#and none in regular dialogue

[bladesmitten]

Not sure if anyone has mentioned this re: the Wyll feedback post but I imagine the main issue with using his old EA dialogue assets is that the majority of them are from when they still had Wyll's old VA who couldn't come back for the rework. So it's not like they could just pull it out and plop it back in like they could with someone like...Karlach who was also completed late in EA, but was always Samantha Beart.

Yeah the existing script might work, but actually adding it back to the game it would still involve Theo having to come in and record the majority of them as the Wyll we now know. And assuming he's not going to perfectly mimic the original reading just in his voice, the devs would need to adjust the animations so they fit Theo's reading of it. And imo, at that point you might as well just make new dialogue/animations to best suit his current form rather than trying to build off of what's leftover from before.

I think it's a matter of - "this should've been done in the first place" - considering we have stuff like the Wyll/Lae'zel flirt banter that was also in Early Access. Theo Solomon re-recorded those lines for full release, only for Larian to remove it later. (Presumably because it doesn't fit his current romance route, but I digress.)

A lot of his EA dialogue still carried over to release, which means lines were deliberately picked to be re-recorded. However, this work seems inconsistent because we still have aspects of EA Wyll that are in release.

A glaring example of this is Wyll approving of Sazza getting executed. This was left over from when he still had a grudge on goblins in Early Access; now, he doesn't. Why would current Wyll approve of a defenseless prisoner getting killed?

My point with taking lines from EA Wyll for current Wyll is that there are lines that still fit him. Current Wyll has funny lines - but those lines are locked behind specific trigger conditions that aren't always easily encountered. Like his line: "It's like I always sometimes say..." - that line is only triggered if 1) the ogres in Act 1 are dead, 2) the player has Lump's War Horn, 3) Wyll specifically tries to blow the horn (which would be unlikely unless the player is doing a Wyll origin, or they had companion Wyll do it - more likely, it's a Tav/Durge doing this action.)

EA Wyll, on the other hand, had his funny lines in his regular dialogue ("spill the whole jug", "there's a saying I just made up"). In this case, are the funny lines that current Wyll have supposed to be there? If they are, why did they remove his other funny lines from Early Access, especially if it still fits his current character?

More to the point, are there still lines from current Wyll that aren't supposed to be there? How much effort was actually put into rewriting his character if there's still stuff from Early Access that don't fit him now (ie, the Sazza approval)?

In the end, I agree that we're probably better off to have brand new written stuff for Wyll, but I can't ignore the sloppy work that was done in rewriting him if he still has apparently leftover dialogue from EA that may be in danger of getting removed. And if they can't even do this properly, it doesn't bode well for any new content for Wyll.

As an aside: I think Karlach's VA wasn't always Samantha Beart, at least in the first few versions of it. She also did not look the same way she does now.

#ask #Anonymous #hope this makes sense #also correct me if im wrong but im pretty sure most of current wyll's funny lines are locked behind specific conditions or party banter #and none in regular dialogue #which. honestly makes me think they forgot to remove those. as loathe as i am to say it. #byll

[lassieposting]

Been thinkin about Astarion + vampire biology so have some headcanons and the bits of game lore they're based on

Dialogue establishes that Cazador has been successfully passing himself off as a regular noble for centuries, and Astarion confirms that while he's considered a bit reclusive, he does mingle with the upper class of Baldur's Gate and has a property specifically for hosting fancy events.

Vampires are camouflage predators, whose primary hunting strategy is to blend in with their prey until the perfect time to strike. Their ecological niche is not a particularly safe or stable one - they live hidden in plain sight, usually in sizeable cities, for easy access to prey, but they know that if they are discovered they will be rooted out and killed or driven away. They are rarely able to get away with attacking in public, where city guards might rush to the aid of a screaming victim - they have to isolate their target before killing it. The ability to blend in, to be overlooked by their target, until it is too late is essential.

Cazador is, as far as we know, the only true vampire in Baldur's Gate

This is because true vampires are aggressively territorial. Like most apex predators, they eat a lot, and need substantial territories to support them - even moreso if they have a partner or spawns. Ascendant!Astarion would need to hold onto the entire city, as Cazador did, to be able to feed himself and Tav without raising suspicion.

True vampires are relatively rare, but there are more of them than there are cities, so it's not uncommon for one to set up in an occupied city and try to oust the sitting resident. The challenger usually believes himself to be as strong or stronger than the current tenant: these territorial disputes usually end in at least one death, so they're not to be entered into lightly.

Astarion is very obviously a vampire: his fangs are visible, as are his bite scars; he's so pale multiple people comment on it; his eyes are red, etc.

Astarion is not a healthy vampire.

This is a man who has been kept on the knife's edge of starvation and tortured regularly for 200 years, and to another vampire, that would be clear from the state of him: Astarion is a camouflage predator who is so malnourished he is no longer able to blend in.

Tav will get an up-close look at his transformation over the course of the game and during the years afterwards: the more healthy and well-fed Astarion becomes, as his body catches up on its immense energy deficit and begins to recover, the better he will be able to mimic a living elf. His skin will be able to bleed, or blush, or bruise, none of which he's capable of while actively starving. Hia fangs will retract until he needs them, not invisible but less obvious - having them out all the time is a response to severe deprivation; he's so hungry his body can't risk losing prey to the split second it takes Cazador to snatch a rat back, so he's permanently in bite mode, hyperaware, ready to strike. Some body functions will come online that he didn't even know he had, the ones that are supposed to help him blend in - his eyes will start producing pigment to look darker, less scarlet and more burgundy, to be more easily mistaken for brown; his lungs will make him breathe automatically even though he doesn't need it, he'll start being able to eat normal food without getting sick again, though he still won't get any nourishment from it; he'll heal faster. He'll even be able to get drunk, though he'll burn through it very quickly. As it stands, all those extra systems have been shut down by his starving body - they're useful, but nonessential, and he needs every single bit of energy funnelled into just keeping him alive and functional.

There is probably an intentional bit of psychological warfare against the spawns on Cazador's part here - him starving them strips them of their natural defences, and every time he makes them leave the mansion to hunt, they have to do so knowing that they're poorly hidden and vulnerable. But it's established that true vampires treating their spawn poorly or outright abusing them is A Thing, so it's not the only reason - he sees them as property rather than people, he keeps them weak so they won't plot against him, he's acting out his own trauma from Vellioth on them, he just wants to - but it does feed into it.

Astarion can, at one point, identify old blood as belonging to the player character. He also gets excited at another point if an enemy character runs away, stating, "Now it's a hunt."

He says that "even stale, [he'd] recognise that bouquet anywhere." This confirms a few things for us:

He has a vastly superior sense of smell capable of identifying individuals by scent and - since he can tell who the blood belongs to even after some time has passed - following scent trails.

This confirms that although city-dwelling vampires may primarily hunt via luring a victim to a secondary location before killing it, they still have the "stalk down and chase" predator instinct. Since Astarion can't lure wildlife anywhere, this is almost certainly how he's been hunting to supplement his diet when he's not using the player as his personal caprisun.

The fact that he can scent out prey before killing it means he has this ability all the time - he can smell blood while it's still safely inside the owner's body.

So scent is probably relevant to how vampires process the world. The more time each companion spends with him, the more he gets used to their scent, starts associating it more with safety and camaraderie than with a potential meal, and so he becomes more relaxed around them. As he learns to link the player's scent with love and comfort and trust, the more likely he is to retreat to their tent over his own when he's injured or afraid or having a trauma moment. When he's fond of someone, something of theirs will go conveniently missing - he's moving their scent into his little safe space, it's comforting for him. He can tell when his lover is hurt or aroused or frightened - though not which of the three applies - from a distance, because his sense of smell can pick up the spike of adrenaline rushing into their bloodstream.

But that also means that he can never feel like he's got any distance from Cazador while he's living in the mansion - even if the man isn't in the same room, the entire place reeks of him, and it makes Astarion feel like Cazador is breathing down his neck all the same. Ascendant Astarion would have a really, really hard time sticking it out in that mansion with stale Eau de Cazador all over the place. It means that he's put instantly on edge by the faint scent of one of his siblings as he walks through the lower city - when seven vicious, territorial apex predators are confined to a single small dormitory, several hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year, fights are going to be nasty and frequent, and although Cazador wouldn't allow them to kill each other, considering how many of his siblings refer to him as weak or a runt, Astarion probably didn't win them very often. So. Having a highkey advanced sense of smell is a mixed bag.

#bg3 #bg3 headcanons #astarion ancunin #astarion #cazador szarr #idk if this conflicts with existing dnd lore and idc welcome to the silly zone

[mothtowers]

the true essence of The Driving Crooner and part of why its so iconic is that it perfectly encapsulates how people on the internet live. being The Driving Crooner is just a stand-in for any online hobby that isnt directly profitable.

I am reminded of how PurpleEyesWTF (of "im at the soup store" fame) once mentioned his day job was updating hospital software and i always wondered what it must be like working with someone like that.

Just imagine youre just a regular person going about their life, you know a little about anime, but you dont know what the hell an abridged series is. And one day a quiet and reserved but otherwise normal-seeming co-worker invited you to their house. Eventually you ask about the ramshackle recording studio they have set up in their apartment, and they excitedly show you a video of what appears to be an anime but they seem to have recorded their own audio and replaced it with a bunch of weird dialogue you guess is funny to a certain group of people. It all seems really high effort and you kinda have to ask why they would do all this. they show you their youtube channel where theyre pulling like 8k views per video and have done like 20 episodes for at least 3 different anime series, all the while lamenting how they dont make any money. intermittently they start venting about their difficulties navigating youtube copyright law and seem strongly opinionated about it. soon they start talking to you about all the petty drama in the abridging community and namedropping all sorts of people they consider their enemies. None of this means anything to you and you feel like youve entered some strange extremely specific world and are a little unsettled by how deep this iceberg could go.

Thats The Driving Crooner, thats what its about

#insects news service

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: Violent Innocence

Plot: A separated Joel and Y/n work different angles to try and best David and his men.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, implied attempted SA, insinuated abuse, c*nnibalism, knives, guns, blood, wounds, language, loss of a child, ptsd, (16+)

A/N: This was a hard, hard chapter to get through, guys. If the quality of my writing isn’t up to its regular standard, it’s because it was truly emotionally taxing to write. I’ve also left out descriptions of certain events/discoveries/dialogue in an effort to keep the 16+ rating.

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist who does not have their age/range in their bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I advise everyone to take a breather, or just skip to the end of the chapter, if it’s too much to handle. Ep.8 was traumatizing and I don’t fault anyone for not wanting to put themselves through it again. I’m so looking forward to finishing out this series with y’all and the finale tonight. Thank you thank you thank you for your constant support and encouragement ☀️

——————

Unlike the movies, where the main character on the verge of death is miraculously returned to the living, Joel did not wake with a start. Still lost in the haze of blood loss, hunger and medicinal side effects, his eyes hurt to open. He registered the room, remembering being dragged down a flight of stairs and falling into a mattress.

One memory dripped down before the flood unleashed.

Ellie and Y/n.

Stay awake.

Men coming.

Leading them away.

Kill them.

The footsteps on the floor above startled Joel, the ticking clock and the realization that Ellie and Y/n were gone motivated him to roll off the bed. He stifled a groan, hurrying to his feet, clutching the knife that Ellie had placed in his palm. He wobbled his way to the rear of the room, falling against a water heater that could conceal him.

Joel listened for the footsteps over the blood pounding in his ears.

They crept through the room.

He waited…until the man finally passed the heater.

Joel couldn’t have possibly known that it was the same man who, five minutes before, had clubbed Y/n and ordered David’s men to shoot her and Ellie. But he slashed his knife through him as if he’d watched it happen.

After wrestling the man to the ground and assuring that he was dead, Joel rolled off him, wheezing for breath. He tried to gather his thoughts on his back. There were more men, all looking for him, Y/n and Ellie. They weren’t back yet, which meant they’d either been kidnapped or killed. Most likely kidnapped, so long as Ellie’s bite wound hadn’t been visible. Tortured, maybe, or worse.

Joel inhaled as deep as he could and began to drag his body across the floor towards the stairs. Towards his girls.

—————————

Y/n leaned her head back against the concrete wall, wondering why the fuck there was a cage inside a kitchen.

She’d carried Ellie into it, the butt of David’s follower’s rifles pressing into her back as they forced her in. They’d both been stripped of their winter coats and weapons. She had yet to get any answers as to why they wanted them there or what they were planning to do to them. Ellie hadn’t woken up, leaving Y/n on her own to try every conceivable possibility to escape. None had succeeded.

David entered then, finally gracing Y/n with his holy presence. He pulled up a seat across from the cage, smiling politely.

“How is she?”

Y/n turned her head, indignant at the fact that David’s men had shot at them, caused Ellie’s injuries, and yet he had the nerve to inquire about her wellbeing.

David tried a different approach, “I know this all must be a bit strange…”

Y/n bristled, “I lived in Texas, I’ve seen a lot weird shit, but, uh,” Y/n took a look at her surroundings, “Yeah, a jail cell next to a butcher’s block is an unusual feature.”

“We only use it when necessary,” David held up two innocent hands, “I’d love to explain our community more to you, but it’d be nice to know your name first.”

“Beyonce,” Y/n answered without hesitation.

The preacher chuckled under his breath, “You’re very quick. Stepping in to portect your daughter, your…what, your husband? Boyfriend?”

Y/n had been interrogated so many times, had sustained so many injuries in FEDRA lockup, that there weren’t many tactics that could work on her. David trying to get a feel for her and Joel’s relationship was a waste of breath.

He sighed, tapping his hands against his knees in wait. “You know we’re not here to hurt you,” he said softly.

“Gee, I wonder where I would have gotten that idea,” Y/n retorted, “What with my fucking head splitting and my kid unconscious on the floor.”

“An unfortunate turn of events, yes,” David corrected her, “But we’re protective of our own. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Y/n didn’t move a muscle, staring David down, “Oh, yeah. We’re one and the same there,” she cracked a smile, vengeance practically dripping from her lips, “And that should scare you.”

David, however, only found her threats mildly amusing. He exhaled with a small laugh, Y/n rather preferred being underestimated. It caused people to leave their weak spots exposed. She was sure if she looked hard enough, she could find David’s.

Beside her, Ellie finally began to stir, drawing Y/n’s attention. She scurried to place her hands on Ellie’s back, helping the girl to sit up.

“Me and your mother were starting to worry you wouldn’t wake up,” David said.

Ellie’s vision was blurry and her entire body hurt, her words didn’t carry their usual edge as she told David, “Let us out.”

“Well, that’s certainly the goal,” David nodded, “Hungry?”

“Why are we in a cage?” Ellie hazily took in their surroundings.

“Because I’m afraid of you,” David gave the same calm smile he’d given Y/n, “You’re a dangerous person. You’ve certainly proven that. The others want me to kill you two for what’s happened.”

Y/n held Ellie steady as she got to her knees, neither of them particularly alarmed by David’s words.

He leaned forward, “Did you hear me say the others wanna kill you?”

“Yeah,” Ellie breathed.

“But I stopped them.”

“Fuck you,” Ellie said on behalf of both her and Y/n.

“Why don’t we just start with your name?” David asked once more.

Ellie didn’t miss a beat, “Eat shit.”

“Hey,” David’s voice rose, “Listen to me!”

As he got to his feet, Y/n did as well, coming to meet him at the cage wall as Ellie scurried to the far end of their prison. Y/n wanted to rip into him purely for startling the girl.

“You can’t survive on your own,” David continued, his eyes looking past Y/n to land on Ellie, “No one can. But I can help you,” his gaze finally flicked up, “Let me protect you two.”

“We don’t need your help or your protection,” Y/n enunciated every word clearly.

“And we’re not on our own,” Ellie added from behind Y/n.

David nodded, “Right. Your friend,” his face changed to accommodate faux concern one might use on a child, “And how is he?”

Behind her eyes, Y/n’s mind flicked to Joel, beads of sweat around his temples, breathing so frighteningly shallow, his tan skin deathly pale. She couldn’t admit to the fear pooling in her belly that against David’s men, Joel might have lost the fight.

