada in the OG timeline. It's not true love, but it was something that kept her bound to him and that she found comfort in when she felt like she had nothing else and her life was spiraling out of control.

Ada is a part of Leon that he thinks he can't let go.

And I think that Wesker is a part of Ada that she thought she couldn't let go, until she finally did.

#resident evil #resident evil 4 #ada wong #albert wesker #meta analysis

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pokichuwrites · 4 months

Text

Rendoc fluff because of the category 5 Doc tweet mans brought this on himself.

Doc frowned as he struggled to move his mechanical arm. Despite specifically designing it to be waterproof to protect the precious redstone circuitry, it somehow got waterlogged after Doc was out too long in this rainstorm.

It would be just a little bit longer and he would be home, but until then he had to hope the damage wouldn’t get worse as he held his umbrella over his head.

Doc didn’t like rain in general, and especially not when it managed to find a hole in Doc’s waterproofing.

When he finally made it to his house, he tried to transfer the umbrella to his mechanical hand, but the thing jerked when he tried to grab it so he huffed and, trying ro ignore how ridiculous this would look but knowing he didn’t have any other options, put the shaft of the umbrella in his mouth and knocked, hoping Ren was home so he wouldn’t have to fish for his keys.

Doc heard click of the door being unlocked and sagged in relief, moving to get inside the house.

“Dude!” Ren protested even as he moved out of his way to let him in, “you’re going to get water everywhere!”

Doc took his umbrella out of his mouth and grunted. “I’ll clean it up, it’s just water,” he said as he shook out the umbrella.

“Uh, Doc? Your- here let me get that for you,” Ren closed the door before taking the umbrella from Doc, who nodded in thanks, and closed and put it away. Doc took note of the way Ren’s ears were twitching nervously.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll take it off and fix it-”

“With your arm jerking around like that?” Ren argued. “At least let me help take it off.” Doc opened his mouth to argue, but then the mechanical arm spasmed and Doc saw his boyfriend’s point.

The two walked over to Doc’s workshop in the basement. An aggressive twitch that nearly pushed them both down the stairs made Doc seriously begin to regret choosing the basement for his workshop.

Once they were finally fully in the workshop, Doc sat down awkwardly. One problem with being a creeper hybrid is that having four legs can be an absolute nightmare to manage sometimes. Not as bad as centaurs because at least his knees can handle sitting and laying down unlike the evolutionary failure that was the horse, but still awkward.

Ren grabbed the tools and began working at removing Doc’s prosthetic. Because it needed to connect to Doc’s nerves to allow him to actually move it, it was painful to put on and remove. Doc designed it to be able to adjust one-handed, of course, but every time his arm twitched, so did the rest of his body. His arm simply wasn’t steady enough.

This wasn’t the first time Ren helped Doc with his prosthetic, even thought he far preferred to do it himself. After a lot of convincing, Doc had taught Ren how to remove the arm, put the arm on him, and do simple fixes on it about five months after they moved in together. After that Ren had only messed with Doc’s arm a few times (even though the man was not very talented with mechanics). He clearly still remembered what Doc told him, which made something warm blossom in his chest as the arm was deactivated and placed on the table.

“Thank you,” Doc said quietly. He knew Ren’s sensitive ears would still pick up on it.

Ren smirked. “Thank you for letting me,” he replied easily, beginning to walk upstairs. “Now, I’m going to make you something to eat and you’re going to get comfy, yeah?”

Doc smiled as he followed Ren. “What exactly does ‘get comfy’ entail?”

“Warm up with a blanket and clean pajamas,” Ren elaborated.

Doc nodded. “I can do that.”

Ren giggled. The two wordlessly split ways as Ren moved to the kitched while Doc moved to the bathroom to dry himself off. Once that was done he went to the bedroom and removed his soaking wet clothes, tossing them into the hamper. He debated for a moment before grabbing a sleeveless pastel pink nightgown and putting it on. Most of Doc’s clothes had one sleeve removed anyway to accommodate the arm, but it felt nice to wear something designed to have no sleeves. Also, Doc and Ren had an inside joke about wearing pink, and even though he wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, it made him feel warm and happy whenever he wore the color.

He grabbed his favorite blanket and moved into the living room, sitting in front of the fireplace with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

Ren and Doc were quiet for a bit. It was broken by Ren, saying “I told you to wait another day to return, you know.”

Doc groaned, but Ren’s change from concern to banter was enough of a relief that he genuinely smiled almost as wide as his face (which was limited by missing facial muscles) would allow. “Dear, you know I’ve been through far worse than some rain. Besides, damaging the arm is a sacrifice I’m willing to make if it means seeing you.”

He turned and looked ofer the kitchen counter at Ren, who was suspiciously looking away from Doc in an attempt to hide his flustered blush.