“I can see how much you care about him, so I know it hurts,” David continued, l having broken Y/n and Ellie’s first line of defense, “But even so…you gotta face reality.”

David turned and began to circle the cage. Ellie and Y/n moved as one, Ellie crawling in the opposite direction and Y/n standing in front of her as a shield.

“That part of your lives, it’s ending,” David went on, finally stopping on the other end of the cage, “And what I’m offering you is a beginning. But if you can’t find a way to trust me, then yes,” his eyes scanned Ellie, “You are alone.”

Without another word, David walked off through a door in the kitchen, leaving Y/n and Ellie to themselves.

Y/n was on her knees immediately, holding Ellie’s face in her hands and checking her head.

“Definitely got your bell rung,” Y/n lightly ran a finger over the pink bruise at Ellie’s hairline.

“What the fuck do we do?” Ellie asked, unconcerned about her injuries.

“I’m trying to figure that out,” Y/n replied, stroking a quick hand over Ellie’s hair, “I’ve already tried to window up there,” she pointed to a small pane of glass above them, “I can’t break it. Guns are over there in the corner,” she gestured to the edge of the room. And I can’t-“

Y/n was cut off by Ellie, throwing her arms around her body. The girl pressed the side of her face into Y/n’s chest, her short breaths warming Y/n’s skin through her layers.

Of all the horrible memories Y/n carried from September 26th, 2003, there was one in particular that lived in her chest every second of every day. As she had clutched Sarah in her arms, with Joel trying to assess her mortal injuries, Sarah had tried desperately to speak. Her lips pressed together, only able to make a humming sound. Y/n had shushed her, telling her that it was okay, she was okay, they’d all be okay…and that had been the last of it.

Whatever Sarah had needed to say died on her lips, but lived on in Y/n’s mind. She had spent so long, playing the memory back, watching the girl’s mouth, listening to the buzz in her throat, unable to rest until she knew what she’d wanted to say in her final minutes.

It took her one year to figure it out, and twenty to accept.

Mom.

Y/n had failed Sarah just as Joel felt he had failed. She’d spent the last two decades telling herself she could have jumped in front of them, she could have yanked Sarah out of Joel’s arms, she could have attacked the guard…all things her brain knew there hadn’t been enough time for, but guilt and logic never agreed on anything. Y/n had begged God, the skies, the earth, the universe, anyone, for a second chance. For some miraculous, mind-bending turn of events to send her back to that day and save her daughter.

And as she cradled Ellie in her arms, pressing a kiss to the girl’s head, she knew her second chance lay not in the past, but in the future.

“We’re gonna get out of this,” Y/n said, speaking with a strength she hadn’t in twenty years, “I promise.”

David was right about one thing, they had to face reality.

Joel wasn’t coming to save them.

They were on their own.

And Y/n would be damned if she failed to save someone she loved again.

————————————

Joel had tried to keep his violent side hidden from both Ellie and Y/n during their time together. He’d slipped with the FEDRA guard in Boston, remembering the terror in Y/n’s eyes as she’d watched him beat the young man to death. Whether or not he knew it, he’d tried from that moment on to be better.

But now, with their lives at stake, Joel didn’t care about better.

Every punch he drove into the raider’s face he had tied to the chair was pure rage, the only thing strong enough to keep him upright. The pleas of the bloody pulp of a man fell on deaf ears.

“Stop…stop, please…”

Joel rammed his fist against his cheek once more, silencing him.

“Leave him alone,” the raider who Joel had yet to touch urged from the other side of the room.

“You’re next,” Joel muttered, withdrawing the knife from his belt with a spine-tingling smirk.

“Please,” the man he’d been hitting begged, “I don’t know any girls.”

Joel was a human lie detector, having seen both the best and worst of humanity. He didn’t have to second guess whether it was the right decision to drive his knife into the man’s knee.

“Marco,” the guy tried to call, his voice strained from his screams of pain.

“No-no, no-no-no,” Joel cooed, his soft tone contrasting the roughness in which he pulled the man by his hair, “He can’t help you. You focus right here. Or I’ll pop your fuckin’ kneecap off.”

The man’s breath trembled as Joel gripped him, knowing that betraying David came at its own cost. “They’re alive,” he admitted.

The hope spread through Joel, but it couldn’t outmatch the anger that doubled at the thought of Y/n and Ellie being held and tortured. “Where?”

When Joel didn’t get his answer quick enough, he reached down and twisted the knife in the man’s leg.

“Ah! Fuck,” he squealed, “Fuck! Ah! The town!”

“WHAT TOWN?!” Joel screamed into his face.

“Silver Lake,” the man panted, wincing after.

Joel reached into his pocket, taking out his map and unfolding it.

“It’s not a real town name,” his victim said, his speech slow from the ache in his jaw, “It’s a resort.”

Now that was a word Joel hadn’t heard in a long time, “A resort?”

Feeling each precious second that Y/n and Ellie were still breathing slipping away, Joel removed his knife from the man’s leg and forced his mouth open, slipping the handle in. “You’re gonna point to where we are,” he held up the map towards the guy’s head, “And where your resort is. And it better be the exact same spot your buddy points to.”

Joel had a death grip on his hair, pressing their foreheads together and feeling his near-attacker’s body tremble with fear. Trying his best, the man aimed the blade at the map, pinpointing their location. Fear could always deliver results.

Joel sat back, examining the drip of blood that served as a marker. His body ached with exhaustion, but his chest felt the same pain it had for the last three months. The kind that was usually a precursor his panic attacks, except now, adrenaline was all that followed.

“That’s where we are,” the man whimpered, “I swear. Go ask him, he’ll tell you. I’m not lying.”

There had never been a question as to whether or not Joel would show mercy. These men had seen Ellie and Y/n, knew where they were being kept, they might have even laid hands on them.

Joel slid the blade into the man’s chest without a second thought.

Marco unleashed a string of expletives as Joel caught his breath.

“Why the fuck did you do that? He told you what you wanted,” Marco whined.

Joel took clumsy steps across the room, reaching for the lead pipe Marco had carried in with him that now lay across the couch.

“You motherfucker, fuck you,” Marco spat as Joel strode towards him, “I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”

“It’s okay,” Joel nodded empathetically, calling on the same disarming tactics he had in his days as a raider, “I believe him.”

In that moment, Joel wasn’t a monster.

He wasn’t the villain.

He was a father and a husband.

And he brought the pipe down with all the fury one could possess.

—————————

Ellie was relentless.

“El,” Y/n insisted as the girl continued to try and pick the lock, “I already tried that.”

“Well, maybe you didn’t try hard enough,” Ellie replied as she tugged on it.

“Yes, ‘cause this is just so pleasant,” Y/n spread her arms out to the cage, “Look, we’re not getting out of here like that. We’ve gotta wait for him to slip up.”

Ellie looked over her shoulder, “What do you mean?”

“He thinks we’re two little lost lambs or sheep or whatever, all alone without anyone to protect us,” Y/n explained, “We’ve gotta wait for the exact right moment when he fucks up and gives us an opportunity.”

“Okay,” Ellie nodded before quickly turning back to the lock.

Y/n slapped her hands against her legs, “I just gave you the plan.”

“I thought I felt it jiggle,” Ellie insisted, shaking the lock a few more times before coming to a sudden stop and stumbling backwards towards Y/n.

Y/n caught her in confusion, “What?”

She followed Ellie’s line of vision across the room to the chopping block, falling south to the floor. Y/n’s stomach turned at the sight…

An ear.

An actual fucking ear.

In all his perfect timing, David entered just then, carrying a tray and sliding it under the cage walls. Two bowls of soup and a cup of water.

David followed Ellie and Y/n’s eyes down to the butcher’s block, frowning when he realized what they were looking. “For what it’s worth,” he gestured to the bowls, “This is just deer meat, I swear.”

Ellie and Y/n were separately connecting all the dots of why they were being held where they were. They could have been trapped anywhere in the town, their weapons stripped from them and beaten into submission. This was a purposeful choice.

“You’re going to chop us into little pieces,” Ellie stated.

“I’d rather not,” David answered, “Please, just tell me your names.”

Y/n forced herself to exhale, wondering how the hell he could be so focused on a trivial detail.

“If you wanna judge me-“ David shrugged.

“Judge you?” Ellie raised her voice to a scream, surging forward to grab the metal bars, “You’re eating people, you sick fuck!”

She kicked the tray across the floor, it landed under the chopping block. David backed away from her anger.

“Yes,” David replied, “There are only a few of us who know. But I would’ve told you, sooner or later. I guess sooner.”

“You’re a fucking animal,” Y/n seethed, finally finding the strength to speak.

“Well, yes, we all are,” David said, his sociopathic calm tone beginning to worry both Y/n and Ellie, “That’s sorta of the point,” he took in Ellie’s disgust, “It was a last resort. You think it doesn’t shame me? But what was I supposed to do? Let them starve? These people who put their lives in my hands, w-who expect me to keep them save, who love me?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ellie shot back.

“You don’t believe that,” David shook his head, “I don’t think your friend would either. Didn’t he take another man’s life to save yours?”

“Your men fucking attacked us,” Y/n added, her tone sharp.

“He was defending himself,” Ellie replied.

“He was defending you and your mother,” David corrected, even though he was calling on Y/n, his eyes were locked on Ellie’s, “But you knew that. You see a lot. So do I. And you know what I see when I look at you?”

Y/n watched the conversation in wait, it was beginning to alarm her that he was focusing all his attention on Ellie.

“Me,” he continued, “You remind me of me. You’re a natural leader, smart…loyal. Violent.”

Ellie froze at his words, while Y/n took a step forward.

“Keep going and you’ll see how violent I can be,” she threatened.

“Now, see, your mother,” David gestured to Y/n but never once looked at her, “She is deeply afraid, faking her confidence with threats. But that’s not who she actually is. I could unlock this door, hand her her gun, and she still might not be able to do what she needs to to protect you.”

Y/n’s nostrils flared at the assumption that she wouldn’t break his neck to save Ellie.

“But you, on the other hand…” David continued speaking to Ellie, “If I let you out of that cage right now, put that knife of yours in your hand, you’d stick me in a second. You have a violent heart. And I should know…” David took slow steps towards the cage, his eyes alight, “I’ve always had a violent heart. And I struggled with it for a long time. But then the world ended and I was shown the truth.”

“Right…” Ellie muttered, “By God.”

“No,” David breathed, “By Cordyceps. What does Cordyceps do? Is it evil? No. It’s fruitful. It multiplies. It feeds and protects its children, and it secures its future with violence, if it must. It loves.”

Y/n’s blood heated to a boil, her cheeks warming with rage. Cordyceps had taken everything and everyone she had ever loved. It was the purest form of evil nature had ever created. She wanted to cut through David, whispering the names of all her lost family into his ear as she did.

But this wasn’t her opportunity.

“Why are you telling us all this?” Ellie asked, she still believed it was a conversation between three people.

“Because you can handle it,” David said, Y/n may as well have not even been in the room, “The way the others can’t. They need God, they need Heaven,” David took another step towards the cage, “They need a father. You don’t. You’re beyond that. I’m a shepherd surrounded by sheep, and all I want…is an equal. A friend.”

Alarms rang in Y/n’s head so loud, she thought they were real. But Ellie was playing the game that Y/n had told her to, and she couldn’t stop her.

“What about our friend?”

“Like I said, loyal,” David nodded before taking another slow step towards them, “I can tell the others to stop looking for him. They’ll spare him.”

Ellie looked up to Y/n, convincingly filling her eyes with hope, before looking back to David. Y/n quickly adjusted her expression to match, pretending as if Joel’s safety was the only thing that mattered.

“Really?” Ellie took a step forward towards David, “They’ll just let him go?”

“Yes,” David answered confidently, “If he leaves us in peace, they will just let him go.”

It wasn’t hard for Y/n to whip up some tears, taking a choking breath in and following Ellie towards the metal bars.

“They do what I tell them to do. They follow me,” David was getting closer and closer, his gaze fixated, obsessed with Ellie, “And they would follow us. Lord knows, I could use the help. I-“ he chortled, gesturing to below the chopping block, “Look what’s happened.”

David extended his hand, gripping one of the horizontal metal bars between him from Ellie and Y/n. They stared down at it, considering their options.

“Think of what we could together,” David said, his voice alive with passion, “As strong as we are. We’d make this place perfect. We’d grow, spread out. And we’d do whatever we needed for our people.”

Ellie reached to grab the other side of the bar, her hand perilously close to David’s. Y/n had to fight every instinct to rip her body behind her own.

“Imagine the life we could give them,” David said wistfully, moving his hand to slide over Ellie’s, “Imagine the life we could build.”

David may not have been watching her, but Y/n made effort to drop two tears down her cheeks and sniffle as if it was the most beautiful idea in the world…

“Oh,” Ellie whispered, reaching a nearly shaking palm up to David’s hand, hoping that Y/n sensed that the moment was upon them.

Ellie pushed David’s finger back, a sickening crack erupting in his hand. As he cried out in pain, Y/n dropped down to her knees, pulling him in by his belt and grabbing the keys off their hook. Unfortunately, he wriggled out of Ellie’s grasp and reached through the bars, grabbing Y/n by the throat and squeezing. Y/n gagged and choked as his fingers tightened, but she still held onto the keys.

Ellie struck a blow to David’s abdomen, causing him to drop Y/n and stumble backwards. In the sudden movement, Y/n dropped the keys to the floor and nearly fell. David was quick to come back, grabbing Ellie’s hair and slamming her face into the bars twice before throwing her down.

“You little cunts,” he seethed, picking up the keys from the floor, “Let’s see what I go tell the others now.”

Y/n coughed violently, earning each and every breath back, but bent over Ellie to make sure she was alright. The girl’s blood painted the floor of their cell.

“Ellie,” she said, crawling past Y/n and towards David.

David turned, “What?”

“Tell them Ellie is the little girl,” the girl crawled to the bars, raising her voice, “Who broke your fucking finger!”

“How did you put it?” David asked, his tone mocking them now, “Hmm? ‘Tiny little pieces?’”

He stormed out of the room, slamming it behind him and leaving Ellie and Y/n to contemplate their impending doom.

“Fuck,” Y/n whispered, rubbing her already sore neck and forming a plan in her dizzy head. “Okay, when they come in, I’ll take them and you fucking run.”

“No,” Ellie replied quickly, stumbling to her feet, “No, we-“

“You’re going to get the fuck out of here,” Y/n continued, emphasizing each of the last words, “And you’re going to run.”

“I’m not fucking leaving you,” Ellie yelled, shoving Y/n’s arms.

“And I’m not asking,” Y/n yelled back, feeling her fate slowly approaching. If it bought Ellie time, it was all worth it.

She gripped Ellie’s shoulders, wrenching her closer and locking eyes with her. “You. Run.”

———————————

The snow outside had picked up, nearly blinding Joel as he trudged through the ice, clutching his abdomen the whole way.

He’d made it to Silver Lake, against all odds, but didn’t know the first place to look. He kept his good ear peeled, trying to listen for Y/n or Ellie’s cries, but the storm made that impossible. Leaned up against one of the resort’s buildings, trying to catch his breath, Joel tried to think clearly about his next move.

Then his eyes caught the trail of blood in the snow and logic went out the window.

Joel followed the crimson that led him to the building’s door. He broke the lock with the butt of his rifle and entered, clicking on his flashlight and drawing his pistol. He crept through the shed, bending down once to search under a table and finding only old clothes and useless supplies. Then, he spotted a nearly identical trail of blood leading into the next room.

All the while his heart thudded with fear, fear of failure.

Joel made no noise as he entered the room, shining his flashlight ahead to find what was left of one of their horses. They’d captured Y/n and Ellie while riding. The picture of their kidnapping was beginning to fill with color.

Joel shone his flashlight past the horse, finding tarps over equipment and…something…hanging on the other side. He moved around the animal’s body to get a closer look…

His stomach turned.

He had to fucking hurry.

—————————

David stormed through the door with James right behind him. Ellie and Y/n scurried away from the cage’s front. Y/n hadn’t expected a second set of hands, it made her entire plan impossible.

“No! No! No!” Ellie screamed, pressing herself into Y/n’s body in fear.

David and James wrenched the two of them apart.

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Y/n screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping someone might hear them and come running, “No!”

“Get off of me!” Ellie shrieked, kicking at both of the men, “Get off of me!”

If Y/n had been on 10, Ellie’s pleas dialed her up to 12. She picked up her entire body weight and let herself drop to the floor, bringing James with her. He stumbled, but regained his footing and dragged Y/n out of the cell, kicking and screaming.

“No!” Ellie yelled, biting down on David’s all-too-close hand.

“Ow,” the preacher cried out, but stayed undeterred in his mission. He pulled Ellie out of the cell.

Y/n wrestled against Jame’s firm grip, flailing her arms as she tried to reach around and scratch him. She’d tear him to pieces with her hands, if the chance came.

“You motherfucker,” she cried, trying to catch her leg on anything that might slow them down, but he lifted her onto the chopping block as if she was nothing. James held her hands down at her sides, giving Y/n the opportunity to spit in his face.

“Wait, wait,” Ellie begged as David dragged her towards the block.

“Shut up,” James growled, narrowly dodging Y/n’s head butt.

David lifted Ellie up and dropped her harshly on Y/n, knocking the wind out of the woman with Ellie’s weight. He forced Ellie’s hands into Y/n’s, lining the two of them up.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Ellie begged, Y/n’s coughs sputtering in her ear, “Don’t! Don’t do it! Please, don’t do it!”

“You had your chance,” David spoke over Ellie as he raised the cleaver above his head.

In her struggle for oxygen, Y/n let out a final cry. For Ellie, for Joel, for her grand failure to save all of them.

This was how it ended.

“I’M INFECTED!”

Ellie’s words echoed off the walls, David simply scoffed at her.

“I’m infected,” Ellie said once more, her voice low, “And now so are you.”

David glanced down at the bite mark Ellie had put on his hand. Y/n caught it too, fighting the urge to smile. The girl was smarter and quicker than she or Joel had ever taught her.

“Roll up my sleeve, look at it,” Ellie insisted, “Look at it!”

Biting down on his lip in frustration, David slammed the cleaver down beside Y/n and Ellie’s heads, causing both of them to flinch away. He tugged Ellie’s right sleeve up, revealing the ever-present mark that Cordyceps had left on her.

“God’s will,” Y/n strained, smirking below Ellie.

James looked up at his leader in concern, “David…”

“No,” David shook his head, “No, she would’ve turned by now. This isn’t real.”

Unable to speak without them hearing her, but needing to signal Ellie that she was on board with the plan, Y/n squeezed the back of Ellie’s hand twice.

“It looks pretty fuckin’ real to me,” James continued.

Ellie pressed her hand back into Y/n’s.

This was their opportunity.

Ellie reached to her side, grabbing the cleaver and lodging it in Jame’s shoulder. Y/n threw the girl off and kicked both feet into David’s stomach, buying them a few precious seconds to escape. Bullets chased them as they flew through the door.

Y/n and Ellie ran through the rest of the kitchen, making it out into the dining room. They went from door to door, banging and pulling furiously. Nothing.

Hearing David’s footsteps down the hall, they rushed back into the kitchen to look for any weapons. Ellie reached into a wood burning stove, grabbing one of the crackling logs before Y/n shoved her out of the room and down behind a wall.

The kitchen door squeaked, announcing David’s presence. Without her gun, Y/n knew she didn’t stand a chance at going up against David, but she could buy time. She crawled away from Ellie, ignoring the girl’s frantic looks and moved behind a table, popping up once she heard David’s steps.

“You’re very determined,” David’s calm tone continued, even as he clutched the cleaver in his hand, “I’ll give you that.”

“What a parent won’t do for their kid,” Y/n shrugged, “Right, Father?”

As Y/n put a period on her sentence, Ellie stood up from her spot and threw the burning log at David, missing him and giving Y/n the chance to duck down and crawl away. Ellie had, however, succeeded in starting a fire that quickly began to eat through the drapes of the dining room. Ellie crawled back, spotting Y/n and hurrying in her direction.

“There’s no way out, Ellie,” David called, moving away from the rapid fire, “The doors are locked and I have the keys.”

While she couldn’t see the flames, Y/n could smell and hear them. They were spreading as if nature herself had started it.

“Ellie?” David called tauntingly, “Ellie.”

Y/n knew that if there was any chance for escape, it would only come for one of them. David would have to be preoccupied with something else to let anything slip through his fingers and that anything had to be Ellie. Reaching down into her boot, she remembered she still had her knife on her.

She drew a deep breath and begged for Joel, dead or alive, to forgive her.

It was the only option that ensured Ellie’s salvation.

————————

Joel couldn’t move fast in the snow, the winds threatening to shove his fragile frame down into the ice. With every step he fought, trying to see something, anything through the gust of snowflakes.

In his mind, he was begging and pleading with the universe to give him a sign, a direction..he felt more and more panicked with each passing moment that he was too late.

Joel walked a little quicker, ignoring the stabbing pain in his stomach.

He couldn’t lose them.

—————————

“Ellie…” David called again, “I know you’re not infected. No one infected fights this hard to stay alive.”

Y/n belly crawled on the floor of the restaurant, away from Ellie and closing in on David’s voice. She clutched the knife in her sweaty palm.

“So…how did you do it?” David asked the room, “What’s the secret? Or are you just that fucking special?”

Y/n was near enough to the bar that she could see the panels swing open and Ellie’s legs trailing in. She was smart enough to try and find a true weapon.

“No one likes being humiliated, Ellie,” David continued his tirade, forgetting Y/n’s presence entirely, “You don’t know how good I am! You don’t know what I could have given you! If you had just let me!”

Y/n continued her army crawl before crouching behind the wall nearest to David, waiting for her perfect chance.

“Well, I have news for you,” the “pastor’s” tone softened back to its pulpit pitch, “None of us are dying today. You see, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided you do need a father, and your mother needs a husband.”

Y/n tightened her grip on her knife, waiting, waiting, waiting…

“So I’m gonna keep you two,” David promised, “And I’m gonna teach you.”

In her years, Y/n had heard and witnessed truly disturbing events. Nothing could have terrified her more than the sick headlines about corrupt preachers, using the Word of God as a deflection, coming to life in front of her.

Y/n leapt to her feet, spininning around the wall’s end and stabbing David’s shoulder from behind. The man cried out in pain, but didn’t fall as Y/n had needed him to. He faced her, swinging the cleaver past her before gripping her throat with one hand and shoving her up against the wall. Y/n struggled ferociously, speed kicking his legs until he dropped her. He wrenched her back, throwing her to the floor, and let one of the heavy dining tables fall straight onto Y/n’s abdomen. The pressure crushed her, stealing all the air from her lungs, and left her sputtering and choking for breath.

David leaned down, his lips grazing Y/n’s ear in a way that had only ever been reserved for Joel. “I’ll deal with you in a moment,” he growled.

Y/n was too breathless to speak and the table was too heavy for her to lift. It was almost guaranteed that David had cracked at least one of her ribs. She flailed about under its weight like a bug being crushed, frantically trying to escape.

With a lack of oxygen, her ears began to ring and her eyesight began to blur. From across the room, she could see David and Ellie’s figures fighting, with Ellie’s being shoved to the floor.

Y/n’s lips tried to form the girl’s name.

The corners of her vision began to darken just as David pinned Ellie down.

Her screams poured the air right back into Y/n’s lungs.

With strength only a mother whose child was endangered could have, Y/n strained to push the table off of her. She raised it enough to shimmy her abdomen out, letting it fall on her legs with a pained groan. She pulled and pulled her body out from under the surface, Ellie’s cries of terror giving her all the power she needed to roll the rest of the way. She grabbed her knife, stained with David’s blood and crawled across the floor.

David’s back was blissfully turned.

Ellie couldn’t see Y/n.

The flames were consuming the restaurant.

Y/n inched her way closer.

David said something Y/n couldn’t hear over the fire.

Ellie screamed louder.

Y/n reached her hand out, ripping David back by the collar, stabbing him in the chest with her knife and wrenching him off of Ellie.

Ellie reached above her head for the cleaver.

The rest passed in a set of thirty blood soaked seconds.

When it was over, Y/n stumbled to her feet, reaching down to pull Ellie up with her. The room was filled with a gagging smoke, the fames mere seconds from bringing the whole building down.

Y/n rushed them out through the kitchen, the back end was their best chance at escape. Down the hall were two large black doors, the lack of lock allowing Y/n to shove her and Ellie’s trembling forms out.

The cold air greeted their heated skin, both of them struggling to catch their breath. Y/n clutched Ellie to her as she maneuvered them down the stone steps and into the snow.

They both screamed as a pair of strong arms grabbed their bodies, tugging them backwards.

“No! Get off of me!,” Ellie shrieked, the reality of David’s death ceasing to exist under the strange touch.

“No! You fucking-“ Y/n tried to shove Ellie behind her, turning around and fighting hard against the figure before she even looked up.

Adrenaline somehow granted Joel enough strength to turn Ellie around in his arms and restrain Y/n’s hands.

“It’s me,” Joel coaxed as Ellie slapped his chest.

Y/n eyes turned up at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes finally. “Ellie,” she breathed, awestruck.

“It’s me,” Joel repeated to Ellie, her hits finally stopping as she finally returned to reality. Joel took her face into his hand, cupping her cheek and drawing her gaze to him, “Hey, look…it’s me. It’s me.”

Ellie let out little whimpers as she took in his presence, miraculously in front of her.

Y/n ran her hands over Joel’s arm, in utter disbelief that he was actually there. His hand that rested on her back slid half an inch, the movement giving her the assurance that he was real. He had come for them.

“It’s okay,�� Joel told Ellie, the girl mumbling and stuttering in shock.

Ellie didn’t think twice before looping her arms around Joel’s neck and burrowing her face into his shoulder. Y/n did the same, keeping one arm firmly around Ellie.

“It’s okay,” he promised once more, taking the full force of their embrace as if it were the very air he breathed. “It’s okay, babygirl,” he said to Ellie, “I got you. I got you.”

Y/n sniffled into Joel’s shoulder, feeling his hurried kiss press against her temple. She had gone from her most vulnerable to her most safe in the course of a single minute.

After a few seconds, wishing it could last longer, Joel pulled back to look at them both. He took in the blood on both their faces, there were big bruise marks on Y/n’s neck and she was clutching her stomach. He felt ashamed that he hadn’t been there sooner to spare them the pain of whatever they’d gone through.

“Okay,” Joel said softly, taking off his coat and wrapping it around Ellie’s shoulders.

Y/n finally noticed that Joel was carrying both his rifle and all three of their backpacks. She hurried to grab hers and Ellie’s, slipping one on her shoulder and carrying the other.

Joel and Y/n got on each of Ellie’s sides, wrapping an arm around the girl and setting off into the snow. The adrenaline began to fade in Joel’s body, weakening him once again till he was limping. The searing pain in Y/n’s chest ached with every breath, she had to time each inhale in between her steps.

But it didn’t matter to either of them. They locked their hands around each other’s arm, tightening their hold around Ellie, and took slow, unsteady steps towards the river.

—————————

That night, they sought shelter in a different neighborhood, hiding in someone else’s former house.

Y/n and Joel sat upright against the freezing concrete wall, Ellie sleeping soundly between them. They each kept one hand on her as they had soothed her to sleep, but they kept their hold long after. They needed the physical reassurance that she was okay.

All day, Y/n had held it together as they journeyed as far from Silver Lake as they could. She was too determined to get the three of them the hell out of dodge to fall apart. It wasn’t until Ellie had fallen asleep, under the safety of Y/n and Joel’s protection, that the weight of what had almost happened to them fell onto her.

Joel felt the trembling from Y/n’s hand gently shake Ellie’s body. He peered across her into the dark, the moonlight catching on her face to perfectly illuminate the silent tears down her cheeks.

As she stifled her sobs, Y/n felt Joel’s fingers intertwine with hers over Ellie’s torso. She squeezed her eyes shut, his touch sending her emotions right over their edge.

Joel squeezed, trying to tell her that in the silence, in the pain, he was there. He was there for the first time in twenty years for her to lean on.

Y/n squeezed back, savoring the press of his calloused fingers into her palm. They had come so close to losing one another, but they were alive. They were alive, they were together and if that was the only thing they had to hold onto, they’d cling to it like life itself.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @themultifandomofmadness @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (tags cont. in comments)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us spoilers #twenty years later

[hyperfixatedbastard]

Hi i hope you doing well. I have a resquest... more like a headcanon. What if Adam was a dad ? What his behaviour will be ? Does he be a good or a bad father ?

I understand if you don't do it. I don't want to force you for something you don't want to.

Dadam (Dad!Adam) Headcanons

we bringing out the daddy issues on this one boys

WARNINGS: none

A/N: I haven't done a headcanon type of post yet, but they're easier to write than regular one shots and I'm too tired for that shit. The request didn't specify what kind of Reader (spouse or child), so I just went with general headcanons that don't specify the Reader at all. Insert yourself as you wish!

Also, thank you all for your patience! It's been very busy for me lately and I've been too exhausted to write much, so expect a lot more of these kinds of posts (the formatting is easier and I don't have to write a bunch of dialogue lol).

Dividers

As the father of humanity, Adam had...a lot of kids. The guy lived for 800+ years just populating the earth. That's a LOT of kids. We all know how the first two turned out. That is, not fuckin' well. To be honest, I don't think Adam valued his children. It was just kinda... a thing he had to do. (When Abel died and Cain got exiled, he fr just went and had another kid to replace them.) But I am in deep, deep denial and this is for my enjoyment as someone with severe daddy issues. So fuck all that.

At first, Adam is 100% the guy that freaks the fuck out when he finds out he knocked someone up. That man is SWEATING. He's actually pretty chill if it's someone he's in an established long-term relationship with, though. He still freaks the fuck out, but to a significantly lesser degree and with a much smaller chance of up and leaving. Once he's over the initial shock, he's shocked to find that he's kind of excited. Back when he was alive, having kids was just normal because it was such a common occurrence.

This man knows every little detail about pregnancy and infants. With the amount of kids he's had? He has seen it ALL. Sure, all his information is thousands of years old, but knowledge learned through experience is super valuable when it comes to this shit! He doesn't know what the fuck a uterus is, but he knows exactly how to make his partner the most comfortable, how to deal with cravings, etc. If his partner has a problem, he's got a solution. It might be a fuckin' weird one, but it works! He'll probably grumble and complain, but he doesn't actually mean it. Bitching is just his thing, y'know? But... pregnancy hormones + Adam's douchebag-ness = feelings getting hurt. If his partner starts crying because of some shit joke or complaint he made? He's scrambling so fast. "Shit, babe, fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, fuckfuckfuck, don't cry—"

Once the baby is born, he definitely surprises literally everyone but his partner by actually doing helpful shit. Changing diapers? Easy fuckin' peasy (he does watch a tutorial online because he doesn't know how tf modern diapers work but he's a fast learner) Feeding? No problemo. Getting up in the middle of the night to do both of those things? His sleep schedule's already fucked, this shit ain't new.

When it comes to parenting and raising the kid, though... that's definitely where Adam struggles. He'd struggle with bonding. A lot. Adam mostly talks about things that you really shouldn't say around children, much less bond over. I think he'd be better at just letting the kid ramble while he's just sitting there, fully engrossed in whatever bullshit his child is saying. He's not just passively listening with little 'uh-huh's and nods, this man is active in the discussion. Have you ever heard a small child speak? They say the most random shit ever, and Adam would love it. It's peak entertainment to him. Even if it's just incoherent babbling, he'll have full-on conversations with this baby.