Doc laughed, and Ren did too. It’s a nice sound. Doc thinks it might be his favorite.

#hurt/comfort?#i guess #hes less hurt but his prosthetic is certainly disagree with water so thats something #docm77 #rendog #rendoc

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lemonadedino · 3 months

Text

Have a snippet of landoscar enemies to lovers background story from the much ado about nothing au fic below the cut 🫶

I have to prove to myself that I’ve actually worked in it lol

As he walked back to his seat, amid all the polite clapping, he heard him.

“That Piastri guy had the most boring presentation ever, I swear. I was actively falling asleep. And don’t get me started on the slide choice, Carlos! Where was the color? The variety? The fun, engaging design elements? It was just all so bland, mate. Blergh.”

Oscar was pretty sure the curly-haired man currently launching a vitriolic attack on his PowerPoint was named Lando Norris. He vaguely recognized him from his presentation earlier in the day.

Oscar had heard his name floating around the office break room. Supposedly, he was the office prodigy, some sort of comp-sci genius poached straight out of Oxford. Public opinion on Lando seemed to deem him as an intensely likable and cherubic, if slightly hyperactive, team member with a strong work ethic and sharp sense of humor.

Listening to the Brit’s increasingly passionate tirade, Oscar wasn’t so sure about the first part of that descriptor.

Unaware that he now had an audience, Lando kept on ranting to his companion, gesticulating wildly.

“I can’t believe he used Times New Roman, Carlos. Times New Roman! That’s literally the worst possible choice. It means you intentionally didn’t want to use the default font, Arial, but still couldn’t branch out and be more exciting! Oswald is right there!” His voice gradually climbed in volume. “Also! Who actually adds transitions to their slides? That’s some George type shit.”

“Mate, yours wasn’t much better.” The words came spitting out before Oscar even registered that his mouth had opened. Clearly, four hours of sleep had lowered his normal inhibitions surrounding conflict avoidance. Two sets of eyes snapped to look at him, one pair unnervingly reminiscent of watercolor and the other velveteen brown.

Oscar swallowed. Well. There’s no backing out now. He might as well fully commit.

“At least I didn’t use brain-meltingly bright neon colors and an overcrowded SlidesGo template. And a soundtrack? Really, Norris? Where did you even find that?” Oscar was on a roll now. There was something oddly liberating about it. “What are you, a five year old who got access to Microsoft Office for the first time?”

Lando pouted, which in theory should look absolutely ridiculous on a full grown man. It certainly didn’t help him fight the “five year old who got access to Microsoft Office for the first time” allegations. Yet somehow, on Lando, it was adorable. Oscar shut down that train of thought as soon as it sprouted.

Lando pursed his lips, primed to respond, no doubt with another jab at Oscar’s presentation.

“Oscar! Great job, dude!” Logan suddenly hollered from across the room, eagerly waving him over. Oscar had never been more grateful for his best friend. He would definitely be buying him one of those Arnold Palmers that the American so adored from the office café in thanks.Taking the opportunity to escape, Oscar waved back and slipped away.

He heard Carlos chuckle as he left.

“He’s really got you there, Lando. You know, I quite liked his presentation. He’s a good speaker. Very articulate,” the older man said.

“Shut up. That’s my new Sworn Arch-Nemesis you’re talking about.”

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think? What happened to Betty from HR being your Sworn Arch-Nemesis? You were complaining to me about her just yesterday.”

“I’m not being dramatic, Carlos. Can’t you see it? Betty’s been ousted. Oscar Piastri is an infinitely more qualified candidate for the role of my Sworn Arch-Nemesis.” Lando paused. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Betty is nearing her 70s. She talks about her grandchildren all the time. I don’t want to deal with the hassle of finding a replacement after her retirement.”

Up until that moment, Oscar had been planning to chase Lando down after the conference, buy him a coffee, and apologize effusively for his outburst. Sure, it had been rude of the Brit, but it didn’t justify Oscar insulting his presentation. He didn’t know why he had reacted so strongly to Lando’s snarky commentary. Truly, Lando’s presentation hadn’t been that bad. He’d seen way worse. Oscar actually thought that the soundtrack was a nice touch.

But if Lando was already dead set on treating him as his Sworn Arch-Nemesis, Oscar didn’t see why two couldn’t play at that game. He had to spice up his workday somehow, after all.

Since then, for the last couple of years, there had been a constant stream of traded barbs and petty jibes, more often than not sent via Microsoft Teams, because Lando transferred to a new division based across the country a year ago.

Oscar would never admit it, but he had started looking forward to opening his inbox every morning, eager to see what creative insult Lando had launched at him. Obviously, he shot one of his own right back.

#landoscar #landoscar fic

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