He'd definitely have some shared interests as the kid gets older. I think Adam's favorite shows/movies are a mix of action movies and shit like Power Rangers. He's not ashamed of it either—'fuck you, the Power Rangers are fuckin' cool.' This also goes for video games. I know that man is a toxic COD gamer boy and you can't prove me wrong. Basically, the only thing that keeps him from becoming one of those husbands that locks himself away in a man cave to play video games is the fact that he can game with his kid.

And once they get into school, he just gets really invested in the drama. Elementary school drama is such bullshit, and it'd be the best reality TV he's ever seen. "Oh, don't tell me—it's that bitch Cindy. The fuck did that little shit do this time?" He'd be gasping like it's a damn soap opera. 'Oh no she didn't!' kinda vibe.

He'd talk so much shit around his kid about the parents of their classmates, the teachers, anyone. Then the kid would repeat it and Adam would get sat down in the office with his kid like: "Your child said, and I quote, 'My dad says your mom's a bitch.'" "What? She fuckin' is." And yeah, he's not wrong - some of those parents are fucking nightmares.

If his kid got in trouble for fighting, his reaction would depend on the situation. If it was unprovoked and/or a part of bullying, he'd originally laugh it off but would be freaking the fuck out internally. He's probably a little traumatized by what happened with Cain and Abel. But if the fighting was an act of defense (whether of themselves or someone else) he would be the proudest dad ever. Fist-bumps his kid in the office in full view of the principal.

You cannot trust this man to give his kid the sex talk. It just will not go well. Like, if his kid needs advice when they're older (basically anything beyond 'where do babies come from') then he's your guy, but it's still gonna be awkward and uncomfortable. He'd probably have Lute handle most of those issues just so he doesn't have to know about his kid's sex life but can still trust that they have a responsible(?) adult if they have questions.

In terms of where Adam is lacking as a parent, there's a few areas in particular to focus on.

Emotional availability? Not his strong suit. At all. He can't deal with his own feelings, let alone his kid's. Most of the emotional support will be coming from his partner. That doesn't mean he doesn't try. But he can't show it with words all that well. He'll show emotional support in other ways—quality time, gifts, and acts of service for the most part. Like going out for ice cream, watching a movie, etc.

He's not good with discipline. To him, everything's no big deal. If his kid hasn't killed their sibling, that's good enough for him! Generally, his partner will choose when/how to discipline (with Adam's input ofc), but Adam's job is to just enforce it/not overrule it. He's 100% the type to be sneaky about it tho. If his kid is grounded, he'll go out with them to give them a break from being stuck in the house, y'know, stuff like that. Because of this, his kid forms a closer, different kind of bond than with Adam's partner. It's more friendly, I guess is the word? Like, his kid won't go to him for actual helpful advice, but if they fuck up somehow or are in a bad situation that they kinda got themselves into (drinking, car accident, etc.), then Adam is the parent they call.

I think Adam's peak parenting era would be when his kid is a late teen/young adult. 'Cause then he can actually be himself, for the most part. His personality is not very kid-friendly, so once his kid isn't really much of a kid anymore—he is so fucking excited. His relationship with his kid would be a lot more unconventional as they grow older. Like, he's really close with his kid once they're an adult. (totally not basing this off my relationship with my mom) His advice would be shit, but he'd give it if his kid needed it!

Definitely the type to text his kid more often than most parents. Mostly because he texts more like them and has the same sense of humor. Lots of shitty memes.

Also!! I think Adam would definitely make time for his partner. Date nights are a must. His kid better get comfortable with sleepovers at friends' houses or getting babysat by Emily 'cause he ain't letting parenthood fuck up his sex life.

I think that's all I got. Not sure how to end this so uh... shoutout to all you bitches with daddy issues lmao

Taglist: @little-miss-chaoss @fakeguysarehot @3sire-777

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel headcanons #headcanons #adam headcanons #hazbin headcanons #adam x reader

[inbarfink]

So when discussing the ending of ‘Over the Garden Wall’ and the nature of the Unknown in general, I think it is important to remember that it’s left deliberately up for interpretation. You know, it’s not a Quiz with one concrete answer we must uncover, but it’s more about our interpretations and personal feelings. Each and every one of us experiences that journey with Wirt and Greg into the Unknown in a slightly different way. 

So what I want to do here is not present a Correct Interpretation that will dispute all the others and prove them all wrong and prove myself right, I just want to share my own outlook on the nature of the Unknown. In the hopes that others will like it and it’ll inspire more cool readings and interpretations

So on some level I do agree with the popular theory that the Unknown is some sort of Afterlife - but I don’t see it as a regular Afterlife for human souls, I think it is an afterlife for Stories. This place is where fictional characters and stories end up once they’ve been totally forgotten by the living, ‘lost in the clouded annals of history’. and become.... unknown It is quite literally a place where ‘long forgotten stories are revealed to those who travel through the wood’.

That’s why the Unknown is a mishmash of different time periods and primarily visually and narratively influenced by stuff like fairy tales, ghost stories, children’s books and old cartoons - these stories have a high-tendency to be forgotten and thus get lost in the Unknown (whatever it’s because they rely on oral traditions or because they suffered from very poor preservation historically). 

And that is what the theme song, ‘Into the Unknown’ is talking about…

Where can we pretend that dreams do come true? In Stories.

And what are ‘the loveliest lies of all’? Now that would be Fiction. 

The entire concept of stories is a huge theme of this song, I think.

Beatrice and her family, Adelaide of the Pasture, Auntie Whispers and Lorna were all originally fairy tales. Maybe the same fairy tale, or maybe they were originally separated before being ‘melded’ together. (If, for example, the last child to Remember them before they were forgotten just assumed the Bad Witch in both the Auntie Whispers and Beatrice stories was Adelaide)

Pottsfield was an old urban legend about a haunted ghost town, Wirt and Greg basically played through its ‘plot’ directly. 

Miss Langtree, the schoolhouse and the other associated characters come from a long-forgotten and out-of-print children’s book. That’s why those characters tend to talk in comically-stilted expository dialogue. 

The Tavern was the setting for a series of 20’s animated cartoons.  (Although obviously set long before that era). The Tavern Keeper was created as a Betty Boop clone and was the main character. The Tavern setting was probably a mere framing device for all sort of musical animations. The reason why none of them can comprehend the idea of not having some sort of Title or Label is because that’s how they were written - all given job-related titles but not named.

Fred the Talking Horse was a main character from a forgotten tradition of humorous oral stories where he was sometimes a trickstery anti-hero and sometimes a straight-up comedic villain protagonist.

Quincy Endicott and Margueritte Grey were characters from a satiric limerick about the greedy rich and their wacky habits. (Quincy was at least inspired by a real-life person since his name appears on a tombstone in the real world)

Possibly the same limerick where the punchline was the status-quo at the beginning of their OTGW ep, that both rivals’ mansions have become connected and they assume the other is a ghost haunting their house. Or maybe they were each from different regional variations of the same limerick about a greedy rich weirdo being lost in their own house and going mad. 

Frogland and their little boat might be from a children’s book as well, but I also think that maybe… from the vignettes shown at the opening of the series…

That one might take place outside the Unknown, and shows the real inception of Frogland. Two brothers making up stories with their toy boat by the river. Since they never shared these stories with anyone else, when these two brothers died or maybe just grew up and forgot their boyhood misadventures by the stream - these stories also ended up in the Unknown. 

The Fishing Fish we see briefly in ‘Babes in the Woods’ might be a small comedic illustration from a children’s book, or another piece of limerick, or just someone’s random notebook doodle that gained a life of its own first in the creator’s mind and then in the Unknown. 

Cloud City, the North Wind and the Queen of the Clouds were also, much like the Tavern, from a very old cartoon.

The Beast was once just a mere Boogie Man to keep young children from wandering off into the woods. Ending up forgotten in the Unknown just ended up giving him a whole world of lost souls to harvest. 

Maybe the Woodsman and his daughter were always a part of the story of the Beast. But since it seems that the Woodsman being a lantern-bearer is a fairly recent development - they might have had their own separate story. Some sort of pastoral novel about a family moving near the woods? But their narrative has been ‘hijacked’ by the Beast. 

Wirt and Greg ended up lost within the Unknown cause had they actually died in the lake that night - they would have become a Story in their town. I mean we have a moody lonely teenager and his adorable little brother disappearing/dying - on the night of Halloween - after last being seen in a graveyard - with the older brother’s last act on this earth being to hand his crush a cassette of his love poetry. Can you imagine what sort of Urban Legenda you can grow from those seeds?

But as they were not yet dead, and not a Story yet… so they were technically an Unknown story. Between the borders of life and death from a human perspective because they were about to die, and from a Story perspective because they were just about to be born.

And the ending sequence, with the little vignettes showing where all the characters from all the episodes ended up. I think that’s almost like Wirt and Greg back in the world of the living and the real - being able to create happy endings for all of those stories they've met. That’s how the Woodsman’s daughter ended up being alive all along - it was less that the Woodsman's whole tragedy was a wacky misunderstanding all along. But it became so as a gift of thanks by their new storytellers - Wirt and Greg.

Because if dreams can't come true, than why not pretend?

#over the garden wall #otgw #the unknown

[rbbrbikerthorp]

A New Neighbour Moves In

[Please note: all characters are 18 plus and any reference to boy or girl is purely descriptive or used in dialogue between the characters.]

Mitchell was living the life much like any typical 23 year old male would. He’d graduated university, he had started his career in recruitment for legal and financial services and was starting to earn good monthly commissions on top of his basic salary. He’d used all the money inherited from his grandparents to buy a 1-bedroom flat in a new development, just on the edge of the city centre. Mitchell didn’t have a steady girlfriend – he wasn’t in a long-term relationship place. As he told his mates at the gym, he was a ‘date them and ditch them’ once he’d managed to ‘get them in the sack’ kind of bloke.

It was a Monday morning and Mitchell needed to get to work. First, he had to navigate his way carefully out of the flat where he’d been invited to spend the night. The girl he’d met in the club the previous evening had taken a shine to his blue eyes, rugby toned body and wavy blonde hair. “Another notch on the bedpost,” Mitchell thought as he tiptoed his way out of the girl’s bedroom. Mitchell made it a policy to only meet women in person and he would never exchange contact details. It meant that none of his ‘conquests’ had any idea of how to find him and, as he was enjoying his ‘tom cat’ life so much, he sure didn’t want to be found. He went on his Uber app and requested a taxi. In less than two minutes one had pulled up in front of him. He took one last look up at the window to check the curtains were still closed and the car pulled away from the curb.

He arrived back at his flat in plenty of time to get ready for the day ahead. He shaved his weekend beard growth and then turned on the shower. Whilst the water warmed up, he took a moment to admire himself in the mirror. He loved how beefy his legs looked from the years of playing rugby first in secondary school and then in the university’s first team. His regular attendance at the gym meant he had a well-defined chest and arms. Women loved his bum as it stood out, firm and muscular. Yes, at that moment as he entered the shower cubicle Mitchell was very content with his life, but on this day, things were about to change.

As Mitchell locked his front door, he noticed piles of boxes outside the flat next door. As he turned towards the lifts, he ran into a large man. He barely stopped as he fell into him. Stepping backwards he said, “I’m really sorry, I didn’t see you there.” As the guy regained his balance, Mitchell noticed the man’s shaved head, jeans with bleach marks with tall black boots with white laces tucked into them. Even though he thought of himself as a tough, well-built guy, he stuttered feeling inadequate and intimidated by this stranger. “I…I…I’m Mitchell,” holding out his hand, “n... n… nice to meet you. So, you’re moving in next door? I… I… always wondered who my new neighbour would be? It’s been vacant for ages.

The man smiled, “I’m John and yes, it was quite a steal really. Apparently last owner had been shacked up with his fiancé for the last few months and they were about to get married. I made an offer a bit less than what they were asking for, but, because he needed to put money down as a deposit on a new house, he had no choice but to accept.”

“Well,” Mitchell replied being polite, “I… I… I’ve got to get my bus.”

“Yes, I can see you’re dressed for an office. As you can probably see I’m not a suit person myself.”

Mitchell laughed nervously. Why was he feeling so unsettled by this guy?

“Look, why don’t you drop by when you get home from work. I always like to get to know my new neighbours.”

On the spur of the moment, Mitchell couldn’t think of an excuse not to accept the invitation, so he said, “why not? Must go!” As he walked away, he could sense the man was staring at him. He shouted, “good luck unpacking” and then lowered his voice a little, “weirdo.”

John couldn’t help admiring his good-looking young neighbour’s physique, and he shook his head hearing Mitchell mumbling that last word. He began to create a mental picture of what Mitchell might look like wearing less formal clothing. Tattoos were common on young men of a similar age these days, so John wondered if he had acquired any ink yet. He was sure to find out later when Mitchell would drop in for a chat and John would explain was his lifestyle was all about. John set about unpacking so that he could prepare for his young neighbour’s visit.

It was around 7:30 in the evening when John heard a knock on the door. He opened it to find Mitchell had changed out of his work suit into a t-shirt and sports shorts. “Come in.” It felt more like an order to Mitchell than a pleasantry.

“You got everything unpacked I see.” Mitchell said trying not to stare at the many pairs of tall lace-up boots all lined up by the door; taking in the various bomber jackets hanging on the coat rack and the skinhead themed pictures and posters on the walls.

John noticed Mitchell’s “That’s nothing lad, I’ve got way more kit in the bedroom.”

Mitchell really didn’t want to know any more about what might be in John’s bedroom, “takes all kinds I guess,” he thought as John handed him a beer. The two men chatted, but as Mitchell sipped away at the beer, “wow”, he thought, “this stuff has a real kick.” He found himself becoming more relaxed and more willing give direct answers to John’s questions; about his job, his personal life, his family and friends. Mitchell was hoping that by dressing as though he was going to the gym and John would bring their chat to an end and let him go on his way. Mitchell was starting to fidget as you do when you’re about to stand up. However, John had different ideas, “stay right there lad, and I’ll get us another beer.” Mitchell suddenly found himself wanting to stay and slumped back into the sofa.

“So wh… wh… what do you for a living?” Mitchell asked with a slight stutter and slur as John handed him another glass of beer.

John smiled, “I’m glad you asked. To put it simply I change people.”

“Change people?” Mitchell asked thoroughly bemused.

“Yes, I change people. I take ordinary people, with very traditional upbringings and boring lives and I change them into whatever takes my fancy.” You, young Mitchell are just the sort of person I look for to mould into something more, hmm, you know ‘out-there’.”

Mitchell had downed half the glass of beer at this point.

John continued, “maybe I’ll slowly take them from the lives they are currently leading and over a few hours, a few days, maybe a few weeks transform them. They might end up as a…”

John could sense Mitchell’s fear about what might happen to him but continued, “The next person I change may end up as filthy mohawked punk, a dirty greaser biker, a Leatherman, a goth, a rubber slave. Who knows? It’s whatever takes my fancy at that moment. After a time, I get bored and need a new challenge, so I sell them on to people into the lifestyle and I move on to my next…”

Mitchell couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to challenge what John was saying but he discovered it wouldn’t move. His heart was pounding, his anxiety levels were on the rise – no matter how hard he tried he was unable to form any words.

“Mitchell, I want you to calm down! Mitchell is such as pompous name, so from now on you’re gonna be called Mike. Now, I will carry on. John pulled out an amber charm which he swung from side to side, glowing eerily in front of Mike’ glazed eyes. When I combine this fine-looking stone with a special ingredient I have – oh you know I added a few drops into your beer, my victims become more… open to the changes I want to make to them. More compliant.” Mike’ eyes were affixed on the stone. “That’s right, just follow the stone, from side-to-side, follow the stone, transfixed by its glowing beauty/” John was comfortable in the knowledge that Mike would soon be his personal boy toy. “Isn’t that the most striking, bright and coloured stone you’ve ever seen Mike?”

He tried to open his mouth in one solitary second of defiance, but all he could managed was a barely audible squeak. His independence, his free will, his ability to fight and think freely had departed. There was no resistance left in Mike. His mind was now mush, the lad could only obey and conform.

John pulled Mike to his feet and dragged him to the bathroom. Once there, he placed him in a chair. “Right Mike, I’ve been thinking all-day about the life I want to give you. How do you fancy being my skinhead son? I’ve always wanted someone I could call a son, but being gay it was never going to happen, and I think you will make the perfect skinhead.” John didn’t wait for Mike to reply - he couldn’t; he did however see the confusion and distress in Mike’ eyes. He chuckled to himself.

John walked over to the bathroom cabinet and took out several items: some electric clippers, scissors, a pack of Mach 3 razors and a can of shaving cream. Turning his head to look at the boy, he smiled, “Only real men have hair. So, yours needs to go Mike. I’ll start on your legs and then your chest, all of that lovely blonde hair on your head and not forgetting the parts in-between. I’m going to enjoy getting rid of that wavy blonde hair. When I’m done, you’ll have a perfectly smooth bonehead.” John cut through the lad’s t-shirt revealing a well-defined torso. Staring at the blank canvas and thinking what he would do to it, he couldn’t help but squeeze one of Mike’ nipples. John detected the tiniest of yelps, so he squeezed the other nipple. There was no reaction this time, Mike’ mind was lost. He continued to stare into the  amber jewel that was hanging in front of his face.

John turned on the clippers, starting with the boy’s left leg. Hair started falling in clumps on the floor. Once the left leg was done, he moved on to the right one. Soon John was wiping them down with a cloth, applying a astringent lotion so that the smooth skin shone in the bathroom lights and after a few more applications, regrowth would never be a problem. Then it was onto the chest. Although Mike was only in his early twenties, he’d already got quite a covering of fur, which John’s clippers made quick work of. Mike’s arms were also denuded of hair. John turned off the clippers and, with the same cloth, applied more of the special lotion to the recently clipped areas.

John stood up and smiled. He paused for a second, “this is the last time there will be any hair growing on your head.” He pressed the on switch, and after hearing the familiar ‘clack’ he began ploughing all the way through the boy’s golden locks. In no time at all Mike was motionless sitting in the chair with a zero-grade cut. John picked up the can of shaving cream, squirted it into his hands and rubbed it copiously all over Mike’ head. He took the necessary time to ensure all the fuzz was removed and Mike’ head felt like a cue-ball. In no time at all there was a shiny hairless skinhead son sitting in front of him.

Looking down, John smiled as Mike’ identity lay on the floor in clumps. He looked up at Mike who was sitting perfectly still, with the same glazed eyes and dazed expression on his face, oblivious to the changes being made without his consent. He took the cloth, poured some more lotion into it and rubbed it into his son’s head.

“Stand,” John ordered. Mike complied, happily obeying his skinhead master. The sports shorts were pulled down over the now smooth legs and John stood back as he grabbed the clippers. “Now boy, I need you to get nice ‘n’ hard so I can make sure I get all your hair… down there...” He watched as slowly but surely there was movement in Mike’ groin. John grinned as in no time at all full mast was achieved. “Very nice boy,” John said out loud, “I bet you were popular with the women. Is that six, possibly seven inches? Good and think as well. Unfortunately for you, you’re not going to have much use of it as my son, but it will look amazing with a thick gauge PA, and a Jacob’s ladder.”

‘Clack’, John turned on the clippers and began the removal of the last remaining hairs on Mike’ body. He had to hold himself back as he rubbed the special lotion into the skin around the groin and on the mounds that had once been covered in thick hair. When he was satisfied the boy was as smooth as the day he was born, John left the bathroom to get something from his bedroom. When he returned Mike hadn’t moved, he was still lost in the stone “Now here I have the perfect thing to complete you. Now stay perfectly still.”

Later, John walked into the main room of the flat dressed in full skinhead gear. As he gazed at his newly denuded skinhead son, he felt his manhood straining inside a pair of skin-tight bleachers, which were turned-up and touching the top of a pair of 30-hole red ranger style boots. He was looking lustfully at the 23-year-old standing to attention, still wearing the expression, he had when the amber jewel turned him into the compliant vessel he now was. “It’s time for the next stage in your transformation lad.” With that John walked over to a cupboard an opened the doors.

The cupboard contained piles of skinhead gear from boots to bleachers to braces to bomber jackets. First, he instructed Mike to put on a yellow jockstrap. “You’ll be wearing this non-stop for a few days – it needs to get in nice ‘n’ ripe.” Then he passed the boy a t-shirt, which Mike willingly slipped over his head. “These are your bleachers; they’ve got two zips – front and rear – you’ll soon find out why,” he grinned, “slip them on.” Mike pulled up the tight-fitting jeans that had been liberally splashed with bleach. Mike didn’t take any notice of the fact that they’d been cut off just below the knee and turned up so that they would show the full extent of the boots he would almost always be wearing when he wasn’t in his work gear. John walked across to Mike carrying a pair of red braces which he attached to the bleachers, pulling them right up his bum crack – so much so that Mike let out a little groan. To finish this stage of the transformation, John handed Mike the left boot. It was black with 20 eyelets and partly laced. John talked Mike through how to ladder lace the boot tightly and perfectly. John fitted a padlock at the very top of the boot before handing over the right one. When John was happy with the way that one was laced, he fitted another padlock. “Stand!” Mike stood up. “Turn to look in the mirror, see the Skinhead son I’ve created. This is what you are now a proud skinhead and my skinhead son.

“Now, we can begin your training. Kneel!” Mike complied. “I know your tongue will still be a bit tender, so I’ll be gentle. Open!” John commanded, and with that he slid his cock into Mike’ open mouth. “Move your tongue slowly, showing how much your love the bottom of your skinhead dad’s cock. Make sure you keep your lips tightly closed as I don’t want you to spill anything.”

He sat back as his cock was held between Mike’ virgin lips and soon found himself about to cum as the hard stud, he had introduced to the lad’s tongue work its magic. The combination of it all and the sensitivity soon had John unloading his massive load. “Swallow!” Mike swallowed quickly trying not to “spill’ as he had been instructed. John soon slid from the lips of his new son and quickly zipped up his own bleachers. “Yes,” John thought, studying the boy who, in addition to the tongue piercing also had a stud in each lobe and four more studs all the way up each of his ears. Mike would serve him well as his skinhead son, but first he needed to complete the lad’s transformation. “Right son, let’s go – I need you to see a friend of mine.”

With that John grabbed a green bomber jacket with orange lining and threw it to Mike, “put it on,” he instructed. Mike slipped on what he would get to know as an MA1 and followed John out of the flat. Right away he found it strange walking in heavy soled, tightly laced boots, but he didn’t complain – he couldn’t.

The skinhead and son waited a few minutes at the bus stop before one came along heading in the direction of the city centre. They alighted just before the main shopping area. It was an area that would be unfamiliar to Mitchell, but Mike was oblivious to everything now. He obeyed his skinhead dad, just as any good son would do. The two skinheads walked side by side into a small industrial estate. One of the units had a sign saying, ‘Anaconda Tattoo Studio and Piercing’. John walked ahead of Mike, as they got to the door, John walked in but for a second Mike hesitated. John knew this sometimes happened, especially with all the distractions of the outdoors. He pulled the amber stone out of his pocket and held it in front of Mike. “This way boy,” he ordered. Mike complied; his eyes once again completely transfixed on the glow of the jewel.

Once inside the tattoo studio, John turned to Mike, “stand here son. I need to talk to the owner.” Mike waited as instructed. Despite tattoos being made popular by the countless athletes and celebrities who adorned their bodies with intricate permanent markings, the old Mitchell would have never crossed the threshold foot into a tattoo studio. But here was Mike waiting to submit to whatever his skinhead dad was discussing with the owner.

John came out of the back office followed by a hulk of a man who was wearing tight leather trousers, a black vest, which exposed his muscular arms covered in tattoos, shaved head with long unkempt beard and on his feet were heavy biker boots. “Son this is Griff, he’s going to give you some more piercings and your tattoos. But first, you are to strip down to your jockstrap. When you’ve done that, go over there and sit in the chair. From now on you will do exactly what Griff tells you to do. He’s going to give you your first marks to show the world that you’re a proud skinhead. After you’ve got your first ink, he’s going to give you some more metal. I’m going to leave you for a bit, but I’ll be back to see the finished work.” Turning to Griff, John said, “he’s all yours.”

Griff walked over to Mike wearing only his jockstrap  sitting obediently in the chair. Since John had already removed all the boy’s hair, Griff simply wiped clean the areas to be tattooed and then laid the first outline template on the skin. His machine was then started up, some ink was added, and the needle started to buzz.

He then began applying the needle over the site of the first tattoo, Mike felt a dull pain but didn’t flinch. Once the first tattoo on the boy’s left arm was completed, Griff went on to add the other tattoos as instructed by John. He started work on a full sleeve on Mike’s right arm, which would take four or five visits to complete. Then he added a bulldog to the rear of the lad’s right calf. Finally, two swallows were added to the back of the each of the lad’s hands. Griff whispered into Mike’s ear, “that’s all I’m doing now lad. John has booked half a dozen more sessions, so you’ll be coming back to get your neck, back and chest inked, and I can finish off the full sleeve. Now stay still. There’s a couple more things to do. Griff pushed away his tattoo cart and returned with another.

Griff looked at the docile boy in the chair. I think we will start with the nipples. Griff played, stroked and flicked them for a few moments until they were firm. He then slipped a needle through the left nipple, at which point Mike squealed. He then installed a barbell through the hole left by the needle and screwed a ball onto either end. He repeated the process for the right nipple. “No touching lad.” Griff then turned his attention to the lad’s groin and applied a topical cream to the so-called policeman’s helmet (bell-end to others). “Right, we’ll give that a little while to take effect and, in the meantime, we can sort out your nose piercing. This will hurt, but only for a second.” Griff then picked up a clean needle from his trolley and quickly passed it through the front part of the septum. Mike’s eyes began watering, so he knew the boy was feeling the pain from the intrusion of the needle. Carefully he inserted a ring into the boy’s septum, and then said out loud, “That will take six weeks or so to heal, then John wants it swapped for a bigger ring.” Now, the cream should have dulled your senses on your knob so let’s add the final bit of metal you’re getting today. He wiped the area to be pierced with an antiseptic skin cleanser, put a mark where the piercing was to be made, and begin the piercing process. The most painful moment for Mike in the piercing process was when the piercing needle punctured his urethra. One the needle was through, Griff inserted a circular barbell and spoke again, “don’t worry if you feel a bit of discomfort – a dull, throbbing pain that’s to be expected.

At that moment the door opened, and John walked in carrying a large shopping bag. “He’s all done, just as you instructed John. Don��t forget to leave the starter jewellery in for six weeks – no less, and make sure you use the aftercare solution. After that we can do a bit of stretching to your liking.”

As the days turned into weeks. John had started his son on the path to being a smoker. First, he gave him a gum to chew to introduce nicotine into the body, then he encouraged him to vape. When he felt there was an addiction starting, he told the boy to smoke cigarettes, starting him on five a day, and quickly moving onto ten, then fifteen. Within a couple of weeks, he was getting through a pack a day.

Mike also kept up his weekly visits to Griff, as more of his skin was covered with ink. Over the period, the full sleeve was completed, the Union flag was tattooed on the back of Mike’s next, the word skinhead was tattooed in script of his back and the letters that made up the word skinhead were inked on his knuckles and finally a Celtic cross was inked on the left pectoral. On the most recent visit Griff replaced the rings in his septum and PA with heavier gauges. As per John’s instructions, he also replaced the studs in his ears with rings and the ones in the lobes with spreaders. Mike joined his skinhead dad in a new gym, one that was run by an ex-boxer friend of John’s. John made sure to get Mike in the boxing ring so that his pretty boy face could get roughed up a bit. John wanted his son to look a bit freakier.

Mike didn’t look like the sort of person who would work in an office anymore, so he was signed up to work in the city council’s recycling centre – they were always in need of people to sort through other people’s waste. Five days a week he stood by a conveyor belt dressed in dirty Hi-Viz gear, and safety boots separating glass, metal, plastic, paper and cardboard into different bins.

After work, the boy would return to his skinhead dad’s flat, which was much bigger now that the wall had been knocked through joining what was Mitchell’s flat and John’s flat together. This night was special because as soon as he got home, Mike got out of his stinking workie gear he’d be in since just after dawn and into the skinhead gear his dad left out for him. Tonight, skinhead dad would be introducing his skinhead son to the lads in the pub. Mike dressed in his bleachers, a black Fred Perry, yellow socks and red 20-hole boots. Mike was ready in time for his dad to return home. John walked through the door and saw the perfect skinhead son standing there. “C’mon son. You’re gonna meet your skin bruders.”

#ranger boots #tattoos #bleachers #conversion #skinhead #workie

[bi-bard]

No Saints Ever Watched Over Me - Kaz Brekker Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: No Saints Ever Watched Over Me

Pairing: Kaz Brekker X Sun Summoner!Reader

Word Count: 1,798 words

Warning(s): canon-typical violence

Summary: Kaz held onto the belief that no saints had looked out for him and none were in a rush to rescue him. When forced to face the very saint that he refused to believe in, will Kaz accept that he was wrong or continue on his path of denial and avoidance?

Author's Note: Here's how one piece of dialogue made me want to throw all sorts of canon to the wolves just so this idea could happen.

---------------------------

At some point, hiding became as natural as breathing.

My parents taught me to hide before most things.

They were the only ones who knew about my... condition that I hadn't directly told.

They had seen the sunlight that coursed through my veins. The prophecy unfolding in their very home. The future presented to them on a silver platter.

They knew what would happen if I was ever discovered. They never wanted me to hear, but I did. They knew that I would be hunted for the rest of my life. That I would be shoved into harm's way in the name of Ravka. Men would be happy to watch my blood spill for their battles if they were wrapped in the flag of their country.

I was young when a group of men showed up at their door.

My dad took me away. As far away as he could. My mom didn't have a chance.

When he knew that what was happening was inevitable, he told me to run. Run, hide, and never tell anyone about my gift.

I was alone.

I never saw my power as a gift. Especially not after that day. In one swoop, this "gift" had taken everything from me.

And I still had to survive despite that.

I settled in Ketterdam. Alone and terrified. I needed to find work and a place to stay while I was still very young.

Working with Kaz Brekker was an accident more than anything else. It had been a few years since I had seemed to plant my feet on the ground. I had made friends with Jesper, who had offered me a chance to make myself a decent amount of money.

After that, Kaz seemed to come to me for every mission they had. I don't know why. As far as he was able to know, Kaz could have found a hundred people who were just like me.

Granted, I didn't have to keep working with him. I could have taken another job. But I didn't. Working with Kaz just felt right. Working with the Crows felt right.

I was a regular part of the team.

It was nice.

None of them seemed willing to say it out loud but it was like having a family. A real family for the first time in ages.

I kept my... situation private. They didn't truly need to know.

However, I knew that it would be foolish to think that I could hide it from them forever. It did take them longer than

Inej was the first to find out.

Kaz had noticed that something was "off" about me. Something was different. He couldn't figure out what that thing was. And Kaz Brekker hated not knowing everything about a situation.

He sent her to spy on me for the night. Follow me. See who I did business with, who I met for drinks, who I brought home with me (which I never did).

I had been curled at the foot of my bed after a long, exhausting day. I was tired and sad and angry all at the same time. I needed something of comfort. I allowed a ball of sunlight to form in my hand and sit in my palm. The fog and dreariness of Ketterdam didn't allow for one to enjoy a moment in the sunshine, so I had to make my own.

Inej must have caught me just as I was sitting there with it.

Not that she told me.

Instead, she went straight back to Kaz with what she had learned.

I could imagine what his reaction was. The disbelief, the anger at the insistence, and the dismissal of the whole event with some comment about it all being some clever trick on my part.

I hope she asked him what the point of a trick was when I was alone.

I only found out that Inej knew when I was told to go meet Kaz in his office. As I passed the bar, Inej and Jesper watched me go by. I watched Inej's hand move to her forehead and chest. I furrowed my eyebrows for a moment. I hadn't told her anything, so why did she do that?

Kaz was standing behind his desk when I walked in.

"Close the door," he instructed bluntly. I did so.

I walked over to stand across from him, waiting for some indication of what this was all about.

"What are you," he asked.

I paused for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"What are you?" he repeated, putting an emphasis on each word.

"I'm (Y/n), you allow me to work with you because I can fight, and you said that I can be pretty clever-"

"I said what, not who."

"Will you just tell me what this is about," I asked. "I clearly don't know."

"I had Inej follow you last night."

"Kaz!"

"You were hiding something from me," he tried to explain.

"So you sent someone to watch me? That is incredibly invasive!"

"She saw your trick," he continued. "The sunlight in your hand."

I felt frozen. The motion at the bar suddenly made sense to me. Inej was firm in her beliefs. Private, but firm. She saw me and thought that I was the saint that the stories were about.

"How did you do it?"

"I... I just can," I shrugged. "You think it was a trick."

"I know it was a trick," he replied. "The sun summoner wouldn't hide away in Ketterdam."

I took a deep breath. "My parents paid for me to get here. They knew what I was. They knew what would happen if the Grisha got their hands on me. It was meant to protect me. I kept my head down. I stayed quiet. Worked with you for money because it was the safest choice I had at the time."

Kaz didn't speak up. He didn't truly believe me. Not entirely. I wasn't surprised by that. Kaz had trust issues when it came to normal people. Never mind... someone like me.

I took a step away from the desk. I let a ball of sunlight form in my hand.

Kaz slowly walked around the desk. He studied me, stepping in a small circle around me. He was looking for the trick. The effect. Some sign that what Inej had seen was wrong.

He stopped in front of his desk again.

I closed my hand, scuffing out the sunlight.

"You are never to do that unless in the presence of me, Inej, and Jesper. Understood?"

"I know how to hide," I replied. "I've been doing this for a long time now."

He just nodded to me.

I kept to that agreement as best I could. I never showed my gift outside of my room. The only time anyone else saw it was when Inej came by, begging to know if it was all true.

She tried to praise me. Call me a saint.

I didn't let her. I begged her to not see me as a hero because I wasn't one. I had no interest in being one. All I wanted was some semblance of normalcy. She respected that.

My agreement with Kaz didn't crumble until I saw it as absolutely necessary.

He had told me to join him to get through the door of some place.

He had been doing that more and more. Having me work directly by his side. I had no interest in questioning it, but I did notice it.

It had been going well. However, the number of guards had been greatly underestimated.

The only part that I truly remember was one of the guards choking Kaz. His cane had been thrown across the room from him. I didn't have the physical strength to stop the guard. I knew that.

So, as if on instinct, I threw a ball of sunlight at him.

He fell to the ground, allowing Kaz to lean back against the wall and catch his breath.

I ran over to grab his cane. I walked over slowly, holding it out to him. He snatched it from my hand, an angry look taking over his features.

"Are you alright," I asked.

He didn't bother with my question, instead posing one of his own, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“That you were about to die."

“You could have gotten yourself killed, hunted! All that you have claimed to have been terrified of!”

"You would truly rather die by the hand of your own stubbornness than ever thank someone for their help," I rolled my eyes.

"You agreed to never use your powers around others! I don't need you to save me!"

I scoffed at him. “Kaz, I understand that you think you’re invincible, but please believe me when I say that you are nowhere close.”

“And you are?” he stepped closer to me.

“Would you like to compare a list of things that I could survive versus what you could survive? I really don’t think you would because you would end up quite embarrassed!”

Kaz’s jaw clenched as he merely continued glaring. As if he were stunned that I had the nerve to yell at him the way I did. To question his power and control and leadership the way I did.

“I hate to tell you this, but you have people who care for you, Kaz Brekker,” I continued. “There are people that actually don’t want you dead. Let them help you. That’s why you have a crew in the first place.”

"Don't claim to be my savior."

"Don't claim that you never need to be saved!"

The silence after that was tense. He was angry and the boss of the whole gang. I was angry and able to scorch the earth beneath his feet.

"We have work to do," I finally muttered, walking around him.

"What happened to keeping your... affliction a secret," he asked as I did so.

I stopped at the door, turning back to him. "If the choice was letting you die or exposing my secret, then the choice would be you. Every single time."

There was a long pause before Kaz spoke up, "Why?"

There was another, even longer pause. "Is it not obvious?"

His face didn't shift. Not at all.

I had some feeling in my chest that he knew the answer to his question long before he asked it. Maybe he just needed the personal confirmation. Maybe he wanted me to say something entirely different so that it would bring some comfort. Allow him some escape route from his own feelings.

"Can we go now," I asked.

He nodded. "Fine."

Kaz may not have believed in saints. But I would like to believe that some part of him believed in me.

And that was enough for me.

---------------------------

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#kaz brekker fanfiction #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #x reader #freddy carter imagine #freddy carter fanfiction #freddy carter x reader

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Hiii❤️, how are you?

I wonder if you can do a gareth x "cheerleader" reader, and they are dating in secret and the reader has a younger brother who plays dnd, but he has nobody to play with except reader and the brother is too shy ask them or eny one to play.

(the little brother is around Erica's age)

(Sorry, my English is not so good, and sorry if the request is too complicated or you are not able to right it. I hope you have a good day and night, sorry again if you can't make it)

this is such a sweet request, love! it's a bit short, since I'm only doing dialogues right now (although it turned into a drabble), so I hope that's okay 😊 your English was really good, love don't worry 😁 thanks for being the first one to request Gareth 🥰 Warnings: none Disclaimer:  I don’t own Stranger Things 😊 gif isn’t mine 😊

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New Player

"There you are, sweetheart" Gareth smiled and stopped playing his drums as soon as you appeared in his garage. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me" he pouted, making you smile and give him a peck on the lips.

"I could never do that" you argued as he kissed you again, a little deeper this time. "Sorry, love. Practice ran late" you explained while he led you to the sofa in his garage. When you sat down he pulled your legs to rest on top of his and placed his arm on the back of the sofa.

"It's okay, love" he smiled. "How was practice?"

"It was fine" you said, resting your head on his arm. "How was your campaign?"

"It was fun" he said, smiling.

"Yeah?" you asked, tiredly and he kissed your head. "Do you have band practice today?"

"Nope, not today" he shook his head. "Today I'm all yours" he smiled, kissing you again.

"Lucky me" you smiled.

"You wanna watch a movie?" he asked as he started to get off the couch but you quickly pulled him back.

"Um... can I ask you something?" you asked, looking at his hand between yours. "You can say no if you want to" you muttered, making him frown. It wasn't usual for you to be shy around him.

"I hardly think that will be the case. It's pretty impossible for me to say no to you" he said, pulling you closer and making you smile shyly at him. "What's going on sweetheart?"

"Well, remember when you told me that Eddie asked Mike and Dustin to look for someone to join Hellfire because Lucas wasn't showing up?"

"Yeah, it was a few days ago" he mentioned.

"And they got Erica, right?" you asked and he nodded. "Well, I just wanted to ask um... because I kind of thought that Hellfire was only for people in high school but um... well, since Erica joined I thought um..." you said, playing with his hand. "I was wondering if... maybe Charlie could join you sometime?"

"Charlie?" he frowned. "Your brother Charlie?"

"Well, he's friends with Erica and she told him about Hellfire and I thought-"

"He plays?" he interrupted you and you understood why he was so confused.

"Yeah, he does" you nodded.

"How come I didn't know this?"

"Well, I don't know, I guess it hasn't come up. Like I said, I thought Hellfire was a high school thing and-"

"You still could have told me he played" he chuckled.

"Well, it's just... he's really shy and he doesn't have many friends, and he doesn't think he's really good at it but I think he is" you explained. "Or... maybe he's regular and he's just good because I'm horrible at it-"

"Hold on!" he said, now completely shocked. "You play?"

"I uh- w-well, not really. I just play with Charlie because he has nobody to play with but I have died several times" you explained.

"Really?" he chuckled.

"Don't laugh at me!" you pouted. "There are a lot of rules and, I am really bad at it and-"

Gareth cut you off by pulling you closer and placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to laugh" he assured you. "It's really sweet that you play D&D with Charlie" he said. "I sometimes get invited when my sisters throw tea parties" he confessed.

"You do?" you asked, smiling sweetly at him and he nodded, feeling his cheeks blush a little. "That's adorable" you said, kissing his cheek and moving closer to him.

"Well, if you want, and if you don't mind telling your brother about me, then maybe we can get together to play D&D, and if he likes, I can talk to Eddie about him joining Helfire" he suggested. "If Charlie wants" he added.

"Really?" you asked, excitedly, moving closer to him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "You would do that?"

"I told you it's pretty much impossible for me to say no to you" he said before you leaned in to kiss him again. "You can tell him we're friends if you prefer" he suggested.

"I think he would like to meet my boyfriend" you smiled. "If you're okay with that" you said.

"I'd like that" he smiled before he kissed you again. "And if you're okay with it... maybe... I can tell the guys in Hellfire?" he asked, hopeful. "Or just Eddie, if you prefer, he can keep a secret-"

"Do you he's gonna freak out?" you asked, nervously.

"Oh, yes, definitely" he chuckled, kissing you again. "I can't wait!"

The End

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A/N: hope you loves liked it!

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #gareth emerson #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson drabble

[fappinreborn]

Hey there! I have an idea for the VR Story. Maybe you have a Date with someone you Just matched. She also didn't know she was pregnant, but Your app shows it to you. You say you're going to the bathroom, but in reality you're controlling her pregnancy. Suddenly she is 43 weeks pregnant and you have set the contractions to never happen (of course you can change that after the date) you make her overdue with twins, then triplets. While she didn't even know she was pregnant until now

First of all, not a VR Story (it's an old DA story of mine). Secondly, this is a really interesting premise to work with. I think overdue and multiples aren't feasible here so I'm going for early singles. Third, I try to stray away from dialogue, so you could fill in the words yourself.

Pregnancy Control 3: Date Gone... Right?

One of my regular activities as a young adult is looking for love on the job dating apps. I had been meeting several girls over the years, some ghosted me after the first date, some went along for a month or two before breaking it off, even had one that lasted almost half a year. All the girls I met were fun and interesting, but turns out this one new girl that I'm meeting tonight pales in comparison to all of them.

When I arrived at the apartment to pick her up, the pregnancy control app, as usual flared up to show some pregnant woman near that apartment.... but it also included the girl that I'm going with. I sort of panicked but quickly read through her file.

Apparently she's just barely 6 weeks pregnant but didn't realize she was pregnant yet and the app offered me to control her pregnancy. The app seems to know me so well and have upgraded itself to even give suggestions to make it cryptic pregnancy and when I should stop growing her pregnancy, presumably to make the cryptic pregnancy plausible for her. 'The girl's been sleeping with other men.' I thought to myself.

I was... hesitant at first, wanting to separate my... normal life with my fetish, so I held it off... for now.

I picked up my date, looking fine with her casual T-shirt and jeans and went to a nice restaurant. We sat down, selected our food and talked for a while, getting to know each other. Things were going well, but in the back of my mind, the temptation kept shouting at me until it was too great to ignore.

I excused myself to the bathroom, sat down at the toilet and began activating her pregnancy, tuning her cryptic pregnancy to ~39 weeks and activating her labor, but reducing her contractions pain to 0. Don't want to distrupt the date, after all.

When I came back, I noticed that her belly had grown slightly but she did not notice anything. The date went back to normal until we've finished our food. We... were starting to play with our phone, so I figured it's time for execute the plan.

I made her go into the bathroom and made her water break subtly and let her have mild cramps afterwards. She voiced out her complaints to me, so I decided to take her home, knowing that the date I'm with is actually laboring and is about to deliver a whole baby soon. I helped her get into the car and then ramp up the labor progression. I started the record on the phone and began driving back to her apartment.

I was lowkey worried about her, as her cramps are getting worse and her legs are slowly spreading wide. The baby is fully dilated at this point and is starting the descend. I can hear her moaning in pain like a laboring mother would until all hell finally breaks loose.

We were around... 10 minutes from her apartment when I noticed her tight jeans began to bulge out. She reached down and told me that she felt something hard and round. Another round of cramps, a push and the bulge became more pronounced. She panicked, realizing that the thing coming out of her was none other than a baby. I acted panic in return as she began pushing hard. I quickly parked my car at the side of the road and then ran around to help her out.

I tried to help her, but the legs were too spread out to even pull the jeans off. I cupped the bulge and felt like the head was fully crowning at this point. She decided to go all in, pushing hard until the head popped out of her. With a bit of breathing room, she closed her legs a bit so I can unbutton her jeans off and pulled the pants down before she pushed again and got the baby out with one single push. She embraced the newborn baby in her arms with a mix of disbelief and joy.

I... offered her a ride to the hospital instead and she accepted, so I made a trip to her preferred hospital and dropped her off at the ER. She thanked me for the help with the birth of her child before I went back home...

I hope she's okay now... and I hope we can get more dates with her after this...

#birth kink #giving birth #birth denial #labor kink #clothing birth #car birth #clothed birth #rapid pregnancy

[mangocustard16]

Starry Cinema Night💗💓

Jeon Wonwoo x reader

| synopsis: As stars lit the sky, a Wonwoo's and Y/N's first visit to a drive-in movie theater sparks a love story under the summer night.

| pairing: bf!wonwoo x gn!reader

| genre: fluff

| warnings: none

| w.c: 610

Wonwoo and Y/N had been dating for a few months now, and they were both eager to make new memories together. Tonight, they decided to go to a drive-in movie theater, something neither of them had experienced before. It was a warm summer evening, and the anticipation of the night ahead filled the car with excitement.

As they approached the drive-in, the neon sign flickered to life, casting a colorful glow over the area. The gravel crunched beneath the tires as they found their spot, nestled between rows of cars, each facing the large outdoor screen.

Y/N couldn't contain her excitement. "I've always wanted to do this," she said, turning to Wonwoo with a wide grin.

He smiled back, his eyes holding a hint of amusement. "I can tell. You look like a kid in a candy store."

She playfully nudged him, causing both of them to laugh. "Well, I've heard drive-ins are a classic American experience. I wanted to make sure I didn't miss out on it."

Wonwoo nodded in agreement. "It's one of those things that never goes out of style."

With the car engine off and the windows down, they settled into their seats, ready for the show to begin. The screen flickered to life, and the opening credits of the movie rolled. The atmosphere was different from a regular theater; it was more intimate, like they had their own private cinema under the starry sky.

Wonwoo reached over to take Y/N's hand, their fingers entwining naturally. She leaned her head on his shoulder as the movie started. It was a romantic comedy, the kind Y/N secretly loved, and Wonwoo knew it.

As the plot unfolded on the screen, Wonwoo couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N. Her eyes were fixed on the movie, but there was a soft smile on her lips, and her face occasionally lit up with laughter at the witty dialogues and humorous situations. Wonwoo found himself getting lost in the way her hair danced in the breeze, the softness of her laughter, and the warmth of her hand in his.

During one particularly heartwarming scene, Y/N turned to Wonwoo, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "This is so lovely, Wonwoo," she whispered.

He squeezed her hand gently. "Just like you."

She blushed at his words, and he couldn't resist leaning in to kiss her cheek. The moment was sweet and tender, the kind that made their hearts race just a little bit faster.

As the movie progressed, the night air grew cooler, and Wonwoo reached into the backseat to grab a blanket he had brought along. He draped it over Y/N's shoulders, tucking it snugly around her. She smiled up at him, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

The movie neared its climax, and so did the evening. The tension in the plot mirrored the feelings bubbling between Wonwoo and Y/N. They shared stolen glances, their fingers intertwined tightly, neither wanting to break the spell of the moment.

Finally, as the credits rolled and the screen went dark, Y/N turned to Wonwoo with a contented sigh. "That was amazing," she said.

Wonwoo nodded, his gaze fixed on her. "It was."

Their faces drew closer, and they shared a sweet, lingering kiss. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of shared moments and unspoken promises. The kind of kiss that made them both feel like they were on the brink of something beautiful.

As they leaned back into their seats, Wonwoo said, "This was a perfect night."

Y/N nestled her head on his shoulder again, her fingers tracing small patterns on the back of his hand. "It really was. Thanks for bringing me here, Wonwoo."

He kissed the top of her head. "Anytime, Y/N."

The drive-in movie had been a simple yet magical experience, one that had deepened the connection between them. Under the starry sky, with the soft hum of the car engine and the memory of the movie still fresh in their minds, they knew they had created a beautiful memory together. And as they sat there, hand in hand, they couldn't wait to create many more in the future.

i want someone to do this with me pls

date inspo for future

#boyfie wonwoo is soo fine #mango.writes #seventeen soft hours #seventeen #svt #svtcreations #wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo x y/n #svt jeon wonwoo #seventeen jeon wonwoo #fluff #kpop fluff #movie date #drive in

[hotluncheddie]

for @thefreakandthehair spring fanworks challenge! i chose the dialogue prompt “Listen, I’m a fern, okay? I need sunlight.” thanks so much lex for doing this again! so fun!!

(high school steddie, post s2 pre s3, 1.6k)

(now on Ao3 !)

🌱

Eddies Munson is the Marmite of middle ages female teachers. They either take his theatrics and short attention span in stride, seeing that yes he is trying he just needs things done a little differently. That he does genuinely think he’s funny when he spouts his little lines, the joke being aimed at the room and not at the teachers expense. That yes he is trying actually and does want to graduate, a lil’ help maybe? 

They either see that for what it is. Or, they hate his fucking guts. 

The theater teacher, much to his continued chagrin, seems to be in the latter. Which is abysmal, awful. Genuinely soul crushing for one Eddie munson.

Why? Because he needs to pass theater, with extra credit (for being ‘an integral and helpful part of the spring show’) in order to potentially scrape through and pass the year. Having to take senior year again you’d think some teachers would cut you a little slack, even to just see the back of you. But no, not in Eddie's experience. They fuck you over same as always. 

That's how he’s sitting out back on the theater building steps, dying for the cigarettes in his van. But he doesn’t wanna go over there. Can’t go over there, because he's dressed like a glorified shrub. 

‘Oof, what are you supposed to be?’

Oh how wonderful, beautiful, a truly glorious turn of events. Steve Harrinton is here. Eddie rests his face in his hands for a moment and resists the urge to scream. Steve Harrington in his stupid blue jeans and his new stupid glasses that he sometimes wears, which shouldn’t look as good as they do. Shouldn’t fit his stupid pretty face but they do. They do and Eddie wants to cry.  

Squinting up at Steve, who's haloed by sun rays because his giant, massive head is directly over the spring sunshine, Eddie sighs.    

‘I was supposed to be Puc, but noooo I'm the dry ass narrator with no creative freedom.’ He flings his arms up and glares down at the toes of his sneakers. Away from Harrington's big, stupid face. 

Because that's the real kicker. He likes theater, wants to be in the play, but whenever he tries to act the teacher just seems to think he's goofing off. And sure, maybe he took some creative liberties with the audition script. Maybe they’ve been in a sort of stalemate with the tone of voice the narrator should deliver certain lines in. But that's art, man! Interpretation! But the iron fisted Ms Farrel is having none of it. So Eddie has to take regular breaks to seeth.  

‘Puc? like hockey puck?’ Steve interrupts Eddie’s internal monologue, sounds actually confused. Oh to be pretty.

‘Listen, I’m a fern, okay? I need sunlight. so move outta the way would you. you're harshing my mellow.’ 

‘Geez sorry dude.’ Steve moves so he's next to Eddie, leaning up against the building wall. He messes with something in his jacket, moving it to the back of his jeans, then slips a pack and lighter out and lights up, talking out the corner of his mouth. ‘You want one? apology for the mellow? condolences for the outfit?’ 

Eddie rolls his eyes, fights down his smile. That was actually funny, maybe there were genuine reasons this guy was popular. Ones beyond generational wealth. 

‘Apology accepted Harrington.’ Eddie hums, plucks a smoke from Steve’s carton. Tries to steady his heart rate at Steve lighting if for him, leaning in and cupping his hand to protect the flame from the breeze and everything.  

Eddie inhales deep, closing his eyes to savor the taste. Feels a bit calmer now, less like screaming. ‘What are you doing here anyway? it’s Friday at 4, you not got fair maidens swooning for a romp with king Steve?’ Eddie peeks back over at him, sees Steve looking Eddies hand holding the smoke poised by his lips. 

‘Huh?’ Steve’s eyes snap up to meet Eddie’s eyes, ears tinting pink. Weird. 

‘You looking to score huh? Well, not right now, I’m wallowing.’ Eddie rubs at his eyes, glowers at the rustling of his costume.  

‘Oh nah, no, I needed some uh, extra credit. Had to talk to Ms. O’Donald.’ Steve pulls some rolled up papers out of his other back pocket and wiggles them. 

‘Ah a man after my own heart, I see.. Or are you just doing it to get into some Ivy League?’ Eddie cocks his head, sneers at the rich boy.

Steve just laughs, no anger. Scratches the back of his neck. ‘God no, I think I uh, missed the application deadline actually. Had, um, some health issues, so.’ He fiddles with his wire frames, looks embarrassed, maybe a little sad.

Eddie eyes him, The Fallen King. Steve Harrington. Eddie never really had that much of an issue with him. Always paid for his weed upfront and seemed to interact with Eddie with an air of vague boredom rather than, like, wishing Eddie was dead in a ditch. Plus there were those couple parties where Steve was wasted and spent some of the night just hanging around Eddie while he dealt. He was kind of a goofy drunk, kept asking Eddie what shampoo he used, refusing to take ‘whatever's cheapest’ for an answer. So, seeing him looking even slightly like a kicked puppy has Eddie’s “look out for people who know how cruel the world can be” radar going off. He doesn’t know the story but some shit went down with Harrington, you can't cover bruises like that.  

‘Well, don’t sweat it too much. Doubt anyones gonna start calling you four eyes. You’re still the cream of Hawkins crop dude, Ivy league or not.’ Eddie heaves himself up to stand, crushing the but of his cigarette out under his shoe. 

‘Plus, your extra credit looks like that.’ Eddie points at Steve's fist of papers. ‘While mine looks like this.’ Eddie holds his arms out, giving Steve a twirl and ending with a bow. ‘So cheer up buttercup.’

Steve dips his head and chuckles, looks up at Eddie through his lashes, grinning. It’s all sunshine and long days, sun warm skin and freckles. 

Eddie swallows and looks away. Bounces his shoulders against the brick. 

Steve clears his throat, mirrors Eddie’s positions against the wall. ‘Look, there is actually something I want to talk to you about. You run the D&D club right?’

Eddie hardens a little, see Harrington’s pretty chill, especially for the past year. But Hellfire is his baby. Eddie’s baby, full of Eddie’s people. 

‘I do.’ 

‘Right, so there's these kids I babysit and uh, they really like that game. They start highschool in the fall and I just wondered if you’d tell the other members to maybe keep an eye on them? Let them join and like, you know.’ Steve gestures vaguely to the school around them. 

Eddie can't help it, he moves so he’s back standing, facing Steve. Steve Harrington who just asked him to look out for kids, who he babysits for. Wearing glasses and looking like honey. While Eddie is covered in paper leaves and wearing what could honestly be argued as tights. What the fuck? 

‘Babysitter huh?’ Eddie smirks but sees the way Steve squares his shoulders and turns to face him, daring him to keep going. Eddie’s smirk softens to a smile. ‘I’ll let the guys know Harrington. Or, uh, recruit them myself if, you know, the extra credit doesn’t work out.’ And Steve smiles, understanding but there's no pity on his face. 

‘Thanks Eddie, appreciate it.’ Steve tugs on one of his leaves which makes Eddie blush because he's stupid and the straight boy in front of him is being nice. His name in Steve's mouth getting tucked away for a rainy day.  

‘Anytime.’ Eddie says quietly, finally noticing how close they’ve gotten. 

‘I’ll have to come see the play. Make sure to voice how “that narrator really puts on a show, truly spectacular”.’ Steve crosses his arms and brings a hand up to his chin, as if he's some snotty theater critic. Eddie snorts. ‘Butter up Ms Farrel for you.’ and Steve winks. Eddie's breath catching in his throat. 

‘I’d like that.’ Eddie rasps. Lame. Why is he so LAME. 

‘It’s settled then. See you front row.’ Steve smiles, boyish and charming. Eddie swears Steve's eyes flick down to his lips. But he's also willingly dressed as a tree so his judgment can't be trusted right now. 

‘Munson!!’ A voice calls from inside making Steve and Eddie jump, moving so they’re no longer standing almost toe to toe. Breaks over it seems. Eddie is definitely not looking forward to going back in there but, needs must. 

‘Well, uhm, duty calls.’ Eddie steps back. Giving Steve a little two finger salute, turning to go back up the steps. 

‘Break a leg’ Steve watches him go, a little amused glint to his smile. Eddie only trips over his feet a little ascending the stairs.  

Steve starts to walk backwards, towards the parking lot. He raises his voice slightly and Eddie stops in his tracks to listen. ‘Nice seeing you in a different outfit. You look a lot less scary.’ and that amused glint flashes in his eye, like he knows Eddie’s never really been scary at all. ‘I’ve been trying out a new look myself, sort of inspired by you.’ Steve winks again, turning on his heel and Eddie gets a full view of the light blue hanky shoved in Steve's right back pocket.

Eddie coughs, splutters, feels his brain fizzle and the blood in his body moves treacherously to one place. Sees Steve throw his head back and laugh as he walks away, must have heard Eddie choke on his own tongue. 

He needs a moment, slumping back down on the steps. Steve Harrington who babysits. Steve Harrington who's gonna come see his play. Steve harrington who might not be so straight after all. 

Maybe spring is his season.

#lets everyone have a moment of silence for my guy eddie here #steddie #lexsspringfanworkschallenge #my fic #hotlunch #highschool steddie #steve x eddie #bisexual steve harrington #*sponegebob voice* one year later eddie decides maybe spring isn’t his season #steddie drabble

[shubblelive]

— HYPOTHETICAL CAT

summary : your first time staying with wilbur since the beginning of your long-distance relationship, and you're already dreading leaving him. luckily for you, you may not have to.

genre : fluff

warnings : slightly dialogue heavy?? not proofread unlike usual but i think we're good

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x cc!fem!reader

pronouns : none (you/yours) BUT wilbur referrs to reader as a girl

featuring : cc! wilbur soot

requested : Could you do a wilbur fic where him and the reader have a long distance relationship? And one day when she comes and visits him, he admits he cant go such long periods of time without seeing her, so he proposes that she moves in with him, the rest is up to you, thank you! xx

word count : 873

note : okay i wrote this all in one day which i never do but it was a struggle. but, i power through for you guys. i hope you enjoy this <33333

No one told you when you started out that your favourite thing about content creation would be the webcam quality. Of course, it was definitely something you could live without, but on nights when it was just you and Wilbur, a video call on your desktop as your sun rose and his set, the fact that you could see him in picture perfect vision was occasionally the only thing holding you together. 

But then suddenly, he was right in front of you.

You and Wilbur had been together for nearly three years, meeting at a creator event ages ago. You’d seen him at a panel and he’d waited in line to meet you just to give you his phone number, asking you to call him, and two weeks later he was calling you darling. 

You’d known at that first meeting that you lived awfully far from each other, but that hadn’t been thought of as a particularly big issue until the two of you started dating, and then it was comparable to torture. You’d have semi-regular meetings where he’d fly to your place and stay with you for a couple of days. This time, though, this was different.

“You have been holding out on me,” your voice was heavy with sleep, your head in Wilbur’s lap as the two of you watched something, some nature documentary that was playing so softly it was almost designed to put you to sleep. “Your couch is so much more comfortable than mine is.”

Wilbur looked down at you fondly. “My bad,” he laughed steadily, careful not to be too loud. “I guess I thought that if you got to experience the wonders of my sofa you’d only wanna come here, I wouldn’t get to come see you as much.”

“I knew you and Mr Gardener had some weird thing going on,” you said, accusatory with a smile draped across your face.

“He makes you bread!” Wilbur defended. “How are you not obsessed with him?”

You cracked one of your eyes open sleepily, hand coming up to reach for his. He took it eagerly, drinking in your figure as you lay on his couch. “I’m pretty sure he’s not the one doing it.”

Wilbur threw his head back to rest against the couch, letting out a puff of air. “Okay, maybe Emily is the one doing the actual baking, but you can’t tell me that Mr Gardener doesn’t add to the experience.”

“I’m sure he does.” You hummed.

“You can not seriously tell me that baking a loaf of bread is not made infinitely better by the presence of a cat.”

You paused. “Okay, okay. It would be.”

Wilbur let out a pleased noise, moving down to run his hands up and down the exposed skin by your collarbone. “We should get a cat,”

His voice was barely loud enough for you to hear it, your eyes closed and his voice heavy with exhaustion. The two of you had been out all day on the first day of your visit, finally taking a moment to rest. 

“Should we?” You mused. “Who gets custody?”

Wilbur made a choking sound like the answer was obvious. “Well- I would, right?”

You forced yourself up, yawning as you brought your knees to your chest. “Why am I jealous of our hypothetical cat right now?”

Wilbur chuckled and reached for you, sitting forward on his knees, gently tugging at your calves until he was resting on your chest. “You don’t have to be,” he pointed out. “I’ve got a very big bed. And an entire section of wardrobe that I’m not using, and-”

“Wilbur,” you chided. “You know it’s not as easy as me simply never going home. Believe me, if I could spend the rest of my life curled into this couch, I would but-”

Wilbur sighed dramatically, pulling himself off you and standing up. “There you go, dream crusher,” he let out an exaggerated groan, taking you by the hand and pulling you up. His cheek was pressed against the side of your face, hands interlocked. “Crushing my dreams all crush-ier and dreamy.”

You let out a giggle as he poked your side. “You think I’m dreamy?”

“So dreamy,” he nodded. “Dream girl material right here, loves me, loves our future cat-”

“Loves your sofa,” you added dreamily. 

“And before I let you two get a room, please just consider moving in with me?” He begged gently. “Come on, wouldn’t it be so nice? Just you and me, I’d even let you name the cat. Please?”

“I’m not doing it for you.” You conceded. “I’m doing it for Rhubarb and all of the future kisses I am going to get from him on my new couch.”

He kissed you on the forehead. “Okay, I’ll leave you guys alone, I see where I’m not wanted.” He pressed another one on the side of your mouth.

“No,” you groaned, trying to drag him back on the couch. “I don’t have our cat yet, I need someone to shower me with affection.”

He huffed as he sat back on the couch, letting you collapse on top of him, revelling in the comfortable weight of you pressed against him. “Fine, fine. If I must.”

#wilbur #wishing i could write my name on it #wilbuh #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot

[werewolfsmile]

re: "All I’m saying is the fact that someone isn’t talking to me about Eliot Spencer every second of every day is very unfair and borderline illegal." & tags - if you want to, can you elaborate on your werewolf!eliot ideas?? i’d like to hear about it!! if not all good tho :)

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Yes I would love to elaborate! (buckle up because i have Thoughts)

(wow this really got away from me so uhhh .... warning for 2k of ranting about Eliot as a werewolf?? list of headcanons under the cut)

From the moment I first met Eliot Spencer, I knew he was werewolf-coded. Aside from his insanely fantastic fighting abilities and the absurd amount of punishment he can take, there are many other factors that contribute to his werewolf status.

Eliot needs a pack Our boy is out here working on his own for years and look at all the good it did him! None! He carries severe trauma from his family life because he blames himself for how it all went down and doesn't think he'll be welcomed back. Plus something probably happened during his military days or early PMC days to put him off working with others. Could have been the pain of losing people all the time, could have been something more. Either way, Eliot working on his own is a defence mechanism - but a self-destructive one.

Wolves thrive in packs - like duh, they're pack animals. As my username suggests, I'm into werewolves and, by extension, wolves. I've done research for my own werewolf novels in the past, so I know that in an average wolf pack, each pack member will have physical contact with the other pack members on the regular. Like, several times an hour! (gosh if I can find the research paper this info came from I'll link it but honestly it's been years) That's a serious level of physical contact required to keep the emotional bonds of the pack healthy!

Flick back to Eliot. He loves to fight, he loves the violence and the pain, yes. He hates the killing and the blood on his hands. He actually tries to leave the assassin world behind after he meets Toby (which is before he meets Moreau, as per early dialogue in The French Connection Job). He bonds quickly with Toby. Show Eliot a little love and care and he's yours for life! He moves onto retrieval work, then somehow ends up working for Moreau.

Now, when we see Eliot and Moreau in The Big Bang Job, Moreau says, "You work alone." Which means that Eliot had that reputation when he came to Moreau. He probably only took contracts to start off with. But he accepted job after job from Moreau and was so good that he was highly respect and it's inferred he ended up as Moreau's top bodyguard/assassin. Why the hell would Eliot end up that close to a man who brings out all the worst in him? Because Eliot's a werewolf and no matter how toxic, Moreau fulfills the need for a pack bond that he's been missing all this time.

Fast forward to Eliot meeting the rest of the Leverage team. One job only - my ass. He saves Hardison's life after Hardison brought a gun to their little meeting - and we all know how Eliot feels about guns.

Wolves are designed to live and operate in packs. Eliot says it's one job only but is bonding with them all from the get-go. Werewolf trait confirmed.

Eliot needs physical touch Now, I know what you're thinking. Eliot canonically avoids physical contact with the team. He refuses hugs, especially from Hardison, growls at Parker poking his bruises (don't get me started on the growls), and shoves people (ahem Parker) out of his personal space. So why would he do all this if he needs physical touch??

Because he's one gigantic ball of angst and self-loathing and guilt.

Eliot doesn't think he deserves forgiveness or love or family, etc. That is a whole other rant, but he denies himself the physical contact he needs with others as a way of punishing himself.

However, as the series progresses, we see him become more comfortable with physical contact! He hugs Hardison several times, he doesn't move away from Parker, etc. Why? Because he's bonded with this team (ahem pack) and there's only so much he can suppress his instincts. The more time he spends with them, the more naturally the contact flows.

Eliot needs to protect others Whenever we get a scene of the team walking as a group, where is Eliot positioned 90% of the time?? That's right, at the back of the group. He lets the others walk in pairs and falls back to bring up the rear. He's keeping them all in his line of sight and constantly scanning for threats ahead, along with protecting the team from any rear attacks. It makes sense for him to do this given his military background, but it also makes sense for a werewolf to do this.

He's the only werewolf in the team. His instincts revolve around keeping the pack safe and protected, so he does that in the best way he knows how.

Not to mention how feral gets over kids!!

Wolf life is all about the pack and the family structure. Pups are integral to the pack's survival and future. Eliot doesn't have kids of his own. But that doesn't stop his instincts from blaring every time he interacts with a kid, be it on the con or off. He takes time out every time to help that kid in an attempt to calm the raging storm of instincts inside his body.

Eliot needs to feed others It's another werewolf instinct that rears its head when they're in the safety of their headquarters (ahem den). Protecting the team/pack from physical threats is just one aspect of taking care of them. Feeding them is the other major one.

None of these idiots can cook to save their lives - except Nate, but he's also drowning his liver 90% of the time, so Eliot has to compensate for that, too. The team can't operate at full capacity if they're not consuming good nutrition. So Eliot makes sure to feed them.

His humanity recognises that these are independent people - coworkers - and he can't control every meal of every day. But he can cook for them, once a week or once a job, which is just enough to satisfy his instincts that he's doing his part to care for them. Plus they love his cooking, and the praise he gets from it is an unexpected but pleasant bonus.

Eliot and team sports/kitchens This ties in with my first point about Eliot needing a pack, but all the times we see Eliot go super hard and get absorbed in the role he's playing are when he's on a team sport or he's in the kitchen. Both of these fulfill super important instincts for him - being in a team/pack and providing food for others.

Think about The Tap-Out Job. Eliot's playing a fighter but he's not pretending to be on a team. He doesn't get over-invested in the role. But what about when he's a baseball player? A hockey player? He falls into those roles hard because he's working with another team again, and this little werewolf is built for that environment. Same in The French Connection: the kitchen becomes his den, the students are his pack mates, and he goes hard at investing in them and protecting them. Never mind the personal aspect of Toby.

Same for episodes like The Fairy Godparents Job when we get a scene of Eliot teaching a bunch of girls self-defence. Team setting + protecting kids = happy werewolf instincts.

So, werewolf headcanons? I have a lot of different origin theories but the main one I like for Eliot is:

he became a werewolf either for a covert military op, or was bitten by Moreau (choose your own angst flavour)

if it was for the military, they were trying to engineer supersoldiers and he was deemed a failure; he has werewolf instincts all the time but only has enhanced strength, healing, etc on full moons

if it was bitten by Moreau, there's a psychic-style bond linking them, which is why he was so loyal to Moreau for so long, and also why he is so reluctant to go after Moreau

(wow this is too different theories already and i said this was my 'main one' whoops)

Eliot can only shift easily on the full moon; shifting outside of a full moon can only be caused by extreme stress and is ridiculously painful

he suffers an insanely high prey drive all the time and is so strict about his control because he doesn't actually wanna rip out the throat of Random Guard #3

he used to chain himself up for full moons so he didn't hurt anyone, but since the team found out about him, Hardison and Parker have taken it upon themselves to 'puppy-sit' him every full moon

this involves no chains but an obscene amount of dog chew toys. Eliot is never impressed. He also never chases or chews the toys. The video evidence Hardison has was obviously doctored.

Hardison and Parker found out the truth when a con went sideways and Eliot was trapped in a room with them during the full moon

he was terrified he was going to kill them - or worse, bite them - but his instincts recognised them as pack so instead he just tried to wrestle with them all night

Hardison had a major freak out when he discovered Eliot was a werewolf - it's one thing to be obsessed with sci-fi/fantasy, it's another thing entirely to see your best friend transform before your eyes

Parker was not even remotely phased, being all like, "pfft of course werewolves are real, I thought you knew that Hardison, you talk about your elves and orcs all the time!"

"Woman that is completely different and you know it!"

"What else do you think is fake? The tooth fairy?? Ha!"

Eliot is Done With Their Shenanigans

Parker only ever refers to Eliot as Sparky when he's in his wolf form

Sophie didn't actually know about werewolves before the reveal but she pretends that she did

Nate knew about werewolves before Eliot, he just chooses to pretend that they're Not A Thing

werewolves generally don't make good hitters, because the constant exposure to violence ramps up their hunting instincts aka they find it hard not to kill

of course, this doesn't matter if you're someone like Moreau who specifically wants killing machines and thus turns his top hitters into werewolves, to ensure loyalty and enhance his strength

the only other werewolf hitter not under Moreau's control that Eliot knows is Quinn, who most certainly did not pull his werewolf strength punches when they tousled in The First David Job

Quinn doesn't have a pack (werewolf or otherwise) and genuinely doesn't seem phased by this, which pisses off Eliot to no end

however, after they work together in The Last Dam Job, Quinn deems himself Eliot's Best Werewolf Bud and keeps popping up randomly to hang out on full moons, etc

Parker and Hardison are a bit weirded out (and a little jealous) of Quinn's attention initially, but soon get over that when they discover that two werewolves on a full moon absolutely play for hours like 6 month old puppies - especially with the tug rope

Eliot is Extremely Susceptible to belly rubs even in his human form, which is half the reason he pushes people out of his personal space a lot - his reputation would never survive anyone finding out

of course the entire team figures it out and take to ambushing him with belly rubs whenever he's being stubborn or annoying

belly rubs are also the only way he will relax enough when he's injured so they can treat his wounds

despite the incessant dog jokes, the ever-growing pile of dog toys, and the bowls labelled with "Sparky" and cartoon bone symbols ... Eliot absolutely adores the pack he's found himself in and wouldn't change them for the world

One of these days I will sit down and write a thousand fics for werewolf!Eliot! Till then, I'll just keep churning out the headcanons ;)

#eliot spencer #leverage #werewolf #werewolves #werewolf!eliot spencer #long post #alec hardison #parker leverage #nate ford #sophie devereaux #damien moreau #quinn leverage #wow #this ended up being a million times longer than i anticipated #i mean #i always have more to say about werewolf!eliot and eliot in general #but damn #if you made it to the end of this well done! #feel free to add your own headcanons and thoughts! #the werewolf au is my favourite playground #asks #my posts #leverage fantasy au

[gilly-moon]

PERCY JACKSON TV SHOW REVIEW

(SPOILER ALERT! I Did Not Like It)

It has been 16 long years since I first picked up The Lightning Thief, and once again...I am faced with an adaption of one of my favorite books that is so painfully disappointing. And now that the tv show is completely out, it's time to purge the collection of thoughts I compiled on it:

Starting on one of the (few) positives, the cast was incredible. I know for a FACT that they are all wonderfully talented individuals, and I aim all of my gripes with their acting at the directors and writers.

So much telling. So little showing. Stop explaining the plot and the mythology to me. SHOW it to me. Explain later only when necessary.

And yet, some things weren't explained at all! I know, as someone who read the books, what blue food means to Sally and Percy. But the show never explains its significance. To the unknowing watcher, it's just a weird quirk, not a small rebellion between a woman and her kid against the life they're stuck in. It baffles me what the writers chose to over explain versus under explain. There's no clear reason for either behavior, and it permeates the writing in a bad way.

There's also a lot of the kids just being dragged from point A to point B by an outside force, rather than their own actions. They never really felt alone or even in danger on their quest, because gods kept showing up to help them along. I did not like that.

These kids aren't allowed to be kids. I stg you could make them teens or young adults and the dialogue/their actions would be the same. That's not good.

Why do they always have all of the information!!!?? They immediately know it's Medusa. Echidna introduces herself and they immediately know who she is and that it's a Chimera in her bag. They immediately know what the Lotus casino is. Why? It makes the stakes feel so low, rather than the mad dash scramble in the books that happens a lot when characters have to remember the myths and how to beat a monster mid-fight. And it makes all these scenarios so boring!!!

Also so many of the fight/chase scenes were boring or anticlimactic. The only good ones I can think of were in the first two episodes, and then one with Ares. Someone actually slipped in some good choreo in those few fights, but completely forgot to add it in to....the rest of the show....

There's very little about the show that feels magical. CG is used, obviously, but at times it feels like they should've gone further with it, or used it even more, and they just....didn't. The visuals end up feeling clunky and not very cohesive, with zero whimsy. Hate to make this comparison, but the Harry Potter movies were VERY good at showing the lines between the magical world and the muggle world, and the tension that occurs when the two interact. There is....none of that in the PJO series. Zip. Zero. And the mythological CG that is there is more often than not static or boring.

Break for a positive! I actually really liked that Percy was learning mythology from Mythomagic. The show wasn't really consistent on that point - saying it was his mom instead most of the time - but that was such a fun and clever way to work in the card game and make it plot-relevant. As someone with ADHD, I can confirm I would also learn mythology WAY better if it was for my favorite game.

Ok back to the negatives - Wtf is up with the portrayal of the gods? For one, they're boring to look at. Nothing about their designs makes them feel 'godly' and while that's ok with some gods (Hermes for one, tho I have issues with his weird beige sweat suit look) why is Ares just some regular ass biker dude? Where are the flaming eyes?? And radical skin-leather bike?? He couldn't even have a CUSTOM bike with red bloody paint and boar heads and chain link handles or something???

And the gods are way too fucking nice. Sorry. I don't have an issue with Hermes being nice but. Ares having a heart-to-heart with Grover? When his presence is supposed to stir everyone up into a rage? And Hephaestus sees Annabeth refuse to give up on her friend and just goes 'awww, ok, you and Percy can go, and take my rival's shield back to him too cause I'm just so nice.' Sorry, no. I'm fine with gods being helpful - Hephaestus helps (reluctantly) in the later books. But it was at a price! A favor for a favor! Not a 'get out of jail free' card just because he was moved by normal ass human compassion!!

Hades gets his own bullet point because who the fuck was that. As a child of Hades, I'm offended that this sweet fruity guy just wanders up and goes 'hey, how's it going, wanna snack?' like, that is NOT my dad. My dad had skeleton soldiers filling his halls and a garden of jewels and a voice so loud it rattled the whole Underworld. Whoever that was in the show was a pathetic imitation.

The point of the first series is to work up to Percy throwing it in the gods' faces how awful and neglectful they've been of demigods and specifically their own children. Demanding that they do better. But if they're already showing compassion and 'humanity' in the context of the first book/first season of the tv show....Percy starts running out of ammo against the gods. There's no coherent story progression where Percy spends years seeing the worst of the gods and the best of them at very distinct, important times of his life and his story. It no longer feels like a massive change they have to make in the system, something that deserves a godly favor for Percy to demand of them. Luke no longer feels like his fury at the gods is wholly justified. The whole series begins to crumble because the gods already have a good reason for being how they are, rather than being thoroughly selfish assholes who only dote on demigods when they do something really cool. And the exceptions are presented at intelligent moments that prove to Percy when he most needs it that the gods can be better, they just need a forceful push to get there.

That being said, where was Percy getting the info that the other gods were feeling scared and abused by Zeus? I love the balls on this kid, but like...when did he make these assumptions and why? That whole scene felt really unearned.

Also Olympus was BORING. And EMPTY. And DARK. It looked like we were just back in the Underworld. Which. The Underworld was fucking boring too. Some neat visuals, sure, but put that in some high fantasy show. Not this one.

One last positive before my final point - there were some pretty good jokes scattered around. Not nearly enough, but I did really enjoy the Dionysus introduction and a handful of lines from Percy. Also releasing the animals in Vegas - Grover being like 'oh, you were worried about the humans' got me good.

The final word that kept spinning through my head after finishing episode 8 was: Pathetic. Luke's betrayal was pathetic. No deadly scorpion. No commitment to that period of time in the books we were convinced he really was evil. And Gabe just stumbling on the package with Medusa's head in it? PATHETIC. Percy outright asked his mom if she was being abused in the book, and she took fate into her own hands to statue-ify that bastard. But no. The show was through-and-through just a pathetic, watered-down version of an incredibly fun, emotional, brutal, exciting series of books. I know there was a lot of heart behind this production, but I did not feel it at all. But what else should I have expected from modern Disney?

#i could probably go on for years but #i am tired #and already went through this once with the movies so #now i merely wish to expel my thoughts and then let the memory of this show fade from my mind

[vigilskeep]

What are your thoughts on Alistair and Morrigan claiming to despise one another only to regular fight back to back for nearly a year in the worst possible circumstances, especially in the Darkspawn Chronicles timeline where it is somewhat implied they performed the dark ritual?

personally i think it’s inarguable that morrigan and alistair care about each other, in their way. i would go looking for dao evidence but really their dialogue if they are both in skyhold proves that upfront. in a way it’s even more believable to me that they would have been forced to get along earlier in the darkspawn chronicles, without having the warden to let mediate and otherwise being able to ignore each other except to snark, and the idea of the dark ritual taking place in that timeline doesn’t really surprise me

i think it’s very possible for two people to have fought together for so long and not get along, btw. real people don’t get along all the time, and it’s not like either was in a position to walk. but morrigan and alistair don’t strike me as seriously hating each other. none of their banter has ever acted like that, and let’s be real, we have a hell of a lot of banter between people who really can’t stand each other to compare with. ali and morri bicker like kids. it’s funny and endearing. their insults are exaggerated and childish and they rarely succeed in actually offending each other

i would suspect morrigan of caring more than alistair does, personally. mostly because i think alistair takes her dislike of him pretty much at face value—why would you pretend not to like someone?—and is happy to attempt to give as good as he gets and otherwise doesn’t overthink it much, whereas morrigan is the one who you can notice in dialogue actually caring about him even when (in dao, at least) she expresses it in the most terrible morrigan way

#alistair theirin #morrigan